Post by Mirage on Feb 22, 2008 16:55:01 GMT
Name: The Swords Vice
Type of writing: Prose? (Not sure)
Subject: Warfare
Genre: Fantasy
Summary: I'd rather not give it away
Status: Finshed
Word Count 1, 666
Sorry about the front cover, but hey thats the size I made it.
img407.imageshack.us/img407/3821/67691825ve2.png
The sun shone upon the lush, green plains of the Kingdom of Gan. The wind blew a fresh gale over the expansive plains and pleased the sharp, handsome face of the tall armored nobleman sat on his great white stallion. He was at least six feet in height and had long jet black hair which flowed just below his shoulders. His silver armor shone like a mirror in the sunlight and a huge broadsword almost the same height as him lay sheathed on the nobleman’s back. He sighed and spoke to the man on his left, his right-hand man and almost equal to him in battle and politics.
“The day seems good for some bloodshed does it not Demzo?”
Demzo smiled at this, it was just like Regis to make a comment like that before they charged into battle, he replied as he always did.
“As always, the day is perfect for our blades to tear asunder the world.”
Regis laughed at his friends reply, for this was how he replied to the majority of his so-called poetic judgments on the battlefield before them.
Demzo was not unlike Regis, but the two were certainly not a similar pair. Whereas Regis was a hulking demon in battle who could cleave a rider and his horse in half with little effort, Demzo was small and lithe, wielding a pair of curved swords and a bow. The two had fought many battles together and knew this one wasn’t going to be their last battle together.
The sound of thundering hooves echoed across the plains of Gan as a legion of cavalry from both sides of the plain charged toward one another with the intent of slaughtering the other.
Gan was divided into three provinces, one being the province of Narlin, another the province of Kiloc and the last province being Oeta, in which Regis was ruler. . This battle, like so many others in Gan, was about the ever changing borders of each province. This was deciding upon the River Jado, which ran through both the provinces of Narlin and Kiloc.
Regis had only mobilized his own force of warriors to make sure the victor and to see if either of the generals where willing to pay for his and his men’s services. He watched the battle unfolding before him intently as it was clear that Kiloc where pushing through Narlic’s cavalrymen and gaining the upper hand already in this battle, for Regis it was obvious who the victor would be unless they had something up their sleeves.
“Well, it seems Kiloc are going to be the ones enjoying the trade route along the River Jado for a short time at least.” Demzo said chirpily.
“Yes it seems that way. Unless of course the Narlineans are willing to pay for our help, to be honest I wish they would, my sword aches for battle and so do I.” Regis replied disappointedly.
“No one enjoys battle as much as you Regis eh?” Demzo said while making adjustments to his bow’s string.
“None, you are right my friend.” Regis replied smiling.
Regis noticed something as the words left his lips; Kiloc seemed to be missing some of its men. At least a couple of hundred men he was sure, and Kiloc always had all of it’s men on show to display its power over the other two provinces, with Oeta being the weakest of the provinces and Kiloc being the strongest. Something clicked in his head as he just realized the implications of what he had seen.
He was about to order the retreat of his men, when he could see the two hundred or so men, twice the size of his own force, appeared from behind a large hill behind them. Cursing, he ordered his men into a formation to defend themselves from the infantry about to charge his men.
“By Valan! That bastard Virgil doesn’t stop at attacking Narlin does he? At least you and your sword will get what they wanted Regis.” Demzo said placing his helmet on this head and preparing his bow with an arrow. Regis didn’t reply, he simply placed his own silver helmet upon his head and drew his huge sword from its sheath.
His force consisted of two troops, fifty cavalrymen and fifty infantrymen, who where engaged with Kiloc’s infantrymen. He began to charge towards, ordering his men to follow him into the bloody depths of the battle. His own infantry dispersed to make way for the cavalry as they burst into the Kiloc infantry. Regis’ sword danced in his hands as it ripped into the infantrymen as if they where nothing but wafer thin paper.
He had taken the lives of at least twenty men when he found an arrow in his horses head as it began to fall to the floor of the plains.
He watched as the arrows of the Kiloc archers tore through his men, he cursed and lifted the dead horse from him and began swinging his sword once more. He could see Demzo, also without his horse, jumping from one soldier to another as he quickly dispatched them with his twin blades.
Regis roared the battle cry of his fore fathers and ripped through the Kiloc infantrymen and rushed uphill toward the archers, whose face bared that
Of sheer terror as they saw this blood soaked demon running toward them with a sword bigger than most of them. Some began to flee, but most stayed drawing short swords ready to defend themselves.
Regis gave them no quarter as he killed at least three of them with the first swing of his sword into the legion of archers. It took him little time to slaughter the remaining archers that hadn’t fled earlier; he slumped to the floor out of pure exhaustion breathing heavily. Perhaps their was hope in winning this battle after all, now that he had slain the archers.
He regained his footing and stood on the top of the hill to see how the battle fared.
He gasped at what he saw.
His men had been near decimated by another troop of Kiloc cavalrymen. He could see their leader as his dark crimson armor shone in the sunlight. General Virgil had his fifty or so cavalrymen had nearly destroyed his entire force, with Regis judging that only thirty of his men remained left alive on the battlefield and he wasted little time in running toward the battle to die with his men. He knew that this battle was practically hopeless almost now; he scanned the battle as he ran down the hill, searching for his battle brother Demzo. He sighed in relief to see him still fighting; in fact he was fighting Virgil. He could see them almost evenly matched and Demzo had even knocked Virgil straight off his horse with flying kick.
Regis was almost in the battle now, his sword tearing into the Kiloc men fleeing from the battle. He rushed into the avenue of the battle to see…
Regis awoke cold and alone on the plains of Gan. He looked up at the black, star filled sky above him and wondered what in hell had happened to him. Was he dead?
No.
He felt to stiff and he could feel a small wound on his right arm. He struggled to sit up and look at his surroundings. Corpses littered the grass surrounding him and the stench of death filled his nostrils forcing him to cover his nose with his hand. His helmet had been knocked off it seemed, but his sword lay next to him, blood stained but as sharp as ever. He picked his sword with his left hand and stood up.
He began to walk around the dead battlefield, searching for the bodies of either Virgil or Demzo.
From their bodies he would decide the victor of the battle.
Regis scanned the area for a good while until he came upon him. Virgil’s body lay face down in the blood stained grass surrounding his body. A smile came to Regis’ face as he kicked over the body to make sure it was Virgil.
It was. He was sure, he had met him once before briefly under more civil terms when they had fought bandits together from the east. The cause of his death seemed to be a huge gash in his chest; Regis instantly recognized his own swords work and wondered why he had woken so far from the body of Virgil and why he had even been knocked out at all?
Then Regis noticed something out of the corner of his eyes. He ran quickly to find what he had most dreaded he would find.
Demzo lay almost sliced in half along his waist and his face looked peaceful, when Regis realized he was still breathing. The rushed over to his body, dropping his sword and cradling Demzo’s head in his arms. Demzo’s eyes flickered open; a smile came to his lips when he looked at Regis.
“You’re back to your normal self then.” Demzo whispered. “I’m glad you are still alive, I was worrying about you. Were you worrying about me, Regis?” He asked with such fear in his voice and his hand stroked Regis face gently.
“Of course I have, I can’t fight without you Demzo.” Tears were in Regis’ eyes as he grabbed Demzo’s hand.
“I’m happy.”
With those last words ringing in his ears, Regis watched on as his friend stopped breathing and finally died in peace.
Regis stood up and gathered up what of Demzo’s weapons he could and made him a grave as best as he could in his injured condition.
It was almost dawn when Regis was satisfied with his friend’s final resting place. Before he placed Demzo into the grave he took one last look at him. He looked at the wound that had obviously been his death, Regis gasped.
Regis recognized his own swords work.
Regis wept.
End.
Type of writing: Prose? (Not sure)
Subject: Warfare
Genre: Fantasy
Summary: I'd rather not give it away
Status: Finshed
Word Count 1, 666
Sorry about the front cover, but hey thats the size I made it.
img407.imageshack.us/img407/3821/67691825ve2.png
The sun shone upon the lush, green plains of the Kingdom of Gan. The wind blew a fresh gale over the expansive plains and pleased the sharp, handsome face of the tall armored nobleman sat on his great white stallion. He was at least six feet in height and had long jet black hair which flowed just below his shoulders. His silver armor shone like a mirror in the sunlight and a huge broadsword almost the same height as him lay sheathed on the nobleman’s back. He sighed and spoke to the man on his left, his right-hand man and almost equal to him in battle and politics.
“The day seems good for some bloodshed does it not Demzo?”
Demzo smiled at this, it was just like Regis to make a comment like that before they charged into battle, he replied as he always did.
“As always, the day is perfect for our blades to tear asunder the world.”
Regis laughed at his friends reply, for this was how he replied to the majority of his so-called poetic judgments on the battlefield before them.
Demzo was not unlike Regis, but the two were certainly not a similar pair. Whereas Regis was a hulking demon in battle who could cleave a rider and his horse in half with little effort, Demzo was small and lithe, wielding a pair of curved swords and a bow. The two had fought many battles together and knew this one wasn’t going to be their last battle together.
The sound of thundering hooves echoed across the plains of Gan as a legion of cavalry from both sides of the plain charged toward one another with the intent of slaughtering the other.
Gan was divided into three provinces, one being the province of Narlin, another the province of Kiloc and the last province being Oeta, in which Regis was ruler. . This battle, like so many others in Gan, was about the ever changing borders of each province. This was deciding upon the River Jado, which ran through both the provinces of Narlin and Kiloc.
Regis had only mobilized his own force of warriors to make sure the victor and to see if either of the generals where willing to pay for his and his men’s services. He watched the battle unfolding before him intently as it was clear that Kiloc where pushing through Narlic’s cavalrymen and gaining the upper hand already in this battle, for Regis it was obvious who the victor would be unless they had something up their sleeves.
“Well, it seems Kiloc are going to be the ones enjoying the trade route along the River Jado for a short time at least.” Demzo said chirpily.
“Yes it seems that way. Unless of course the Narlineans are willing to pay for our help, to be honest I wish they would, my sword aches for battle and so do I.” Regis replied disappointedly.
“No one enjoys battle as much as you Regis eh?” Demzo said while making adjustments to his bow’s string.
“None, you are right my friend.” Regis replied smiling.
Regis noticed something as the words left his lips; Kiloc seemed to be missing some of its men. At least a couple of hundred men he was sure, and Kiloc always had all of it’s men on show to display its power over the other two provinces, with Oeta being the weakest of the provinces and Kiloc being the strongest. Something clicked in his head as he just realized the implications of what he had seen.
He was about to order the retreat of his men, when he could see the two hundred or so men, twice the size of his own force, appeared from behind a large hill behind them. Cursing, he ordered his men into a formation to defend themselves from the infantry about to charge his men.
“By Valan! That bastard Virgil doesn’t stop at attacking Narlin does he? At least you and your sword will get what they wanted Regis.” Demzo said placing his helmet on this head and preparing his bow with an arrow. Regis didn’t reply, he simply placed his own silver helmet upon his head and drew his huge sword from its sheath.
His force consisted of two troops, fifty cavalrymen and fifty infantrymen, who where engaged with Kiloc’s infantrymen. He began to charge towards, ordering his men to follow him into the bloody depths of the battle. His own infantry dispersed to make way for the cavalry as they burst into the Kiloc infantry. Regis’ sword danced in his hands as it ripped into the infantrymen as if they where nothing but wafer thin paper.
He had taken the lives of at least twenty men when he found an arrow in his horses head as it began to fall to the floor of the plains.
He watched as the arrows of the Kiloc archers tore through his men, he cursed and lifted the dead horse from him and began swinging his sword once more. He could see Demzo, also without his horse, jumping from one soldier to another as he quickly dispatched them with his twin blades.
Regis roared the battle cry of his fore fathers and ripped through the Kiloc infantrymen and rushed uphill toward the archers, whose face bared that
Of sheer terror as they saw this blood soaked demon running toward them with a sword bigger than most of them. Some began to flee, but most stayed drawing short swords ready to defend themselves.
Regis gave them no quarter as he killed at least three of them with the first swing of his sword into the legion of archers. It took him little time to slaughter the remaining archers that hadn’t fled earlier; he slumped to the floor out of pure exhaustion breathing heavily. Perhaps their was hope in winning this battle after all, now that he had slain the archers.
He regained his footing and stood on the top of the hill to see how the battle fared.
He gasped at what he saw.
His men had been near decimated by another troop of Kiloc cavalrymen. He could see their leader as his dark crimson armor shone in the sunlight. General Virgil had his fifty or so cavalrymen had nearly destroyed his entire force, with Regis judging that only thirty of his men remained left alive on the battlefield and he wasted little time in running toward the battle to die with his men. He knew that this battle was practically hopeless almost now; he scanned the battle as he ran down the hill, searching for his battle brother Demzo. He sighed in relief to see him still fighting; in fact he was fighting Virgil. He could see them almost evenly matched and Demzo had even knocked Virgil straight off his horse with flying kick.
Regis was almost in the battle now, his sword tearing into the Kiloc men fleeing from the battle. He rushed into the avenue of the battle to see…
Regis awoke cold and alone on the plains of Gan. He looked up at the black, star filled sky above him and wondered what in hell had happened to him. Was he dead?
No.
He felt to stiff and he could feel a small wound on his right arm. He struggled to sit up and look at his surroundings. Corpses littered the grass surrounding him and the stench of death filled his nostrils forcing him to cover his nose with his hand. His helmet had been knocked off it seemed, but his sword lay next to him, blood stained but as sharp as ever. He picked his sword with his left hand and stood up.
He began to walk around the dead battlefield, searching for the bodies of either Virgil or Demzo.
From their bodies he would decide the victor of the battle.
Regis scanned the area for a good while until he came upon him. Virgil’s body lay face down in the blood stained grass surrounding his body. A smile came to Regis’ face as he kicked over the body to make sure it was Virgil.
It was. He was sure, he had met him once before briefly under more civil terms when they had fought bandits together from the east. The cause of his death seemed to be a huge gash in his chest; Regis instantly recognized his own swords work and wondered why he had woken so far from the body of Virgil and why he had even been knocked out at all?
Then Regis noticed something out of the corner of his eyes. He ran quickly to find what he had most dreaded he would find.
Demzo lay almost sliced in half along his waist and his face looked peaceful, when Regis realized he was still breathing. The rushed over to his body, dropping his sword and cradling Demzo’s head in his arms. Demzo’s eyes flickered open; a smile came to his lips when he looked at Regis.
“You’re back to your normal self then.” Demzo whispered. “I’m glad you are still alive, I was worrying about you. Were you worrying about me, Regis?” He asked with such fear in his voice and his hand stroked Regis face gently.
“Of course I have, I can’t fight without you Demzo.” Tears were in Regis’ eyes as he grabbed Demzo’s hand.
“I’m happy.”
With those last words ringing in his ears, Regis watched on as his friend stopped breathing and finally died in peace.
Regis stood up and gathered up what of Demzo’s weapons he could and made him a grave as best as he could in his injured condition.
It was almost dawn when Regis was satisfied with his friend’s final resting place. Before he placed Demzo into the grave he took one last look at him. He looked at the wound that had obviously been his death, Regis gasped.
Regis recognized his own swords work.
Regis wept.
End.
