I wrote this one almost a year ago, and i think its pretty good, and its not as dark as the one in my other post. (See "The Hunter".) Here's the first part:
The white wolf’s howl echoed through the winter breeze, and snow continued to fall out of the cloudy midnight sky. This wretched place was called by many names, but was more commonly known as the Frozen Hills, the coldest place in all of Karrak. Most people would say that anyone who lived in the Frozen Hills was a fool, but the men of the Snow Tiger Tribe knew no better, for they were savages.
The Snow Tiger Tribe were a cruel folk and they were feared by all. They did not believe in honor or morals, and everything they did was for their own personal pleasure. The savages were the type that enjoyed good entertainment, and that was exactly what they were looking for. In the center of the village was a gladiator pit that had been used for generations. Recently, they had run short of “gladiators”, and were now in need of more.
One of the scouts smiled wickedly, baring teeth that were nothing more than blackened stumps behind dirty lips. Just ahead on a low hill stood a solitary man. The savage pointed, and the small band of seven men behind him saw the man, too. The leader of the savages, a large hulking figure wrapped in dirty and stained furs, yelled a low battle cry as a signal to the others to draw their spears. All of the warriors did as commanded.
The man on the hill stood alone, and somehow despite the danger, he appeared as calm and confident as if he were about to battle a bunch of schoolgirls, instead of a blood-hungry band of barbarians.
His eyes glowed a volcanic purple, and a mane of long reddish brown hair hung down below his shoulders. He wasn’t nearly as tall as the savages; he only stood at about six feet, and he wasn’t as heavy either. Above his slender waist, the stranger widened out into a powerful set of shoulders and rippling arm muscles. On his back was a crimson-colored cloak that blew in the wind. He wore a pair of black leather gauntlets and gray boots with the tops lined with white fur to keep warm. For protection, he wore over his chest a chain shirt. His youthful features showed evidence that he was in his early twenties.
Just above his mailed shoulders were the golden hilts of two swords. Acting solely on instinct, the man whipped out his blades, and the savages jumped with surprise at his amazing speed. His face emotionless, he strode purposefully towards the eight dumbfounded barbarians, who were shocked that a man would actually “want” to fight them. The savage squinted, and saw what appeared to be a horse a few yards behind the man. The horse was difficult to see, for it’s fur was a pale color that blended well with the white snow.
A spear flew through the air in a straight smooth motion towards the man, who jumped nimbly to the side and broke into a run towards his attackers. The savages witnessed a bright flash of silver steel, and watched in disbelief as one of their compatriots crumbled to the ground.
The stranger ducked low as an ax whizzed right above his head, and he could a feel a slight breeze as the weapon rushed past him. Reacting on impulse, his left arm arched upwards, and his blade sliced a deep gash in his assailant’s exposed ribs, causing the white snow beneath him to turn a deep red.
The battle raged on for long minutes, until the lone fighter became the last man standing. He sheathed his blades and closed his eyes as he said a short prayer, asking the Lord’s forgiveness for what he had done; because killing was not something the stranger enjoyed doing. In fact, he hated it.
He suddenly recalled the reason he was here. In the city south of here, Kyvann, he had been asked by the mayor to find his daughter, Alyssa, who had gone out hiking three days ago and hadn’t been heard from since. He was the type of man who always honored his word, no matter what. Once he agreed to do something, there was nothing in the world that could stop him from accomplishing that task.
He was here because he feared that she had been taken hostage by the Snow Tiger Tribe. He was afraid that there would be no saving her now, for death may have already found her.
With a last look at the grizzly scene, he walked back to his horse and climbed nimbly into the saddle. He followed the savages’ tracks in the snow for several cold hours until he finally sighted the village through the trees. Stone black walls circled a large snowy area with the only gate leading inside protected by two heavily armed barbarians. Preferring stealth over violence, he reined his gray steed close to one of the walls, away from the eyes of bloodthirsty savages. He then placed his hand on the top of the wall and pulled himself to a standing position on the saddle. Over the wall, he had a good view of the fort’s interior defenses.
The place was covered with armed catapults, arbalests, and ballistae. Savages stood warily beside them, ready to fire at any given moment. He could see crude houses and tents built everywhere in the fort. In the center, he saw what appeared to be a large circular bowl that had been dug deep into the ground. He frowned, realizing the evil of this terrible creation, for he had witnessed the fall of many brave men in gladiator pits such as the one he saw before him.
He lifted his feet up off the saddle and pulled himself onto the wall. Slowly and quietly, moving like a phantom between the tents and houses, he worked his way towards the center of the village, where a strange stone building had caught his attention. The outside of the building was decorated with skulls and other bones. At the entrance, he could see a spear stuck into the ground, with the severed head of some enemy decorating the middle of the stick shaft. The windows of the three-story building were lined with iron bars, giving it the appearance of a jail.
He decided this would be the best place to look, but if she were not here, he would search every house until he found her. Hopefully for the barbarians’ sakes, the bloodshed that would result from such a search would not be necessary. These savages he did not deem as regular human people, so he did not consider killing them as murder, thus making his mission a great deal easier. He felt that by killing the savages he was ridding the world of a foul race, not fit to dwell on the face of Karrak. They were sub-humans.
Posted: 30 Aug 2008 22:48
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You have a very professional writing style. Very descriptive.
Posted: 30 Aug 2008 23:39
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Thank you. Here is part two.
She wrapped her pale white arms around her legs and shivered furiously. She felt that if she remained in this blasted cell for a minute longer she would die. The barbarians would not release her, the girl knew, for the savages found great joy in watching her suffer and beg for her life.
During her first day as captive she had resolved in her mind to stand strong and keep her wits about her, just to show the barbarians that she was not afraid. But after the second day, her tactic had failed and her will had diminished. She had gotten down on her knees and begged the chieftain for her freedom, and she had cursed herself for that action for it had only brought a smile to the face of the wicked chieftain.
All of a sudden, the cold silence was broken by a barbarian war cry in the room below. The cry seemed…distressed, as if the savage was afraid of something. Afraid of what? Alyssa wondered. She heard the clanging of steel, followed by a howl for help. There was a battle going on downstairs, and from the sounds of it, the girl could only assume that the savages were losing. An overwhelming feeling of hope surged through her as she pictured in her mind a band of heroic Kyvanners slashing their way through the horde of savages with no other purpose than to rescue her.
She scrambled to her feet and peered into the small opening above the cell door. She noticed that the guard had left his post in front of her door, and she wondered if he too would be killed. The battle had now been taken to the third floor, her floor, and she could hear the ringing of steel-on-steel and the thundering footsteps of the retreating savages. She watched through the window with growing anticipation until a lone man stepped in front of the door and inserted the key into the lock. Alyssa stepped back and waited impatiently as the cell door swung open.
The man looked at her expectantly, and the girl had to admit, he was the most pleasant sight she had seen in days. She stepped out into the hallway beside him, and took a look down each side of the hall, then turned back to her savior and cocked her head in confusion.
“Where are the rest of you?” she asked him.
“There are no others. I came alone,” the stranger replied bleakly.
“What do you mean, there are no others?” demanded Alyssa. “There’s no way you killed all those savages by yourself!”
“I came here to free you,” the man told her simply, attempting to change the subject.
“What are you waiting for, swordsman, get me out of here!” snapped Alyssa, and picked up her skirts as she sped past him.
The stranger strode confidently after her, and was careful to step over the carcass of a barbarian guard. “You know, girl, you could show more gratitude, seeing that I am the man who saved your life,” he said.
“I’ll show you your gratitude when we’re back in Kyvann, swordsman!” the girl shot back angrily, as she proceeded down into the stairway to the second floor. “Hold a moment, you never said your name…who are you, stranger?” she asked, and her voice was thick with hostility.
“It doesn’t matter,” he replied, and continued after her down the staircase until they came to the first floor.
Alyssa whirled on him in a fury. “I am Alyssa, daughter of the Mayor Jonas of Kyvann, and I demand you to tell me who you are,” commanded the seventeen-year-old girl, and her words were like ice.
The man’s expression did not change. “If you keep on me like that, you’ll find yourself back in that cell,” he threatened in a cool tone.
The girl’s mouth quivered, before deciding to leave well enough alone. She stopped just long enough to let the stranger in front of her, and then followed him out of the building. More barbarians waited anxiously at the entrance, and Alyssa’s body shook with fear at the sight of them. Her savior only looked at them before unsheathing his blades. She stared at him incredulously, unable to believe how one man could be so calm when faced with such danger.
A savage yelled, fetid breath steaming in the cold air, and made a lunge towards the pair. Alyssa blinked, and suddenly the barbarian was nothing more than a lifeless corpse lying motionless in the deep snow.
The man became an indescribable blur of whirling red steel, and two more savages collapsed to the ground before him. Now only one remained, and he appeared the most formidable of them all. He was dressed in rusted plate mail armor, and all of his skin was protected by metal. In his hands was a four-foot broadsword that could easily cleave the stranger in two.
The barbarian raised his helmet, revealing a brutally scarred and rough face. She recognized him as Chieftain Rog. He stared intently at his escaping captive and her rescuer. He didn’t seem at all impressed by the stranger’s prowess in battle.
“Who be you?” he said, and his voice was like thunder.
“Nobody,” replied the man, with the hint of a smirk on his lips.
“You lie, you be legend!” the barbarian spat.
“You are mistaken. I have nothing in common with this ‘legend’ you speak of,” the stranger argued back calmly.
“Again you lie. No man fight like you, you legend!”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” the man said.
“Enough talk, you die!” the chieftain roared at him.
The man’s hand shot for the sword hilt above his right shoulder, and then flung it effortlessly from his hand and at the barbarian. Alyssa’s jaw dropped; the stranger’s blade had hit Rog square in the throat, one of the few weak spots in his armor. The chieftain let out a strangled gasp as he fell to his knees. The man went and retrieved his sword from the barbarian’s neck and turned back towards Alyssa, just as Rog tumbled over onto the snow.
The girl couldn’t believe it. The man’s precision was almost inhuman! “Who…who are you?” she breathed.
“I am a friend, nothing more,” he assured her, as he slid his sword back into its scabbard. Alyssa had not expected to get any real answer from him, for she had already guessed at the truth. Forty years ago her grandmother had been trapped in a cave by an avalanche. A young man that greatly resembled the stranger came and got her out, right before he saved her from a gang of thugs. She had told Alyssa that the man was a living legend with the blade, and that there was never a man alive that could defeat or outsmart him. Alyssa was convinced this man was the warrior’s son, or perhaps even his grandson.
“We need to get going,” he told her, and started off towards the gate. Two savages brandishing spears stood defiantly blocking the exit.
The stranger approached them casually, and his face was devoid of emotion. “Open the gate,” he commanded, and both savages gave a start before doing as told.
Alyssa was surprised that they weren’t faced with any more resistance along the way out. The man retrieved his gray horse from next to the wall and helped the girl into the saddle behind him. Soon the two were alone under the rising sun, and the brightness blurred her vision. She put a hand on her forehead to shield her eyes from the blinding light. She looked up at her companion, and the light was glistening on his bronze skin. His volcanic purple eyes were focused solely on the path ahead, and the girl wondered what he was thinking. The man was a total mystery; she suddenly realized that she knew absolutely nothing about her savior.
“Are you working for my father?” she asked, hoping to start a productive conversation.
“He asked me to help him find his daughter in the Frozen Hills,” replied the man honestly.
“Where are you from?”
“A place far from here.”
“What were you doing in Kyvann?”
“I was just passing through,” he told her, and with that the conversation ended.
Another three or four hours passed before the city of Kyvann came into sight. The people of the town welcomed them in, rejoicing for the return of the mayor’s daughter. Everyone was excited to see them, and Alyssa greeted her friends with a warm hug and a smile.
The mayor pushed his way through the crowd with tears of joy in his eyes and ran to embrace her.
This had to be the happiest moment in Alyssa’s life.
Posted: 01 Sep 2008 01:23
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Here's the last part of the story. Let me know what you think.
Corr punched his fist into the wall, and he heard his knuckles crack against the stone. Rage welled up within him as he ripped out his broadsword and slashed it harmlessly through the air.
The invader had come and slain his father Snow Tiger Chieftain Rog, and now Corr was thirsting for revenge. He rallied up the barbarian forces and told them to ready themselves for a raid.
The Snow Tiger Tribe was going to Kyvann.
* * * * *
Alyssa sipped the wine from her glass as she stared down the long table at her father, Mayor Jonas. “I’m so glad it’s over, father,” she told him, holding back a sob.
“No need to worry, Alyssa. You’re safe now,” her father said, and his voice rang of sympathy.
She nodded, just as the doors burst open and a guard came rushing in.
“My lord, Jonas! It’s the barbarians…they’re here!” exclaimed the man desperately.
Jonas shot up from his seat. “What? The Snow Tiger Tribe! Here?!” he gasped.
The Kyvanner explained to Jonas about Rog’s son Corr, becoming the new chieftain, and that he was ready to pillage Kyvann if the “man with the purple eyes” did not surrender himself to them and return to the barbarian camp as their prisoner. Jonas looked over to regard the stranger, who cast him a flat look.
“What do we do?” asked Jonas.
“The only thing we can do,” the stranger answered, rising from his chair. “I have to go with them. It’s the only way to stop this.” His voice was emotionless, and he acted as if he didn’t care about dying.
“Wait, stop! You can’t go!” protested Alyssa, who clutched his arm tightly.
“I have to,” he argued back softly.
“Listen, you bloody fool!” she screamed, “if you go with them, Corr will kill you for sure!”
“Perhaps. But this is what I must do,” his tone became grim, “this is my path, my life,” he told her firmly, as he turned and left the building. Jonas and Alyssa followed him out. The entire Snow Tiger Tribe was waiting just outside the city gates, and they stared with piercing eyes at the man and Alyssa.
The man remained calm and relaxed as he walked nonchalantly past the gates and into the circle of savages. His purple eyes glowed with unrelenting determination as he twisted his head to consider the mayor and his daughter for one last time, before turning and leaving Kyvann forever.
The stranger never looked back.
* * * * *
The old woman turned the page and took a sip of tea as she sat comfortably in the rocking chair under the roof of her porch. The sun was out today, and it was a beautiful morning. She put down her book and smiled warmly as she watched the children run and play in the snow. As she looked down the far side of the street, a peculiar sight caught her eye. It was a man in his early twenties, riding alone on a pale steed, with his bronze skin shining in the glow of the sun, and his long reddish brown hair blowing in his face. His volcanic purple eyes were fixated on the road, and the man had an aura of unbreakable confidence.
He was riding past her now, and the old woman wasn’t surprised that he didn’t look her way. “Swordsman,” she said in a hoarse but soft voice.
The man whipped his head around to consider her through cold, unwavering features.
“I didn’t think I’d ever see you again,” she continued breathlessly.
Somehow he recognized her, but his expression did not show it. For whatever reason, he did not reply; he only looked at her.
Her eyes bored right through him, for she knew who he was. It had taken her a lot of deep concentration, but not long after his departure she had discovered the truth of his mystifying identity.
“You came back,” she said simply.
“I did,” he said.
“Will you ever tell me your name?” she asked him.
The man shook his head.
“Where will you go now?”
“Wherever the wind takes me,” he replied honestly.
A long moment of silence passed between them before the old woman finally broke it. “Goodbye, stranger,” she told him.
The stranger grinned slightly, then yanked on the reins and galloped down the snowy trail, and disappeared over the horizon.
Most people in her position would have asked the man how he escaped the vengeful savages those fifty years ago, but the old woman didn’t have to, for she already knew the answer. She had known all along that the stranger would survive through the encounter, because a legend is something that can never die.
Posted: 01 Sep 2008 15:44
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Pretty good. I'm not the perfect person to critique a novel story though mainly because I'm so used to reading things in comic book form.
Posted: 01 Sep 2008 18:08
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The protagonist, whom I left unnamed in the story, is Samuil Brennon, a hero I had used as a supporting character in my novel. "The Stranger" is a spin-off of my novel.
Posted: 04 Sep 2008 19:07
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Hey could you please tell me what you think of this i have started. Really just doing it to give me something to do. Could you please mail calm_down_baby_have_a_piece_of_cheese@hotmail.com an just tell me . its not long but I just want to know!
A long time ago way before normal people Dextro Created a planet and called it earth. He protected it while this planet took its toll and eventually resulted in evolution. When the work was done, Pulp? took control of the earth without using any force but by simply saying ‘I will take over from here now, you disgraced us, your work is done’ Pulp let his brother stay on this planet however (even after he did destroy their home) as he thought it is what their father would have wanted.
Posted: 05 Sep 2008 14:01
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The Stranger is a very interesting read. Along with the Hunter I think you have a nack for writing about swordsmen. I would really like to read your novel if it is possible.
Thanks man. I would really like you to read my novel, but its a little too long to post on this forum.
Posted: 06 Sep 2008 05:24
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Hey, to all the guys who read this story...did you understand what had went on during the last scene? Its important that you do. I'm asking this because I've talked to some people who didn't really catch it at all.
Posted: 06 Sep 2008 12:48
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I get that it was the same girl but I don't exactly know the conclusion she came up with. Still very interesting story, I simply figured you left it up to us to decide what he was. __________________
You have a very professional writing style. Very descriptive.
. its not long but I just want to know!
