General Creativity
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I think its kind of funky that we dont have a creativity sub section yet, so to amend that I'm making this general creativity thread.

 

Rules are simple, post your creative stuff! Music, drawings, short stories, yadda yadda yadda.

 

Also, keep it civilized when giving/taking criticism.

 

I'll start things off I guess with some drawings I did. 

 

OOlURnB.jpg

 

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Rathlord   

You mean other than PZ creativity? I'm not sure if there's all that much demand for it to need it's own subforum. I can post some writing, though, if you guys are bored =P Those drawings are nifty, lots of soul in them.

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Writings are very welcomed. And I know there isn't a demand for it now, but later down the road when the forums become a bit more populated (hopefully) something along the lines of a artsy fartsy section pops up.

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Rathlord   

Okay, I'll bite.

 

Edit: Oh, I should mention. I wrote this years ago. I like to think my writing is much better than this now, as this is pretty one dimensional. But still, all critique welcome and you don't even have to be nice about it!

 

 

Baroque

It was growing dark now. Gorr walked with cocky stride. His sword rested on his hip, new, purchased only weeks ago. He was a new adventurer, traveling with the wish to slay the evil vampires that haunted his lands. He was headed to the supposed location of a vampires’ mansion. The vampire Frith was said to wait, on far out isle near the sea. Gorr trekked on, new clothes strange feeling on his skin. His gaudy blue cloak billowed behind him.

At last, he found the bridge he was looking for. Scratched into a post, “Road To Distant Isle.” Distant Isle was, indeed, the place he searched for. The long, low wooden bridge went straight into the twilight. Gorr could not see the end, but he could not see much to start with. His torch had fallen into a puddle several days ago, was ruined.

His footsteps echoed dully in the darkness. Around him, croaks and slurps, the sound of skin on mud, many strange noises seemed to follow him. The bogs around the sea were filled with strange creatures, that much he knew. Luckily he’d bothered to pick up a few magical charms. He pulled out a red bubble, glowing faintly in the night, then pushed it into his blade. The sword began glowing the same smoldering red, and heated up, warming his face and hands.

Holding the sword aloft, Gorr moved quickly along the bridge. It got only darker as the end of the bridge came into sight. It was said that daylight never graced this evil land, and once Gorr thought about it, it should have been noon almost. He dismissed the dark thought and continued walking. The island on the far side of the bridge was dark, and covered in what seemed to be grass. But when he stepped down upon it, the grass crunched under his feet, brittle like bones.

After a few minutes longer, the manor finally came into sight. It was tall, freakishly so, rising into the night. Another long walk took him to the magnificent front doors. They were tall and strong, and also locked. Not wishing to attract unwanted attention, Gorr walked around the building until he found a low door almost at the ground, facing downward.

The doors were also locked, but not as securely. They bounced and rattled when he jerked them up and down, but he couldn’t get them open. Eventually, he became frustrated and smashed a heel down in the middle. To his surprise, it burst through. So surprised was he that he followed his foot down into the hole. All went pitch black but for the soft glow of his sword. He fell for several seconds until he connected with a platform that felt like rotten wood. He slammed through and kept falling, hitting several more and the way down. At one point he flailed out with his sword arm, and connected with something hard. The weapon flew from his hands.

After another few seconds and another few impacts, he heard the his sword hit the bottom with a shattering sound. Red light flared for a moment, and then Gorr himself hit. Blackness covered his torn and broken body.

 

*  *  *

Gorr woke, stiff and broken. He lay in a puddle of his own blood. Red light was all around him. He looked around for the source of the light, remembering the darkness as he fell, but he could find nothing. His neck cracked and popped as he searched his surroundings. There was a lot of blood around him.

As he climbed to his feet his bruised and blood-covered body cracked and scraped even more, but he felt no pain. He remembered his sword dropping and hitting. As he was looking around he caught sight of a thin figure. It looked up at him, and then turned and ran.

Gorr did not call out or give chase. He had not the boldness nor the health nor the weapons to go fighting ghouls. After a moment searching the rough stone floor, he found the sword... part of it at least.

The hilt lay, and the first few inches of the sword, skewed sideways on the floor. In front of it, in a large, broken line, lay the rest of his weapon. Gasping, he picked up the hilt. When he did he felt a spark, like a shock, then cold like frost, crawling along his skin. As he took the hilt up, the rest of the sword jumped off the floor to rejoin their hilt... almost. They came together to form one, nearly whole blade, each and every piece there- but floating, not quite connected, not quite touching. Between and around the shards of metal a red light glowed, cold feeling on his pale skin.

He stared at his weapon for a long, long moment. Then, he dismissed it. He had no time for figuring out the improbabilities of magic. He needed to find his way up to the vampires lair, slay her, and get out. Somehow he’d lost his pack and his wonderful new cloak in his fall.

Stiffly, painfully, he looked around once more. He felt dry, still. Then he started moving down the passageway he was in. Dark stone, all of it, and lit by the same strange red light he noticed all around him. It was dry and claustrophobic, smelling of death and the grave. He walked for a long time, with no changes in the tunnel, just arches of stone and more stone.

Eventually, he came to a wooden door. He reached out and pulled the handle, but it came off of the door. The wood was soft, weak. Gorr simply kicked it in. Inside was a small room, and in the center a suit of armor. Gorr was wary, and had heard of living armor that attacked unwary guests in dark places such as these. Indeed as he looked, blue light glowed in the armor’s helm, and it creakily moved a bit. It turned it’s head and looked at Gorr.

Which was all the cue he needed to attack. He ran up to it and with a lunge stabbed it into the armor’s chest. Red light and blue flared and the armor fell to the ground, lifeless again. It had barely moved, hadn’t even blocked with the shield it carried. In the back of the room he heard a noise, through the open doorway there. He ran over to it and peeked up the tall spiral stair there. A short creature, demonic but human-like stood with big eyes and let out a screech that sounded rather like “Heeeeeeeeeeeeeeey!” It was shrill and loud.

Gorr ran towards the creature with sword raised. The thing turned tail and ran, but he followed. And it did, indeed, have a tail to turn. It was red, slightly furry, and had horns. 

This was what he was here for, to slay these dark creatures. He ran up the steps a little faster, as he didn’t seem to be tired at all.

The creature screamed again, this time sounding more like, “heeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeelp!” The top of the rough stone stairs were in sight. There was another wooden door at the top, strong unlike the last. Just as the demon reached up to grab the doorknob, the entire door flew open. The demon was knocked back down the steps, and flew towards Gorr. Out of the doorway came a bull-like head. A minotaur!

As the smaller demon flew past Gorr, he slashed it with his sword, across the back and side. The demon squealed as red light flared again and blood like fire came burning out of it’s wound. Gorr ignored it and ran towards the minotaur. The beast roared with feral rage but backed up out of the doorway, into a larger room.

Gorr ran after with no thoughts of his surroundings. The minotaur held a giant axe in his man-like hands. Gorr ran on anyway, sword over head. As he came close he noticed the beasts red eyes, the sweat in its fur, and the blood pounding in its veins. Then it swung the axe in a powerful horizontal arc and smashed Gorr through the air. He flew sideways and cracked against the wall.

Gorr began to understand that he knew almost nothing about fighting, and didn’t have much time to learn. He couldn’t just run up to this thing and poke it with his sword and be done. He ran towards it again in the exact same pose, sword over head. The monster let out a snort of mockery and swung sideways again, but this time Gorr rolled to the ground and came up behind the axe. The hefty weapon could not move fast enough to intercept Gorr’s stab, directly in the chest. Red light once again exploded out from the sword, and the weapon was jerked clear out of it’s chest with the force.

Gorr let his sword tip go to the ground as the fiend stumbled, and consequently barely had time to get his blade up to block the minotaurs furious strike. Once again Gorr was flying through the air, this time weaponless. His sword clattered to the ground, several yards away from him, and he finally came to a stop on his back. Lesson number two: monsters didn’t always go down upon the first stab.

As the minotaur ran up Gorr saw the blood pumping out of the hole in its chest. The creature would die, no doubt, but before it killed him? It was strangely disconcerting, to see the lifeblood squeezing out of another animals’ body, even one as obscene as this. The minotaur brought the axe down at Gorr, but he rolled aside at the last minute. The axe was embedded inches into the stone floor. While the animal struggled to pull out the weapon, Gorr clambered to his feet and fetched his own.

They both turned and faced each other. The blood was coming slower from the beast now. Gorr figured that meant the heart was failing. He just needed time. He walked towards the minotaur, then sprang back as it swung. The axe missed and it took the fiend several seconds to swing again. Gorr kept it up, dodging and ducking, as the animal’s body began to weaken and fail. Finally, it fell to it’s knees. Gorr walked around behind and and stabbed deep and powerfully into it’s back. Red light, explosive force. The creature fell lifeless to the hard floor.

Gorr finally took stock of where he was and his own condition. He felt a little beat up, but otherwise fine. The hall he was in was wide and elegant, even being of stone. There were tapestries and pictures in the wall, gothic and dark all of them. Next to one was a splattering of blood, where he had smashed into the wall.

He looked at the blood and decided he must be in shock, and not feeling his wounds. He pulled out his last magical charm, a small sphere of holy light that should heal his wounds. He pushed it into his back where he had hit...

And screamed as intolerable pain filled him from his back to the rest of his body, screamed louder and louder until he was hoarse. His vision faded and his ears rang, until he fell, barely conscious into a heap upon the floor. A black spot was on his pale skin around where he had thrust the magic, dead and hard. All went to red.

 

When he woke it was to more pain, in his side where he’d put the curing magic. Worthless, the bauble had almost killed him. It was supposed to HEAL him not hurt him. As he fully came back into consciousness, he noted that around him were several skeletons. Standing up. Walking. Just like in all the ghost stories. For a moment, he couldn’t believe it. It was too ridiculous, silly like a tale of a drunk bard. But there they were, bleached white bones, askew jaws grinning at him insanely.

They carried no weapons, only round shields that looked to be made out of bone as well.  There were four of the spawn. Gorr took stock of his situation. His sword was close at hand, and they had no weapons. They seemed, if not unaware, at least to be ignoring him. He snatched the weapon and jumped upright. His back ached but he had a job to do. The skeletons turned towards him, but they did naught to attack.

He stared for a second as they raised their hands, as if to caution him, then ran up to the first. It raised its shield and blocked his stroke, but the shield cracked with the power in the weapon. He swung again and destroyed the abomination. The rest followed, trying to defend themselves but not fighting back. They stood no chance.

Then he noticed one more, standing farther away then the rest had been. It was armored not in bone, but in steel, and held a large metal shield, as well as a short sword. When he turned towards it, it fled the opposite direction. He gave chase, but it ran to a door on the side of the corridor and went into it. The door slammed behind it.

Gorr kept on, pulled open the door and ran in, then paused. Another staircase, up and up and up and up. The skeleton was already floors above him. It went up so far that even with the red light he couldn’t see the top. This must go straight up to the vampire’s lair! He followed the clattering sounds of the skull up the stairs. He went as fast as he could, and although for some reason he did not tire at all, he could not catch it. Literal hours passed, and still the top was not in sight, and he hadn’t gained a step on the fel creature. Finally, finally the sight of the top graced his eyes. A small balcony, and then a door.

And on the balcony he beheld the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, young, unsullied, perfect, and pale. She fled into the room and Gorr assumed it was some kind of specter, to fool or deceive him. He kept going.

The skeleton ran into the doorway before him. Gorr rushed inside and then stopped in awe. A high tower room, but it was open to the elements, hardly a room. There was a roof, and stone arches around the sides of the room that held it up. But the rest of the space, where walls would normally be, were wide open. Gorr was so awestruck by the view that he walked over to one edge and looked out. The view was incredible... inspiring... powerful. Around the magnificent castle everything was dark and above them the stars and moon shone. But a mile or two out, everything else was in daylight. There was no sight of the sun, covered by the darkness in the castle, but all was lit. The ocean, magnificent and powerful, crashed against the rocks of the stone-covered shore. Light glinted off the crests of the fresh, slow waves. Seagulls played and the calls were almost audible on the wind.

To the other side, the marshes and farther on the green of the countryside. The breeze played over the rough grasses and caused the grasses to roil and flow just like the waves. They reminded Gorr of home, the home he’d been kicked out of, unforgiven for his mistakes. Goats grazed on the grasses farther away, calm and unaware of his observance. Even farther, just at the edge of sight where all became cloudy were the glorious mountains, taller than he could imagine, and powerful, bastions of the earth’s glory. At the tops, unmelted snow gleamed like the edges of men’s swords as they ride into battle.

“Inspiring, isn’t it?” Gorr whipped around at the beautiful voice. The girl he’d seen at the top of the steps stood there. “Amazing isn’t it. You came here looking for evil, but look at this place.”

He did, looked finally around the inside of the chamber. Antique furniture, albeit sparse amounts. A large, pleasant bed fitted in burgundy fabric. Tasteful artwork on the columns around the sides. A large mirror over a dresser. The room was in dark taste, but still... beautiful, just like the girl. But that was no girl, he now knew. Frith, the evil vampire.

“I’m not fooled by your appealing looks and pleasant tower!” Gorr shouted, and raised his sword in front of him. He rushed towards her with it, and swung but she jumped backwards, ten feet or more and he missed by a long margin.

“Take a moment, please, to consider. If you will not believe me for my beauty and the beauty of this place, then let this convince you. How about my hospitality? You burst into my home, and I saved your life. In a way. Then, you run into some of my guardians, sent by me to show you my friendship, that we meant no harm. You attacked them out of hand..”

“They attacked me!” he protested.

“Did they? Did they indeed? Or did you simply expect them to? NO, you attacked them, my friends and allies, with no respect for their life or freedom.”

“...You did not save my life Frith, lady of evil,” he said quickly, changing the subject. 

“No, not per say. You are unfortunately dead, but at least you still walk on this world so I would be grateful were I you.”

“Dead... I’m not dead. I stand here before you.” She said nothing in response, simply walking over to the mirror and picking it up. It looked extraordinarily heavy, and Gorr wasn’t sure if he could even have moved it. But she carried it lightly, and stepped before him.

“Look inside.” He did, and saw himself for the first time since his fall. He was pale, completely white. His eyes had a red sheen about them. His ghostly sword shone back at him. His body was broken and cut. Were he alive he would be bleeding. The spot where he had placed the holy magic looked like a cruel burn on his skin. Holy magic... had burnt him.

“No... this can’t be!”

“Have no fear, it’s not so bad. Do you see now, I meant you no harm? I mean no one any harm. I am a vampire, but I do not hunt for humans or animals. I wait up here in my chambers and starve. When the occasional vampire hunter comes I have been known to feed on them, but none else. My castle is a home for those creatures labeled evil by humanity, but truly wish to live in peace. We harm naught, simply stay in the castle. I shrouded the place in night so that men would stay away, and the creatures of the night could be comfortable. We could have killed you at any time, and you killed two of my good friends here. The minotaur had a bit of a temper, but he was a good fellow, with a sincere want to be good. The imp you maimed died earlier. He was another close friend, loud and annoying sometimes but just a creature that loves fun. He was trying to lead you to me.”

“I believe you.”

Long minutes of silence passed. Frith pointed at the skeleton and motioned it away. It slowly tromped down the stairs after a creaky bow... to both of them.

“I always ruin things. There’s no forgiveness in this cruel world either. My family kicked me out for my costly mistakes, and I came here seeking redemption. Seems I’ve just screwed up again. What should I do now? Mayhaps I’ll just jump off of your beautiful castle.”

“No, do not do that. There is no reason for suicide, ever. And besides, it would leave an unseemly splatter on my lawn” She let out a short, ringing laugh that made his heart ache for her. He did not understand why or how... but it did. He let out his deep laugh too, noticing a new rough edge to it.

“Stay here with us, with me. I’ve wanted some... mostly human... company for a long time. Who knows, with time maybe we could come to be friends or more. But only if you have learned the truth here. Can you tell me what this has taught you?”

“Not everything dark or unknown is evil. It is a shame to read into situations what is not there. A person should let logic lead them, not anger like I did. There is a reason for every action, even though it may seem like something entirely different to others. I’ve done so much wrong... I do not even know what all to say. Just that... there is a purpose for everything.” He let his head hang low, eyes downcast, afraid to look at her.

“Close enough,” she laughed again. He looked up into her impossible, smiling eyes and let the slightest of grins break over his face. “Welcome to my castle. Do you enjoy chess?”

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Those two drawings/paintings are fucking amazing dude. I really like 'em.

 

I really liked your story Rath, apart from a few tiny grammatical errors I thought it was great! I can imagine how a full novel based on it would go. Explaining what happened before with his family, his preparations, maybe a flash forward to after he moved into the castle, extended battle scenes. It'd be fucking sweet!

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Rathlord   

Those two drawings/paintings are fucking amazing dude. I really like 'em.

 

I really liked your story Rath, apart from a few tiny grammatical errors I thought it was great! I can imagine how a full novel based on it would go. Explaining what happened before with his family, his preparations, maybe a flash forward to after he moved into the castle, extended battle scenes. It'd be fucking sweet!

Ya it never really got edited after I wrote it =P I just dredged it up from the deepest mires of my HD. I'm trying to get back into short stories since I tend to get about 3/4 of the way through novels then decide I hate them.

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Yeah it's a bit of a pain in the ass to do ha. Ooh very eloquent even in menial conversing. I like it. Post em here if you do, I'd like to read them. Sucks about your novels but I know the way it is ha. 

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Ah what the hell. Here's a story (all about how, my life got flip turned upside down) that I wrote for a short story competition at a local uni:

 

A Sensible Man

 

I was checking the wires I had set up around my home when one of them got out. It was morning, the sun bright, though the sunlight held no warmth, like a buttery pastry that was all flavour and no substance. I heard one of the bells I had attached to the tripwires jingle lightly, and I saw it skittering across the wasteland. It was slow and unsteady on its feet. It looked like it was blinded by the sun. I shot it with my rifle, though I was a little disgruntled that it had figured a way out of its pen. I could understand its desire for freedom though. It had been penned up in the dark place for years. I had clipped it in the leg, so I trudged over and stopped its squealing with a sharp thrust with my hunting knife. The sun still reflected in its eyes though. It seemed as though it was staring at me, accusing me. Before the end I was a vegetarian, and now I’m pretty much a battery farmer. Changes, changes…

 

I’m a sensible man, so I’m not going to waste the meat, even if I hadn’t planned a slaughter for a few more weeks. I usually try to cull one every couple of months or so; the meat can go a long way if you know what to do with it, and part of my vegetarian morality still clung on. I didn’t like to hurt them unless it was necessary. The escape was unexpected, but it looked like I needed to add to the herd’s food anyway. I know it seems a bit twisted to feed them one of their own, but it’s impossible for anything to grow nowadays. I managed to get a small herb garden going, but finding seeds that will actually sprout in the soil is too much of a hassle, and a decent crop will take months to actually come to fruition. I tried it once, and all I got were a few stubby carrots and twisted potatoes. Meat subsistence is the only thing that will keep you alive.

 

I ran the hose over the animal; they were far too big to wash in the sink inside. I’d tried once before, but the ways the limbs bent and flailed about were a twisted parody of life. I heaved it onto the table I had put behind the house, arranging it on its back, and picked up one of the smaller of my butcher’s knives. The blade ripped open the skin like a wet paper bag, the stench of guts forcing its way up my nostrils and pushing the taste of bile to the back of my throat. I retched at the smell, as I always did. No matter how many times I did this, it still felt wrong. I sliced through skin and fat and muscle, searching for those precious bloody pieces of meat. I pulled out the kidneys, the liver, the intestines, and set them to one side, the blood and gore reaching up to my biceps, the smell of shit wafting up out of the loosened bowels. I must have nicked the rectum. I put the lungs and heart into a bucket, slipping wetly from my hands like red lychee fruit, ripe and ready to burst. I scooped out all the stinking innards and bloody mess of organs. I took up the wood axe I had by the bench, my butcher’s hands slipping over the handle. It took me a moment to get a good grip. I slammed the blade into the neck until it separated from the rest of the body, blood dripping from the stump and spattering wetly into the mud. I did the same for the limbs. It didn’t look quite as bad any more. The eyes couldn’t stare when they’re face down in the filth.

 

I had just finished butchering the creature and putting the loose bits through the grinder when I heard voices ringing out across the landscape. I was furiously scrubbing at my hands, fingers dripping with watered gore that refused to come off. You’d be amazed at how distinctive a human voice when all you hear for weeks is rainfall, the wind and the sound of metal cutting meat. They sounded angry, arguing. I knew they’d end up investigating around my land. Everything and everyone else had moved on or died. I dried my hands, unslung my rifle and took the stairs to the second story balcony.

 

“. . . walking on and on without a destination!” The voices drew nearer.

 

“What are we supposed to do? It’s not like we have a fucking tourist brochure.”

 

“I don’t know, find a map, make a plan . . . ”

 

“Girl, you’re pushing me. It’s only down to me that we’ve made it as far as we have, with you the way you are . . . ”

 

I fired a shot at their feet. Tarmac and gravel shot up with a crack. The girl jumped away while the man swore and fell backwards on his arse.

 

“That’s clo . . .” I coughed. It had been weeks since I last spoke. I tried again. “Close enough!”

 

The pair spotted me, and immediately ducked for the cover of an abandoned car nearby.

 

“We just need . . .” the girl began, her voice shrill with adrenaline.

 

“I don’t care who you are, or where you’re from, or what your story is. I don’t like visitors.”

 

“We’re not visitors, just travellers.” A deeper voice this time. “We just want to see what’s down the road a way.”

 

“There’s nothing and no one, so you’d best go back the way you came,” I shouted back, gesturing with my rifle barrel.

 

“Can’t you . . . ’

 

I fired again, the shot ringing off the top of the car. Sparks flew and landed on the man’s hand, and I heard violent cursing through the broken windows of the car.

 

“Last warning. Go back the way you came. If you need shelter, there are hundreds of abandoned houses. But you’re not welcome here. Walk away.”

 

The pair stood up slowly. As they walked, I saw that the girl was walking oddly, her back bent slightly. I thought she might have been overweight, but there wasn’t enough food around for someone to get fat. It was only then that I realized the girl was pregnant.

 

“Wait!” I called them back, as they started to trudge away. “Wait. Didn’t realize … how far along are you?”

 

“None of your fucking business!” the man called back, but the girl turned slightly and called “Seven months.”

 

I stood for a moment, transfixed by the sight of this bump in the woman’s stomach. I almost cried. It had been years since …

I made up my mind. I stepped down from my perch, and approached. They were wary, and the man stepped in front of the woman, a knife appearing in his hands. I stopped about ten feet away from them, the wind flapping my washed hair behind me like a cape. The sun’s flare glinted off the blade, slashing a glimmering beam across the dust at my feet. The girl looked fearful, but nowhere near as

fearful as the man. His fear was red, a hungry red. What a contrast he and I must have made. My clothes were clean, his dirty, my eyes calm, his wild. Butchery is dirty work, but I still looked as white as wool next to him.

 

“You can come in, for a time. If you want,” I offered.

 

“I thought you didn’t like visitors,” the man replied, his eyes on the rifle in my hands.

 

“I don’t. Usually. But pregnancy is rare. I’ll make an exception.”

 

“Why would we make an exception for you?” the man shot back.

 

“Because you want food, and I’ve got it,” I said, staring at her stomach. “Come in.”

 

I walked back towards the house, and shortly after I heard their footsteps crunching on the gravel path to my front door, my little wired alarm bells ringing, ringing.

 

I stopped on the porch, knocking my boots against the wooden steps to clear the dust, motioning for the others to do the same. I hung up my rifle as well. The man glanced at it, stared at me, and put the knife he was still holding back in his boot. They fell under the shadow of my doorframe, the darkness washing down their shoulders and necks. I sat at my Kitten table. They remained standing. The man was tall, gangly, stringy, like a piece of beef jerky, a dried out twig with tendons. Hard. Tough. He wouldn’t do at all. But the girl, no, the woman: she was beautiful. She had hints of curves, even through her dirty, too-big clothing. The hard life we lived now always took its toll, but not on this one. Her hips were big, her chest ample. That was good. Her eyes were big, and blue. Innocent. Innocence was good too. Innocence was naïve. While her partner’s eyes flitted about the room, she stood staring right at me, still filled with fear, but maybe a little hope as well. Just like her pregnancy, hope is something I hadn’t seen for a long time. It filled me up like a sweet honey, like a warm drink of mother’s milk, mixed with the heat of whiskey. It burned.

 

“My name is Sophie” said the woman finally, relaxing a little. The man mumbled something too, but I didn’t hear what he said. She sat opposite me, the other one sat beside her. They saw the knives, they saw the bloody rags. I guess they thought I had some pigs or chickens. The man licked his lips at the prospect of a meal.

 

Sophie. Why did she tell me her name? It’s always so much harder when you know their names. I looked at Sophie and smiled. She smiled back, perhaps a little tentatively. It’ll have to do. I swapped her gaze for the one beside her. He was still drinking in the rest of my home, from the simple but clean counters to the woodfire stove I used to cook my meat. Sophie whispered something to him, and its gaze finally met mine, and I saw nothing but fear and mistrust in those dark eyes. I could see myself reflected in them. Everything good and human in her was missing.

 

“So where’s this food?” it said. I gave it a blank look.

 

It was surprised when I leaped across the table and buried my blade in his shoulder. Blood spurted into my face. I felt awful. But sometimes the pain was necessary.

 

The animal spurted out his life on my kitchen floor, crying and moaning and crawling away, right up until I stuck my hunting knife into it to stop the squealing. Sophie was running and screaming, but I was faster. Pregnancy was rare. I caught her as she stumbled down the gravel path, dragged her behind me by the wrist and locked her in the basement with the rest of them. She cried and screamed and scratched at me, but it didn’t help.

 

I was careful with her though, I wouldn’t want to harm the little one growing in her belly. I’m a sensible man, after all. Pregnancy was rare. A few more months, and the woman, no, the girl, no . . . it would be ready to breed again. If it had a girl, I’d have more breeding stock in a few years. If it had a boy, well . . . I’m a sensible man. I still had the one that was with her to deal with. I didn’t even retch when I cut that twig open.

 

The world had ended, and everything we knew and accepted had ended with it. It doesn’t really matter how or why, but it was gone. Some people never adapted. Some people survived, for a time. Me, I just went on living. With a few changes, of course. Judgment day doesn’t show up without you having to make some changes.

Edited by DrummerKidJack
[spoiler]

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Oh god dammit, I just noticed the word "kit.chen" in my story has now been replaced with "kitten". DAMMIT MODS, Y U DO DIS

Undeniably, your story is now cute and fluffy.

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Rathlord   

Oh god dammit, I just noticed the word "kit.chen" in my story has now been replaced with "kitten". DAMMIT MODS, Y U DO DIS

You know why.

 

Also, if you guys notice grammatical errors in my stuff please feel free to point them out and I'll edit it. I would always rather have it done than not, I just don't always get around to it.

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Rathlord   

I liked it, very interesting. The scene with the skinning was very visceral. I've been up to my shoulders in gore before and it was a pretty good approximation of the experience (especially if you've got a gut shot animal). Too many people write stories/talk like the end of the world would be a cake walk and they'd be some badass ninja/pirate/Schwarzenegger hybrid. Good read all around, puts my stuff to shame =P

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Rathlord   

I was wondering if you were coming Red! I may have slightly ninja'd your suggestions forum sticky and reposted it as my own though XD

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Rathlord   

Most of my other writings are just snippets or starts to stories that haven't been finished... I might post one every once in a while. I also do custom writing if you ever need anything written up: press releases, science writing, game dialogue/story, any creative writing. Let me know if you guys ever need anything.

 

Edit: Oh, and if I'm in a very, very nerdy mood I also write custom D&D campaigns and classes.

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Hey Rath, I really liked the idea of your story! The whole "evil isn't really evil, it's subjective, don't be stereotypin' "evil" creatures ya great DnD racist!" is a good take on classic fantasy tropes. I'd be really interested to read any of your newer stuff too actually, if any of it is ready :P

 

Thanks for the feedback on mine, I actually lied; that was a piece I submitted for my Creative Writing paper, the one for the competition is here:

 

http://www.aut.ac.nz/__data/assets/pdf_file/0019/373141/15-20-The-MemTech-Trust.pdf

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Rathlord   

In all fairness most of what I write is just over the top combat scenes with characters I've come up with and essentially no backstory E.G.:

 

 

 

After a few moments, the rubble grew still and quiet, except for the soft moaning of some of the injured soldiers nearby. All that remained was the chapel. He walked quickly to the doors, his boots crunching against the hard ground beneath his feet. When he reached the doors, a holy seal burst forth in white light, covering them, guarding the sacred temple. He hesitated for a moment, then threw up one hand, fingers stretched wide, palm facing the door. Dark runes traced in fire seared the air in a large circle around his hand. His whole palm was covered by a globe of energy, purple and black swirling violently.

A beam burst forth from his palm, ribbons and tracers of black streaming out from it, and smote the door. The white seal upon the door held for a moment, and then was corrupted by his energies and crumbled apart. The doors flew apart, splintering into the chamber inside. 

For a moment the chapel was dark, and he was hopeful, moving in. Then, searing light blinded him and burned him. All of the candles inside were lit with blazing white flames. And at the front stood the guardian of this place, a high priest of the novos. Around him hovered many swords, seemingly made of pure light, large, intricate, and floating all around him.

“Thou shall not corrupt this place,” the priest intoned clearly but softly. “I am Vezir, the high priest of this sacred ground. I will crush you.” He sprung forward, gliding just above the ground, fast as light at Rek. Rek launched himself into the air, armor and all, and fired a hail of dark bolts down at the priest.

They stopped mere feet away from Vezir, and burst apart in explosions of light, blocked by some invisible shield. Rek grabbed onto the ceiling and anchored himself there, inverting gravity around his feet. The priest flung his hands into the air and the swords came slashing and swirling at him.

Rek pushed off the ceiling and flew diagonally away from them before they reached him. The swords paused, shone bright for a moment, then appeared back around the priest. Rek now stood at the front of the room, the pews in front of him and the priest behind those. With a spinning kick he struck the first pew. It exploded backwards into the rest and carried the whole row with it, flying towards the priest. Dark fire spread in among it, like a shockwave coming along the ground. 

Vezir put his hands into the air, and all the swords of light came above him in a tight packed group. Then he swung his hands down, and the swords struck the ground in front of them. A tight arrow of light flew out and met the wave of fire and splintered pews that flew at him. When they met, Rek’s attack was blown apart, and the light blast sped on towards him. He knelt and went into a defensive stance, and created a massive flaming shield in front of him. The light struck it, and blew it apart as well. Rek was blasted back through the air, but just as he was about to smash in the wall, he turned a flip in the air and landed on the wall as if it was the ground.

Throwing himself off of the wall, he released his wings and sped towards the priest. Holding his hands by one side, he summoned a massive flaring ball of energy that clung to his fist. As he neared Vezir he moved that fist above his head, and came down with it as if to punch the guardian of the temple. But as he flew at the priest, his fist was blocked with such force that he was pushed into the air above Vezir, uncontrolled and flailing about with his wings. Vezir calmly raised one hand.

The swords came together to form a cone, with the points all touching and pointing at the spot in the air where Rek hovered. In less than a moment they flared bright and a great orange and white burst of light was flung out by them, and pierced Rek right through his chest, passing through his powerful armor as if it wasn’t there, and going on beyond him. He screamed as the blood in his body boiled around the beam.

He hung there, impaled by the light for several seconds, and then the whole beam exploded. Bits of his armor flew through the air, as did he. He had only partially retracted his wings when he was struck, and they were burned ragged and and full of tattered holes. Struck the wall at great speed, fell to the floor. Pushed himself up weakly on his elbows. Vezir was standing above him, although Rek could barely see it for his swimming dark vision.

He could not beat the priest, not like this. Calling on his last vestiges of power, he summoned darkness into the room and smothered all the light, then with much effort flew himself out into the night, barely keeping above the ground. After a minute or so, Vezir’s light burst through the darkness, but he was gone by then. He found a small dark place, among some shrubs and in a low area, and fell into unconsciousness.

 

He woke up, groggy and sore but on the whole healed. He was lucky to have his rapid regeneration. He cursed, picked himself up, and headed back for the temple.

 

Although this one is even older than the last XD

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I was wondering if you were coming Red! I may have slightly ninja'd your suggestions forum sticky and reposted it as my own though XD

 

 It's all good. :cool:

 

 And you know I couldn't abadon this wonderful community.

 

 I love to write fantasy as well. I am currently writing a multi-novel series that is pretty deep and heady as well as full of action. I am very inspired by C.S Lewis, Tolkien, Timothy Keller, and various writers. I might post a small preview on my Dev account when I copyright my portfolio (thus making it secure to do so). The first novel is called Boundless and I hope to finish it by the end of this year. I also plan to do the audiobook (because I am getting involved in voice acting). 

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Rathlord   

Heya Red, if you log the date and post the copyright symbol with your work and do so with good intent of following through with the copyright your work is protected as if copyrighted (in the United States, at least, probably internationally).

 

Would love to look at a snippet of your work sometime, even if not your novels.

 

I'd post all 180 pages of my current novel but it's just... abysmal. It's boring and dry and gets lost in all the wrong details. Bleh.

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Rathlord   

Read your other story, too. I'm really impressed, you could go a long way with your writing. You write like I wish I did. I've got it all in my head- the vocabulary, the plots, the characters but I just can't get it down on paper the way I want it, ever. I'm better at telling stories out loud, I think. Writing on real paper helps me sometimes, too.

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