So, this was an idea that I had. If you're interested, please reply.
It's not really a contest, but if you guys want to make it one, that's good with me. On this same topic, I want anyone joining to post a short story or two including one or more of your RP characters, just to let others see. I'll contribute as well:
In One Stroke
Anghan was exhausted. He’d been swinging that wooden sword around for two hours at that wooden dummy, and he was completely wiped out. “Father, ‘ow much longer do I need to practice these strokes ye taught me?” he complained. “I’m already bonny at the timing and placement of yon blade.”
Anghan’s father, Calthon, looked up from the nail he was hammering into a plank of wood. “I think that ye can be finished now. Let me see them one more time,” he said gently. Calthon had a surprisingly soft voice for a creature of his size. The huge timberwolf stood a full head taller than his son, and his son was already the size of a young badger. Calthon’s blue eyes shone as he took in Anghan’s skill with the broadsword.
The wooden sword sliced down at the arm of the dummy, then immediately came back up to parry the counterweight that swung back around to clobber him in the head. The younger wolf stamped a paw forward to give extra momentum to the lunge that he put his body mass behind. The dummy bounced back off of the hay stand it was on. Finally, even though it wasn’t in the sequence, Anghan’s paw twirled the sword around for a final lunge to the dummy’s bright painted heart.
Calthon’s strong paw stopped the sword before it could continue. “Let the enemy get up first. Let him ‘ave a second chance in yon name of chivalry, but nae more.” Anghan pulled the sword away and nodded.
“Supper!” Anghan’s mother, a smaller wolf of a light brown-grey hue and dark green eyes named Kalien, was standing on the porch.
“Coming, m’dear!” Calthon called back. He lifted his finished work, a cedar wood bench, and carried it inside on one shoulder. Anghan followed. He stowed the wooden practice sword by the door and walked in to the sight of a table covered with steaming meat and a colorful pastry. His nose instantly told him the measure of Kalien’s skill in cooking.
Calthon sat down at the head of the table. He said a quick grace, apologizing to the fish and birds that made up their meal, and began to devour what was on his plate. Anghan followed suit, and soon they were getting in bed with full stomachs. The son retired to his cot in the attic of their little mountain cottage.
The next morning, Anghan woke to the delicious smell of fried salmon on toast. He rolled out of bed immediately. Grabbing a black tunic, he thundered down the stairs and plopped down in a chair. Kalien was frying their breakfast at a black metal stove with an iron pan. “Sixteen years doesnae make ‘em any less hungry,” she said to herself.
Calthon joined them. He was wearing clothes similar to Anghan’s. “Anghan, lad, I left one of my best saws oot at the edge o’ the pine grove. Could ye go and fetch it?” he asked. Anghan nodded and dashed out of the house.
Once outside, he directed his run towards a cluster of trees a bit west of their cottage. His ears twitched, picking up a slight flapping sound some ways away, but he thought nothing of it.
Sunlight glinted off of the blade of a saw leaning up against a tree. Anghan ran up and grabbed it. He was about to turn and go back when, all of a sudden, he was hit from behind with a huge force. Searing pain appeared in four places in his back. Something screeched and buffeted him over the head.
Anghan howled in pain when something bit his ear. Startled, the thing let go long enough for Anghan to turn around. A massive eagle was attacking him fiercely. He reacted by swiping at it with the saw, but a powerful wing knocked it out of his paw. The wolf yelled, “Father!” as he was knocked on his back. Calthon and Kalien dashed out of the cottage.
Calthon wielded his broadsword with ease. With the flat of the blade, he knocked the bird off of Anghan. “Son, run!” The bird was even bigger than Calthon. Anghan stumbled to his feet and limped away, fear propelling him through the trees.
Hot tears of anger and fear coursed down his face as he fell over and over. Finally, he ran into a huge branch, effectively knocking himself out.
Back at the edge of the grove, Calthon had pushed the eagle back towards a cliff. Kalien was looking to see what she could do as her husband parried all of the vicious bird’s talons. The female wolf spotted a fallen tree limb. She rushed to it, lifted it, and came behind the eagle.
It saw her first, though. Spinning around, one of the eagle’s talons caught her throat. It was a fatal wound. She fell back, gasping for air.
Calthon was stunned for a moment. Recovering his wits, he exploded into a howl and rushed at the bird. His sword skewered it, and their momentum pushed both of the over the cliff’s edge into the rocks below. The last thing Calthon thought was, “I love ye both.”
Anghan woke up to sunlight filtering through a doorway to his left. Two older rabbits watched him carefully. He sat up, but fell back down at the blazing pain in his back. “Aah!” he breathed. One of the rabbits held him down with a paw.
“Rest,” he croaked. Anghan nodded. Five minutes later, he sank back into a deep sleep.
Later, he woke up again. He tried sitting up again, and all he felt was a cool sensation in his spine. “What did ye do?” he asked the rabbit who was sitting by him.
“My husband is a practiced healer,” she said quietly. “You’re well, and may go now.” She handed him a small loaf of bread.
Anghan nodded in thanks. “I thank ye kindly for yer generosity,” he said, and ran out the door. He kept running until he saw the end of the trees and the walls of his cottage.
Side note: This is NOT an RP. Anyone can join.
memescox last edited by
I will post on this soon!
As will I!
For everyone else, this is still open. Jared, this doesn't apply to you, I know that you're planning to post at some point, I'm not just urging you on.
The Blood of the Past
“Father! Come quickly!”
Sora stood up from his decorated feathered divan, rushing from the house to see his son on the front cobblestone porch. Kilkrag smiled broadly about something, and held in his paws what seemed, by all accounts, to be…
“I don’t believe it!” Sora gasped, clutching a surprised paw to his heart. “Kilkrag, do you know what that is?”
Kilkrag hopped around the porch, laughing heartily. “Yes, Father, I do know! It’s my old late mother’s sword!”
Sora reached out for the thing, wonderment spread across his face. Kilkrag offered it to him, and the elder otter took it by the handle, yet not unsheathing the weapon.
“To think that we thought it lost, after those cruel beasts stole it from us. After…”
He fell silent, cradling the precious family relic in his paws, tears entering his eyes. Kilkrag threw his arms around his father, and Sora kissed him on the forehead.
“I miss her, too.” Kilkrag confessed. “7 years to the day since she died, since that sword disappeared, within the paws of those shrewd evil corsairs. But look at the thing!”
He flipped it over in his father’s paws so the blade faced the other direction, away from them.
“It’s still in pristine condition!”
Sora released his son, wiping tears from his eyes. “Come, how about we go back inside? We need to get a better look at it.”
Once done as such, the two otters properly unsheathed the blade. A longsword, no more drawn than 3 and ½ feet, forged of pure Eastern steel. On the hilt appeared indented the name in white mithril: Safillas.
“Think Mother would approve?”
Sora, in the activity of tracing his fingers along the weapon, stopped and looked up at Kilkrag, skeptical. “Approve of what, Kilk?”
Kilkrag rubbed the back of his head anxiously. “Using it again, despite the long time of disuse? Would Mother approve if…you or I took it up and wielded it?”
Sora considered this for a moment; Kilkrag withdrew into the kitchen to warm up a kettle of tea. 3 years today since that fateful ambush, the terrible unexpected attack that took his wife away, and his son’s mother.
During a full-scale corsair invasion on the Islands those past 7 years ago, one division of the army invaded Githinien, refusing warning, raiding the island and killing innocents in sight. Demonstrating no mercy, no hesitation, nor taking prisoners. Purely in the name of one master, and fulfilling one objective:
Nagrig Deathblade, seeking the King of the Eastern Islands.
Safillas and Sora, and Kilkrag at 12 years of age, fought hard and fast for their lives. But their enemies overpowered them, and unlike the others, held them prisoner in their own home; and spent several minutes debating on whom to kill first.
Eventually, they decided on the mother.
Sora and Kilkrag were forced to watch as the monsters murdered Safillas. As the final act of apathy, her sword also stolen, to be used for presumably malicious reasons. Failing to locate the prophesied King of the East, Nagrig recalled his forces, leaving the denizens with their immeasurable grief.
Following this came years of mourning and near-impossible recovery for Githinien. Sora, ignoring his son’s opposition, traveled far and wide around the world in pursuit of his wife’s sword, to no avail and pain beyond belief. Although chieftain of Githinien, the Isle of Mystery at the time, the elder was unprepared and unwarned, and could not plan or defend accordingly against the random attack.
Now…7 years down the line…Sora had had to step down during the 5th year, and gave Kilkrag the position. Mysteries abounded; the sword remained hidden.
Sora followed Kilkrag into the kitchen. “Son, may I ask how came you by this?”
Kilkrag poured yesterday’s tea into cups for himself and his father. “The truth? Morgan found it.”
“Morgan?” Sora repeated, surprised. “The hedgehog traveler from next door?”
Kilkrag scratched his chin thoughtfully. “Aye, Father! Located it in a vermin’s den, somewhere…some forest called…Mossflower. Apparently, Morgan was on his way to this legendary place called Redwall Abbey, when an ambush happened. Of course, Morgan is not a fighter to be underestimated and drove them back easily. A few injuries, though nothing he couldn’t handle. One of the vermin let slip that they owned a den; a cave, if you will, where treasure lay. And what should be there?”
“Safillas’ sword…” Sora sheathed and gripped it tighter in his paws. Kilkrag nodded affirmatively.
A quick knock at the door interrupted their tea. Kilkrag offered to answer it, putting his cup aside and sprinting to the door.
“Morgan!” Kilkrag stepped aside to let the hedgehog inside the house.
“I come bearing great and wonderful news, my lords and friends!” Morgan clapped his paws together, a bright and anxious light shining in his eyes. “The King, he has returned to the Islands! He is rallying the Five together! And requests your presence as soon as possible tomorrow!”
For possibly the first time that day, a proud grin spread across Sora’s face. He held out the newfound sword to Kilkrag, the handle free for his gripping.
“Take it, Kilkrag. She would have wanted you to wield it. Go answer Jared Sandeye’s summons.”
Dumbfounded at first, Kilkrag speedily gathered his senses and took the former weapon of his mother, strapping it to his tunic, and claiming it as his own.
The final words of his father resonated loud and clear in his ears.
“Go forth to Maraul, my son. Morgan will join you, as will I when the time is deemed right. Destiny beckons.”
Interestingly, Jared, I just noticed that both of our characters lost their mother.
Kilkrag's tie-in to The Prophecy will really come in handy later. I don't want to spoil the surprises until the RP starts up again.
Okay. give thumbs up I'll post in LOTR later. I haven't forgotten.
Connected to this topic: http://icefurrsstories.weebly.com/archive-the-rogue-captain.html