ravenDivinity

Starless

Altim

P R O T E C T T H E P E O P L E ; R E T R E A T I N T O T H E F O R E S T
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Youth was a gift to treasure. The blood rushed through Altim's veins with new life, and his mind was awake under a spell of constant, excited activity. Altim felt truly young again, now both in spirit and in body, as the duties of a hero befell him once more. Ansur had faith in the Hero of Cynderia, the young, energetic fellow that Altim once was. It was time for Altim to become that great Hero again for the sake of mankind. "Aye, Ansur. I vow that, through me, the light will prevail," Altim bowed and then held his hand in the air to swear on his word. He made his pact with the gods, and Altim accepted his responsibility: to become the light. He would fight ferociously against the dark while he fanned the flames.

Altim drew no sword for lack of weapon. He was the sword, and his violin was the grinding stone. He could feel the magic within it, and its power had not faded since he was last alive. If he was truly wise, he could purify his light with it. And he did. Altim played an epic hymn on the violin that cried to the light, and he cast a reflection of his light in the air around him. Energy from his violin purged the dark spots in his light, and when the song was done, his soul was clean. Altim's spine tingled with new life, and the youth felt full with awakened power. "Let us bring light to the city."

He slipped through the gate, and he hastily pushed for the castle in the alleyways where there were but skeleton crews of the Black King's cronies. Altim's path carved through the Cult of the Black King like a knife through butter, and he, with his violin, sung tunes that shot fire. The demonic who had dared try and touch him were incinerated where they stood as Altim revealed some of his more practical capabilities. Along the way, Altim had a few close calls—a hellish blade had grazed his shoulder, a wicked woman nearly yanked him into the crowd with her crooked, muddy fingers—but against all of them, he triumphed and overcame their threats. He not once looked behind him, save one time when he stood and saw a beam of light from the sky, Ansur doing the same work that Altim was.

Altim did not stop to knock at the castle doors. He was in, and he was out. In a time of great alarm, Altim had to protect the sovereign of the land, and he did not let the king and his family protest. He barked at the king his demands, "We must escape this place immediately! You take your queen and follow me, and I will carry your youngest children. Do not stop for anything whatsoever!" The king and the queen nodded, now subservient to Altim's command and choked by fear and dread. Altim heaved the king's youngest daughter on his shoulders, and he ran in step with the eldest prince and princess, the king and queen close behind. If they stayed any longer or waited on anything, the cultists would have murdered them all in their indolence.

Altim made haste through the underground crypts of the city, and their group amassed a few guards and citizens who had made it underground when the fray erupted on the surface. This party was the only one that would survive the madness, the only one that would persevere through the sacking of Kolantis. Anyone who failed to keep up or halted or stalled was left behind. Altim had no room for dissent. Not when an infernal army followed the group close behind on the path to the city's exit. The end of their long trek saw them jumping out of the tunnel in the last moments before Ansur's light purged Kolantis of all, living and dead. Pointing at the explosion of light, Altim said, "Only one blessed by a god could survive that." He promptly collapsed the catacombs behind the group, anyone following them crushed under the earth regardless of identity, and the group huddled together in a panicked throng.

"May Faerthus bless you all. If you have lived thus far, you have my favor, for you have defied the odds." Altim walked toward the group. "Be silent." The group's frightened whispers dissipated into a silence that heard the dust settle.

"I am Altim, the Hero of Cynderia. Who so among you dissents to traveling in a pack with those of a different class, I repudiate him. An evil has fallen upon Ansus, an evil that has killed the gods. There exist divisions among men no longer. We are now one people, scratching and screaming to the grinding of teeth and bone as we strive to escape the grip of demons. I know not where our destiny is now, but I know that until I have further plans, we must await Ansur's return. Follow me into the forests. As we walk, I will answer questions." With that final word, Altim started their exodus into the woods north of Kolantis.

The Lady in the Garden

A shadow moved in the park across the street.

It came from the verdant, unsuspecting woods, a transient mirage of the witching hour creeping slowly under the dim light. Its spindly form made no noise, and it offered no clues. It was a being unto itself, but truly the forest's ilk. It spoke a tongue of leaves skidding across concrete, it walked a gait of wind blowing through branches. The moon saw, but the suburb slept. No voices cried out in condemnation in the noir. If there was any objection, nature would not hear it.

I watched silently as the figure carved its route through the park to the edge of the street, where it stopped as though it waited for the signal. The light shafted through the shutters of my room, and only my face obscured the glow. Like a siren of destiny, something stirred me to consciousness while I was sleeping that uncanny night. What coddled me when I dreamed of empty halls and closed doors? The sheets were wrinkled, and a comforter lay in a lump on the wood floor. The house settled as I stood by the window with a blank visage. I made my confession to God in the dark, I exposed my sins to the void.

The willow virgin revealed herself onstage to an absent audience. Her hair was gray and wispy, and it fell to a viridescent dress that transformed from silk into grass traversing its length. I did not see her petticoat, but I reasoned that it was stuffed with stars. In the asphalt spotlight, she sat and looked skyward for guidance, and I saw her face. It was fair and pale, and her eyes were made of sapphires. She would be the wife of the sea if I had ever laid eyes upon it.

The woman of the wood pressed her hands to her breast and cast a glare from her chest. She held her palms out, the radiant star within, and the bright light shot into the heavens, piercing the clouds. An unreasoned, crude zealot might call her then a heathen witch, but I saw a saint in green, a martyr in white. Her hands fell to the ground, and her fingers rooted themselves in the dusty pavement. Her roots cracked the material world beneath her, she arched her back at the climax, and her hair flew above her into a tangle of sticks and foliage. She breathed her substance in, and her torso morphed into a hard shell of bark and trunk.

She fed her identity to the world and tore into the machinations of mankind. She seemed larger, taller now, and her arms stretched longingly to the magnificent heavens. My eyes followed her figure. She twisted into a great oak tree, she raged war with mankind. She gave herself to God. I dreamed of the lady who died.

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Not long, but I like to think that this is nothing more than a simple rough draft or an early version of a short story. Comments, questions, critiques all welcome.

Starless

@VoiD: I think Transience will let you in if my judgment serves me right.

Starless

@VoiD: Cinnead better join the A-Squad. He'll fit in wonderfully with the great sage and the forefather.

One of the greatest wizards and bards of all time and two skilled fighters; one of which is likely the greatest warrior to have ever lived, and the other whose fame transcends time and space? We'll be so OP together that even Starless will shit his pants.

But these characters need that kind of power. These are legends. They're going to need it against the antagonist they have to face.

Starless

Post is up.

Also, is there anybody we have who is inactive?

Starless

Altim

T H E L I G H T O F L I G H T S E M A N A T E S F R O M W I S D O M
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The dread roar rang through Kolantis with a wicked echo. Louder. Louder, louder, and louder still. The controlled hectic of the city underwent an unsettling transformation; the living city became the funeral hearse in the procession of life. An ominous cloud of black smoked across the capital of Ansus, and the prospitious people who offered their hearts to the pride of their land took cover in the face of the dying of the light. The gods had fallen, darkness had won. The fate that Ansur fought to avert had followed mankind away from its ancestral home; that breed of anathema had consumed the gods and now thirsted for man's blood. The dark holocaust marched through the streets from the darkest nooks and crannies of the great city, and the demonic wrecked their havoc upon the innocent.

As Ansur and Altim were arriving in the city, the light was quickly succumbing to the great chaos. Neither anticipated the immediacy of the fate that befell humanity in that moment. Disconcerted and distraught by the sight, the son of Faerthus paused on the edge of the city, just beyond its gate, and he halted Ansur. The stench of blood reeked even outside Kolantis. The musician, who united the West with his bare hands, had yet to witness anything, any evil of this caliber. "Ansur, I am frightened. This land, which you and I and many others struggled to create, is threatened," Altim stated. "But in this time of darkness, we create our own light. What great source of power may I draw from to restore my power to its former glory and create that light, Forefather?"

Starless

Do I just go ahead and post then? I could lead Altim and Ansur into town.

Starless

What's the plan for posting for chapter 2?

Starless

@Transience: I have the sounds down, I'm stuck on script. After I make a script, the plan is to make grammar.

Starless

@Transience: A lot of crying and scribbling like a possessed man with a terrible affliction of Parkinson's disease. If that makes sense.

Really, I just wish I had a grasp of how to do this properly and develop a good style.