Post by theredshadow on Jan 26, 2009 20:46:30 GMT -5
Just a little something I wrote for a creative writing contest on another forum I'm a part of. Comments and criticism welcomed.
The Battle
Grendaleer stands at the ready, sword in hand. His chief rival, Verdatta, stands across from him on a dusty patch of land. There is no one for miles, no sound for minutes. Only the heightened breathing of both warriors. Their skin glistens with the faintest sign of sweat from the light of the twin suns rising over the horizon.
"Make your move, Gren! I won't hesitate to knock that unbalanced head off of your shoulders." screams the older combatant, his greying mane slick with dirty oil.
"Bite your tongue, Verdatta, or else I'll plunge the Blade of Kasundra in your chest and spill your soulless blood all over this plateau." Verdatta notices the empty expanse behind Gren's gaze and is momentarily perplexed. Has Grendaleer finally gone mad?
Verdatta starts towards his nemesis as Gren teeters back on his heels, then leaps into the air with a lunging sword stroke. Verdatta raises his silver quarterstaff up to meet the Blade of Kasundra. Sparks fly and sweat sprays and both men grit their teeth as they push off the other.
"Not bad old man," says Gren, "but you're still no match for me. And you know it."
"Why do you still waste time with such words, Gren? Just come at me!!"
And with that, Gren does, a whirling blur of shiny steel and armored knuckles. Verdatta stands his ground but is knocked back hard as Gren's sword knocks his staff down and a fist squarely connects with his cheek and eye socket. Blood gushes forth from Verdatta's face and he collapses with a limp thud.
Grendaleer attempts to sweep kick the staff away from Verdatta, but the old man surprises him with a sweep of his own, a right arm that trips up the younger man and he falls squarely on his back. With a determined hand on his staff, Verdatta cracks Gren square in the groin. Gren gasps and rolls a few feet away as Verdatta curmudgeonly makes to his feet again. Taking a few deep breaths and swiping blood from his vision, the older warrior lets out a guttural war cry and runs toward Gren, staff spinning above his head until a blue light emanates in a large halo. Gren catches sight from the corner of his eye but has no time to move. He is lambasted with a blue energy wave and the end of the staff as it connects with his side. He flies back and slides face first to the edge of the plateau. He can see over the edge and down to the ground, some 200 feet below.
Gasping from the energy output, Verdatta sluggishly but staunchly paces toward the man who used to be his apprentice, his prodigy. A momentary sadness passes over him but he shakes it away. He won't allow those memories to sidetrack him any more. Gren is all that stands between him and ultimate power. He must die!
Lying face down and bleeding from a gash to his side, Gren sees a vision of earlier days. When he was young and naive and hungry for knowledge, strength and power. Those were better days, but what had happened? Why was Verdatta the power hungry monster and Gren the wiser, more level-headed of the two? And would he ever know an answer as his former mentor was standing over him, invoking a spell he'd never heard cross the old man's lips before. There was no time to waste, he had to move!
With a swift backwards kick, Gren catches the magic-wielding old fighter square in a knee, and he almost giggles as he hears it snap effectively. The old man emits a frightening howl and staggers back as his leg bends in a direction it was never meant to. Gren springs to his feet and feels ripples of energy surge through his body, product of the earlier blast, but he has to fight it. This has to end here and now.
Verdatta had finally fallen firmly on his backside and was grasping his broken left knee. Tears of pain were streaming down his face and trickles of blood were intermingling with them. There was dread and terror slapped across the formerly arrogant chops of the aging warrior. He had ripped a sleeve off of his brownish tunic and was trying to bandage the broken knee.
Gren lifts his sword high and chants an old but effective spell passed down by his own family's ancestors. Red electricity surges through his armored knuckles and down the shaft of the blade he carries proudly once again. With one epic upward swipe, a momentous blast tears from the arms, hands and sword of the younger warrior Grendaleer. It catches Verdatta and wields him upwards into the air. As he tops off and begins to fall back towards his former student, Gren takes another massive swing and Verdatta seemingly explodes in a blinding red flash. But he's not gone, he is only hurtling through the air with red flames bursting from all around him. Looking liek a comet entering the atmosphere from the heavens, Verdatta flies off of the plateau and hits the ground below with such force as to make Grendaleer wobble for a moment.
He runs over to the edge of the plateau as the twin suns reach their apex in the sky. He can see a dark crater below, but no signs of the old man. But wait, what is this? A blue portal opens and flashes shut just as quickly about three feet from the smoking crater. The old man was brutalized, but alive, and adept enough to use his magic to retreat. This battle was over, but the war was still ongoing.
"My soul may be lost and gone forever, but my sword shall live on to fight another day!" Grendaleer carefully steps over the edge of the plateau and allows a magic spell of levitation to bring him down to ground level, and he limps into the desert wilderness.
- - -
"Tommy! Dinner's ready boy, get down here on the double!" a voice rings out. The young man jumps, startled at the exclamation. He puts down his controller and turns for the door. But he looks back at the screen for a moment, taking in the beauty of the twin suns over the plateau displayed there. Then he runs for the stairs in the hallway and down to the food awaiting him.
The Battle
Grendaleer stands at the ready, sword in hand. His chief rival, Verdatta, stands across from him on a dusty patch of land. There is no one for miles, no sound for minutes. Only the heightened breathing of both warriors. Their skin glistens with the faintest sign of sweat from the light of the twin suns rising over the horizon.
"Make your move, Gren! I won't hesitate to knock that unbalanced head off of your shoulders." screams the older combatant, his greying mane slick with dirty oil.
"Bite your tongue, Verdatta, or else I'll plunge the Blade of Kasundra in your chest and spill your soulless blood all over this plateau." Verdatta notices the empty expanse behind Gren's gaze and is momentarily perplexed. Has Grendaleer finally gone mad?
Verdatta starts towards his nemesis as Gren teeters back on his heels, then leaps into the air with a lunging sword stroke. Verdatta raises his silver quarterstaff up to meet the Blade of Kasundra. Sparks fly and sweat sprays and both men grit their teeth as they push off the other.
"Not bad old man," says Gren, "but you're still no match for me. And you know it."
"Why do you still waste time with such words, Gren? Just come at me!!"
And with that, Gren does, a whirling blur of shiny steel and armored knuckles. Verdatta stands his ground but is knocked back hard as Gren's sword knocks his staff down and a fist squarely connects with his cheek and eye socket. Blood gushes forth from Verdatta's face and he collapses with a limp thud.
Grendaleer attempts to sweep kick the staff away from Verdatta, but the old man surprises him with a sweep of his own, a right arm that trips up the younger man and he falls squarely on his back. With a determined hand on his staff, Verdatta cracks Gren square in the groin. Gren gasps and rolls a few feet away as Verdatta curmudgeonly makes to his feet again. Taking a few deep breaths and swiping blood from his vision, the older warrior lets out a guttural war cry and runs toward Gren, staff spinning above his head until a blue light emanates in a large halo. Gren catches sight from the corner of his eye but has no time to move. He is lambasted with a blue energy wave and the end of the staff as it connects with his side. He flies back and slides face first to the edge of the plateau. He can see over the edge and down to the ground, some 200 feet below.
Gasping from the energy output, Verdatta sluggishly but staunchly paces toward the man who used to be his apprentice, his prodigy. A momentary sadness passes over him but he shakes it away. He won't allow those memories to sidetrack him any more. Gren is all that stands between him and ultimate power. He must die!
Lying face down and bleeding from a gash to his side, Gren sees a vision of earlier days. When he was young and naive and hungry for knowledge, strength and power. Those were better days, but what had happened? Why was Verdatta the power hungry monster and Gren the wiser, more level-headed of the two? And would he ever know an answer as his former mentor was standing over him, invoking a spell he'd never heard cross the old man's lips before. There was no time to waste, he had to move!
With a swift backwards kick, Gren catches the magic-wielding old fighter square in a knee, and he almost giggles as he hears it snap effectively. The old man emits a frightening howl and staggers back as his leg bends in a direction it was never meant to. Gren springs to his feet and feels ripples of energy surge through his body, product of the earlier blast, but he has to fight it. This has to end here and now.
Verdatta had finally fallen firmly on his backside and was grasping his broken left knee. Tears of pain were streaming down his face and trickles of blood were intermingling with them. There was dread and terror slapped across the formerly arrogant chops of the aging warrior. He had ripped a sleeve off of his brownish tunic and was trying to bandage the broken knee.
Gren lifts his sword high and chants an old but effective spell passed down by his own family's ancestors. Red electricity surges through his armored knuckles and down the shaft of the blade he carries proudly once again. With one epic upward swipe, a momentous blast tears from the arms, hands and sword of the younger warrior Grendaleer. It catches Verdatta and wields him upwards into the air. As he tops off and begins to fall back towards his former student, Gren takes another massive swing and Verdatta seemingly explodes in a blinding red flash. But he's not gone, he is only hurtling through the air with red flames bursting from all around him. Looking liek a comet entering the atmosphere from the heavens, Verdatta flies off of the plateau and hits the ground below with such force as to make Grendaleer wobble for a moment.
He runs over to the edge of the plateau as the twin suns reach their apex in the sky. He can see a dark crater below, but no signs of the old man. But wait, what is this? A blue portal opens and flashes shut just as quickly about three feet from the smoking crater. The old man was brutalized, but alive, and adept enough to use his magic to retreat. This battle was over, but the war was still ongoing.
"My soul may be lost and gone forever, but my sword shall live on to fight another day!" Grendaleer carefully steps over the edge of the plateau and allows a magic spell of levitation to bring him down to ground level, and he limps into the desert wilderness.
- - -
"Tommy! Dinner's ready boy, get down here on the double!" a voice rings out. The young man jumps, startled at the exclamation. He puts down his controller and turns for the door. But he looks back at the screen for a moment, taking in the beauty of the twin suns over the plateau displayed there. Then he runs for the stairs in the hallway and down to the food awaiting him.
I'll use the reviewing format I use on a different, specifically writing website.