Raven
Fuck the Tories!
- Joined
- Dec 27, 2003
- Messages
- 44,859
This is my 1st attempt at any sort of story so i know its fairly crap, but i was drunk the other night and started talking in "role play" mode in /gu and it gave me an idea: To have a go at a short story, well here it is:
To his family he was known as Raven, a name given a lifetime ago, when he was a boy in the fishing village of Connla he had had his battles then, earning a living slaying the rats that stole from the stores or the trouble causing mud men. As he stepped into the shadows cleaning his blade on his cloak, a gift from the Anciant Atlantians Embued and blessed with the energy of the sun, the Hero thought...somehow this is too easy. It had been a life time since he had ventured into the darkest of places the so called "Darkness Falls" Tempted by the stories told in the local taverns by the returning warriors and Bards of wealth and adventure. In all he had learnt from his battles with the Siabra, the Spraggons or the battle of Thidranki Faste where many a brave warrior would be cut down, never to see the their kin again, Nothing could prepare him for these.. Demons, Foul creatures with flesh rending maws and long talloned arms, they craved the flesh of the living taking their souls to feed the feared Demi god, Legion. It had been hard, eventually he would meet a band of like minded young Hibernians seeking thier song that would be sung around the camp fires of their great grandchildren and their right to earn their blade and join thier fathers in the war to the north, battling the pagan hordes of Midgard, and the massed armies of the hated Albions. As they learnt their skill in their chosen paths, learning from their trainers and using their skill in battle against the minions of Legion they built a bond, a brotherhood each day stepping closer to their dream, to fight. Learning more from the foul demons that stalked the anciant world of Darkness Falls. Only inturupted by stories of Finlaith uprisings in the East. They were ready to face the Evil Legion. Men and women fighting alongside elves of the forest, Firbolgs from the tribes to the north and the Fairy race, the Lurikeen as they ran screaming their battle cries wielding the blades of their fathers father fighting for their lives, fighting for the dead, freeing their souls to the void. He was alive, they had won, he had earned his song, he would fight for Hibernia wearing the colour of his family proudly and vanquish the Albions and the people of Midgard from the lands of Emain Macha the twin dragons of their banner fluttering in the wind behind them. The rangers and the nightshades told stories of a new invasion from the North, armies massing under the hated banners of the enemy. It was early morning the mist barely cleared scouts had reported movement to the west and the capture of Dun Crauchen. This would be his day, today he would live or today he would die in the battle. He gripped his shield ever closer, his hands greasy with sweat fearfull of the enemy, then came the music of the bards, their drums beating with nature, Suddenly focused the cry was called men and women charged up
the hill, many died in the battle that followed, falling to the bowman of Albion or the armoured paladins. The fight was long many more dieing to protect the ram hammering the oaken doors of the fort eventually reducing them to splinters, the army of Hibernia surged onward, fighting sword to sword in the court yards of the anciant northern fortress of Dun Crauchon, sending home the souls of the Albions. The victory was a hard one, many had fallen, brothers who had given their lives to the earth. They would be remembered in songs and legends told in the taverns of Hibernia. The years past, a story of a strange land discovered over the water, dark elves rising to defend Hibernia, strange artifacts made by a long dead race, the mythical Atlantians. Strange beasts roamed the deserts and wastelands, men ventured into the forests to never be seen again. He battled the strange monsters and traveled the sea hunting for something he could use in the war, winning armour and weapons and forging new friendships and alliances in the war. He was one of the chieftens of his family, and he was alive, sick of the war to the north he ventured to the enemy lands of Odin's Gate and Hadrian's Wall seeking battles with the warriors of the enemy testing his skill with the blade, venturing now to the portals of the enemy stronghold in Darkness falls. he fought like a man possesed slaying demons and men a like in the hope of a death that his childrens children would tell to thier family.
Suddenly alert he spread flat against the wall as a Troll of Midgard moved past, stepping from the shadows he offered his challenge, the two moved carefully, trying to gauge their openent, Raven Holding his two handed sword high charged at the troll who bellowed his challenge, moving under a high swing from his opponent he disembowled him with a cut across his belly, laying the fallen warrior onto the cold stone floor of the cavern, he could hear the soul takers gathering quickly he paid his respects to his fallen oponent, praying that his soul could find its way out of underworld. mutturing under his breath he transformed into the wolf loping off into the shadows, hunting for a truely worthy oponent that would best him with skill of the blade.
Its a little long and maybe loses itself but as i say its my first go
To his family he was known as Raven, a name given a lifetime ago, when he was a boy in the fishing village of Connla he had had his battles then, earning a living slaying the rats that stole from the stores or the trouble causing mud men. As he stepped into the shadows cleaning his blade on his cloak, a gift from the Anciant Atlantians Embued and blessed with the energy of the sun, the Hero thought...somehow this is too easy. It had been a life time since he had ventured into the darkest of places the so called "Darkness Falls" Tempted by the stories told in the local taverns by the returning warriors and Bards of wealth and adventure. In all he had learnt from his battles with the Siabra, the Spraggons or the battle of Thidranki Faste where many a brave warrior would be cut down, never to see the their kin again, Nothing could prepare him for these.. Demons, Foul creatures with flesh rending maws and long talloned arms, they craved the flesh of the living taking their souls to feed the feared Demi god, Legion. It had been hard, eventually he would meet a band of like minded young Hibernians seeking thier song that would be sung around the camp fires of their great grandchildren and their right to earn their blade and join thier fathers in the war to the north, battling the pagan hordes of Midgard, and the massed armies of the hated Albions. As they learnt their skill in their chosen paths, learning from their trainers and using their skill in battle against the minions of Legion they built a bond, a brotherhood each day stepping closer to their dream, to fight. Learning more from the foul demons that stalked the anciant world of Darkness Falls. Only inturupted by stories of Finlaith uprisings in the East. They were ready to face the Evil Legion. Men and women fighting alongside elves of the forest, Firbolgs from the tribes to the north and the Fairy race, the Lurikeen as they ran screaming their battle cries wielding the blades of their fathers father fighting for their lives, fighting for the dead, freeing their souls to the void. He was alive, they had won, he had earned his song, he would fight for Hibernia wearing the colour of his family proudly and vanquish the Albions and the people of Midgard from the lands of Emain Macha the twin dragons of their banner fluttering in the wind behind them. The rangers and the nightshades told stories of a new invasion from the North, armies massing under the hated banners of the enemy. It was early morning the mist barely cleared scouts had reported movement to the west and the capture of Dun Crauchen. This would be his day, today he would live or today he would die in the battle. He gripped his shield ever closer, his hands greasy with sweat fearfull of the enemy, then came the music of the bards, their drums beating with nature, Suddenly focused the cry was called men and women charged up
the hill, many died in the battle that followed, falling to the bowman of Albion or the armoured paladins. The fight was long many more dieing to protect the ram hammering the oaken doors of the fort eventually reducing them to splinters, the army of Hibernia surged onward, fighting sword to sword in the court yards of the anciant northern fortress of Dun Crauchon, sending home the souls of the Albions. The victory was a hard one, many had fallen, brothers who had given their lives to the earth. They would be remembered in songs and legends told in the taverns of Hibernia. The years past, a story of a strange land discovered over the water, dark elves rising to defend Hibernia, strange artifacts made by a long dead race, the mythical Atlantians. Strange beasts roamed the deserts and wastelands, men ventured into the forests to never be seen again. He battled the strange monsters and traveled the sea hunting for something he could use in the war, winning armour and weapons and forging new friendships and alliances in the war. He was one of the chieftens of his family, and he was alive, sick of the war to the north he ventured to the enemy lands of Odin's Gate and Hadrian's Wall seeking battles with the warriors of the enemy testing his skill with the blade, venturing now to the portals of the enemy stronghold in Darkness falls. he fought like a man possesed slaying demons and men a like in the hope of a death that his childrens children would tell to thier family.
Suddenly alert he spread flat against the wall as a Troll of Midgard moved past, stepping from the shadows he offered his challenge, the two moved carefully, trying to gauge their openent, Raven Holding his two handed sword high charged at the troll who bellowed his challenge, moving under a high swing from his opponent he disembowled him with a cut across his belly, laying the fallen warrior onto the cold stone floor of the cavern, he could hear the soul takers gathering quickly he paid his respects to his fallen oponent, praying that his soul could find its way out of underworld. mutturing under his breath he transformed into the wolf loping off into the shadows, hunting for a truely worthy oponent that would best him with skill of the blade.
Its a little long and maybe loses itself but as i say its my first go
