Biggest Chunk of Writing You'll get from me for some time!| Full Chapter! 20+ pages

[kohelemon]

Alrighty, I might just regret this later when I'm thinking clear. But, sadly, though I love this story immensely, and finished it's first form, I decided to focus down another story I have my full heart in. So, here's the fully edited chapter! It used to be just 5 pages, but after finishing the whole thing I went deeper. But, that was months ago, maybe a year ago now. It's really old, perhaps not as good as my current writing, but my point for posting it is that it doesn't... Well... Die.
Now, I warn you there're some weird things, violent things, it's strange as heck and there's some elements I would most definitely tone down later in the editing process, but frick it! Here's Chapter 1 of Saya! And don't worry, if I never return to this story, Saya herself lives on in the primary story I'm working on. I'll post it's first chapter here on this forum someday, when it's all finished.
Here we go! Better do this before I get cold feet! [Looks like the forum freaks out at this many words, let's do it in chunks:


Adast, one of the brightest realms, laying at the heart of Aragohn. An Ancient World, A Strong world which had endured God-Wars, and Generational Winters. Kingdoms have risen, and burn, civilities have evolved. Adast was no different. It was the Pinnacle of that Era, the great example of Mannish Power. Governed by Noble Houses, Lorded by House Ondo, it had braved much peril, invaders, secessions, coups. And had began and ended several of it’s own invasions as well.

But, in those days, it saw peace. A Shining peace which livened the wild forests and brightened the White Domed Towers of it’s civility, which peaked through the canopies. It’s provinces glinted and flourished under the light of prosperity. It’s allies in the Atonon, and in the Dwarves who inhabited the Mountain Ranges in the Northern Provinces further saw to their opulence. And farther abound, Lord Raju’s Name was known and esteemed with honor oft held unto the Gods.

That is what brought Tyardash, and in his defeat, what brought about the grandest calamity the Kingdom had ever seen. Adast, Atonon, and all their neighbors would suffer from what descended from that accursed mount. The Drake-Sons of Tyardash, the Legions of the Iron-Prince, who swept through realm after realm for vengeance’s sake.

Adast was besieged in the North, a move thought impossible, in fact incomprehensible. For Only days ago was Atono sieged. Suspected Invasion from the Southwest, Lord Raju commanded his force to prepare upon the border. But it was a ruse, and now, the very capital the Province of House Ondo was under siege. Citizens were not even given time to flee, farms, villages razed. Many fled for the Southwest, where armies hopefully lied. But, the Invasives had split their armies in two. And none escaped the land, nor entered without their say.

To Crush the Jewel of Mannish Prosperity, the Apex of Humanity’s Possible Growth. All for the sake of the Dragon-Father they had lost.

Which was why amidst the Sandstorms summoned by the Drakes, battered the Border Province. The Arrivals who came on that day were most surprising. Villages and Towns, and Inns and Taverns were packed with Refugees and Fearful Peasants from Provinces which had not even come to harm. So the sight of outsiders, was most frightening. Luckily, no sordid will was held by them.

Some were from lands razed by the Drakes, seeking shelter and content with sleeping in barns or in alleys. Others were adventurers or soldiers who had been pushed into the land. With already a great force of Adastian Knights there, it was a boon. But, already were some knights marching north, back to Castle Ondo to aid their lord. Furtherly, what scouts had gleaned of beyond the border, was legions of Drake-Sons awaiting them. And the more weathered in warfare believed it was only a matter of time afore they fell upon the Border-Province.

Amidst the hordes of new refugees and whatnot, came a most mysterious person indeed. Upon a Horse, Thin and tired, road a being wrapped in cloth cloaks, front and back, which two veiled her nose and mouth. Though to assume she was a woman would be daring to be wrong. Long Black Hair which’s locks were braided, Tanned Skin, and Keen Eyes, she could’ve been a man for all they knew. Her horse hobbled along, tripping with each step, without a saddle it was, yet it continued on with aim for the nearest town. The Woman upon it’s back, clinging gently to it’s neck, spent.

‘She must have passed through Lados, the Desert-Land… But, I hear it was the first to fall by the Drakes…’ Refugees passing her would surmise. And they were not entirely wrong, she had journeyed from thence.

Though she had come and gone through their twice now, on a journey far longer than many would suspect. The Last into the Town of Golinold, which’s streets were already packed with refugees. Her Horse Collapsed afore the central avenue. Garnering much warried glares, though none moved fast, for their journeys had been arduous as well. Though some curious sorts eventually ventured a closer look, mostly pickpockets, though they leapt aback and fled when they discovered, that though the horse had perished, the rider had not.




Now leave your thoughts or whatnot, do as you wish. I agree beforehand (nonsensical, I know) there's a great many flaws, definitely needs a second pass. But there's the biggest chunk of writing you'll get from me for a long time.

 

[kohelemon]

Next Page here, since the forums freak out when I try to put full chunks!

A Boy and his Horse would be the ones who finally thought of something other than themselves. It almost seemed as if those who passed had taken everything from her, save her black undergarments. So he was careful when he woke her. Not a word could she utter, her lips cracked and white. He wished not to glare at her too long, for she was upon the verge of wearing nothing. So with effort he wrapped her in a blanket upon his horse. And foisted her upon his horse. He then guiding her to an inn which saw fewer denizens than the others at that time. Quick were the Maidens who worked within to aid the boy in bringing her inside.

They inquired much of her, but she was unresponsive, and of course the boy knew little. They placed no charge on him, for he had done a good act, and they gifted him with food upon his departure. Though as he went, that strange woman wrapped well in blankets took hold of his arm and glared straight into his eyes.

‘I won’t forget what you’ve done for me, this day.’ She would manage to say, afore collapsing.

After that, how could any well-mannered person leave? He tarried outside with his horse, as the maidens stated they would charge him for her expenses if he did not go. Not to be rude, but they wished for his safety, and in such a town as Golinold was now, safety was but a feint memory. And indeed, hostilities grew as many fought for even places in the alleyways. It was all rather unnerving for one so young, especially since the woman’s horse had already been pulled apart. A couple of children gnawing at bones and scraps.

Quite possibly, they would have eaten her too if they had had the chance.

The Maidens took great care with the woman, they wished to find clothes, but after bathing her and offering her bread and water. It became clear none of their clothing would fit. Tall, Muscled Yet Lithe, and Well-Endowed. Though each feature which would’ve made her seem a Boisterous Courtesan bore an unnatural ruggedness, or better said toughness. Her hands were calloused not soft, her feet too were pale and dry. They felt bad for her, but at the same time the Head-Maiden of the inn knew if they were to do anymore for her, they would stand to lose and not gain anything.

‘Can you venture a name at least? You can trust us!’ The Head would wonder. ‘I can garner from your look, both beautiful and strong, you are of Atonon… I heard your lands had just been razed afore… I apologize, but not even Adast will long be safe… They say Legions lay in wait for those making flight from Ondo…’

‘Ondo… Is under siege?’ The Woman would manage to wonder.

‘Yes its… And your home… it was…’

‘My Home is gone?’ She wondered.

‘Oh Goodness. The Rage Trial…’ Another of the Maidens would mention.

‘Rage Trial?’

‘The Women of Atonon, upon their 16th years journey forth from home on their own. They’re tasked with exploring the bounds of the realm for Two Years, and must return, having mastered their Rage, and able to use it.’

‘Well anyone can use anger.’

‘Not in the way they can.’

The woman would hug her knees toward her chin at the mention of those words. Of that trial, it hushed them for some time. She even stopped eating and remained still, not refuting with voice, but unmoving, silently did she refuse a bed. She sought only to sit where she was, staring blankly to the floor in horror.

‘What do we do with her?’

‘Don’t be rude… She has returned, only to find all she has gone… Though I fear for even us soon. As more settle here, food and women will become commodities men will fight for.’ The Head would say.

And indeed their fears were correct, to and fro small fights would afform until Fief-Lord Dinnen finally recognized what had come upon his doorstep. Though Golinold was but, a small habitation in his swath of the Province, he could not ignore what was going on there. Furthermore if chaos grew too grand, the Drake-Sons who lay in weight needed not even sacrifice men for victory over an inlet.

Soon enough Local Militia and Fort Men-At-Arms, as well as the Ondoin Knights gathered into town. Though this only served as a detriment to the Overflowing pot that was the Town at the time. Quickly were posters of aid placed, and Adventurers of course took them for easy coin to see them forth from that place. The Idea was simple. Aid Refugees into other Fiefs and keep order. And it worked at first. Though some took not so kindly to vagabonds and soldiers trying to see them off. Furthermore with indeed steeds and soon enough farm animals coming to slaughter unwarranted, as well as the assault of local women or refuge women simply trying to find shelter becoming more rampant. The Boy who had remained outside with his force, was rightfully afraid.

The Maidens would eventually allow him to stable his horse, a Ondoin Knight or two promising to keep guard there, as well soon enough an influx of adventurers who promised to keep safe any upright sorts who had not seen to the violence. As well, a particularly rich old man, who usually ventured to the Inn’s Tavern Side this time of day managed to cover for any and all expenses. The boy had no reason to worry for the moment at least. Though his food and lodging would be waved on one condition.

‘She spoke only to you, so you must see her to a room, try and get her to eat something as well, and put on something too.’ The Head-Maid would say. ‘I fear this place won’t be safe for long.’

He had no reason to refuse, and upon his return to her side, her head did raise, she garnering many bizarre looks as her wild hair which hung afore her sad face seemed to depict a wild creature. Which broke all notion of glaring to what little could be seen of her body which was veiled by comforters and blankets.

‘We have to get you someplace safer.’ He would say, holding out a hand to her.

She accepted it and stood. It was almost comical though, for in the end he was half a foot off the ground as she walked him instead toward an empty room. She sat upon the bed and waited for him to get her food. What little clothing the maids could offer as well he leant, taking care not to glare at her too much, though it seemed like she cared not. A shirt fit as if a ragged top and tore along it’s sides, and a sheet was what little could be used to afform some sort of skirt.

Look at her thin as she took small bites from a hunk of bread, he was absolutely horrified. Not of her, but what could become of her.

‘I heard them speaking of… Who you might be… And thought it is a bit… intrusive… I would at least like to know your name.’ He would manage to wonder eventually. ‘Oh… Mine is Minnand, Minnand Taras… My Father is a Knight, though he left to Ondo some nights ago with many others… My Mother… She was of Atonon too… She went back… and… hasn’t returned…’

‘Razed?’ The Woman would mutter.

‘Yes… We could all see the Mighty Trees which rise higher than the Dragon Mounts become engulfed in flames…’ Minnand would sigh, sitting afore the nearby fireplace and warming his hands. ‘It is cold, yet a sandstorms outside… Not much of anything makes sense anymore…’

‘Saya…’

 

[kohelemon]

Next One! We'll try two!

‘Your name is Saya?’ Minnand would wish for clarification, for woe had swayed him for a moment. ‘That’s a pleasant name… I’m sorry this place is not so pleasant… But, I’m sure if you looked about, you may find some of your people! I would look for my mother… But, the streets have grown wild…’

‘What was done with my true clothing?’ She wondered.

‘Oh, oafs took the cloaks I’m afraid, you were left with little more than undergarments.’

‘The undergarments were my clothes…’ She muttered.

‘Oh, right… it’s that Shiel-Dye right? The War-Paint? I suppose, like my mother, you only wore those undergarments to avoid scrutiny.’ Minnand muttered.

‘I didn’t want sand everywhere.’ She would say, earning a laugh from him. ‘And there wasn’t dye that far from home…’

‘What will you do now?’ Minnand wondered.

‘Eat, Rest, Ready.’ She would respond, as if some primitive.

He supposed it made sense, what else was there to do! So he sat with her for a time, until she fell asleep. Later on, did he dare to venture outside to check on his horse, Handal. And he wished he hadn’t. More and more refugees were pouring into town, some wilder than the rest. And more and more were being cut down for outrageous behaviors. Luckily Handal and a handful of Horses were safe. Though as he neared the back of the Stable, he froze he noted what seemed as a wounded man, who brandished a knife at him.

‘You speak one word of me, I’ll gut you like these horses!’

‘Don’t harm them!’ Minnand yelped. Thought that saw only to his imperilment. Luckily a Knight was near and took the Wounded man out of the stable by his neck and cut off his hand. And with a kick, sent him forth, scampering away with a trail of blood ahind him.

‘Such is the fate of thieves. Boy, you should get inside, leave the horses be, even if they’re yours. You have my word they’ll be safe.’ The Knight would say, bringing a fist to his chest.

‘Thank you sir!’ Minnand would nod.

Though that display cost the Knight his life, Minnand yelped once in alarm. The Knight turned too late to face a horded of wounded warriors from Elsewhere, who stripped him of armor and beat him down with rocks. After they had thoroughly caved him in entirely, some even taking to severing his limbs for food. The One-Handed man pointed to the boy.

‘Say what you said again boy!’ The Man would shout.

And out from the inn came Saya. She glanced to and fro slowly and walked her way slowly toward the Pack of Wild men. The Last Knight at guard of the Inn did not budge, as this woman, quite tall and beautiful, made her way to the stable.

‘Minnand… You should be inside…’ She would say taking his hand again. ‘The horses will be fine.’

‘Let us have them! They are but animals!’

‘Animals, Peasants, Servants, oh you warriors and kings and princes think your wars, your struggles, your ways… You think the sworn oaths of those things beneath you rectify your actions? Make you righteous, make it right to sacrifice anyone!? WHAT STRENGTH DO YOU HAVE IF YOU CANNOT LIVE ON YOUR OWN!?You expect pity, expect food, expect sacrifice from those who don’t even understand, and if they do, it is not your right! If you are willing to take one of these horses lives, you should be willing to sacrifice your own!’ She bellowed.

‘Woman, no matter how tall you are…’

‘Does stature add merit to my word? If so, then you should all settle for the piss and blood which you wreak of!’ She growled. ‘Dogs? Masters? I care not what you are, but be not so quick to take a life, simply because it is not your own! Only if you could take your life so easily in it’s stead! NOW OUT OF MY FACE!’

The words could be heard throughout Golinold, and she seemed to grow taller, her eyes darker as she glowered over them, growing ever closer. Poor Minnand was being drug closer too, but what could he do, he was half a foot of the ground.

‘You’re disgusting! Seeking to rise above others, to tower above them and use them! You have all the honor of a king, and that is worth a DAMNED MOSQUITO WHICH TAKES WHAT IT DID NOT EARN!’

She took the one handed by the neck, held him high to all’s terror and threw him into a Store across the street. The other wounded men scattered. And trouble seized entirely throughout the town, for the glare she shot all she could see, could be felt by even the Drake-Sons beyond the border.

‘Armor, Weapons, Status… In the end, they’re just weights invented and harped upon to hold down others. Nothing more, nothing less, and there is no honor to be found in them.’ She would say cruelly, not even caring for the knight guarding the door of the Inn. ‘A Woman made you all fear, when an army is at your door.’

None spoke until she, with Minnand in her wake, returned to her room and slept once more. Minnand would not worry for Handal, after that, why would he? His mother had shouted at him for foolish actions sure, but to compare what Saya had done to those men, to a mother’s love was… Well, inapt!

‘Did I scare you, Minnand?’ She wondered, as he found himself, sitting blankly at the center of the room, shivering.

‘What? Oh uhh…’

‘There’re some honorable folk with armor and swords, I am sorry I offended your father.’ She would say, with a smile. ‘Knights here of this land are different; Compelled not by the monetary, nor the accolades. They act on love, love of the land, love of their people. Do not forget the love of these knights and your father… And the King here too he bares loves just like it. And so do the princes, the Queen… Their entire house… I was simply… angry…’

‘Well, your anger saved my life, I won’t gripe at all for the rest of my life.’ He would laugh. ‘I think I’ll be asking my food whether I should eat it or not as well for some time…’

‘Heh, if this world is defined by strength, then feel not ashamed of something you have garnered on your own. It is what you eat’s fault for losing. Let them gripe, do not gripe for them.’ She would say.

‘That is what a King does, see to the gripes…’

‘That is why we needed not kings, but the people doubted the gods.’ She would say, lying down. ‘Oi… My brain hurts… I know a young man much like you, and he makes me doubt everything I know, and have told you… I suppose that is a good thing… I’m a bit warped, but who isn’t… We all understand what we were raised to understand… What is important… is what we learn ourselves… And I haven’t learned anything…’

 

[kohelemon]

The Next Two! I forgot about the strong words I use in some places heh, Saya is supposed to be real brash and foolish sometimes, though I don't know how that'll go on these forums! Whatever!


Saya seemed quite the sad being to him, Minnand. He wondered and wished too not to wonder of what she had been through in her Rage-Trial. She seemed too different than his own mother. His mother was not hot tempered, but one could feel when she was angered, truly angered. But, this woman. There was always something emitting from her… Uncontrolled…

‘You… You didn’t master your rage…’ he muttered aloud on accident, he quick to cover his mouth as her eyes, now streaming forth tears opened slowly toward him.

‘No… After two years… I learned nothing… but worry…’ She muttered. ‘All I feel… is the weight of…’

She finished not her words. She was so sorrowful all she could do was sleep. Minnand knew that feeling, a feeling a child should not know. Left alone by father and mother, to relatives who cared not much about him in the face of invasion. He had been left in Golinold all alone. One thing he could be thankful of though, despite her dark hair, and tan skin: her carven face, thin nose, and now tan lips reminded him of his mother.

It was always so puzzling, how his mother was so much stronger than even the adventurers who oft caused trouble in town. She could heft his father up unto a horse, even when he was fully armored. And she did do so often to his bemusement.

Had done so.

Assuring her room was locked well, he would venture down to the tavern side of the inn, he keeping to the banister of the staircase leading toward the bedrooms so he could hear and see conversation, and assure Saya did not vanish, or come to harm.

‘That woman is a scary one, though that helps keep trouble away from here for a time.’ One of the adventurers would utter.

‘Does no one here know who she is?’ The Old Man would scoff as he glared into the fireplace of the tavern. ‘Well… I suppose you would not.’

‘An Atonon, she is taller than men, more beautiful than courtesans, and stronger than an army… Or that is what is said about her people, and what she exhibited this afternoon.’ A More studious traveler would say. ‘Though, that’s not totally presented just yet.’

‘Not what she is, but who… And you would not know that either… I suppose it is much to suspect from refugees who’ve come to a Border Town of all places.’ The Old Man would laugh. ‘And furthermore, I’m sure dragon’s fire has put that far in the lot of you.’

‘Watch your tongue old man!’

‘I mean no offense, why do you think I’m here!?’ The Old Man would retort, garnering laughs from all.

‘So you’ve seen her before? Who is she?’

‘She came here some time ago with another, a Prince-Seeming Fellow, one of the Lord’s Sons.’ The Old Man would say.

‘You mean the Fief-Lord? I heard he was cursed with daughters!’

‘Nay, I mean Lord Raju.’ He would say.

‘Ahh, as in the brother of Fujiu, the one who went far South to participate in the Tournament of Strength?’

‘Indeed. She came here bidding farewell to the man, she was embarking upon the Rage-Trial, and I’m sure has not seen him since.’ The Old Man would relay.

‘What a prince to have garnered an Atonon Woman’s heart. Boast-Worthy I’d say.’

‘What’s so boastful about having a woman about who can do all you can, plus more?’

They spoke long about boring insecurity after that and, eventually Minnand returned to the room to find Saya standing right at the door, glaring down to him. It was one of the strangest moments of his life, for he was both terrified and soothed all at once. But, he cast that aside as he attempted to push her back into the room to rest. But, being one who only stood up to her lower thigh, that was a dream. She simply turned him about with a finger and had him lead her out from the building.

‘Oh, this… This isn’t good, Saya…’ Minnand muttered as she pushed him down the street with a finger.

‘Take me to your home, it’s here in this town, is it not?’ She wondered.

‘Well, yes… Though it has sort of been, repossessed…’

‘Doesn’t matter.’ Saya would retort. ‘It should have your belongings inside, should it not? What is more, I need something inside.’

So he guided her, without much of a choice. She had saved his life not too long ago. And after she had kicked down the door to the derelict home, she marched within as if she had known the place afore. Even managed to find his parents’ bedroom in no time. He went to collecting several keepsakes of his own and his parents too to remember them by. And when he finally came to Saya again, she was busy overturning the bed and rifling through a dark chest underneath it, to his dismay.

‘I know this house isn’t mine, nor was that chest, but that’s my mother’s things!’ Minnand would exclaim trying to pull her away, though as before, he was quite small for a seven-year-old.

‘I am not seeking valuables, I am seeking… this.’ She would say, producing a strange satchel of leather and within were several vials. ‘She left it behind for you.’

‘What?’ Minnand exclaimed, taking hold of the satchel as she handed it to him.

‘It was her Shiel’Dye, she left it for you. I’m certain you saw her use it before?’ She wondered, sitting before him.

‘Yeah, she used to put some on me too, it made me feel strong.’ He would say, pulling out one of the vials. ‘She had me paint it on her once or twice, I know the symbols by heart.’

‘Could you put them on me when we get back to the Inn?’ She wondered.

‘Well, of course, you saved my life, but what’re you planning to do?’ He wondered aback, as she stood, still rifling through the chest.

‘Nothing out of the ordinary for one who might’ve lost everything.’ She would say, pulling forth his mother’s undergarments, which he was beginning to believe were not so anymore.

‘Might’ve?’

‘Yes, Might’ve.’

‘Sorry… Just… I thought you might’ve lost hope.’ Minnand would mutter.

‘Have you lost hope in your parents?’

‘No… Though everyone thinks it’s a fool’s hope…’ Minnand muttered.

‘Fools never change, People who deem themselves not fools, never do anything.’ Saya would say. ‘And if they do, it is no different than what someone else did… Better to be a fool and continue hoping, better to be a fool and still dream… Then to not be one, and only hope in what has been done. Better to be distinct, imperfect, then indifferent amidst a rabble which shall be burned and leave nothing but ash of the same hue.’

‘You’re like and Elder.’ He laughed, afore realizing that could be an insult.

‘I’ll take that, my own mother tired of my words.’ Saya would say, with a smile. She unclothing herself, and putting on the black undergarments. He luckily baring the mind to look away.

‘They were talking about you in the Tavern… They said something about you and a Prince had come here long afore…’ Minnand muttered.

 

[kohelemon]

Three Pages this Time, let's go!

‘Hind, that is his name’ Saya would say. ‘There’re only two men in the entire world with merit in my eyes… Him and you. He is much like you, allowing the logic of reality define him… He has yet to break forth and be a fool. Fools are Legends.’

‘I’m Seven!’

‘And yet you are more of a man than any in this town…’ She would say, taking his hand and leading him from there. ‘I hope you gathered all you could, refugees shall flood the place now.’

‘I suppose that is not a problem… I was not living there either way.’ He would utter.

‘In that, you’re more of a man than most.’ She would say. ‘You’ll grow into a proper fool someday.’

‘I never thought I’d be told that as a complement.’ He muttered.

‘Heh, I tell Hind that all the time… The Beautiful thing about men like the both of you is a simple complement means wonders. I’ve often seen women take advantage of that, misunderstand it, but I’ve also seen men be different too.’ She would say. ‘So be like him, place your heart into all you do.’

It would be upon their departure that outer-peril would come. Tired of the complacency of his post, Damascus, the Drake-Son and Cohort of the Iron-Prince who commanded the Legion which awaited upon the border commanded forth scouts. While the Main Force had besieged the Capital of the Land indeed, much power was gathering in the Fief afore him. A Trifle really but something to take interest in.

What was more, Fief-Lord Dinnan, backed by several thousand Knights and Men-At-Arms had come to the Border as the Drake-Sons dared to step forth from the brush. Arrows were knocked and let loose at the Golden Armored men’s feet, though they halted only when out came their giant of a commander. Damascus, a Man Towering, Muscled to the point his armor seemed little more than ornamentation, and he bore a Gold-Iron Helm which only let the Red of his eyes be seen.

‘You must be the Leader of this Rabble! By My Authority as Vassal to House Ondo, and Lord of Galoril, the Fiefdom you now tread upon so wantonly. I bid you abandon your weapons and return from whence you came.’ Dinnan would say, his silver armor and white cape gleamed as he rode out upon armored horseback toward the Retinue. Spear in One Hand, Shield in the other. ‘This is Ondoin Land, Galorilin Land, Adastian Soil! The Realm of the Four Houses of Adastil! Domain of Lord Raju and his Sons!’

‘Your Retinue lost all its menace when it decided to confront us, instead of charge. What use are still horses?’ Damascus would wonder, garnering much laughter from his men. ‘Do you think these titles and names mean anything to the Houseless and Fatherless? They mean nothing to us, especially since your Lord Raju and his Sons are besieged. Now tell me, LORD OF GALORIL, VASSAL OF HOUSE ONDO! Is this all you have to your name? Whatever your name is.’

‘My name belongs not on the tongue of misbegotten backwater trash such as yourself!’ Dinnan would proclaim.

The Vassal Charged, Waving his Spear right and true to cleave the Giant’s Head from his shoulders. And yet, it was caught by the haft, snapped, and he was found on the floor, without his horse. And his horse, in question had it’s neck pushed aback until it snapped and it’s corpse thrown toward the Ondoin Legion.

‘Even your moving horses are still!’ Damascus would jeer, his men laughing again. ‘Titles Mean Nothing, Lands Mean Nothing, People Mean Nothing, Armies Mean Nothing! We are here for one thing, and one thing only… THE DRAKE-FATHER, TYARDASH!’

A Thunderous stomp silenced Dinnan forever. The Giant Commander’s foot reduced his face and torso to jelly. And the Ondoin and Galorilin Forces balked, in horror, their shields and blades shook in fear. Old Men, Thin Boys were their majority, some having known no battle, or others too much. And they faced now Giant Men, Bred for War, Fighters through and through. To the Bitter End, which mattered not.

Needless to say, as the first Young Man turned tail, unbeknownst to them, they had been surrounded. In the short while that Dinnan began his little speech, the Drake-Sons had encircled them. It would not be an easy battle. And yet, if it were even a Pyrrhic Victory, bought with the death of all his kin, Damascus cared not.

Slaughter was his realm, death, his love, murder his joy, and Blood his ecstasy. It was like Wolves amongst Chickens, and though those Brave Old Men and Thin Boys fought. Each were hewn for every Drake-Son they felled. Not until the dried Dike in which this first battle was fought was filled knee-deep with blood and corpses did it stop.

Small Numbers are what remained. But, 300 Drake-Sons remained of the Lot. And only 30 Galorilin Men-At-Arms, who were allowed to flee after great effort. And they all agreed that day, they faced Death itself, The Lord of Death, the Taker of Dreams. Who was indeed, the weakest of the Mighty of the Drake-Sons.

10 Drake-Sons were sent after the 30. And when they scampered into Golinold (The 30 Men-At-Arms). The Reserves felt terrified, the Refugees sick, and the Adventures, befuddled. It was as Saya and Minnand neared the entrance to the Inn once more when the 30 came dashing into town. Saya turned curiously, though Minnand was filled with the same horror the locals felt.

‘HE’S DEAD! DINNAN IS DEAD!’ One shouted manically. ‘They fought without restraint, without care! THERE IS-.’

Luckily, his words were cut short by an adventurer’s fist across his face. This Adventure strode to the remainder and affixed them still with a mighty glare which hushed them too.

‘How many of them are left?’ The Adventurer wondered.

‘300, though their leader seemed to be dividing forces for other Fiefs… But, they fight as monsters…’ One of the Soldiers would utter.

‘You have nearly 150 Knights and Soldiers here, and Many more Adventurers. And now you know how they fight. So shut your traps and prepare, unless you want to die having done nothing but strike fear in the hearts of your people.’ The Adventurer would exclaim, striding to the downed man he had punched, he now bringing a fist down unto the man’s skull, shattering it. ‘All here, you heard not a word he uttered, for indeed if they’re true, there is not a need for worry.’

‘Saya, we should go inside, I fear things’re bound to get worse.’ Minnand moaned.

‘Indeed, I need you to paint the Shiel’Dye on me, without another moment’s delay.’ She would utter. ‘Though I doubt there is anything to fear now.’

‘There’s plenty to fear, the people will grow even madder!’ Minnand would say, trembling against her.

‘Fear not for them, nor your horse.’ She would say. ‘Trust me on that.’

She ignored the cheers and jeers from those in the Tavern-Side of the Inn. It was something her people had learned to ignore long ago. With Minnand in toe, they thought her of little threat, so of course one man attempted to grasp her by her side, though as his fingers connected with soft skin, they were soon bereft of such.

‘Woman, your man should be defending you, any of us or all of us could take you.’

She offered not a response, not even a grimace, though she drug Minnand along now. The Old Man letting forth a long sigh of woe, woe toward these men.

‘What is it now, Old Man? Do you not agree?’ The Warrior would wonder.

‘In her land, the women care not for offense, unless it is to defend one they care for.’ The Old Man would utter.

‘Well, then we could have her then to no regret!’ Another would laugh.

‘You mistake me… The fact is, she did not even regard your touch, she didn’t even care for who you were. You’re that far beneath her feet she does not need to acknowledge the skin you sullied which belongs to the one she loves.’ The Old Man would say. ‘Of course, I mean no offense.’

‘Go on, keep defending the woman all you want, it matters little… I heard her speaking of the Boy Painting Her… And it won’t be some sprite if I have anything to say about it.’ The Warrior laughed, marching his way toward the staircase.

‘He’s going to regret that.’ The Old Man sighed.

‘Will she kill him?’ The Head-Maid wondered.

‘No, but he’ll be filled with a terror beyond any army could offer him.’

He peaked through the keyhole, for as much as he boasted, he was a coward even then. And indeed the Woman sat still upon the Bed as the Boy drew forth the vials, one by one.

‘Which one?’

‘The Black, it is the less used, that is good, your mother had a good life.’ She would say. ‘Do you feel nervous?’

‘I used to paint my mother, this is not a issue at all… Though it does feel a slight bit wrong for me to be doing this.’ He said, nervously. ‘It should be someone closer to you.’

‘Why? You think Hind should be? He knows not of such customs… I believe we were brought together, you and I for this reason…’ She would say. ‘Think of me as your mother.’

‘As strange as it is to say, in no offense to you, you are much like her, I think.’ He would say as he opened the Black Vial, dabbed fingers into it and moved toward her, with the purest of intent.

‘No ill will is felt by that… I’m sure your mother was a powerful sister; one I would love to meet.’ Saya would say with a smile, as he began to paint upon her.

‘What will it be?’ He wondered.

‘The Wendigo.’ She would say.

‘But that is…’

‘what is it?’

‘It’s…. Not Complete without Antlers.’ He would whimper, managing the nervous jest with a smile just barely.

It was a strange thing, lacking all sensuality the man had for some reason sought. Yet bore all the delicacy of artistry. And when she stood… What he saw then, subverted all thought and desire. For indeed she was naked, a well-endowed yet muscled, lithe yet stoic and clear seeming woman. But, then… Her hair wild, down her torso went black which narrowed as an hourglass near her navel and ran down thinly down each leg, a Black Line… No Limb… Upon her arms too, were thin ones, upon her fingers long and gnarled talon-like fingers. And it all went up to her face. Where, using the black to cover carefully, her bare skin left gave the image indeed, of a deer’s skull.

Lips could hardly be discerned, hardly a breath, but when her eyes snapped open, after lifting her arms high, and bringing them low. Black were they, aside a narrow ring of white. Which suddenly grew until the black was a dot.

The Man leapt aback with a cry and dashed out the Inn, and it was said, he was the first felled by the 10 scouts. He threw himself upon their blades.

‘I’m surprised you knew this spirit, boy.’ She would say, with a bizarre smile, looking down to him softly. ‘Now, I think I should wear the undergarments.’

 

[kohelemon]

Two more; You know, I actually made a webnovel account, but got Kinda scared, the creator dashboard showed so much, there's even groups and classes. It was intimidating! XD I know I must face that stuff eventually, but it felt like another wall, plus I'm no artist and the story needed a cover to begin, so I gave up quick.




‘For certain!’ He would laugh, handing them back to her.

‘You are a unique boy, Minnand… Any Man, Young or Old would’ve sought me in a foul way in this moment…’

‘Well, I am young; This is hardly such a moment… And… I know what this means… You mean to… Devour their Souls?’ The Boy said, trembling slightly as she clothed herself.

‘I have to learn somehow.’ She would say, lightly. ‘Now I should put on a robe of some sort, with a hood… I won’t be a lay about any longer… Whether it has indeed been a day, more, or less, I am not one to not pay debts.’

‘Land Burned and you now stand taller than ever.’ Minnand laughed, afore she turned to him, and took the black vial from the satchel and dumped what little paint was left onto her hands.

‘Burn Down The Forest, it shall rise again, so too will the Atono.’ She would say, painting upon his face. He carefully removed his shirt to allow her to his torso. ‘To lose and not rise again is to know defeat, To lose and try again is to surpass it.’

‘Or you could lose twice in one day…’ Minnand jested as she finished.

‘That is true!’ She said, offering a gentle laugh. ‘As a Tree are you, so you shall be… You may be burned, but you’ll rise again, stronger than ever. You shall be with me, Minnand, the First Atono Boy to Grace the World, The Bear of Adast. So speak only from the heart, act only from the heart, Scheme not, Prey not, Love always, and Pray to the Gods as much as you can.’

It was if each proverb she spoke unto him, was in some way a goodbye… It terrified him, and held him betwixt her eyes, which he wished to be held by forever.

But, as this occurred, there was of course the matter of the first man to be felled by the Ten Drake-Sons, and of course, the Drake-Sons as well. They Bothered Not with subtly, for that would only waste time. “To kill as many as they could, until they could Kill no more.” That was their mission, Damascus cared not for the village. Not a single bit, it was what lay beyond that petty Fief which interested him.

An Interest he would never see.

The 10 would kill the frightened warrior first. Scattering his body to pieces with their crude swords. And soon, with roars unneeded for all had noted them, they charged off in separate directions. Wading their blades through the packed streets, caring not from whence came the blood which dyed their armor red. Wanton, Needless, Frenetic, Brutal, there was no reason to it, what they did.

Invaders sought a reason, Invaders saw a purpose. Damascus did not even want to frighten the people of Golinold. He just wanted to stretch the legs of his men.

Yes, this, was simply a stretch to them, prying open the carcasses of the dead, even as they lay at their feet. Goring Women, Butchering Men, Bifurcating Children. And it took only seconds for them to make it halfway down the avenue afore Knights and Men-At-Arms, anyone with sanity that could bare a shield and blade to meet them.

Spears had been fetched to them some time ago, and fended off the 10 for some time. An Encirclement was attempted, but the Formation of the 10 was one most unique. Both protective, yet not connected at all. They made a circle, then a line, then an arrow, which saw the death of many of the defenders, even with spears. It was like a rhythm, and the Defenders were too late to catch on.

Soon enough much of their number had been whittled down. And their spears had lost their blades. They had to be abandoned as quick as can be. Pushed aback were they by only ten men, who care not for when they were wounded, or when they lost an arm. They kept fighting, and none knew or believed they’d survive to see when they’d stop.

Vengeance indeed was a powerful thing. It could push men, women, children, lords, slaves unto their own deaths willingly. As long as they smote once the hand which caused them harm. But, these were men! Not the Sons of a Dragon, despite fighting as ferociously as one. None could place their origin save one. The Old Man who watched from the Tavern.

‘There was a fifth house not too long ago. I would not expect outsiders to know of it.’ He would say. ‘House Dagon, and their lord… He attempted a Coup against House Ondo… By Kidnapping Raju’s Second Born: Hind.’

‘The one who got with Miss Atono at the bar?’ One of the Adventurers determined.

‘Oi…’ She muttered, squinting her eyes.

‘Indeed.’ The Old Man would sigh. ‘He was a newborn at the time; A Newborn when his father marched through Castle Dagon and slaughtered all with the Heaven-Fire until he found him again.’

‘The Heaven-Fire?’ Another would wonder.

‘Lightning, the Ondo House procured their position because their ability to harness lightning. Like Magic, but not.’ The Old Man would say. ‘With that he destroyed the house, and killed their king… But, what remained… They would hold a grudge as strong as this. One which would see them side with the Drakes themselves.’

‘Sore Losers.’ Saya would mutter, barely audible.

‘Of course you’ll be sore, you just lost your king. It is for their honor they must fight.’ Another Warrior would hiss to her.

‘Behind others, utilizing the fear of dragons as to further their own menace? That isn’t honorable, that is cowardice. Just proves they’re sheep in need of a Shepherd, and they care not who that Shepherd is. If Raju opened his doors, I bet they’d prostrate themselves afore him like Harlots wishing to be queens.’ Saya would retort.

‘That was rough Saya….’ Minnand moaned in worry, behind the bar with her, his chin resting upon it as she watched her.

‘They’re men, rough should be ordinary. In all rightness I should be being the one lectured, without paint, and strength.’ She would say. ‘But, who would you rather listen to? Them or me?’

‘You.’ Minnand would say, with little though.

‘Precisely.’ She would say, patting his head again.

 

[kohelemon]

Almost 5 pages here; I came up with the Shiel'Dye system during this second pass. Saya was meant to be heavily overpowered, and while I admire strong women, I do feel how I painted her originally and a bit here is quite erotic, which wasn't the total intention, she is beautiful, she's suppose to be, she's suppose to represent strong beauty, but I brought in the pain to justify the lack of armor, and also a way to make her look cool! I was scared about utilizing the Wendigo since it's a big cultural thing I think, A wolf would quite literally fit her best!


It was an utter massacre, of all who stood against them. Shields Splintered, Blades Sundered, Armor Shattered, Flesh Rent. The Howling of the Drake-Sons, and the Cries of the Defenders filled the air, as did the blood of the fallen. And finally the ten found the Inn at the End of the Avenue. Where Minnand and Saya lay.

Barging in, they were faced with dozens of Adventures. Both Forces Glared to one another for some time, sizing one another up as it were. And Saya, who was now in a proper Bar-Maid Dress, And luckily a long hood over her face to veil her frightening image only rolled her eyes. The Drake-Sons had been interesting up until now.

‘You should run.’ One of the Adventurers hissed.

‘No one’s running from here.’ A Drake-Son retorted.

‘What’s happening?’ Minnand wondered, poking his head over the bar.

‘Nothing interesting, as of yet.’ Saya would sigh, pushing his head down. ‘Just the usual foreplay.’

‘That sounds wrong…’ Minnand muttered.

‘I know it does.’ Saya would sigh aback.

And without anymore time wasted, as if spurred by her words, the battle began. And to their surprise, the blades of the Drake-Sons halted and shattered against that of the Champions. One by one they were flung from the Tavern, and soon enough chased from their like animals. Though with more room, they doubled back quick, and took formation, drawing short swords, and pulled forth shields from their backs.

Now Blood was spilled on both sides, A Single Drake-Son managed to break through the line, amidst the chaos, he charged right for the bar, right for the first person he saw. He pulled off her hood, and Saya’s eyes bared into his. The Black Became White, and the Warrior Paled. Though he raised his sword, she balked not an inch.

And to her dismay of course, an Adventure looped an arm about the Drake-Son’s chest and slammed him onto the floor. And with a Sword he severed head from neck. The Adventurer raised his head for a Thank You, but he wished for none as he saw her face. The Dress may’ve revealed much of her, but that did not mean she was feeble. Furthermore the paint alone was unsettling. It had all rather rattled, save Minnand, who found himself oft glaring at his masterwork with joy.

‘I think I did well.’ He would say, beaming. Setting his chin on the bar and turning his eyes to her.

‘You did, maybe too well…Some may say words are the best weapon, but I want to take their souls not, their spirits.’ She would say then.

The Nine Remaining Drake-Sons fought on more ferociously, but stealing glances within, and glaring to the woman who had given pause to their brother. One by One they fell, till the last lost an arm, and dashed away with all haste.

‘That’s the end of that; Can’t believe even the knights struggled.’ The Adventurers cheered, reveling in victory.

‘This will only bring them back twice as hard.’ Saya moaned. ‘You should get out of here, Minnand.’

‘Nope, I think the safest place is with you.’ He would say. ‘I already have a useful job as your painter.’

‘You know, back home, on the rare chance a boy is born, they do become painters.’ Saya would mention, smiling down to him.

‘How the hell is anyone born in your land, anyway?’ An Adventurer would chime in.

‘Well, our mystics will kill male intruders remove their sacks and…’

‘Alright I think that is about as much as we need to here.’ The Adventurer would say, with raised hands. ‘And I thought for a moment it was simple capture.’

‘What? Then who’d consider that capture? We’re not stupid.’ Saya would laugh.

She made a good argument in many senses. But, in the one that mattered most, for certain it was of the Drake-Sons. Though the escapee was crushed by Damascus himself. He glared to his allies who traveled with him and the distant Town of Golinold.

‘A Spark like this will become a Fire soon enough.’ Damascus would growl. ‘Finally, something interesting! 10 of you, with me. We’ll crush the rest of them.’

Golinold was but, a small place, but now it could be more. If word spread of this defeat, the folk scattered all about Adast would flock there in droves. They would find hope, and that was not something Damascus would allow them to have.

Another night would come, many would find rest, save Saya and Minnand who managed to walk for a time outside. Help those who had to bury family and friends. Many had perished in only a few moments, and for each guard felled, a new one was made of the old and young. Minnand wished to fight too, but he could barely hold a sword. And none ventured a request of Saya. They were far too terrified of her.

‘Why take vengeance on those who brought not harm onto them?’ Minnand wondered.

‘Because, they’re blinded.’ Saya would say. ‘And against a man such as Raju, this is all they can do.’

‘I figured you’d speak more dearly of the Lord… Since he is the father of the one you love…’ Minnand would make mention.

‘He is the same as all else in some ways. He acknowledges not and foists entirely without wonder.’ She would say.

‘You’re saying he foisted him toward something?’ Minnand wondered.

‘Indeed.’ Saya would say. ‘He never wanted to fight or wield a blade, he had two brothers who could, but no! He had to learn, he had to take lives, he had to prepare to accept the Heaven-Fire, which he saw kill man, woman and otherwise upon his birth.’

‘But, he was but a baby…’

‘Then why does he flinch at lightning and cower at thunder?’ Saya wondered.

‘Because he’s a coward.’ An Adventurer near them would jeer. ‘Afraid to wield his birthright for his people… As soon as he was born, peace for him was forfeit. A Man fights, A Man dies, A Man does not fear a battle, nor what is his. Sounds like he’s a lay about, and a disappointment of a prince. A waste of the bloodline.’

‘Your point?’ Saya wondered, offering not even a glare to the man as she stopped what she was doing.

‘He’s not a man; Especially since he allowed his own woman away from him.’

‘Your point in saying that?’ Saya wondered again, she baring a bored face which made Minnand laugh.

‘Sounds like something this world needs more of… Well, I mean someone.’ Minnand would say as he handed weapons out to brave fellows. ‘One who knows the terror of battle will try and avoid it.’

‘The Only way to peace is through blood, boy, and that peace is a brief one!’ The Warrior bellowed.

‘I would not yell at him.’ Saya would say, now looking to the man.

‘What? Do you like feeble boys, is that it? Living in the Forests hasn’t done well for you Atono… You don’t know what a real man is!’ The Warrior laughed.

‘And What is a Warrior to you, Oh wise one?’ Saya wondered.

‘A Legend, One who risks his life for others, one who fights when cowards discuss.’

‘I think Warriors are Scourges, they take lives of others because they’re told with little regard of to whom it is. They argue honor, they argue respect, but they’ll die yet another nameless corpse like the rest. Their legend will take root for a day, a month, a year, until they’re considered myth and nothingness. They’ll be forgotten, because once peace is had, a warrior is no more useful than an Ox Plowing the Field. You’re not a man, you’re a plow, because the Ox is the one who spurred you.’ Saya would retort. ‘You won’t be remembered, the king will.’

The words were rather foul upon everyone’s ears. Though she shot back a smile to those taking weapons.

‘Defenders are different.’ Saya would laugh. ‘Apologies, I always forget to clarify.’

The Warrior would attempt to punch her down, Minnand suspected from his face, he wished to take everything from her. Though the Punch struck her cheekbone, and she nor it moved. But, he… He pulled aback, his hand broken.

‘Being honest, your fist was unwarranted. There is only one warrior I’ve known well and he does not wish to be it. But, perhaps, it’d be best for him to be it, to welcome his power as you say. But, not for you, not for this land… But, what he cares about.’ Saya would admit, placing a hand on the warrior’s shoulder, the Warrior not budging, but sweating in pain. ‘And if he cares about this land, like his father does… Well then, Your Punch and my argument is moot. I wish to understand a man’s world, for it is because of its inadequacies I exist. I stand strong because a man couldn’t, such is the reason the Atono exist.

‘Yet all I’ve gleaned is that because men like you exist. I must exist to foster true men forth that fight not for honor, not for fame, glory, money, power. But, for others.’

‘Well, maybe you shouldn’t make so many assumptions…’ Minnand muttered, tapping his fingers together as Saya released the man and glared down to him. ‘Of others, and yourself, cast aside preconceptions.’

‘You’re right! Perhaps I should learn to be myself.’ Saya would say, with a wide smile. ‘I may’ve failed in harnessing my rage, but that only makes me something else, now doesn’t it?’

‘Precisely.’ Minnand would reply, trying to reach for her hand. ‘I apologize that we’re…’

‘Don’t apologize, otherwise I would not exist, and I would not have been able to meet you.’ She would say, taking his hand, and walking back to the Inn. ‘I’m a rather confusing individual, aren’t I?’

‘Yeah, but that’s what is great about you.’ Minnand would laugh. ‘Was that man…’

‘He was trying to seem dominant.’ Saya would sigh. ‘Not the first time I’ve faced such ignorance.’

‘I wanted to punch him.’ Minnand grumbled, making a fist.

‘You should not wish so; When someone has disputed you to try and claim your woman someday. It is not your duty to stand then. It is her duty. Her loyalty was placed into question, was disputed, and there is no greater chance to prove your loyalty than when it is disputed.’ Say would tell him. ‘I myself did not strike him, because Hind wasn’t here to see. Because in truth that man will be dead either way in a few hours.’

‘Aren’t you scared of what could become of this?’

‘No.’ Saya would shrug off simply.

The Warrior indeed though, was not ready for her to leave. He drew a sword and charged, and feeling his nearing presence, she turned and caught the blade in her hand. What was more, using the blade he held firmly she managed to lift him off the ground.

‘You can let go any time you like.’ She would say. ‘Don’t be a sore loser.’

It was some time afore he let go. And when he did she dropped the blade, her palm unmarred and she pressed on with Minnand at her side.

‘Wow! The Shiel’Dye does work!’ Minnand would exclaim.

‘You did a good job, don’t go doubting yourself, Minnand.’ She would encourage. ‘Nevertheless Minnand, I want you to prepare for the worst… There’re caves in the hills nearby…’

‘You can’t dissuade me, I’m sticking right by you!’ Minnand would say.

‘Fine then; I’m taking a nap.’ She would sigh.

‘After staring at corpses for half an hour? And it’s nighttime!’ Minnand exclaimed.

‘All the more reason. Don’t get into too much trouble, eh?’ She would yawn.

And indeed, upon the night afore what could be a second attack, She went straight to sleep. Glaring to her again, he realized now more than ever, especially in her stumbling gate upon her way into the room. She was already pushing herself too hard! Her words were foolish.

‘Is it in your nature to be so loud…’ Minnand wondered. ‘You worry for me, someone you barely know, but you should worry for yourself sometimes too.’

‘You think so?’ She muttered, afore shutting her eyes. ‘Likewise.’

‘I won’t go anywhere alone… And I don’t want to leave here…’

‘You would await your parents’ return, even if this place was not but cinders?’ She wondered.

‘Yes. Because… I care about them.’ He would say.

‘Of course, you do.’ She would say. ‘It’s why I can’t shut up.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘You’re far stronger than I am, Minnand… I cannot shut up, because if I do I remember how long it’s been… And how I’ve not been able to protect all I hold dear…’ She would sigh, tears running from her eyes. ‘My Mother, Sisters, My Hind… It is a most horrid feeling Minnand… And yet you are so brave to bear it yourself, not knowing when or where you parents will return… Mine though, all I love… They are awaiting me instead… Yet like a Dog Shackled Away I was sent away…’

‘You’ll find them again, Saya.’ Minnand would promise. ‘Without doubt. Despair, it isn’t for you.’

‘For certain…’

To Wait or Be Awaited. Minnand wondered then of his parents’ hearts. If they indeed still beat, if they still hammered in the chests, and guided the minds of those who loved him. If they wondered of him, and worried of him. It was a painful thought, to wonder of the pain of those so far away, who were losing much, yet only worried for what they still had.

Wounded, he could see them, and still fighting on so they could come back to him. So they could make him a home again, and care for him again. It saw him terrified and sorrowful, as he stood at the center of the room. He felt the weight of powerlessness, felt the weight of powerfulness and knew not what to do.

For he was but, a small thing, in a world of monsters. What could he do but, endanger himself, and shatter their hearts? Hearts which wished not for his pity. Yet it was all he could offer them.

Those Blood-soaked, Broken Parents of his who still fought on. All they wanted was for him to be safe and happy…

So he swallowed his tears and lied beside Saya and fell asleep. He dreamt of brighter days, of holidays and joy. Of Snow… Of the Snow his father still had to guard through. Of the Summer, of the Summer his mother had to carry him through. Of the Spring, Of the Spring his father had to wade through the mud too. Of the Fall, Of the Fall his mother had to reap all the harvest herself.

Of the days they prayed, they smiled, and sometimes “Conversated Loudly”. Of the times they were together, happy, walking, talking, eating, playing.

He never cried so much in his life, even in sleep. What would a painter do? What would a weak small painter do to repay all their kindness. It was the fact they only loved him, the fact they cherished him, cared for him, spoiled him. It was that fact which saw him wake and cry. Which saw him wishing to repay them, though the debt was high, and they wished not for repayment.

 

[kohelemon]

Only One more chunk after this I think! I suppose I'm being harsh on the chapter, it isn't too bad. I'm a rough self-critic. I believed this entire story was a bit too simple in some ways. It's ending is kind of cheesy as well, but I felt it was perfect at the time.



Ever by their side he wanted to be, he wanted to be there, he wanted to! But, they were so far away now, and not a thing he could do for them. Not a thing would reach them. The World would not let him.

He had to show them his love. He had to show them he understood, though he was young. He understood, when they cried in fear, he cried too. When they were in pain, he was in pain too. He understood!

All that drew him from sorrow was the warm arms about him. They held strong and gentle, and radiated a love so strong it brought forth words.

‘I can’t do anything for them…’

‘You can live.’

‘What is life without them? All I want is them to be happy…’

‘They’ll be happy knowing you live.’

‘How will they know?’

‘Pray.’

‘Pray?’

‘Blame not the Gods, for you live now, and are the only one who can ask for their help…’

‘Can you pray with me?’

‘Of course.’

The next morning came, afar the Siege of Castle Ondo continued, as many sieges would carry on for months. Some, even years. And in Golinold, all was silent, the avenue howled in the wind. As if the fallen were singing their final farewells. The Blood-Soaked Steets were now as dry as dirt.

He had left her a note and the satchel of Dye of Course, he wouldn’t need it. And the rest of what he gathered he placed into a pack as he made his way outside.

She would come find him, when she had the chance. He knew it. He would simply need to hide. He would simply need to live. That’s all he needed to do, and if there were caves in the hills which were all about that province. He would hide well, and await that friendly Atono Woman’s face again.

He would pull his horse out of the stable, and made his way from the Inn. With but, one look back.

Upon the Edge of Town was he, when he spotted large, booted feet afore him.

‘DAMASCUS! HE IS HERE! HE HAS ENTERED TOWN!’

He lifted his head, and indeed the Towering Drake-Son loomed over him. Ten Men ahind him.

That day entered the helmed Damascus, announcing his arrival with a howl most harrowing to the children who scattered, the women hid in their houses and the men paled.

Minnand was frozen in terror. Even his horse cowered behind him. As the Being Glowered down without another move. The poor boy, he wet himself afore he could back up a single step.

One foolish Young Man was the only one who held courage to stand against him, but his sword was swatted aside with a slap and Damascus plunged his hands into the youth’s stomach and tore him in half. Minnand trembling in horror as the corpse was dropped afore him.

The streets were coated in the blood of the youth, as Damascus Drake-Son stormed forth. Travelers and Distant Merchants rushed away abandoning their horses as he stormed ever closer to the Inn. Minnand’s Horse, foolish decided to run away in the direction of the foul man and his ilk… And with a simple of his arm, which was as a tree trunk, the horse’s neck was parted. It’s head collapsing before a poor boy who loved the horse as a brother. Damascus only laughed at the child, and stormed on, knowing that boy would grow to hate him. But, none would dare face the 10 Foot Lord of Death that he was! Not even a sword could pierce his muscled form, even the ground quaked in fear of him.

It was a horse he had cared for from birth. His parents could not produce another child, no brother nor sister he had. They could only raise horses. And this one was his, his friend, his brother.

Composure gone, wailing, crying, he took the bloodied sword of the youth afore him in hand and charged. He drove that sword into the back of Damascus’ right boot. And though it bit all the way down. The Giant turned, raised a fist.

And not but, mashed blood, flesh and clothes was left of brave Minnand.

The few champions within the inn were ignorant save one. All Burly Strong Men, all in armor, and bold, wielding swords and hammers, they drank calmly at the bar. Unlike that one who kept it. Though an adventurer herself, she had to work off a tab, and knew it would be quick, the tips quite vast, for her visage was quite pleasant to the eye. And while objectification was quite a concern of other women, she knew not what that word meant, and thought the people of the land generous.

‘Damascus? Who’s that again?’ A Coal-Skinned Hero with a red scar across his face asked an Elder, sitting in a corner who was breathless and stained in sweat. He was the brave who snapped the 30 Ondoin Soldiers back to reality, and “Saved” Saya the other day.

‘You’ve traveled only to your death…for ignorance of him is welcoming yourself into it’s embrace… He is the Lord of Death, the Taker of Dreams. Or so those soldiers were bellowing… Tarus is seas away.’ The Old Man said.

‘Sod it!’ A Mohawked Pale Warrior exclaimed, standing to his feet and licking his black-stained sword. ‘I ain’t waiting for him, I’ll tear him asunder!’

‘You won’t go alone.’ The Coal-Man said, standing to his feet and cracking his knuckles. “Woman I will return to pay my tab!”

‘The One who kills this bastard dream-killer pays nothing.’ The Mohawked Warrior said, approaching the bar, not afraid to display his infatuation with the Tan-Skinned, Well-Endowed Barkeeper who glared to him with such boredom one might assume she’d collapse in slumber a moment later. Indeed, Saya had awoken moments afore, but had not heard Minnand’s Cry. She only saw his message.

‘Fine... Just note this only lengthens my stay here…’ She uttered, those foolish champions then howling in excitement and leaping to their feet.

‘That’s the Idea!’ The Mohawked Warrior cackled to her bemusement. At this point they’d plunge their weapons into their foe simultaneously just to get her to stay there. How would she ever continue her journey now?

But then Damascus entered, throwing open the doors, he stomped in slowly, those brave champions falling back into their seats as he approached the bar, and sat on a seat which was so small for him it seemed comical. His 10 elite remained outside, for they were truly unneeded. Long he stared at the Beautiful Barkeep, before slamming a fist onto the bar! The Mohawked Man sweating, the Coal-Skinned man paling, even without the Devil staring to them as he did to the Fair Maiden. Unblinking, wide eyed he glared into her eyes, and she did to him, her lids lazy and soon to close always as she grabbed a bottle of Rum and threw it into one of his open hands, which was the size of her head. He downed the bottle, lifting his helmed head to the ceiling and spilling the bottle onto it, none could say how much he drunk of it, for it spilled everywhere. But, what happened next was the linchpin, for when he was done he brought the bottle down on the woman’s head. Many gasping or freezing in fright, as what little was left in the bottle drenched her, tendrils of blood spilling over her painted face, but her eyes remained locked to his, and she remained still, seeming ever tired to them all, save Damascus. For he noted well a growing flame within he wished not to see kicked up by wind. For surely, like a wildfire it would scorch the World.

 

[kohelemon]

Last of It!



He smirked and for the first time in his life paid for a drink, with none other than his own helm. His face harrowing, no nose, it was more a skull despite muscle and flesh, and two eyes only with a small black pupil which glared to the champions with anger.

‘What kind of man hits a woman?’ The Coal-Skinned Man shouted standing to his feet now, emboldened. ‘You don’t deserve to breath!’

‘Your name please…I can offer you at least the memory of your name, before I wipe you from the memory of this world.’ Damascus said with a booming voice.

‘Abel.’ The Man said.

Abel charged, as did the other Champions, all throwing aside weapons to try and tackle the Taker of Dreams. But, Damascus weathered them, standing to his full height, with a twist he cast them about the room, through tables and the bar, he noting the Mohawked warrior who flew toward the Barkeep. Damascus catching him with a thunderous kick which shattered his head asunder and brought his corpse to the floor, only drenching the woman in more blood.

‘Dumb ass…’ The Old man hissed. ‘All of you for angering him, now we’ll pay doubly.’

‘Shut up!’ Abel shouted, standing to his feet. ‘I’ll pay your tab too, for with an attitude like yours you’ve lived only off the kindness of others.’

“Speak of the depths of others, when you’ve seen your own depths.” The Old Man sighed.

‘It’s not easy to stare at your own ass, you know.’ Saya would add, with a yawn.

Abel charged and struck forth with a flurry of fast punches and kicks befitting a Martial Master, his moves nigh elegant if not for his warrior-intent. Damascus though took each to no affect and with another leg he sent it against Abel’s Chest, knocking him into the bar and wall of bottles. The woman now drenched in alcohol, but still glaring to Damascus.

‘A Hawk’s Eyes you have.’ Damascus said with a laugh.

‘Not what I was going for, but no one has seen a Wendigo anyway.’ Saya sighed.

‘I’m not done, and don’t speak to her!’ Abel shouted, standing to his feet though bruised and cut. ‘I’ll make you wish you were never born.’

‘There is always someone stronger fool! Do not run into the jaws of death!’ The Old Man said.

‘Shut the hell up old man! You can’t call yourself a man if you allow the mistreatment of a woman!’ Abel shouted, charging forth toward Damascus. Who met his wrath with a backhanded slap which Spun Abel about and had him fall against what remained of the bar.

‘Woman… What happens to a dog who barks before a lion?’ Damascus asked.

‘He is torn asunder after cowering.’ Say would sigh, with a voice so smooth and calming it halted the anger of the other champions, the wariness of the old man, and the boredom of Damascus. ‘Much like a Dog prowling family stomping grounds, coming face to face with a Wolf.’

None could tell who she meant the analogy for, but Abel thought it meant himself, Damascus thought it meant him though. And as Abel struck Damascus’ face with all his strength, Abel let loose a cry of anger which empowered him. Punch after punch he lashed forth with Damascus finally feeling pain for the first time in his life! He felt lightning across his face, the weight of boulders against his stomach but this only formed upon him a bizarre smile as he brought Abel to his knees with a fast punch! A glob of blood and teeth falling at his feet from Abel.

‘Damn…’ Abel hissed, shaking in what little strength he had to stand. ‘You speak not of me, woman? I know you don’t! I was not born here!’

‘Who else would she be speaking of! A reveler who seeks the fame of others are you! From village to village you go, lending a hand, earning a smile! Not a strong foe you have faced till now!’ The Old man laughed.

‘Old Man, you know your words well.’ Damascus laughed grabbing Abel’s head and hefting him up like a doll. ‘But, speak not like you were not a reveler too!’

With such strength Damascus threw Abel onto the old man and both were cast into the nearby hearth and through it. Both dead, or at least presumed, none could truly tell amidst the smoke and wreckage left in their wake. The other Champions rose in great fear, courage whittling away quickly as Damascus eyed them, then the woman again.

‘Who did you mean? Who was the dog, and who the wolf?’ Damascus asked, with a cackle approached the bar, and brushing a bloodied finger against her cheek. ‘Fierce are you… it’s invigorating…’

‘I grow tired of these misunderstandings…’ She sighed, shaking her head.

‘FOOL!’ A Champion shouted, as he and his compatriots charged for Damascus!

‘A Woman like you deserved riches…’ Damascus said. ‘Deserves a Storm of a Man!’

‘A frog daren’t leap into a well; Not just because it knows better, but the fact is, it can’t leap to the top.’ She would retort. ‘And this is all so boring; If anything, men are to be commended for their senseless determination. I am not a woman.’

‘Then what are you!?’ Damascus hissed, growing irritated, he soon smacked a champion to the floor with a backhand. ‘EVEN THAT LITTLE BOY AND HIS HORSE WAS STRONGER THAN YOU ALL!’

‘Little boy?’ Saya wondered.

‘Just another pebble in the road, him and his horse.’

‘To answer your question on what I am: A Lady, big difference, allow me to show you.’ She would say, her eyes snapping wide open, she truly looked as a creature of horrors now.

A moment later, as the villagers awaited the torrents of blood to spill from the inn, instead the champions and taker of dreams were launched forth into the center street of the town, their armor shattered, blood gushing from their noses and mouths, they leapt to their feet shakily staring back into the inn in fright as out from it, as the elder structure collapse, came the Maiden, throwing aside that silk dress, baring forth her powerful and beautiful form, only shielded by well-tailored undergarments. A Marveling, Frightening Enchantress. Painted to seem indeed as a wild monster.

She glared to the decapitated horse some ways away, and made her way to it slowly, and none bothered to bar her path. Long she stood beside the red spot, which was all that was left of him.

‘He was waiting for his parents… And they will never find him…’ She would say, trembling. ‘He wanted to live, to show how much he loved them…’

‘What the Hell are you!?’ Damascus bellowed, finding his way to his feet.

‘He loved this horse enough to die for it…’

‘Woman, you need to…’ Abel began.

‘HE HELPED ME, WHEN NO ONE CARED… HE TRUSTED ME… HE LOVED ME, HE DID NOT WANT TO LEAVE MY SIDE!’

Her hands shook as she covered her face with them. A Lone Drake-Son took the opportunity, his brother in tow. He drew his sword slow, and bothered not with his shield.

‘You’ll end just as he, if you do not kneel now.’

Not a word, she made her fingers arch like claws and spun she did. The claws tearing through helm, face, pulling chunks and shatterings, leaving indeed the torn face of what was once a man. The other warriors charged all at once. Their blades falling all at once, but nothing were they to her speed. Clawed Hands afore her, she tore through two afore her. Shattering their encirclement and seeing their blades into the ground. A bare foot she then sent, with a graceful twist into the back of another’s head afore they could form again. The Helm and Skull caved inwards. It was like nothing the now six had ever seen.

And they were now six. Wild they charged again, yet with another graceful, wide kick, their blades were sent from their hands all in unison. They minded not a fist fight, but when she gouged open two throats with only her fingers with ease. When she empaled another with her foot, and threw them the halves she made of him when she plunged the other foot in. The Now 3 saw well the terror they were facing.

To her angered joy they all charged, and so did she. In went her fingers into two of their crotches and she pulled all the way up toward their jaws. What spilled forth, she considered the filth lower than excrement strewn about the Paupers of the Cities she had passed through. And the Final! He was special. Kicked down was he, she took one of his legs, she placing her feet upon the other, and she pulled. Pulled until the leg gave away and with a disappointed stomp she scattered his brains about the avenue.

‘HE WAS A BOY!’ She bellowed. ‘Your Blood has ruined his final work you fools… Something his parents will never be able to see!’

‘WE CARE NOT!’

‘THEN YOU KNOW NOTHING OF LOSS!’ She exclaimed.

She took up then, the sword which Minnand had taken. She threw it, with all her might. And none stood in it’s gate. And they all flinched upon it’s connection with it’s target. Like a large bullet it was, and bound for Damascus’ Face. And when it met it tore through his head as a large bullet indeed, pulling forth the flesh and bone of his face with it, in a spray of foul Ichor, which stained the Town Once more, for a final time.

With shock they glared upon her, walking back afore the ruins of the inn, she stretched and assured her hair was still in its bizarre style, she let forth a sigh.

‘Bury the Boy, tell them he fought braver than any of you…’ She would say.

‘His parents are…’

‘THEN YOU WILL STAY HERE, TO MAKE SURE YOUR DAMNED ASSUMPTION IS TRUE OR NOT! YOU WILL NOT LEAVE THEM IN MYSTERY! YOU WILL SAY, HE DIED WITH LOVE IN HIS HEART! YOU WILL WAIT FOR THEM, OR I SHALL FIND YOU AND MAKE SURE YOU WILL UTTER NOT ANOTHER WORD ON THIS WORLD AGAIN!’

With not another word, she took the blade from the doorframe of the Inn, the one she had indeed thrown through Damascus, and looked it over. Beautiful it was, silver and shining. It was hers now. And as she felt indeed the blood of her combat had washed away some of the pain, some remained. So, with Minnand as her sword and Armor, she marched on. Unabashed by the gore, she hefted the sword onto her shoulder and walked past Damascus’ corpse and treaded on, humming to herself, not a care in the world. The Champions never forgetting that day, and Abel who proved his survival sometime later, crawling away into the forest too would never forget what he saw.

‘If they wonder of you… What should we say?’

‘The Wolf of Adast has Journeyed home; She is going to find the Drake, and the “Dog”.’

 

[kohelemon]

There you go! I know it's quite a bit, sorry! But, I... I don't want it to end up like so many of my other stories collecting dust. Even if it's never seen, or even hated, I want this one, for it to live on in some way.

I don't think I'll return to this story, at least not for a good many years. I've fully dedicated myself to my dream world, One I've been working on for a decade now. And the primary story is now 3 years into development. I work in "Blocks/Seasons" First Season had 5 chapters, Second 9, I'm stuck on the Third since I'm sick, it has a ginormous battle chapter ending which is hard to write with my current mind. The Story focuses on a Wizard's Apprentice, A Tiny Dark Elf, and a Warrior Elf who set out on a quest to save the world from the rise of the Lich-Kings: The Black and the Green. There was a moment in the first block/season where I broke down, because of what I was writing (a character death), and I knew right then I had to see it to the end.
This same world has a few more stories in it I'm working on! The Progenitor of the Main Family's journey which I'm reimagining now. I want to pull it away from it's HNK feel a bit more and let it feel out it's own path a bit more! Chronicling best the Chaotic Boy Wizard-King, and his friends in the Valkyrie from the Heavens and the Hopeless Boy who finds courage. And the Other tale focuses on The Primary Tale's Elf-Warrior's father, who went on a big adventure too with his own brother, to stop a Black-Wizard who conquers the Sea of Stars.
And of course, can't forget Frenchie, I know, a weird name. I've been brainstorming her story a bit more. It's difficult because I've always felt a bizarre guilt for writing her. She's fun to write, but often out of place. That's what is perfect about her though. And revising the Quest of the Wizard-King, the Wizard-King Glasius is a real Sun Wukong-like young man (Inspired by Luffy who was in turn inspired by Sun Wukong and whatnot), so her eccentricates make sense, cuz he took care of her like a younger sister.

Saya lives on as Sara in my new story, the Primary, she's a Side Focus who is the Guardian to the Prince of a Kingdom. In this story she, the prince, and our three meet at sea, are flung into the realm by storms and they're separated, the Wizard and Prince Captured, She and the Elves allign to save them, she discovering her family, her traitor brother and battle in the process. She ends up falling for the Small Dark Elf, an Odd, Unexpected turn I did not think was going to happen, but it makes sense since they're both guardians, both driven by a protective love.

Other Stories I work on nowadays are few, since I'm focused on my dream world now. I tried a Sci-Fi story some months ago i found real funny, about a weird dressing young man who, along with his sister, girlfriend and friends go out to become Space-Pirates to escape a Cruel Baroness with disgusting intentions. I also started roadmapping a Martial Arts story. It was inspired by the Recent Garouden Anime, though not heavily. It focusing on a Woman who admires martial artists and her study of the life of one particular martial artist, though she's soon ousted from her positions and money unexpectedly and this artist soon finds her, as he too is in a similar position. It's more of a love story, and while it has all the tournaments and drama in the world, I want it to focus on Her and Him. We get so many fighter stories, but I want to make a Master Story. There was also my chaotic gangster-magic-martial arts story I loved for a while, it may be gone, but I did love it, and it's characters will live on. I loved both it's carnations, one being a story about lovers torn apart by prison finding one another, and the other being the very beginning which has these funny roadtrip chapters I want to write more of!
Saya though... It was important to me. I wrote the original version during a rough, scary time. I remember sobbing to myself, feeling lost and scared, and then I just started writing. In a week I finished it's first form and I saw it perfect. It of course wasn't but, it was a start.
Of course my opinion is small here! This is on a forum for others to see. So I'll now forget this post existed for a while, and then come back in embarrassment later! See ya!

 

[kohelemon]

Before I GO! (Yes, again) Self-Critique time: it feels real weird throughout. Like her shouts in the beginning are contradicted by her later. While this shows the ignorance she acknowledges, I could do this far better! Change the Wendigo to a Wolf instead. I still feel really nervous about using such a creature for some reason. While I note the heavy sexist remarks and whatnot made toward her by others in the story, I wanted to mirror the darker tales that do so, and wanted to now offer a woman who would not just give in to them. I hate stories where women are used and abused, I want to deliver a woman who is a proud wall!
6/10, not bad, could be better. And I bet someone is going to say something about the length of it too! XD

 

[Mielly]

Your Baki avatar piqued my interest, until I read the first lines and realized that it was fantasy.