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| Author | LWM official short story contest - works |
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Here, in this topic, only the actual stories, written by competitors, are allowed. Anything else should be deleted.
If you wish to comment another player's story, do it in support topic, right here:
https://www.lordswm.com/forum_messages.php?tid=2226158 | The party of three moved through Deja Vu. Trell, the silver tounged rogue led the party through the mountains, dispatching of ettins with his longbow. Tristian, the assassin, carefully hid in the shadows and moved silently, dispatching of the trolls whenever he could leave the cold embrace of the blackness safely. Nimthor, the gnome priest stayed behind Tristian, bewildered by the amazing speed and dexterity of the human rogue.
When they fought their way through the valley, foe after foe falling before them, they came to a black pit. Cursing in his native tounge, Nimthor said to Tristian, "That pit is evil, we must find another way." "No," replied Tristian "our orders state that this is the way." "I didn't figure you for one to follow Lord Brownthorne's orders so eagerly" Trell interjected. "That may be, but he enjoys darkness. I for one am against anything that involves me having to find out whats down there."
With that, Tristian pushed Nimthor over the edge, into the blackness. The gnomes cries grew silent as he hit a veil of darkness. "Interesting," said Trell "he's either dead, or very lonely now. Kudos to you, sir." Tristian shrugged then jumped in after the gnome. Trell sighed deeply and somersaulted over the ledge and into the void.
The three landed on the soft grass along a road. Trell looked at the others and said "Well, that was anticlimactic wouldn't you say?" Tristian chuckled under his breath and Nimthor shot him a serious face. With his glare combined with his gnomish height, Trell began to laugh uncontrollably. His laughter was cut short by the crackling sound of lightning to the south. Instinctively, Trell drew his bow and pointed it in the direction of the sound, Tristian slipped into the shadows, and Nimthor began to recite his defensive incantations.
From an island fortress to the south a drake flew outwards, three winged shadow daemons in pursuit. Twisting and turning, the drake avoided the majority of the spells the daemons sent at him, then finally a blue bolt grazed its wing. It barreled headon into the flank of one of the daemons, slashing with its claws and biting with its sharp teeth. The daemon tried to throw the hellbent drake off of itself, but to no avail. The drake bit at the daemons neck, killing it.
Fluidly, the drake jumped to the next daemon and beared it's teeth in anger. Orange flames appeared in its jaws and unleashed upon his new victim. The flames continued as the drake clasped onto its target, searing this daemon's body untill it cracked and its blood bubbled. The final daemon dived after its fallen comrade and shot a bolt of lightning in between the wings of the drake. In a final burst of strength, the broke-winged beast jumped up to meet the final daemon.
The drake was fatigued, its mana exhausted. No more magic would be possible. So the two exhanged blows with their claws and feet. Turning, the two crashed into the shore near the three adventurers, the ferocity of their fall stopping at once on the sharp rocks of the beach. Trell looked to the gnome "What a sight, eh?" Nimthor ignored the human's arrogance and ran to the beach to inspect what had happened.
Upon arriving, Nimthor noticed that the drake looked human, if not taller. It was then he heard the sound of metal on flesh, terrified he slowly turned to see Tristian standing over a dead shadow daemon, his once bright blades coated black with the blood of the fel beast. "See to him, Nimthor" said Tristian. 'I'm fairly sure this one is dead" replied Trell, kicking the shadow daemon.
"He's still alive, but bleeding badly. Im going to need bandages" reported the priest. Tristian handed the gnome his medicinal pack. Nimthor skillfully applied the salves to the scratches, a poultice where a rock had severed the muscle in his leg, and bandages on nearly everything else. "There, that should hold him together untill I c | "There, that should hold him together untill I can heal these with magic." The priest then started casting a seemingly endless string of spells for the next few hours to bring this mystery back from the fringe of the void. His muscles rippled as the sinews began reattach, then the veins, and finally the skin.
After he had finished, the gnome produced a flask of blue liquid from his field pack and drank it in a fervor. "It is done, he will awake in a bit." Nimthor said, quite exhausted. "About time, I was afraid you were touching him for your own pleasure there for a few hours." joked Trell, "I was quite frightened." "Enough, Trell! Go hunt some food, I'll build a fire. We camp here untill 'it' wakes up" ordered Tristian. Before Trell could reply, Tristian shot him a threatening glare. Reluctantly, Trell grabbed his bow and ran off into the plains.
That night, they camped with this creature fast asleep near the fire. Trell kept watch, while Tristian and Nimthor slept on the firewarm dirt. No one would be prepared for what they would face tomorrow.
~~~
Tristian awoke to the cold embrace of night. "It's cold" he said to Nimthor, who was already awake and heating his feet by the fire. "Aye, it is. Our friend awoke about five hours ago." replied the priest, "He is quite distraught. Apparently he..." At that moment their conversation was cut short by the familiar crackling of lightning. The gnome again cursed in his native toungue, a habit that has since become quite annoying to Tristian, "They've been at it for hours! When are they going to give it a rest?" "Excuse me" replied the assassin. "Well, when he awoke, he refused to speak to any of us. Trell got bored with him and decided he would beat the answers out of him instead" more lightning crackled in the distant plains, "As you can well hear, it isnt going well."
Tristian studied the gnome for a moment or two, and decided against striking him for his demeanor. He walked towards the lightning. Trell was battling the Draconian, who was currently assuming his drake form. The Draconian would shoot lightning at the ranger, who would spin and dodge it and fire four or five arrows in retaliation. The drake simply flapped his wings and blew the arrows aside. "Getting tired yet?" screamed the ranger, who was only replied to with more lightning bolts.
Tristian sighed deeply and walked up behind Trell, who greeted him without turning to see who was behind him. After a few more exchanges of attacks, and Tristian having to sidestep more than his fair share of bolts, he spoke "Trell, thats enough." Trell turned quickly, "But we were having oh so much fun, I would hate to dissapoint our new friend." Tristian walked past Trell without another word and the drake landed before him, teeth bared and wings outstretched, his breath reaking of sulfur on Tristian's face. "Oh dear, I think he likes you" commented Trell.
Ignoring the ranger's words, Tristian proceeded "Return to your true form, that we may speak." The drake then turned back into his normal Draconian form, then spoke with a deep resonating voice "Why are you here?" "We were sent by Lord Brownthorne, to kill the Dark Lord.' replied the assassin. Despite his stone solid face gained through years of practice, the voice of this particular Draconian unnerved him. "You seek to kill the Dark Lord? Then perhaps we can work together for a time. Judging by your small force, you have never been here before, correct?" Tristian nodded, unable to speak in the presence of such a being.
"Then I'm afraid you are grossly unprepared for what you are to face. You will need me, but I will not coddle you, Human, nor your gnomish pet!" "His pet?" Nimthor roared, emerging from behind Trell, physically shaking in anger. "He just thinks | "He just thinks you're cute" said Trell. "The Lord controls this land, those daemons were just a few of many that he sent after me. He likely believes me dead, so we can move undetected for a short time. You see, I am after him as well."
said the mage.
"Then perhaps you can be of use, for now" said the gnome. Ignoring the gnomes threat, the Draconian continued. "I am Cye. We must go at once if we hope to reach the next level before I am detected again.". Cye muttered a spell and suddenly a light brown stave appeared in his hand, with another spell, a dim sphere of light appeared at the tip of the staff, then soared upwards. The sphere exploded high in the sky, illuminating the valley with light. Nimthor winced as his eyes adjusted to the light, unlike the two rogues he did not have a hood to protect his sight "If you are seeking a subtle approach, then perhaps you shouldn't have just lit up this valley with enough light to blind a fire dragon itself!"
Scoffing, Cye led the party East. After hours of walking, the four reached an ominous hole in the terrain, the familar blackness that they had faced the day prior. "This is it, enter." spoke the Draconian. Trell looked at the gnome. "Don't even think about it!" replied Nimthor. Tristian clasped the gnome's freakishly small hand and jumped into the void, pulling him in after himself. Trell listened to the familiar sound of the gnome's paniced cries untill they vanished, he turned to Cye "Poor little thing, so far from home and he didn't even pack his blankey!" Cye stared at the ranger with his narrow eyes, then jumped into the blackness. Sighing, Trell spoke to himself "No sense of humor nowadays", then jumped in as the light in the sky slowly faded, and the darkness of the void consumed him. | The sun had gone down. The sky was cloudy. A plethora of neem tree to spend the night there were crows. Crows according to their habit, while another one-caw were fighting with each other. At the same time there was a starling and a place to spend the night neem tree that sat on. Seeing all the crows nesting began to look at her.
Poor starling stiff. Quote giggling, "is dark. Cloudiness in the sky. Could at any time it rained.'ve Forgotten my whereabouts. Today night I put the tree in a corner of one of the two to spend the night . "
When will crows listens to her. He said, "It can not be. This tree is ours. 'You can not sit in this tree. Away from here."
Hearing of crows nesting in a very humble tone, quote, "The trees are all God. Began to rain and the hail began falling, then only God can save everyone., I am very small. Want you guys sister. Above me let mercy spend the night. "
Maina started to laugh listening to the crows. Then replied, "We do not have a sister like thy people. Thou taking God's name, why not just go away with Him? If you will not go from here, so we Bgaaँge kill all of you. "And rushed towards him to kill all the crows nesting box.
When crows caw coming toward seeing the starling running for your life from there. A short distance from there to spend the night alone on a mango tree starling sat hiding in a corner.
Was a heavy wind at night. After some time, the clouds began to rain and large hail also fell with it. A lot of hail hitting the crows began to fall on the ground wounded. Some have died.
Common starling was sitting on the tree, that tree was a put down. It was common to put hollow from inside. Because of the breakdown put put into the space inside the camouflaged starling. Because of the hidden manna to put neither wind nor sleet started and could harm her. He sat comfortably overnight.
Morning when the sun came out, the starling out of the cave and worshiped the Lord with joy singing-dancing. Then go flying in the sky. Seeing comfortably flying starling, crows lying on the ground injured, "said Maina Ari Sister, Where were you on the night? Hail hitting Who saved you?"
Starling quote, "I'm praying to God that was sitting on the cast of God, miserable and helpless to protect people., He heard my prayers, and he also protected me."
Starling then said, "O ye ravens, of God not only protect me. Believes in him and whatever he prays, he remembers, and trusts that God must protect him and saves him even in difficult times. " | 1. There was a stringent yellow colour etched into his face and it was nothing less than the depths of a most tortuous inferno for the girl to stand there and gaze upon her father, sickened and dying. There were no tears crawling down the sides of her young face, no sobs nor sorrow-filled words of farewell. There was only a single wintery kiss from from frozen, starved lips that pressed gently on a cursed, discoloured brow, a gesture of a final goodbye. Then she stepped outside, into the thaw that would supposedly bring with it the festivities and the feasts and the joy. But it would not bring back the dead, especially not those the cold had not killed, but had succumbed to a much darker power, one that was deceptively more human and all the more terrible for it.
And so it was that the birds of flame endlessly circled around what was to be the stricken man’s final resting place, and their lament lifted the night unto an ethereal plane as they sung the requiem of a life of generosity and honour and kindness, a life prematurely ended by much more malignant and ultimately much more powerful motivations: jealousy, envy, wrath.
She gazed upon a strikingly violent sky, streaked with deep crimson where the phoenixes flew in their anger and sorrow. A few minutes passed, and suddenly her eyes caught a flurry of movement to her right. A more focused glance revealed only the softly rustling leaves of a drooping tree.
It was then that the woman stepped out, a woman with piercingly bright red hair that cried murder into the quiet evening light. Her face was devoid of expression, and she looked straight at the girl, staring right through her to where her father lay dying. And something in the woman’s expressionless expression triggered a distant memory in the girl’s head, causing an identity to form all of a sudden for the stranger stood in front of her, a series of flashing images and painful recollections. A bloody field, littered with the corpses of her victims; a graveyard, where unspeakable evils were practised in attempts to destroy eternal peace; a burning stake, where an attempt to end the evil was thwarted as the fire became possessed of her darkness and consumed the gathered, setting free the sorceress; a tortured soul, screaming for release from a body filled with evil; a young man with a baby girl clasped in his arms, collapsing in terror as his legs began to turn to dust and crumble, as a sickening, pervading yellow began to creep across his skin. Now, she had come to seek a sadistic pleasure as her prey came to his final moment.
The girl had no weapon on her; all of her possessions had been sold in an attempt to survive the winter that would ultimately prove to be the bane of her family. A step forward though, and a large rock presented itself, just left of her feet. There was barely a split-second of hesitation before the rock was in her hands and all the strength she could summon was in her arms and the rock was hurtling towards the woman that had used forces no sane human could ever approach to commit so much injustice.
All the strength she could muster was not enough. The rock fell over a metre short and a moment later, the woman was gone, dissipated somehow into the air in which the phoenixes still circled, singing their beautiful, haunted lament.
There would be no justice, no vengeance, no happy ending. All there would be was a cursed, dying father and an orphaned, lonely girl. | Work,Work,Work!
A man was going through a forest.He was tired and sat under a tree for rest.Near the tree were some bushes,where he heard a whistle.So the man got up and went to look.What he saw was a bottle lying under a bush which was the source of the whistle.
The man opened the bottle to look inside.Immediately a lot of smoke came out from the bottle.The smoke rose high in the sky and turned into a ghost,as tall as a tree.The ghost was red in colour,had large red eyes and golden earrings in his ears.He roared,"Give me some work or I shall eat you up."The frightened man asked,"W-what sort of work do you want?""Any sort of",the ghost replied."You have let me out of the bottle,so you have to give me work to do.I shall keep working,day and night.The moment you stop giving me work,I'll eat you up."
"Take me to my house,"the man said.Within half a second the man was at his place.The ghost enchanted,"Give me some work or I shall eat you up.""Make me a big palace,"the man said.In some moments,a palace as big as anyone had seen was standing in front of the man who was delighted.The ghost again said,"Give me some work or I shall eat you up." "Give me some food."So delicious food was ready on his table but he could not eat as the ghost asked for more work.
Now the man got tired of the ghost and then struck an idea in his mind.He asked the ghost to make a iron pillar as high as he could.After it was ready,he said,"go up and down the pillar till I ask you to stop."The ghost started the work and now the man ate his food,slept till morning and did everything he wanted to.After a month the ghost got tired and asked the man to let him stop.The man said,"Ok stop,and go away from here with this pillar."
The poor ghost was not sighted again. | name of story- might is our right
theme- barbarians
author- siddi1111
Once in a village occupied by barbarians, there lived an ogre named 'shady'.
he was young and lived alone ever since there was a raid by a group of shrews 2 years ago. everyone were sad and alone and were not together at all. even the village head a behemoth called 'timor' was scared and hid in the penetrating cave, a cave made only for the greatest of the warriors.
shady ever since birth had a disability for self-esteem. everytime someone looked at him, he would hide himself from view. the only person who could help him come back to life was an female orc shaman 'kira'. shady and kira were born on the same day. but kira was a brave shaman and could go head on in combat even with a ladon without her spell book and with just her dagger.
she was the one who inspired shady in his dark days.they were the best of companions.
once during the scorching summer night there was an entire army of tribals invading the village. everyone hid in their thatch and mud homes unaware that there was no protecter for the village.
a group of friends along with shady and kira took up their weapons,shields and stood as a fender at the entrance. swiftly a group of commanders invaded them from the back and took them by surprise. among the friends 25 wolf raiders and 4 cyclops agreed to go take out the commanders.
now to tackle the army from the front there were only shady, kira, 52 hobgoblins, 12 boar riders and 23 orc chieftains.
since there was no leader for the small army of barbarians, kira took up the responsibility and asked the boars and hobgoblins to do direct attack and said that the orcs would support their attack with long ranged projectiles.
after half an hour the war started and more than half of the army was vanquished by the tribal army. Then an group of shamans got into a battle with kira and surrounded her. Kira was scared to death and cast mass weakness over all the shamans but the shaman's powerfull magic removed the spell with ease. then one by one all of them stabbed kira until she choked and fell to the ground dead...
the news spread like wildfire about their leader's death. there was fear and panic eveywhere until shady who was hiding underground came out blind with RAGE and gave out a roar so loud it could be heard miles away. even the invaders fell down with fear. But the tribal cyclop told them that there wa only 1 ogre remaining. the tribals laughed and ran towards shady when suddenly a huge squadron of rocs,thunderbirds,firebirds and dark rocks swooped in from the celestial cliff with max power ath the centaurs and destroyed more than half of the army, when came out timor with an entire army of ancient behemoths who were in hibernation for centuries.. shady with a undying spirit took his mace and swooped a huge hit on the commanders and the army of tribals were totally conquered and the rest of the army fled black and fleed.shady was called as the hero and rejoiced him as their victor and even made him a hero. And since then he came back the greatest ogre hunter who always served the village with his undying spirit :)
~~the end~~ | sorry for the spelling mistakes guys it happened because i was in a hurry and typed it all from my phone :):
line no.26: there was*
line no.27.a): at*
.b):then* came out
line no.29: army fled back.
line no.30:since then he remained* the greatest | “Attaaaackkk!!! The commander roared. The troops sped ahead, their swords raised, shields ready. Arrows flew in, felling some, missing others. Swords clashed, masking the cries of the warriors. I was not in the front line, never the less I imagined myself as the best warrior of the battalion, just what the chief had told me to. I could feel it working, it made me feel stronger and fearless. Something flashed in my mind and for a split second, I was running the first race of my life. I smiled. Then, my smile faded. Two enemies stood ahead. I remembered my first day in middle school, how two seniors had surrounded me and I had been humiliated. No, I would not let it happen again. I ended my run waiting for the enemy to make the first move…
They circled in on me. I had a sword in my right hand and a shield in my left. For a supplementary weapon, I had a spear on my back. I quickly dropped the shield and drew my spear. There was no defending in this battle… I had to go all out attack. The duo took thought that I was stupid to do so. Just as they were about to strike, I slid. My brain teleported me to the day when a truck went right over me leaving me without a scratch. I bewildered my opponents with my speed. Using the spear for support, I got up quickly and threw a dagger which was luckily on the ground. I caught one of my enemies in the eye and the other was easy to handle with his friend down.
I was really happy with my success but the voice of my dad buzzed in my head, I heard it loud and clear and recognized that it was when I topped my class, that my dad spoke these words, ‘Success is a failure if you celebrate it too much.’ I had to go on. Gathering my weapons I sped forward until I came upon my next enemy, a big built battle axe wielder. | | I remembered my first teacher in the army, some twenty years back. I was a proud boy back then and I had been taught the lesson of my life by that man. I did not want to think about him at this moment for right now, I did not face punishment, I faced death and I stared it in the eye. If he had strength on his side, I had speed. I took out my sword, yet again dropped my shield and this time kept my other hand free. He charged, his axes swinging wildly making it tough for me to visualize where he was aiming for. I dodged the first few swings with a few rolls and side steps. It gave me enough time to realize that he was not aiming his strikes, they were just random swings. I was quite confused when I had been taking a decision on my career. I had tried to work in a hotel, had my go at teaching, I joint a friend at his workshop. I got so tired of changing professions, that I decided to give up on life. Then I read this book which said that mistakes actually provide more time for you to think about life. That held true in my case atleast. In no time, I had decided that the army was the best place for me… I wanted to do something for the nation, I wanted to make the country proud. It taught me the art of wasting time and that saved my life this time. I decided I will have to risk dropping my sword. Risks were the key to the impossible… I drew my dagger, dropped my other weapons losing some weight and dodged some of his swings all in a matter of few seconds. Then, I did a back somersault and stopped. Holding my dagger with both hands, I began praying, to the angel that always came to guide me. My opponent, thinking I had surrendered, striked hard. And I thinking about how stupid he was, dived ahead. Then, I flung the knife in his direction, so sure that I had won. But what happened next, I don’t know. The dagger got deflected and missed him by a yard. He grinned… I was unarmed and lied on the floor helpless as my nemesis came forward, axes ready.. I had failed. Just like the day when I had allowed the killer of my father to escape me. I had lost all hope. I could feel the axe, coming slowly down to my chest. Then, a miracle happened | My dagger came cutting through the air like a boomerang, straight through my enemy’s heart, the pain making him drop his axe. I rolled aside, just before he fell.
I took a deep breath, the angel had saved me. “Soira!” I shouted in no particular direction. “If you wanted to help me, why deflect my knife?” Suddenly, the wind made my face itch, and my nose twitched with the overdose of perfume the fairy had got on her. I looked at her with my hand covering my face. There was something in her expression that scared me. The cheerful angel, who had guided me so many times, looked dejected. “What is the matter?” I asked. “There is no time,” she replied. I was quick to point out there was no point in wasting whatever time we had. The matter had to be serious. “I fear your death. This would be your last battle,” she sighed. Somehow, that did not bother me. I said with a blank expression, “Is that it?” This angered her, “What do you mean? You don’t fear death?” “No I don’t, I gotta go!” I wanted to push to the point. “After All I have done for you, you do not care for me do you?” She burst into tears. I was taken aback. I had never seen her like this. I knew I was wasting time and was unarmed but I did not bother me. “Tell me, what troubles you?” I asked.
Suddenly, an arrow came flying, and struck my heart. I staggered down to the floor. In all the dizziness, one thought taunted me, Soira had let me down. And just then, to perfectly contradict my thoughts, an evil laugh echoed in my head. “Shame warrior, or baby? Soira was a weakling, and it was so easy to manipulate you. How can you call yourself a soldier, when you are too busy talking to your head?” I could not answer all this. But out of all that I learnt from life, the last learning was the most precious and the best. It was a shame I could not pass it on to others. I had learnt that it is your dual personality, which is the cause of your failures. Confusion is a criminal. | All is Well
1.
Once upon a time, there was a young Knight of pure heart, named Chester. Of all the members of the Royal Guard, Chester was the youngest. Not more than a new recruit there, his job consisted mainly in patrolling the walls of the Empire Capital. But his future was bright, for he had already established his reputation of skill and bravery as a Ranger, and his Captain laid big hopes on him.
But alas, fortune smiled no more upon poor Chester. Mary, a sweet maiden and the love of his life, fell terribly ill, and no one seemed capable of dispelling her sickness. Physicians, Wizards – even Shamans were called to her aid, but to no good. And as her affliction progressed, Chester grew sad, revolted and angry.
Mary lived in the northern part of Rogues’ Wood since she was born. She had known Chester all her life, and when he took up his first job away, he vowed not to let work and duty separate them. So he would make it home every night – or every morning, if his duties were required in the cover of darkness. | 2.
And one particular day, that trip home was especially difficult. Chester had just heard of a disaster to the West: some sort of portal had opened up, his Captain said, and strange creatures were coming to attack the Empire. All troops were mobilized, and Chester’s squad was to be moved to the front within 24 hours. Chester had no idea how to break this news to his beloved. “Leaving her for who knows how long, and off to war? She’ll be devastated”, he thought. But the true ache in his heart, the one that his mind could barely tolerate, was that she’d be gone before he’d come back.
Dwelling on these thoughts, Chester wandered off the road, somewhere after entering Rogues’ Wood. Many times had he encountered bandits and thieves, and oh!, how he wished some band of out casts would cross his path right now, and give him a chance to unleash the fury brewing in his heart! Raging at his luck, Chester walked, and walked; past the bushes, past the pine trees, into the dark of the forest, and the towering cypresses.
At last, he stopped for a breath of air. Night had fallen, and he realized he knew not where he was. While looking around for orientation, he heard a voice – a delightful tune chanted by what had to be a delightful creature. Making his way through the tree branches, he found a well: and a beautiful translucent spirit hovering over it. | “Come, my sweetest Knight… come to me”, the spirit said. Chester walked closer to that radiant being. “Who are you?”, he questioned in his innocence. “Well… I am but the one that every man desires”, lied the Witch. Chester was immediately enamored by this entity. So often was he told he spoke too much, and now he was rendered speechless!
“Come to me, my dear… my love… I will grant you whatever you want most”, said the Witch, convinced in her arrogance that no man would ever choose something other than herself. After all, she had been there since the dawn of times, and none had ever resisted...
“Come to the edge of the well… look into it”. Chester looked, and at first he could see nothing but darkness. Suddenly, a mist started to form, gaining density and forming colors. And he saw an incredible garden with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen lying invitingly in the grass in its very middle.
Chester looked in awe, and as he was about to speak out his desire, his heart trembled; his worries took over him and the vision of Mary decaying in her bed came to his mind. “Save my Mary, good spirit! Save my love! That’s my only wish”.
The Witch erupted in anger – but on the inside. She made no sound or move that would upset the Knight, or reveal her true intentions. “But of course, my dear... your wish is granted” – and with a swift move of her hand, she deemed Mary cured.
Chester was ready to break into tears. “Is she? Is she really?”. “She is. Come closer to the edge of the well, look again into it”. Chester did, and as per magic, he saw Mary in her bed, in her house at north Rogues’ Wood, regaining strength and smiling at him! “Thank you, good spirit, thank you!”, Chester cried, looking up at the Witch. “How can I ever repay you?”
The Witch stopped for a second to savour the moment, as she saw her cue. “Well”, she said, “Take a look at myself at the bottom of the well… and join me if you so wish. You are most welcome!”. Chester was barely recomposed from the sight of his beloved, but that woman… The mist had turned into a life-like moving image of incomparable beauty. “After all, why not? Why not take this prize for my troubles?” And the more he looked at that lavish woman, the more he wanted to join her. “What must I do?”. “Well, my dear… just jump into well, directly into my arms!”. And Chester did. And as he was falling down the well, he could hear the Witch’s sweet smile turning evil, and into a maniacal laughter, bound to haunt his own spirit forever in the bottom of that well, a hell pit for so many a lost soul. | 3.
Mary arrived at Empire Capital in desperation. “Save Chester! You must do something to save him!”, she cried at anyone who’d listen. But no one did. Chester’s Captain and his squad had departed to the front, from where they never returned. Mary spent all her gold on mercenaries, who raided Rogues’ Wood for weeks before the money ran out, finding many thieves… but no trace of the young Knight.
Eventually, the war ended, with the Empire’s victory. But by then, Mary had already been driven insane by the heartbreak and all the potions she was taking. “I saw him, you know” she would say to complete strangers with her eyes wide open, “I saw him looking at me when I was cured!”
4.
Years passed. People never stopped disappearing, but as they say in Mercenaries’ Guild, “Roads are dangerous… what to say about forests?” Life in the Empire was better than never – business was great, entertainment halls were filled, Lords were happy. By the time “Crazy Mary” died, no one remembered the poor young Knight that had disappeared decades earlier, during an old war with some forgotten enemy. She was buried in a simple grave in East River, where she ended up, and the inscription in the tombstone made reference only to her name and date of death.
The Witch is still there, in Rogues’ Wood. | Story name : The legend
There was once a Knight named Bob who lived in a castle with the King, Larry and Queen, Georgina. At this particular moment, Bob is in his room putting on armor, a task that requires at least three squires, or knights in training, to help him. Three is a lot you say? Well, not really, since there are almost 50 lbs. of armor to put on. First, he must put on a thick shirt so that the chain mail wont rub through. What is chain mail you ask? Well it is made of little circles of metal linked together to make a kind of mesh. Then he puts on a breastplate, shoulder plates, and arm plates. Then to finish his dashing outfit he puts on heavy metal boots and he is ready. Now all of this took very little time to explain, but in reality it takes over an hour to put on armor.
Walking out of his room, Bob picks up his helmet and walks to the stable. His horse, Retreat is saddled and in his armor too. There is yet another squire holding onto the horses reigns. Bob comes over and swings (as best as he can) into the saddle. The squire hands him the reigns, and Bob and Retreat trot out of the stable to see hundreds of foot soldiers and a few mounted knights. Bob steers Retreat over to where the King sits on a black stallion talking to a few men. The Gegites have come into our northern territory. We will meet them head on in, Cremeamim.
King Larry! Bob said as he approached the King.
Ah, Bob. I would like you to go to your station. We will be leaving in five minutes.
Yes your majesty. Bob turned Retreat around and galloped to his station. He was in charge of a hundred foot soldiers. As he rode to the head of his station, a trumpet sounded. A long clear blast. Retreat shivered and Bob patted his neck to steady him. Bob rode a few feet ahead of the foot soldiers and signaled for them to follow. When the soldiers started walking, thy made a noise that startles Retreat. Retreats jumpy behavior was worrying Bob. He was afraid Retreat might throw him in battle. It was bad for a mounted soldier to fight on foot because the armor was so heavy it weighed them down After riding a few hours Bob could see in the distance a sea of black which was, the Gegite army
Bob showed great bravery in battle. In return the King gave him much land, many animals and the princess to marry. Bob was happy, and he lived happily ever after Retreat however, was not so fortunate. After throwing three Kings, 27 knights, and 124-foot soldiers he eventually became a plow horse. | Hey guys hopefully the contest is still open, this is my own story, I also posted it on Tumblr under the name Obergon64. It is not plagarized I wrote it and am hoping to turn it into a full novel or novella. This story is set in its own universe not LWM. Enjoy:
The stars were bright. Or perhaps it was simply the darkness of a night lacking a moon, a deep velvety darkness. It was a perfect darkness to hide in. Which was the exact reason he and his warriors were out. This was the night they would strike. They were the first strike. The Elder Ones had trusted him to lead the first charge. It was an honor to be able to draw the first blood. His people would forever remember him as the one who started the war. It was what he had always wanted, to be able to conquer and be remembered for all time. Death held no fear to him, what was death if he was forever immortalized? Best of all he pleased the Elder Ones.
He looked left and right seeing his warriors lined down either side of him. They formed a semi-circle around the target. It was a dwarven caravan, stinking dwarves. He hated dwarves. He was not alone in this among his warriors and the hatred would simply drive them to fight fiercer. Dwarves were the race he hated the most. They were loud, short, and cowardly. Always hiding in their mountain city fortresses, fleeing into them at the first sign of real danger. Stinking dwarves.
A runner was coming from the edge of the formation. He was hurrying over, quickly but silently. Surprise was still on their side and he wanted to wait till the last minute before announcing their presence. It would be quite the announcement.
“The troops are ready and awaiting the signal, sir” rasped the scout.
All was ready. Decades of preparation and hiding in secret and now the world will know of us. What we are capable of and our goals. This night has motivated his people for years and now it was here.
“Good, resume your place” he replied, hiding his excitement and joy. It would not do to let his emotions run wild. He slowly drew his sword, the troops seeing the commander draw his weapon did likewise anticipating battle.
“Light the signal,” he whispered to a the mage next to him. The mage spread his hands and recited some words in the language of magic. It was all gibberish to the commander. Then the tree burst into an orange blaze of brilliance and he could feel the heat of it from where he stood several yards away. “Remember attack quickly and that we honor the Elder Ones with our victory!” he shouted. The war cries sounded and then the sounds of slaughter. The dwarves had believed themselves safe and secure, his troops were the first lesson that was not the case.
The battle, more of a slaughter, was over quickly. None had escaped and now his troops were burning the wagons. His troops were disappointed, they had trained and hoped for a fight and were disappointed by how easy this had been.
“Do not lose heart, the speed and ease that we carried this out with shows the strength of our training and our people! This is just the beginning soon we will challenge the might of the great dwarven fortress cities! These fights are a ways off but we must be prepared. Learn what you can from tonight and stay vigilant. The Elder Ones will be pleased to hear of our success. The taste of victory is in the air and this is only the beginning!” To emphasize these words his tongue darted out and tasted the air around him. It smelled of death, blood, fire, and victory.
His troops shouted and banged their weapons upon their shields. They were ready, they were eager, and they were bloodthirsty. The conquest had begun. | There it was. The mountain that held what he sought. Finally months of traveling would come to an end for better or worse. The spell book he sought was so close he could feel the power resonating from the mountain. And the spell book was the only treasure in there he was sure of but he knew there would be more artifacts and knowledge than he could imagine in that mountain trove. Finding the mountain was not the hard part. It was defeating the guardian of the mountain. A fearsome dragon.
Surveying the landscape before the mountain he saw scorched parts of the plains. He was not the first to try but he knew he would be the last. Not many had tried to fight this dragon. It was well away from civilization and did not try to antagonize people. It's treasure trove was one of knowledge rather than gold. And it lived in a desolate land that even if they could people would not wish to inhabit. But he was no ordinary person. He was the necromancer Froxiv. He would be the greatest there ever was and this dragon was in his way. Things were rarely in this way for long.
He called to his legions of skeletons, zombies, and ghosts to prepare for battle. They began to move from a marching to a battle formation. The open plains left his troops completely exposed with no chance of cover. That was fine. Froxiv did not like hiding. While they prepared Froxiv used his mind to send a message to the dragon.
"I come for the spell books you guard. Let me have them and I will leave you in peace." Froxiv said using his magic powers to send the message directly to the mind of the dragon. Froxiv could sense the dragon was near but not where he was exactly.
"These books are not for you and if you leave now I will not tear you to pieces," the dragons response thundered in Froxiv's head like an avalanche. Froxiv severed the connection, that was all he needed to hear. He commanded his army to advance and had those that were able bang their weapons on their shields to bring the dragon out.
When his army had made it halfway over the desolate plain to the mountain the dragon came out to fight. He left from a cave entrance near the middle of the mountain and flew to meet his challengers. The dragon was a huge beast. It's scales were a pure black. This would have made it hard to see in the night if it wasn't for the clear white of its claws and teeth. The dragon shot a fireball towards the army of undead. Froxiv made no attempt to stop it. He had to see the dragon's power. The fireball hit just behind his third row of skeleton soldiers. The explosion engulfed thirty of them. The dragon let out a triumphant cry. The fire would have harmed more if his soldiers knew pain. And the roar might have been frightening if his soldiers could feel fear. They had long ago lost all way of feeling. His troops marched on to the mountain as the dragon circled overhead.
The dragon began to dive at the undead army preparing a breathe of fire from his mighty lungs. As he picked up speed Froxiv smiled. He ordered those skeletons who were hiding their bows or crossbows to fire and aim at the wings. The dragon was moving too fast when he realized his mistake and could not pull up in time. A volley of arrows was launched at the dragon. A pitiful few pierced the scales but many more tore through the softer tissue of the wings.
The dragon howled in pain. Now, unable to fly, the dragon turned the dive into a hard landing. As he was coming down his claws came out and raked through the legions. No matter to Froxiv there were always more he commanded. As soon as the dragon landed his troops rushed at it. Running as best they could but it was not fast enough the dragon had recovered from the landing and was ready to fight. He swung his tail in a wide arc, shattering all of the skeletons who were caught in its path.
His minions would need to get closer to be effective. Froxiv closed his eyes and began chanting in the language of magic. When the spell was complete he lo | When the spell was complete he looked up and saw it was effective. The dragon was attacking at empty air now. Froxiv's spell had made the dragon see enemies that weren't there allowing his zombies and skeletons to get closer to the confused beast. The dragon still struck the undead but the attacks were not as focused or damaging as they could have been.
Now to take control of the fight, thought Froxiv as he began casting another spell. He saw the effects of this one instantly. The dragon was now moving slower. The dragon seemed to be moving with heavy weights slowing it down. Movements that used to be lightning quick now were barely made in time.
His troops began to swarm the dragon. Now it was too late. The dragon would be buried beneath his troops. The battle lasted several more hours, longer than Froxiv anticipated. The dragon was fierce and clever. He weakened the dragon further with his spells until finally it collapsed and breathed its last.
Others would have looted the corpse or rested for the night but Froxiv had one goal in mind, the spell books. Froxiv entered the mountain and after a little searching in the caverns he found what he sought. The room of knowledge. Three huge bookcases full of tomes of knowledge lined three of the walls. Froxiv stopped for a moment to appreciate the knowledge kept hidden and protected in this room. Then he proceeded to the bookshelf on his left and removed a book with a blue cover and silver runes on it. This book was the first of many that Froxiv read while staying at the mountain. His soldiers stood guard as he studied. His soldiers stood at his guardThen on the fifth day Froxiv left the mountain and returned to the body of the dragon.
"You will be magnificent." He whispered as he traced a hand around its about. He began casting a new spell. It was a spell of his own design and one that took several hours to complete. When he finished Froxiv was silent and looked upon the body of the beast.
The whole body of the creature shook. Then a great tear appeared running along its spine. Emerging from its body came the skeleton and Froxiv knew his spell had worked. He looked upon his creation with pride.
The skeleton dragon was all bone except for a thin bit of skin on the wings that allowed it to fly. The bones were held together with Froxiv’s magic. They were white and clean. The claws were still sharp and where the eyes had been now were just two black orbs. Endlessly black.
"You fought bravely and now you fight fearlessly. None shall stand before the world's first skeleton dragon!" The dragon roared its agreement and turned its head toward Froxiv. The creature bowed its head to him, it's new master.
"Come my army needs to be replenished," Froxiv said as he marched with his dragon and army to the nearest town. |
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