Post by Joshua on Jan 6, 2005 23:11:19 GMT -5
This is the first chapter in my first draft of my novel, The Chronicles of Slubackea, Part One, in which Aôuraakun gets his sword. I've tried to create something different. It's a bit of a genre-bender. As I describe it, it's "Douglas Adams and Tolkien meeting and having a violent argument". This resulting mush is my story. Remember, first draft. I can change!
Rating- PG-13
Some violence, but not too graphic.
It was a dark and stormy night. Seriously, you wouldn’t believe how dark and stormy it was; Slubackea was a land steeped in darkness and storminess. There was also a mist in the air. Not only in a literal sense, there was also a growing uncertainty in the people of Slubackea. They didn’t know much of recent events; they knew vaguely that their king was in poor health. They went about their daily work, thinking the king was one to conquer any illness, oblivious to the truth. Their king was dying. Aôuraakun, heir to the throne of Slubackea, stood by his father. Theehfeowgere (meaning, The Very Young) was in a pitiful state. His eyes were cold and devoid of life, his face was grey. He looked as if caught between life and death. He was powerless, and his kingdom was being assailed. A contingent of warriors, from the North and the South of The Land, had grouped together to wage war on Slubackea. These people were thieves and plunderers, and thieves and plunderers like their treasure and riches. Slubackea was a kingdom with great stores of treasure and riches. The thieves and plunderers sought treasure and riches, so they went to Slubackea, intending to strip the kingdom of a substantial portion of its treasure and riches. However, Slubackean soldiers are renowned for their skill and courage, and an assembly of soldiers three score in numbers marched out the gates. Aôuraakun led them, mounted on his great steed, his sword glinting in the midday sun. He cried, “Soldiers of Slubackea, men of arms, take up your swords, and we shall smite these ruffians! We shall smite them well and truly, charge!”<br>The men happily followed his lead, and so they did smite those ruffians, well and truly they did so. Aôuraakun rode casually towards their captain, and remarked,
“It seems my men are more than matched with yours.”<br>The captain said,
“Reinforcements are but a league away, and we will soon cut you down.”<br> Aôuraakun said, with absolute confidence in his voice, “Numbers are no great issue for me. There are plenty more where these came from. I’ve hardly emptied a single guardhouse, and Slubackean guardhouses are small in size. We have lots of little guardhouses, very efficient.”
The captain’s reply to this was to aim a vicious swing of his sword at the young prince.
Aôuraakun laughed, having thrown off the attack with a swipe of his own blade. He shouted,
“You’ll have to do better than that; swordplay is among my greatest skills. Almost as profound as my skill with poetry, have you ever read my poetry? I like poetry”<br>The prince swung his sword swiftly through the air, and it bit deep into the captain’s arm. The captain yelled and fell backwards off his horse; he hadn’t protected his arms. He was clad in chain-mail, but he had not armoured his arms. This happened to be his undoing. He lay on the ground, bleeding profusely, as Aôuraakun hefted his blade. The sword slammed straight into the captain’s chest, and came up again, blood-stained, and notched. The man’s dying words were,
“You may have defeated us, but your doom is inevitable. Slubackea will burn!” He coughed, and died with his mouth full of blood.
Aôuraakun decided one man, no matter how highly ranked, was not enough for his sword. He slew twenty of his unscrupulous foes before the rest fled, and his blade was much sullied by this. As the ruffians attempted to escape, they were struck by a volley of arrows, and none survived.
Aôuraakun mused, holding up his sword. I’ll need to get that fixed, he thought. He quickly surveyed the scene before him. Casualties had been kept to the bare minimum; only three of his men had died. Aôuraakun grinned; he was rather good at this captain thing. He noted, however, that the bearer of their standard had been unhorsed. The man wasn’t injured, but the flag of Slubackea had been torn and muddied in the fray. Aôuraakun took the thing, and had it washed and mended back at the castle. He also took his sword to the forge. The blacksmith informed him that this task would take him three days.
Aôuraakun said,
“Must I remind you of my identity? I am the prince of Slubackea!”<br>The blacksmith said he would complete the job in two days.
“I suppose that’ll do” said Aôuraakun, rather huffily.
He approached his father, who was still sitting on his throne, looking rather pathetic.
“Father” he said testily, “you look rather pathetic.”<br>“Oh…” moaned Theehfeowgere, sounding rather pathetic.
“How went the battle, son?” he inquired, suddenly regaining his voice.
Aôuraakun replied, “It went superbly, father. Only three of my men died, and they were all very short.”<br>“I think them no real loss,” muttered the king, “What of the other army, the thieves and plunderers who so sought our treasure and riches”<br>“We left none alive!” was Aôuraakun’s cheerful reply, “I cut down twenty-one, myself.”
The frail old king laughed, and for a moment the light seemed to return to his face.
He shouted, “Magnificent, A good number, indeed! But you will need to fight better yet to match my highest score.”<br>“Yes, father, one-hundred twenty three, I hardly can believe you achieved such a count.” Aôuraakun grew weary of this, he did try his best.
“Have you your sword?” asked Theehfeowgere.
Aôuraakun exhaled heavily. “No, father; it was notched in the battle.”<br>“No matter, I’ve got a better one.”<br>The king managed to rise from his seat, and drew the Sword of Slubackea from its scabbard.
Aôuraakun stood in awe of the sword. It shone as if with some inner light, and runes ran down the blade.
Theehfeowgere passed the weapon to Aôuraakun; it felt beautifully light in his hands.
Aôuraakun swept the blade through the air. It sliced through the air with no resistance; the blade had none of the weight of any other sword, and Aôuraakun was sure he had wielded daggers more hefty than this.
“So,” said Aôuraakun, finally. “This is the legendary Sword of Slubackea!” He ran his hand over the length of the Sword. “I have read of it, but I have never seen it with my own eyes, despite the fact it will one day come into my hands.”<br>Theehfeowgere replied, “No, it is a tradition for the king to show the sword only when he is soon to die.”<br>Aôuraakun gave little thought to that. “Hm, this sword doesn’t appear so powerful. It’s wonderfully light, but I read its powers were great enough to destroy a battalion of foes in an instant.”<br>Theehfeowgere laughed. “You read correctly. It is more than capable of that, you haven’t yet begun to discover its potential.”<br>In that moment, as if in a willful attempt to prove itself, the Sword leaped out of Aôuraakun’s grasp, and plunged deep into a nearby statue of stone and tempered steel The figure then glowed red and shattered into a thousand pieces, collecting on the ground at Aôuraakun’s feet. The shards still glowed, and then changed completely in colour. They now had a bright yellow lustre, the colour of polished gold.
The young prince stared in awe, and as he did so, the Sword flew through the air, and he snatched it deftly from the air.
“This is a very nice sword,” said Aôuraakun, and even he knew he was making a gross understatement.
Rating- PG-13
Some violence, but not too graphic.
It was a dark and stormy night. Seriously, you wouldn’t believe how dark and stormy it was; Slubackea was a land steeped in darkness and storminess. There was also a mist in the air. Not only in a literal sense, there was also a growing uncertainty in the people of Slubackea. They didn’t know much of recent events; they knew vaguely that their king was in poor health. They went about their daily work, thinking the king was one to conquer any illness, oblivious to the truth. Their king was dying. Aôuraakun, heir to the throne of Slubackea, stood by his father. Theehfeowgere (meaning, The Very Young) was in a pitiful state. His eyes were cold and devoid of life, his face was grey. He looked as if caught between life and death. He was powerless, and his kingdom was being assailed. A contingent of warriors, from the North and the South of The Land, had grouped together to wage war on Slubackea. These people were thieves and plunderers, and thieves and plunderers like their treasure and riches. Slubackea was a kingdom with great stores of treasure and riches. The thieves and plunderers sought treasure and riches, so they went to Slubackea, intending to strip the kingdom of a substantial portion of its treasure and riches. However, Slubackean soldiers are renowned for their skill and courage, and an assembly of soldiers three score in numbers marched out the gates. Aôuraakun led them, mounted on his great steed, his sword glinting in the midday sun. He cried, “Soldiers of Slubackea, men of arms, take up your swords, and we shall smite these ruffians! We shall smite them well and truly, charge!”<br>The men happily followed his lead, and so they did smite those ruffians, well and truly they did so. Aôuraakun rode casually towards their captain, and remarked,
“It seems my men are more than matched with yours.”<br>The captain said,
“Reinforcements are but a league away, and we will soon cut you down.”<br> Aôuraakun said, with absolute confidence in his voice, “Numbers are no great issue for me. There are plenty more where these came from. I’ve hardly emptied a single guardhouse, and Slubackean guardhouses are small in size. We have lots of little guardhouses, very efficient.”
The captain’s reply to this was to aim a vicious swing of his sword at the young prince.
Aôuraakun laughed, having thrown off the attack with a swipe of his own blade. He shouted,
“You’ll have to do better than that; swordplay is among my greatest skills. Almost as profound as my skill with poetry, have you ever read my poetry? I like poetry”<br>The prince swung his sword swiftly through the air, and it bit deep into the captain’s arm. The captain yelled and fell backwards off his horse; he hadn’t protected his arms. He was clad in chain-mail, but he had not armoured his arms. This happened to be his undoing. He lay on the ground, bleeding profusely, as Aôuraakun hefted his blade. The sword slammed straight into the captain’s chest, and came up again, blood-stained, and notched. The man’s dying words were,
“You may have defeated us, but your doom is inevitable. Slubackea will burn!” He coughed, and died with his mouth full of blood.
Aôuraakun decided one man, no matter how highly ranked, was not enough for his sword. He slew twenty of his unscrupulous foes before the rest fled, and his blade was much sullied by this. As the ruffians attempted to escape, they were struck by a volley of arrows, and none survived.
Aôuraakun mused, holding up his sword. I’ll need to get that fixed, he thought. He quickly surveyed the scene before him. Casualties had been kept to the bare minimum; only three of his men had died. Aôuraakun grinned; he was rather good at this captain thing. He noted, however, that the bearer of their standard had been unhorsed. The man wasn’t injured, but the flag of Slubackea had been torn and muddied in the fray. Aôuraakun took the thing, and had it washed and mended back at the castle. He also took his sword to the forge. The blacksmith informed him that this task would take him three days.
Aôuraakun said,
“Must I remind you of my identity? I am the prince of Slubackea!”<br>The blacksmith said he would complete the job in two days.
“I suppose that’ll do” said Aôuraakun, rather huffily.
He approached his father, who was still sitting on his throne, looking rather pathetic.
“Father” he said testily, “you look rather pathetic.”<br>“Oh…” moaned Theehfeowgere, sounding rather pathetic.
“How went the battle, son?” he inquired, suddenly regaining his voice.
Aôuraakun replied, “It went superbly, father. Only three of my men died, and they were all very short.”<br>“I think them no real loss,” muttered the king, “What of the other army, the thieves and plunderers who so sought our treasure and riches”<br>“We left none alive!” was Aôuraakun’s cheerful reply, “I cut down twenty-one, myself.”
The frail old king laughed, and for a moment the light seemed to return to his face.
He shouted, “Magnificent, A good number, indeed! But you will need to fight better yet to match my highest score.”<br>“Yes, father, one-hundred twenty three, I hardly can believe you achieved such a count.” Aôuraakun grew weary of this, he did try his best.
“Have you your sword?” asked Theehfeowgere.
Aôuraakun exhaled heavily. “No, father; it was notched in the battle.”<br>“No matter, I’ve got a better one.”<br>The king managed to rise from his seat, and drew the Sword of Slubackea from its scabbard.
Aôuraakun stood in awe of the sword. It shone as if with some inner light, and runes ran down the blade.
Theehfeowgere passed the weapon to Aôuraakun; it felt beautifully light in his hands.
Aôuraakun swept the blade through the air. It sliced through the air with no resistance; the blade had none of the weight of any other sword, and Aôuraakun was sure he had wielded daggers more hefty than this.
“So,” said Aôuraakun, finally. “This is the legendary Sword of Slubackea!” He ran his hand over the length of the Sword. “I have read of it, but I have never seen it with my own eyes, despite the fact it will one day come into my hands.”<br>Theehfeowgere replied, “No, it is a tradition for the king to show the sword only when he is soon to die.”<br>Aôuraakun gave little thought to that. “Hm, this sword doesn’t appear so powerful. It’s wonderfully light, but I read its powers were great enough to destroy a battalion of foes in an instant.”<br>Theehfeowgere laughed. “You read correctly. It is more than capable of that, you haven’t yet begun to discover its potential.”<br>In that moment, as if in a willful attempt to prove itself, the Sword leaped out of Aôuraakun’s grasp, and plunged deep into a nearby statue of stone and tempered steel The figure then glowed red and shattered into a thousand pieces, collecting on the ground at Aôuraakun’s feet. The shards still glowed, and then changed completely in colour. They now had a bright yellow lustre, the colour of polished gold.
The young prince stared in awe, and as he did so, the Sword flew through the air, and he snatched it deftly from the air.
“This is a very nice sword,” said Aôuraakun, and even he knew he was making a gross understatement.