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(no fluff was recieved)
Rising Liviathan: Dark Elves
In the service of Khaine
Khaleth srhugged as he laid eyes on the huge stone castle ahead, revelling in the thought of slaughter. He had prepared himself fot this opportunity for months, studying plans, spying on the guards to find an opening, but most of all prayed. Prayed to Khaine for the success of his mission. Though Khaleth were a mer 300 years old, he had shown devotion and skill far outmathcing many assassins of greater age in his cult, and his orders came directly to him from Naggarond, read by no eyes but Kaleth’s. Long had this knightly man been a problem to the raiing parties of Naggaroth, and Kaleth couldn’t wait to drive his daggers through the man’s chest. Man. Kaleth spat just to think of men and their advesaries.
Clouds ensircled the sickly moon, and shadows enshrouded Kaleth as he made his way to the walls of the castle, avoiding guards with precision honed through a century. One small mistake would give him away, and months of planning would have been wasted, but Kaleth kept clear of the guards and found the spot he had sighted from his scouting position. The wall at this spot had been struck by a projectile during a siege in the past, and now it was an ideal place for climbing. With a quick jump he got hold of the wall and started climbing.
Kaleth’s target had his chambers few feet from where Kaleth climbed over the wall, and it took him seconds to reach the door to his chambers. A wooden bucket clattered on the stone floor as Kaleth accidentally touched it with his foot. Time stopped in Kaleth’s head, and he thought back at the training had recieved at the temple of Khaine and what the cost of failure was in the chill land of Naggaroth. No change in atmosphere reached Kaleth sensitive senses, and he proceeded inside, not a sound escaping the elf in his consentration.
The overwelming smell of food and wine almost broke Kaleth’s consentration, but he steadied himself and silently barred the wooden door. No one would get out that way, and no one would get in either. The person lying in the bed in the next chamber was Kaleth’s target, and he approached silently, brandishing his dagger and whispering a prayer to Khaine to guide his blade. His blade glowed red for a second, and Kaleth smiled. He focussed his force and drove the blade into the bed.
He had expected a clean kill, and slashing sound and a breath of agony, but instead he heard a thumping sound as his blade hit it’s mark. Kaleth removed the blankets and found a wooden replica of a man, his blade stuck in the wood, still glowing angrily, it’s bloodthirst not satisfied. Thougths raced around in Kaleth’s head, and he forced himself to remain calm. He removed the blade from the wooden body and once again whispered a prayer of forgiveness to Khaine.
A sound of metal against the stone floor made Kaleth spin around, and there, in the grim light from a small window by the door, stood a knight in full armour, his sword drawn and his shield ready to block.
”Leave this place, corrupted creature,” the knight exclaimed and pointed his sword at Kaleth’s chest.
Kaleth smiled and loosened his cape to gain space.
”Your blood will satisfy both me and my god!” Kaleth screamed at the knigth and charged him headlong, confident the barred door would not get opened, leaving the two locked in deadly combat.
The brave knight with heraldry adorning his armour was even slower than the opponents Kaleth was used to fighting, but his armour deflected every blow Kaleth managed to get in. His blades simply wouldn’t punch through the thick armour, and Kaleth knew he couldn’t keep up the speed forever. He ducked and the knight missed him by an inch before raising his sword yet again. A single blow from the knight’s sword would be enough, Kaleth knew this and for the first time on this mission he was scared, not of failure, but of his life.
Kaleth chose a more defensive approach and sircled the knight to gain the upper hand. The knight was clearly a experienced dueler, and he quickly realised Kaleth’s plan, and to counter it he approached Kaleth directly to trap him in a corner. Kaleth backed, and when he felt the triumph in the knights movements he jumped first left, then right, the knight following his movements with his feet. It was perfect, and Kaleth smiled to himself before launching himself at the knight, ducking at the last moment through the opening between the knights legs. With a triumphant shout Kaleth stabbed the knight in the back, revelling in his agony and the sound of armour being pierced.
The moment the knight fell to the ground, Kaleth marked him with the sign of Khaine, and walked across the room, trying to shrug of the feel of triumph. He still had to get out. Foot steps outside the door and screaming caught his ear. He looked frantically around and noticed a trap door in the ceiling. With great force he jumped up and got hold of the trap door which opened. Cold air reached his lungs and he slammed the trap door behind him.
The river beneath the castle was too tempting to Kaleth, and he sprung from the tower into the river.
- Voting ending in 98 hours
Last edited by Tashin; April 25th, 2010 at 20:32.
Hm, seems the spaces I left in my writing program (word) are gone.
If you recieve any fluff from Kev, I'd be more than willing to let him post them and run the match as usual.
EDIT: YAY! 900th post!
5000p. High Elves
Yeah, I recieved a notification about the post announcing the deadline and asked him if he'd submitted his story, his cheery response was
"I'm just writing it now "
Not that I've been poking him with sticks or anything... He thought we had *all* of today to write it still.
Fantasy: Wood Elves, Dark Elves, Beastmen and Tomb Kings.
LotR: Misty Mountains and Rohan
@ Rising. Try Wordpad. I think it'll sync abit better with this forum. Atleast thats my experience.
Otherwise post it now with the correct spacings and i'll copy/paste it .
Also grats on your 900th post.
It's a fun read but I wondered why it is that as assassin who must be quite skilled to get such a delicate mission straight from the top was fooled by a wooden dummy. Also, armor always has weak points, the joints especially, likely more so than a plate-armored back. The knights words strike me as odd too.
that I've finished being a douche-rocket, I'll mention that the pace is good, you don't waste time stressing over detail and yet manage to get some nice images into play. I like Khaleths satisfaction at a job well done, the smile.
Commissar_Kev: I'll check back... Well written. I guess it's not our place to judge for lacking the duel etc. It has the same good points as Rising in that it moves quickly and isn't wasteful with descriptions. Just the right amount I'd say. It didn't really engage me though. So, if we can still vote on it, I give it a
Last edited by Palos; April 29th, 2010 at 02:17.
The legions of Palos[SIGPIC][/SIGPIC]
Yes, there are aspects of the story which aren't entirely realistic (stabbing straight through plate mail, etc), but then again, this is fantasy not high drama. The writing itself is tight and engaging. The challenge back and forth wasn't exactly a 'conversation', but it worked well.
Rising Leviathan 4/5
First things first, Rising Leviathan - a good proof read would do your story a world of good. Perhaps it's just me, but when I first begin reading a story I think I notice errors a lot more readily. Further on, once I'm in to the flow of the writing, I'm more likely to skim over them or just outright miss them. But when they're at the start... they just seem to stand out that much more for me. So, cover those ones up, and I won't notice the rest so much!
I also thought it odd that the assassin actually tried penetrating the knight's armour - as Palos said, there are always weak points (I personally was hoping for a dagger through the eye-slit in the helmet!) and it just stuck me as odd that an assassin who'd been so competent and professional thus far wouldn't instantly be going for joints and gaps in the plate armour.
Not a bad effort, though!
Commissar Kev - Unavailable
Rising Leviathan - 3/5
I second Deadstar_MRC's motion. Proofreading is your friend. Read your story once it's done. Read it before you submit it, then read it before you hit the button to send it off. Everything will seem smoother if you take the time to work on it.
The fight scene is very nice. Well paced and engaging. The wooden dummy is a little jarring, but necessary I think. I also add to the comments on how armour works: Losing the fight because he can't get through the armour is and then winning by plunging his daggers through the backplate is a little odd. A shield would have made more sense, because it can be used to cover the joints and will make a skilled warrior incredibly difficult to hit.
I vote (3.5/5).
I wish Commisar_Kev could have written something. His story was my favorite from last round, despite its flaws and I really wanted to see what he could do.
P.S. Man, now I want to see an assassin vs. a shadow warrior. I can't help but feel like that would be the most angsty awesome battle ever.
Epic fail on getting this in on time
A Servants Place.
“AAARGH, I'm awake, I'm awake” uttered Ermite, a sharp pain ringing its way through his ribs.
“where is my breakfast serf? And where are the rest of my house servants?” came the booming voice of Baron Burdock, clearly annoyed, and in an unkempt state that showed his morning routine of being woken and washed by his man servants had not gone as planned.
“I don't know my lord, OW” cried Ermite as another well placed boot found his now tender ribs.
“well get out of here and find out!” shouted the Baron.
Ermite ran from the local manse, his back end battered and bruised where he had been repeatedly kicked till he was outside and heading to the nearby village. He didn't complain about this, it had always been the way, the knights had protected his family for generations, and it was the peasants place to make sure the knights where fed and kept in the manner of there status. Gallant and brave had all the knights of the land been, and Ermite was sure that this new Baron, only recently installed in his position, would be no different.
Knowing his lord wanted answers as soon as he could, Ermite took the dirt track to the village, although not at first glance even a track at all, the track allowed quick moving servants to get to and from the village without being seen by visiting nobles who take the more longer smoother road.
Storming around his private rooms Baron Brudock threw the contents of his personal chest over his bed, “how dare they” he thought. How dare they treat their liege lord in such a manner! Was he not placed there by his father to rule over them and protect them. And in his fathers' name they would respect him! Throwing on his clothes as best he could, how had the servants done this, he would beat his respect into them, the low life commoner scum, they where lucky to be allowed under his roof, lucky he was here to give there simple lives some meaning, and when they got back here, and sorted his damn shirt out, they'd be lucky he didn't thrash the life out of them!
The baron looked around sharply, had he heard someone move downstairs?
“is that you Ermite?” he called out, “stupid bloody peasants”, seizing his riding crop he journeyed to investigate.
Storming out of his room and into the corridor Burdock was stopped short by a unusual sight, there, stood in the hallway was armoured warrior, tall and imposing. His armour was full of sharp curves and wicked barbs. his long jet black hair fell freely about his face and Burdock's eyes where drawn into the strangers own orbs, which where as dark as pitch.
“How dare you enter my home in such a manner you cur” stormed the young baron! “leave now before I'm forced to take my displeasure out on your hide” pointing the well used crop towards the stranger, his earlier anger starting to dissipate,
Cruel mocking laughter issued from the strangers mouth as he walked gracefully towards the baron,
“you talk off displeasure oh lord of men, my people ruled this land when you where still dwelling in mud huts and caves, and in time we shall rule here again, my displeasure shall be meted out a thousand fold upon YOUR hide at seeing you dwell in our lands”
Without realising it the baron had been backing away from the approaching menace, only noticing when his back hit the wall, “get...get out” he stated.
The dark warrior was now only arms reach away and summing up the last of his indignant rage he charged and swung his riding crop at the face of this arrogant intruder.
He didn't even see the warrior move, one second he was stood in front of him the next he was beside, his fist slamming into the side of his head; Passing out the last thing he heard was the cold mocking laughter of the warrior in dark armour.
Ermite stayed hidden in the bushes as the strange soldiers went about there business, they where rounding up the local villages and chaining them together at the hand and feet. He crawled along the outskirts if the village, never straying from the tree line lest he be seen himself. He didn't fancy his chance against these foul looking visitors, he had seen one of his neighbours children try to make a break for it, and he had to stifle his own scream when the boy was brought low by a cruel barbed whip that snaked out from a scantily clad females' hand. As the boy went to rise to his feet she pounced and hacked into him with a curved blade, within moments she raised her hands to show the bloody prize she held there, a cheer went up from the tall strangers as she squeezed the blood from the meat she held. None of the villages struggled after that display of cruelty, they kept their eyes fixed to the ground for fear they too became sport for there oppressors.
At night fall he slowly made his way back up the servants path towards his lords manor, he was not surprised to see the building aflame, the slavers had set the village to the torch just the same. He wondered how his lord must have fought bravely only to surely have fallen to some unimaginable dark power beyond his understanding.
The Baron awoke with a scream, the cruel lash have torn a strip of skin from his chest, “welcome to your new home slave” leered the voice of his gaoler, “we have work for you, prey you are up to the task”, a stifled cry ushered from Burdocks lips as the door slammed shut on his cell, and with it all trace of day light.
Commissar_Kev's story is written well, and easy to follow. Unfortunately, I don't see a duel or brawl anywhere. The story just seems to be about cruelty, which is poignant, but not exactly a fun read. 3/5