Currently disembodied fight scene

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Currently disembodied fight scene

Post by Azizrian » Sat Dec 07, 2013 1:23 pm

If I'm not a total bum, could become the beginning of something. Here we go:

The flock of crows circled overhead, waiting.

Gritting her teeth, a lone figure hefted her sword and took a few steps closer to the gaping hole in the mountainside.

“In the name of my father and mother, in the name of the thousands you have killed, I demand that you come forth to face me!” The wind threatened to carry her words away, but the challenge nevertheless echoed within the cave. For a few moments she heard only the wind whistling in the rocks.

But as she took a deep breath to call out again, a deep rumble rose from the mountain—laughter. Then came the slow, ponderous echoes of great footfalls. She nearly gagged as a wave of sulfurous vapors reached her, and, slinging her greatsword across her back, she hurriedly traced arcane symbols in the air with her fingers.

The wind died down and there was a brief moment of silence as the woman finished her ward—then a roar as a massive wave of flame flooded from the cave. Bracing against her warding, the woman tried to gasp as the air was ripped from her lungs. Though the spell shielded her from the worst of the blast, she could still feel some of her skin begin to blister from the heat. She shuddered, desperate for air, waiting for the fire storm to end.

When it finally did, panting heavily the woman dropped her nearly-spent ward and swung the sword off her back once more. She squared her feet in the dust and held her sword, ready to face her fate.

The rumbling laughter came again, and this time a voice followed, deep and hollow as caverns beneath the earth. “Excellent, little mouse, truly excellent.”

The great, scarlet beast emerged from his cave—a fire wyrm, grinning with a mouth lined with teeth longer than her sword, flicking its long, spiked tail as he approached. “So few survive the first blast. I don’t think I have left that cave in decades.”

“Not since you razed the city of Hearthfall,” the woman spat. “Not since you gorged yourself on its people.”

“Oh, I see.” The dragon chuckled to himself again. “You must have been just a tiny thing then, for me to have missed you. Well, no matter.” His gold eyes roamed over her. “What wouldn’t have made even a mouthful then has grown into something more worth my while. And—,” he sniffed the air, “Mmm, delicious. The sweet aroma of powerful magics.” The gold eyes gleamed, and the wyrm inhaled her scent more deeply. “Mm…a touch unfamiliar I will admit. But I shall certainly savor every moment.”

Without warning, the dragon lunged. The woman swung desperately at the teeth that threatened to close around her as she tumbled out of the way.

The great beast let out a full-bellied laugh. “Oh, you might be fun, little mouse. Do tell me your name before I swallow you whole.”
Last edited by Azizrian on Tue Dec 10, 2013 6:16 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Re: Currently disembodied fight scene

Post by Azizrian » Sat Dec 07, 2013 1:26 pm

She reached for the voices, a swarm of whispers pressing in on the back of her mind. Above, the woman knew, the flock of crows had changed their course. She felt fear rising in her throat, but when she spoke, her voice was steady. “I am Aderyn of the House of Dovan.” Something flickered in the dragon’s eyes, but he recovered. “I am the last of my line, and I am here to avenge my family.”

With a roar, Aderyn charged. As she ran, she chanted a simple levitation spell and her feet began to find purchase in the air. Startled as the wyrm was, he greeted her attack with amusement and slashed at her lazily as she approached. The woman dodged easily, parrying a talon that would have torn open her side with a swipe of her sword and circling around to the creature’s side, avoiding the usual path—and death trap—toward his belly.

The dragon scarcely bothered to move, seeming intrigued by Aderyn’s unexpected trajectory. Instead, he followed her progress with his head, and with a snort sent another blast of fire in her direction. Again she dodged, flinging herself at the dragon’s back and pulling herself up among the long spines that ran from his head to his tail.

The wyrm laughed again. “You’re not so stupid, mouse. I like it.” Unable to twist his head around far enough, he flicked his tail at the woman. She met the long spines with her blade and glanced heavenward. They were coming. She could make out individual birds now. “Tell me though, little royal mouse. Where is your crown?”

“I plan to cut it from your belly, snake!”

Propelled by his wings, the wyrm reared up and flipped himself suddenly on to his back. Aderyn scrambled to detangle herself from the spines before he hit the ground, and nearly failed to escape the dragon’s jaws as he snapped at her. She rolled away and when she stood again, her sword was gone, trapped beneath the gigantic head.

The great beast grinned at her. “It’s been a pleasure, Princess, but I fear your time is up.”

Aderyn closed her eyes. The dust around her swirled in the wind as the dragon sucked in a breath. The smell of sulfur was almost overpowering.

And then her birds reached her. She gathered their spirits around her like a cloak and knelt, waiting for the blast. This fire storm was even greater than the first, but the swirling mass of crows served as a greater shield than the previous one as well. When the fire died away, a few of the birds were little more than bone and ash, but their spirits held. Aderyn flexed her spirits like wings, smiling at the look of puzzled astonishment in the dragon’s gold eyes, and took off.

As the wyrm rolled back onto its belly and got to its feet, the woman flew past his neck and back, raking ephemeral claws across his scales. The dragon snapped at her but she rolled effortlessly away.

The beast spoke again, but he was no longer smiling. “I see you now. You are no mouse, but a sweet little songbird. It will hardly do you any good.” He roared, a sound that threatened to break Aderyn’s eardrums and shook her bones, and then, stretching his wings, leapt into the air.
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Re: Currently disembodied fight scene

Post by Azizrian » Tue Dec 10, 2013 6:12 pm

Aderyn wheeled, avoiding the tail spikes that swung toward her. Now she could search for it—the spot every dragon had. Swerving around one of the wyrm’s clawed feet, she raked ephemeral claws up his scaled belly. He roared, out of rage rather than pain, and rolled, nearly catching her in one of his claws. Aderyn cursed. Out of fear and weariness that was already growing, she’d plunged in too quickly, and hadn’t even seen anything.

The dragon inhaled for another blast and Aderyn curled up again to shield herself, falling out of the dragon’s field of vision. She flung open her coat of crow spirits just before she hit the ground and rode the updrafts of heated air, circling around to the dragon’s back. Before she could adjust he rolled again and grasped her in his claws. The crow spirits strained against him but still Aderyn gasped for air. She felt her ribs beginning to cave under the pressure.

Her crows swarmed around the wrym’s talons, pecking at joints and the soft tissue where the claws began. Now he was in pain. With a roar he released her, flinging her at the rock wall of the mountain. Aderyn’s crow wings caught the air in time to soften the blow, but she grunted as she hit the stone.

She was beginning to tire. At the edges of her mind, she could hear the voices she had been keeping in check, softly now, but insistent. Time was not with her. The dragon wheeled to face her again and wound up to unleash another torrent of flame. Aderyn waited until the searing heat of the fireball reached her and then dove. Under cover of flame she skimmed the dusty ground, examining the magnificent scaled hide above her. There!—on the wyrm’s breast, a spot duller than those around it. Another pass would confirm it.

Aderyn had forgotten the tail, though. It swatted her from the sky. Unable to adjust, Aderyn smashed into the ground. Despite the bird flesh, bone, and feathers that had broken her fall, her spine protested and she felt one of her ribs crack. Desperately she sucked air back into her lungs and fought back unconsciousness.

They waited at the edges, louder now. She could feel them—a whole city’s worth of spirits, all rage and sorrow. Revenge, they demanded of her, begged of her. They sniffed her like dogs, hungry for her warmth and life.

Crow bodies lay around her. One by one their spirits faded out of the living world. Aderyn judged her strength—definitely not enough for more than one summoning. Time was up. Overhead, the great beast began a dive that would end, for her, with teeth and a pair of bone-crushing jaws. The woman let the human spirits grow louder, felt their hunger, filled her mind with the destruction of a city through a six-year-old’s eyes, the fear and loss. The spirits jostled one another, struggling toward the light she offered.

Planting her hands against the hard ground, she opened the gates.

The dust itself began to rise up. It formed ghostly hands and faces, half-burned torsos, crushed limbs, ghastly skulls grinning at the sky. Hundreds of them. Eager at the chance of revenge they ripped through Aderyn’s body and into the world of the living again. They tore the breath and warmth from her body and still they came. To the dragon it must have looked like she called up a dust storm, so thick was the air with their swirling forms.

At last, the stream of dead ended. Aderyn collapsed amidst the wreckage of crows. The shifting ghosts remained deathly silent, watching the wyrm who had halted his descent.

“Think you can hide from me, little bird?” he called, but his eyes betrayed his confusion. To Aderyn, the air reeked of death magic, sickly sweet and heavy, coating her lungs and throat. But still the dragon did not recognize the scent. Bellowing his frustration, anxious for the kill, he dove again for the place he had seen her last.

Still the spirits were silent. Coughing, Aderyn rolled onto her back and watched the dragon approach. A roar shook the beings of dust around her, but they neither spoke nor moved. At last, a few meters before the wyrm would have reached Aderyn, the spirits rose up screaming to meet it.

Eyes wide, the dragon tried to return to the sky but the phantoms caught hold of him by wing and talon and snout and forced him down, swarming over his body. The wailing and shrieking sent shivers down Aderyn’s spine but she could breathe better. Though her ribs burned and she could only take in shallow gasps the air around her was clear of dust. There was just one last thing…

Her sword lay near the mouth of the cave where she had dropped it. The woman struggled to her feet and staggered towards it. Her body yearned for unconsciousness but she was too close. Her fingers closed weakly around the leather-wrapped grip. The silver might as well have been lead. Aderyn dragged it across the ground toward the flurry of dust and limbs. Sensing her purpose, the army of spirits wrenched the wyrm’s writhing body belly-up. His roars, too, now resembled screams.

The journey toward the dragon seemed to take an age, but at last Aderyn reached one giant forearm and crawled onto it. The limb twitched but the ghosts piled on to hold it steady. The woman dragged herself forward, onto the beast’s chest. Heaving with the creature’s desperate screams, it threatened to buck her off. But she was too close…

The scales formed excellent handholds, though they tore her hands as she struggled to the spot she had seen. Finally, as she grasped for the next scale, her fingers touched something smoother—still tough like stone, but definitely a bare patch. Nearly weeping with relief, Aderyn used the sword to push herself up onto her knees. She lifted the sword in both hands and the spirits swirled around her.

With all of her weight, driven by the force of the vengeful phantoms that surrounded her, she plunged the sword hilt-deep into the wyrm’s hide. The ghost army streamed into the hole, driving the weapon out of sight. Their gleeful screams were matched only by the awful death-shriek of the dragon. Its death throes flung the woman to a safe distance and then the corpse exploded into blue flames.

Coughing, exhausted, and cold, Aderyn watched until the dragon’s body smoldered into ash and the spirits faded into blissful silence, then the world went dark, and she was lost in unconsciousness.
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Re: Currently disembodied fight scene

Post by Azizrian » Thu Feb 06, 2014 1:32 pm

Instead of the beginning, the above scene is becoming the middle of something. HERE is the beginning:

Rurik – 1
The child on his back had finally fallen asleep. She was warm against him, even through the armor.

Walking was a curious exercise—familiar as he was with his own long, loping strides, Rurik was not used to them happening so quickly, nor to the speed with which they ate up ground like a ravenous animal.

The sense of vulnerability was nearly palpable. Exposed on one of the rolling hillsides of the smoking ruin of a field, Rurik felt the irony of how much his armor jeapordized their continued existence. The Order armor stood out both to mortals and to more dangerous predators: the crest emblazoned on his shield and the pommel of his sword, the characteristic grey cloak and horse pin, both marking him as a guardian of a royal family, sworn never to leave his charge; and the white-silver sheen of the metal, highly reflective in the light of the late afternoon sun.

Rurik glanced yet again over his shoulder at the smoking city. No signs of immediate danger manifested, though he noticed that the ashes of the field held his footprints beautifully. He would have to do some doubling back when he was far enough away from the city, lay a false trail. The assassins—a pain burst in his heart, a strange feeling as he considered it no longer beat—the assassins were dead, but whoever had sent them likely was not. When he and the girl reached the Castle they would be safe, but for now…

The child shifted in her sleep and Rurik turned to look behind them once more. The plumes of dark grey smoke spiraled skyward. A sudden gale at the center of the burnt city blasted smoke in all directions. The wyrm, scarlet, wrapped himself around one of the toppled stone towers and bellowed.

Rurik flattened himself against the hillside, praying the sun would not betray them. He held his breath—unnecessary in the first place, he remembered—until the great wings had flashed again and the dragon dove once more into the city. To continue feasting, he imagined.

The rattle in his throat as he released the breath made him cringe. Rurik began to slide the girl onto the ground. She shifted, and her eyes fluttered open as he began removing the armor.

She pushed her dark hair out of her eyes. “Rury,” she whimpered. Her eyes blossomed with tears as she watched the smoke billowing where flags once had been.

“Hush now, Ryn.” Rurik pulled the small girl to his now unarmored chest. He struggled to remove his steel boots as the child cried against his grey leather jerkin. The dragon rose once more from the smoke cloud to release a stream of victorious fire. They could not stay here. Young as she was, Aderyn’s childhood would have to end here. “Ryn, look at me,” he said gently.

The girl met his gaze reluctantly, wiping tears from her eyes. Suddenly she frowned.

“Rury, what happened to your eyes? They’re all blue.”

He had for gotten about that. Rurik considered his answer carefully. “Ryn, do you remember your parents teaching you about the pale lady? The one with hair like yours?”

The six-year-old nodded.

“Good. That’s good. She’s important, and she has called me into her service. That is why my eyes are blue.”

Ryn looked panicked and began to cry again. “Does that mean you are going to leave me?” she managed between sobs.

“No, dearheart, no. Of course not.” He swept her up in a bear hug. “No, I am never going to leave you.”


“I swear it.”

Ryn nodded, calming a little.

“Good girl. Now, Ryn, I need you to listen carefully. I am going to take you to a safe place, but right now we’re in danger, so I need you to be strong.” Checking for the wyrm once more, Rurik shuffled the pair of them to the other side of the hill, dragging his armor behind him. “Remember what your parents taught you about the Winter Lady?”
Bobbing in acknowledgment, the small face had hardened into determination as best it could.

“Good. I need you to be like her now. I cannot carry you the whole way and we need to hide my armor.”


Rurik thought for a moment. He opted to only explain the easier answer—he didn’t need the small princess afraid of every stranger. “The sun reflects off the metal and is like a beacon light for bad things.”

“Like dragons?”

“Yes, just like that.” Peering over the hill brought no new flashes of red.

The pair of them set to work. Rurik pulled the armor apart and showed Aderyn how to bundle the pieces together. She paid close attention and even tried to help him sling the suit of armor across his back. Rurik arranged his cloak over the gleaming metal and looked down at the now quiet and thoughtful girl. Many would have found it unnerving, but…her father would have been proud. It was in her blood, and that stillness would suit her when she took up the Shield. He took the girl’s hand and they started down the hill, southward.

“Ryn, remember when you said you wanted to grow up to be a knight like me?”

She nodded.

“Well, I think it’s a great idea.”

“Really? I thought you said I would have to learn to be a princess?”

Rurik laughed, an odd sound that rattled around in his throat. “Yes I did. And you would have had to.” But then the pain came again, a dagger in his chest. “But a princess needs a kingdom. And a dragon has yours.”

And the strange, ancient six-year-old looked up at Rurik and said, “I will become a knight and take my kingdom back.”
And Rurik believed her.

The familiar face swam before him. ‘Rurik,’ it urged, ‘she’s in danger, the whole family is in danger. They know about the ritual room. Get the family to safety!’

Who knows?! Who…

Sentinels lining the gallery. The royal family bundled for their journey. A sudden flood of people…blood like waves along the walls. The familiar smile like a dagger overhead.

A cold storm of confusion and horror—but…I was protecting them…the blood oath protects them…

Icy steel in his gut. The burning of the Winter Lady’s eyes and her silent rejection. The echo of her words in his mind…


Rurik jerked awake. In the grey light before dawn, he could see the small form of Aderyn curled under on arm. His hand gripped the claymore at his side. He’d always wondered if undead slept. Now he knew.

He turned to the ashes of the previous night’s fire. Fearing any assassins who may have followed, the knight had not dared to keep it lit for long. In the days that followed, they would have to go without one altogether—wood for burning would be scarce, and a flame or plume of smoke would be a signal beacon to too many possible foes. If nothing else, the Aldenor Desert was full of bandits.

Their best hope would be to make straight for the Spine mountains and follow them south. The journey would take a week if they stumbled upon a mount, certainly more if they did not, especially with the young princess.

And food would be hard to come by. Although…he laid a hand upon the wound in his belly. He’d have to remember he did not need to eat anything. That would make things easier. It would still be worth it to take some time to hunt before they entered the rock desert to the east. And if they could commandeer a horse from any remaining local farms, all the better.

The sharp cracking of a twig disturbed his reverie. Animal or otherwise, the pair needed to be prepared. Rurik laced a gentle but firm hand over Aderyn’s mouth. The girl’s eyes snapped open and she struggled for a moment before she recognized him. He held a finger to his lips. She did not nod, but remained perfectly still.

They lay like that for several minutes. Rurik took the opportunity to practice not breathing. When no dangers emerged from the undergrowth, he removed his hand from Ryn’s mouth and quietly began to collect his things.

Another snapping twig made the pair freeze again, and the sensation of a sharp point pressing into Rurik’s back dropped fear into his stomach like a lump of cold lead. Ryn’s dark eyes grew wide and afraid.

“Well, well…” said a voice from the direction of the sharp point—a crossbow bolt, Rurik guessed. “Luck is with us today.”

Several men, well-armed and clearly familiar with their chosen weapons, stepped carefully out of the brush. They kept their eyes glued to Rurik, though a few kept their arrows and bolts trained on Ryn. A growl rose in his throat.

“Whoa there, Greycloak.” The voice at his back circled around to face him. The man who stood before him looked like a proper mercenary—scarred, weather-beaten, and calculating. He wore the smirk of someone who was expecting a very large influx of cash very soon. “We know who you are, and we’ve got every reason in the world to kill you and the girl right here, so just take it easy.”

“Why are we still alive at all?”

“Part of the contract. Only kill if necessary.”

One of the mercs spoke up: “I don’t like it, boss. Keeping a godsdamned Greycloak captive? I don’t like it. Just let me put an arrow in his gut.”

Without removing his eyes from Rurik, the leader snarled, “Look at his eyes, idiot. He’s dead already. Nothing short of a bonfire will take him down now.”

Rurik glanced at Ryn. One of the mercs had gotten hold of her tiny wrist and chuckled as she attempted to free herself. Anger flooded the knight’s body, and something in his eyes made the boss take a step back. The man turned to look at Ryn, and smiled.

“She is a pretty little thing, isn’t she?” He touched one of the locks of Ryn’s pitch black hair and stroked her cheek, and then turned back to Rurik. “It would indeed be a pity if we had to kill her here.”

Rurik stiffened, but unbuckled the belt that still held his sword and let it fall to the ground.

The boss smiled. “I see we understand each other.” A series of gestures sent the mercs into action—two to bind the prisoners, one to rifle their gear, the rest to lead the way back toward the edge of the forest and, presumably, transportation.
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