| T O P I C R E V I E W |
| Artalis |
Posted - 20 Mar 2003 : 17:25:09
The other one I posted was a kind of birds eye view (pun intended)perspective-wise. This is an attempt at a more visceral, real feeling narrative. If it is well recieved I will continue it here....
Lyssa laughed with exhiliration at the wind whipping through her hair as she swooped down from the skies on her giant, black raven mount. With dizzying speed they plummeted down towards the ground. She was truly an awe-inspiring sight astride the magnificent bird.
Her long raven-black hair was streaming behind in the wind like a beautiful silken sail, whipping fitfully about, a dark spirit of chaos dancing around her with delight. Her electric blue eyes shone like sparkling sapphires and her smile was both terrifying and radiant.
She held on tightly to her mount with her knees as she drew her longbow up and set her arrow in line with her target. A merchant’s caravan was traveling the stretch of Evermoor Way between Yartar and Everlund, fat with profits of trade with the civilized folk.
She loved taking the goods and money of these weak, simpering fools. Leaving them in their terrified state made her feel truly powerful. She knew that the Black Raven Spirit was pleased with her. She had led 2 other raids and both were completely successful. The booty of those raids was left as tribute to their totem spirit and great tribute it was indeed. Though they had no use for gold and jewels she knew that these weak “civilized” fools would lament their losses at the hands of the great Black Raven tribe for years to come.
As she hurtled towards the lead horseman running point for the caravan she drew her bowstring back to her ear. Waiting for just the right instant and angle, feeling the muscles in her arm and shoulder burning as she patiently waited until she could see the man’s throat… |
| 18 L A T E S T R E P L I E S (Newest First) |
| zemd |
Posted - 16 Apr 2003 : 08:05:53
It's cool! (hard to fine a better word when you're not a native!)
It's in the newspaper, when they had a story every week  |
| Artalis |
Posted - 31 Mar 2003 : 22:26:21
She awoke feeling a gentle caress upon her cheek. The tenderness of it made her sigh as she slowly began to become aware of her surroundings, instinctively she had lifted her chin in response to the gentle stroking, which gave her delightful chills.
Suddenly she remembered the cut in her side and she awoke fully with a start. Feeling at her side where the wound was she felt no pain as the great slice was gone replaced by her normal soft skin, without even so much as a scratch to show for it. She looked up confused to see a man sitting besides her looking down into her eyes with an expression that she could not quite decipher. He was a handsome fellow with icy-blue eyes and fair skin. His hair was long and black much like her own, but there was something about him that struck her right away as different.
“Welcome back lovely one” he said gently, “I was afraid that I might have been too late to save you.” Out of instinct she cast about for her shortsword and not finding it, she became nervous indeed. Trying to smile innocently and sweetly she slipped her hand behind her back under her blouse where her dagger should have been.
“Looking for this?” the icy-eyed man asked while holding up her dagger, still in it’s sheathe. It was a large blade with a black bone handle, the pommel carved into the likeness of a raven's head. “You don’t need that right now, though I promise you will get it back after you’ve had a chance to calm down a bit.” This last was said with a quirky little smile, not condescending but looking genuinely amused.
Panic was beginning to set in, as Lyssa never went anywhere unarmed, and she knew all too well from her mothers’ warnings what the men of the outside world would do to a pretty girl who could not defend herself. Men from the other tribes, which they fought with so often were to be feared especially, as they had no mercy for their enemies. Her eyes began to take on a frightened, hunted look and she began to look around for an escape.
“Relax,” he chided her, “You have nothing to fear here while I am with you. I am Hakim of the Tree Ghost Tribe, some call me Ravenmane. You look as if you could carry the name yourself easily enough, with those locks of molten midnight.”
“I would have nothing to fear at all were you here or not, had I my blade.” She replied tartly.
He swiftly quipped back, “Yes, but I think that I would have much to fear if you did.”
“I will make you a deal, lovely little warrior, you do me the honor of telling me your name, and I will promise to give you back your blade, forthwith.”
“If telling you my name will stop your condescending pillow talk,” she stated with arms crossed, “then I accept your offer, foolish man. My name is Lyssa and I am from the Great Black Raven Tribe. You would be wise to let me go on my way, lest my clansmen find you hovering over me with my blade in your hand.”
At this Hakim laughed out loud with delight. “You are a treasure indeed Lyssa, I am honored to return to you what is yours.” He then dropped the dagger to the ground next to her and remained sitting right were he was, looking at her with the same quirky little smile that he had before.
Somewhat suspiciously Lyssa reached out to grab her blade and instantly felt better when she held it. Now she regarded this man with a different set of eyes, trying to understand his motives instead of feeling threatened.
“I suppose manners are not much valued among the “Great Black Raven Tribe”, chuckled Hakim. “You had nearly bled to death when I found you; it’s only by The Tree Ghost’s grace and your great fortitude that you are not dead right now. Some folk might even be grateful for such a gift.”
Now it was Lyssa’s turn to laugh, “What you’ve done you had a reason for, Hakim, damned to the hells if I know what it was, but you thought you would be getting something for doing it.” Though she laughed outwardly, Lyssa could feel herself warming to this young man. His infectious laughter, transfixing eyes and tender caresses that she could still feel on her blushing cheek, all took their toll on her icy exterior.
The End...for now.
|
| Artalis |
Posted - 31 Mar 2003 : 18:59:17
quote:
Originally posted by Mumadar Ibn Huzal
Nice, very nice...
Hmmm... if I were to recieve the compiled version as part of Tarim's background, there might be something there for the lad...
Methinks level-up is not too far away anymore...
(ooc to the other scribes: not level-up merely because of the story...)
Thank you sir, I am almost done with this chapter. When I complete this bit rest assured that you will recieve a copy, compiled with his history, as a whole. |
| Mumadar Ibn Huzal |
Posted - 31 Mar 2003 : 12:09:57
Nice, very nice...
Hmmm... if I were to recieve the compiled version as part of Tarim's background, there might be something there for the lad...
Methinks level-up is not too far away anymore...
(ooc to the other scribes: not level-up merely because of the story...) |
| Artalis |
Posted - 30 Mar 2003 : 08:42:35
What tiny little sliver of hope she had of getting away was dashed as she walked straight into the arms of the moon elven mage. He was still wearing that damned annoying smirk of superiority. “All right, Shakillnir that’s enough” he said “I didn’t come here to slaughter pretty girls, even if she is a murderous little thing.” He paused and looked at Lyssa with a mixture of pity and disdain “Let her god decide her fate, but we have more than fulfilled out commission.” Lets gather up these wagons and get them back to Longsaddle. Before our ever-so-stingy employer decides to leave us high and dry”
As Lyssa’s vision began to grey out she tried to stagger away from the mage. Her body felt leaden, all she wanted to do was lay down, and the burning in her side was horrible.
She wanted to scream but really lacked the strength. The only thing she could manage was a whimper and some involuntary tears as she shuffled towards the tree line so impossibly far away.
Lyssa knew she was dying, and she hated the elf for not finishing the job. The pain was enough to kill on its own, she thought. Not to mention her lifeblood covering the ground in such profusion.
On and on she walked, finally without her eyes even open she stumbled in the same direction without even seeing where she was going.
Finally after an eternity of stumbling and shuffling she tripped over some irregularity in the ground and fell, face-first on the ground, without even a hand or arm to slow her.
As her consciousness faded she felt gentle hands on her shoulders turning her over and a kindly voice saying “Well met raven-locks, what sort of a mess have you managed to get into?” After the soothing voice spoke she just let go, all of her strength spent. |
| Yasraena |
Posted - 29 Mar 2003 : 06:37:15
Nice work Artalis. Can't wait to see what happens next.
BTW - I was hoping that someone on the caravan would route those evil bastards! I loved that Cone of Cold from the staff. Justice is served! (with a little side of butt-kicking from the 1/2 orc) HAHA! |
| Artalis |
Posted - 29 Mar 2003 : 03:59:47
With out a word the gigantic half-orc swung his blade around towards her midsection, the massive blade leaving a red blur in its wake. Lyssa fairly threw herself backwards to avoid the giant sword leaving her off-balance. She tried to regain her balance but in a fraction of a second the huge warrior, Shakillnir, was upon her with a speed that no creature his size should have possessed.
Out of the corner of her eye she could see the sky blue mage backing up into the wagon he had come out of, his smile gone now. Just when Lyssa thought that her men had the mage cornered she saw him smile the same terrible contemptuous smile that she had seen earlier. The mage leveled his staff at the remaining 4 warriors who were backing him into the wagon and appeared to be saying something. A split second later a burst of freezing cold came from the staff, a cold so utterly deep that Lyssa could feel it here 30 ft away or so. Her men, no her friends, were dead. They had been frozen in their tracks.
Distracted by the death of her friends Lyssa recovered only quickly enough to try to foolishly parry the giant blade now circling towards her head. Her blade took the brunt of the blow snapping her wrist painfully backwards with the terrible force of half-orcs’ swing. Her blade fell from her nerveless grip, her wrist throbbing with the pain. Her sword had no more than fallen from her hand when that terrible greatsword was being swung at her again.
She dived out of the way again only this time she was too slow. The greatsword sliced thru her side like she was made of air, and it had bit deep. She felt the rush of blood spilling from her side down her hip and leg. She turned and tried to run but the best she could manage was a half-shuffle, since her legs stopped listening to her screaming thoughts.
Then she realized she was moving towards the mage… |
| Artalis |
Posted - 24 Mar 2003 : 21:23:49
From the back of the wagon stepped a moon elven male wrapped in sky blue robes holding a crystal staff in his hand. The elf was smiling as the men drew their bows and fired arrows at him at nearly point blank range in some cases. Four of the men fell to the ground writhing in agony as their arrows were reflected back into them, striking them down with eerie and brutal efficiency. Luckily two of the men were able to react quickly enough to dodge their own arrows.
The elf continued to smile as the remaining men drew their blades and cautiously began to close the distance with him. In a voice clear,cold and loud the sky blue mage called out “Shakillnir!” Immediately the door of the first wagon exploded outwards into a splintered mess. Squeezing thru the aperture that only barely accommodated its massive bulk emerged a half-orc of gigantic proportions.
Lyssa drew her short sword from its scabbard on her belt and without thinking for one moment rushed at the half-orc which was the closer of the two. As Lyssa closed on him she began to truly see what a monstrosity this creature was. Half again her height it stood and twice as broad at least. For the first time in her life Lyssa truly knew fear, and as the huge thing glared at her almost hungrily hefting its blade, her fear grew. The blade was as tall as she was, as wide as her head and it glowed softly with a dull reddish hue that reminded Lyssa of blood that couldn’t be wiped off.. |
| Bookwyrm |
Posted - 24 Mar 2003 : 20:36:03
Now, now, don't be mean.  Much. |
| Artalis |
Posted - 24 Mar 2003 : 18:26:04
quote:
Originally posted by Mumadar Ibn Huzal
Hmmm... Lyssa is a member of the Black Raven tribe... and Aragrym and Tarim are Tree Ghost barbarians... Thnkas for giving the DM new plot ideas...  mwahahahaha
Nice story though.
Yes, Lyssa was their mother... there is a little bit about her over here in Aragrym and Tarim's backgrounds (in case you forgot  ). |
| Avaly |
Posted - 24 Mar 2003 : 13:50:13
/left wanting more
Wonderful! I am left wanting to know more and eagerly waiting for the next posting of this story. You just gave me the urge to write. :)
Ava |
| Mumadar Ibn Huzal |
Posted - 24 Mar 2003 : 13:26:37
Hmmm... Lyssa is a member of the Black Raven tribe... and Aragrym and Tarim are Tree Ghost barbarians... Thnkas for giving the DM new plot ideas... mwahahahaha
Nice story though. |
| Bookwyrm |
Posted - 24 Mar 2003 : 07:48:40
A few things I would have made different -- word choice, sentence structure. But there were no real mistakes. Good work. |
| Korbin Deathstalker |
Posted - 24 Mar 2003 : 03:00:24
Well done Artalis...from an amature writer myself. This is good work!!
No get on with it, I want to see more!
|
| Artalis |
Posted - 23 Mar 2003 : 06:27:54
With the distance closing fast Lyssa gave one last tug at the bowstring to get every ounce of velocity out of the arrow that she could. Releasing it at the moment she glimpsed the lead man’s throat under his brown bearded chin. As she let the arrow fly, Lyssa raised her hand to signal to the warriors flying in behind her almost before the shaft of the arrow buried itself feathers and all into the man’s neck.
The point man fell off his horse as limp as a rag, hitting the ground with a thud. His horse reacted with confusion stopping for a moment until it smelled the raven scent closing in on the caravan. Upon smelling the birds approach the horse in the lead reared and neighed in terror before bolting down the road in a panic.
The volley of arrows that followed from the warriors flying behind Lyssa took a heavy toll on the drivers of the wagons and the guards riding beside them. Nearly none were left alive after the first deadly barrage. Still, though she signaled again for the next volley and soon none on the ground were left moving, save the horses, which were panicking like the first. Fortunately the teams attached to the wagons were slightly more sedate than the riding horse that had bolted earlier and they started to settle down a bit. Yet something nagged at the back of her mind, something seemed wrong.
Lyssa was not given to timidity, once she set herself a course, her cousins liked to joke that Uthgar himself could not stop her. She usually told them to cease their blasphemy but secretly enjoyed the reputation that she had garnered; she was proud and stubborn and liked that about herself. Yet something made her want to turn her mount around and fly home with every ounce of speed she could muster.
So, being the stubborn one that she was, she steeled herself and circled the caravan taking inventory. “Alright then”, she told herself, “What’s to see here?”. She counted 5 wagons and on each wagon were a driver and a warrior with a crossbow wearing mail. She noted that they had fallen especially easy, but then she had hand-picked this group for their skill with the bow, and could not decide what was bothering her about what had transpired.
After seeing that none were moving she circled her raven about to the head of the caravan and had her mount alight on the ground. Keeping her bow handy Lyssa moved forward to get a look at the man she had killed first. As she approached she could see her men alighting to the sides of the row of wagons and dismounting to check the bodies and contents of the wagons.
Nodding her head grimly with approval to herself she moved up on the body to check it for anything of interest. The men knew what to do and they were all experienced veterans of previous raids, there was nothing to worry about she chided herself. Arriving at the body of the man she had slain she saw him there lying on his side with his back to her as though asleep except for the arrowhead and shaft protruding from the back of his neck. Lyssa turned the body with her foot to get a look at the warrior that the fools had riding as their point man.
When she turned the body she saw something that she did not expect.
The man’s hands were tied in front of him
Rising quickly, and looking to her men, Lyssa screamed out,” Stop!” but it was too late.
One of her men, a distant cousin of hers actually, opened the back of the rearmost wagon and was instantly enveloped in flame. Mercifully he only screamed for a moment but It was the most horrible thing Lyssa had ever seen. Watching a man that she knew and trusted, stagger those few steps as the hungry flames consumed his flesh until he collapsed to the ground... |
| Bookwyrm |
Posted - 22 Mar 2003 : 04:46:52
WELL? What happens next, already? |
| Targon Moonrise |
Posted - 22 Mar 2003 : 01:15:43
I really enjoyed the few paragraphs. Sounds like a really good beginning for a quest or something. Also, like drummer said, you're really descriptive in your writing. |
| Drummer Boy |
Posted - 22 Mar 2003 : 01:11:44
Well written, Artalis. You are going to add more on to this, right? If you want another opinion, you can send me an e-mail and I can give you some feedback. Again, great job. Your work is very descriptive. |
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