[ENWWC] ENWorld Writer's Circle Story Hour!
- Thread starter Enkhidu
- Start date
)Hi guys!
I've seen some different interpretations of exactly what a "Pass the Object" shared story is, and thought we should probably go over it.
In all the "Pass the Object" stories I have seen, the individual stories do not have to be interconnected (I.E. there does not have to be a single, unified, plot). What does need to happen is that the object needs to physically pass from one story to the next.
So far, a single plot line has been developed, and I think that's really cool, but remember that it is OK to leave that plotline at any time, just so long as when you finish your story, you make the object available for the next person in line (so destruction of the coin, permanant loss of the coin, etc, would be out of line).
By the way, I know that posts like this need to be kept on our closed mailing list, but we haven't had 100% of our writers sign up for the mailing list.
Remember to email me at enkhidu@hotmail.com so that I can add you!
I've seen some different interpretations of exactly what a "Pass the Object" shared story is, and thought we should probably go over it.
In all the "Pass the Object" stories I have seen, the individual stories do not have to be interconnected (I.E. there does not have to be a single, unified, plot). What does need to happen is that the object needs to physically pass from one story to the next.
So far, a single plot line has been developed, and I think that's really cool, but remember that it is OK to leave that plotline at any time, just so long as when you finish your story, you make the object available for the next person in line (so destruction of the coin, permanant loss of the coin, etc, would be out of line).
By the way, I know that posts like this need to be kept on our closed mailing list, but we haven't had 100% of our writers sign up for the mailing list.
Remember to email me at enkhidu@hotmail.com so that I can add you!
Shadowdancer
First Post
enkhidu: I sent you an e-mail last week to sign up for the mailing list, but haven't received anything from you. Did you get it, or do I need to e-mail again? How do we access the mailing list?
Hello everyone,
I just wanted to get on and let everyone know that I will be posting very soon. I have been caught up with Enk on the small beginnings story hour (We had a softball tournament and got behind) and I also welcomed my wife back from her trip from hell. I am in the second rewrite phase so I should be posting by Friday night. So whoever is next in line get the creative juices flowing, you'll be up soon enough.
I have to say that after writing with Enk so much lately it was hard to find my own voice again, but after a few tossed ideas I got moving. Once both he and I have posted it would be fun to see if you guys can go through our storyhour and seperate the sessions by who was writing and who was adding ideas. (Its usually the first one to the keyboard after work, but I always get the comfy chair because its my house.)
As a writer I will be focusing my story segment on what I view are my worst areas so I welcome lots of feedback to help me improve in these areas. (That's why I write as part of a team, Enk back me up on this one.)
I just wanted to get on and let everyone know that I will be posting very soon. I have been caught up with Enk on the small beginnings story hour (We had a softball tournament and got behind) and I also welcomed my wife back from her trip from hell. I am in the second rewrite phase so I should be posting by Friday night. So whoever is next in line get the creative juices flowing, you'll be up soon enough.
I have to say that after writing with Enk so much lately it was hard to find my own voice again, but after a few tossed ideas I got moving. Once both he and I have posted it would be fun to see if you guys can go through our storyhour and seperate the sessions by who was writing and who was adding ideas. (Its usually the first one to the keyboard after work, but I always get the comfy chair because its my house.)
As a writer I will be focusing my story segment on what I view are my worst areas so I welcome lots of feedback to help me improve in these areas. (That's why I write as part of a team, Enk back me up on this one.)
Well guys, here goes nothing. I hope that you all enjoy this little tale. For those of you counting words I did go over a tad, but if you don't count <i> the, a, an </i> then I am under by a few.
Have fun!
Coin part III
***************************************************
“Well, Well, What have we here?”
Scordalon glanced up from the moonlit trail to stare at his new master, Odek. The obese orc had stopped on the dark path near an outcropping of rocks; at his feet was the figure of what appeared to be a small man dressed in a tattered cloak and traveler’s clothes. The figure was still and silent and Scordalon could tell that the shroud of the Death Queen had fallen over this one.
“Looks like one o’ those blasted rebels tried to get here ‘fore us.” Odek chuckled causing his tusks to jut out toward his slave. Once he had been significantly amused, the fat-bellied orc bent over to examine the body of the fallen stranger.
“I do believe the bastard has somethin’ inna his hand.” The slave master grunted and pulled until he had worked a small velvet bag from the dead man’s grip.
Scordalon used this time to gaze up at the moons. It had been a long while since he had felt the soft glow of the twin daughters, and he felt more alive now than he had in the past years that he had toiled below the surface, chipping stones with dwarves. The aging slave allowed a smile to creep across his features as he dreamed of the feelings that would erupt when once again the shimmering circle blazed across the sky to warm his face.
“Arrrgh,” Odek bellowed. “Taint nuthin but a damn gold piece, and its not even one o’ the kings!” The merchant scowled, glancing over at his property. “What the blazes are ye smiling about?” Scordalon instinctively looked away and lowered his head, awaiting the crack of the whip that was sure to follow. The only sound that met his ears though, was laughter.
“Ho Ho, Pit champion indeed.” The Orc was holding his side in mock pain. “Twenty years and never defeated, but look at ya now. Ya ain’t nuthin but a scared old pit slave. I was supposed to offer ya your freedom if ya took a dirt nap in tonight’s fight, but you don’t have it anymore.” The slave master danced around Scordalon taunting him. “I was ascared of you back then. Dwarf fires! We was all scared of you, even the Baron. I mean you beat them all; Battle Lords, Defenders, and even the King’s Champions fell before your fists.”
The orc merchant paused for a moment lost in thought. “But then they ripped out your tongue and murdered your wife, all because we told the King you wus talking about a revolution.” The orc once again began his prancing around the grim faced slave. “You know, even when you were in the underground, them other slaves talked about you like a hero. They shouted your name before they died under the Baron’s blades. Look. Look and come see.” Odek leapt away and motioned for the fighter to join him at the overhanging rocks.
Scordalon walked toward his master and realized that the rocks were not just an outcropping, but were instead a well-hidden cave entrance. It took a moment under the moonlight for the warrior’s eyes to adjust, and when they did, the scene inside struck him as if he had just been hit by a lucky haymaker. Blood coated the walls and floor of the cavern, dripping into small pools around a makeshift throne of rocks. Atop the stone chair were the remains of the elf maiden Laurellyle, mistress of the revolution. Her eyes stared ahead and seemed to speak to the fighter of the pain and torture that her soul must have endured before she expired. Images invaded his own mind of the night he had begged and pleaded as they tortured his wife and son before his own eyes, and of the pain he endured as they folded a searing knife across his tongue. The memories clawed at the warriors mind until he dropped to his knees, tears rolling down his cheeks.
“No ya don’t!” Odek yelled as he yanked Scordalon to his feet before despair could overtake him. “The Baron pays me ta have ya fight tonite and fight you will. The king’s champion is here just to meet you. When the rebels see ya bloody and beaten before the might of the Orc Empire their spirits will be crushed and then we’ll stake their heads! A whole line of them heads leading to the capitol. I wuz supposed to offer you your freedom to lose tonite, but now I think I’ll just give ya this gold piece instead.” The orc flipped the golden coin at his slave while pulling down on the chains to keep him from catching it. The yellow missile struck the warrior in the temple and then fell onto the body of its former owner.
Scordalon watched as his master laughed and danced down the path back toward the city. Before the chain could tighten and become taut between slave and master, the pit warrior retrieved his golden payment and offered a silent apology to the fallen figure.
The trip through town blurred in the old warriors eyes as his mind whirled with memories and emotions of past events. Odek led his slave through a back door into a small, candlelit room that held only a trunk and a bench. Once inside, the obese master snarled at Scordalon to remind the slave of what pain awaited him if he made any attempts on his master. Scordalon once again bowed his head and his master began unlocking his chains. As he worked on the locks, Odek spoke at the slave-warrior.
“The King’s champion is a fierce combatant whose blood flows with the strength of an ogre. He, like ya, has never been beaten in combat, and he has also been on the battlefield, not just inna the ring.” The orcs eyes glowed with sheer admiration as he finished the last lock. “Kzard is a true warrior, and he will taste your blood afore the night is done. If ya has any wits about ya, give a show and eat the wood.”
With a hearty laugh the orc merchant left the room through the arena exit. Once the door slammed shut, Scordalon was left to his own thoughts and the sounds of booted feet as the great hall filled to capacity. He imagined the wooden stands overflowing with orcs and half-breeds while the area underneath them filled with their slaves of all races. He sensed the air growing stale as a result of the multitude of creatures all breathing and sweating around the gambling tables that enclosed the fighting circle. The Baron would be sitting at the end waving toward the crown and offering promises of an epic duel between the might of the Orc Empire and the remnants of a past civilization.
Scordalon let the images play in his head for a moment before he opened his eyes and focused on the chest. It had been ages since he had seen that weathered trunk. The carvings that had once covered its polished surface were now worn down and unrecognizable, and the hinges that held the lid were rusted and cracked. Inside the box lay the only two pieces of equipment that the slave-warrior had ever owned, a chain skirt and a silver piece. The silver battle skirt shimmered in the candlelight as the aged warrior lifted it up and buckled it around his waist. The skirt flowed out, covering his sensitive area and upper legs, all the way to his knees.
The ritual had always brought him peace before a fight, but now in the solace of the room, the slave knew only fear of the upcoming fight. It seemed to the warrior that summers had passed since he had last thrown a jab or rolled with a blow. His body was now trained to swing a miner’s ax not uppercuts. His once ridged belly now bulged with malnutrition, and his legs bent with aches instead of speed. Scordalon sighed knowing that he was not in fighting shape, much less fighting against a champion.
Scordalon realized that through his musings he was twirling the golden coin that Odek had given him for payment in tonight’s match. He usually twirled a coin before a match but before it had always been his lucky silver piece. It was just as well, for the warrior had never lost a contest with the silver and it was appropriate to keep it that way.
A loud gong sounded and the fighter rose to his feet. With a heavy heart and loud sigh the venerable warrior marched toward the awaiting masses. The heavy door opened as he stepped forward and the stale air blasted his lungs, but the lone warrior kept his eyes forward and proceeded toward the fighting circle. Figures rose on either side of the slave, grunting and shouting curses as he entered the chalk drawn ring. Scordalon’s eyes scanned the crowd dodging the gaze of anyone hidden beneath the stands, but he could still feel their penetrating stares judging him.
Shame almost overwhelmed the noble fighter, but he spared his emotions further scrutiny as his opponent entered the ring amidst a huge round of cheering and stamping of feet. The latter was done more to annoy the throngs of beings below the stands than to cheer for the champion.
Scordalon’s heart raced as he sized up his adversary. The creature stood nearly a head taller than himself and he had muscles that made the warrior believe the story that ogre blood ran in the creature’s veins. The creature’s head resembled a boulder with a knot of horsehair stuck atop it, except for the tusks that jutted from the lower jaw. His arms were like tree trunks that had dwarven anvils attached as fists. This was truly a fighter that would have tested even a younger Scordalon.
A short, dog faced creature limped between the two combatants and whistled for the crowd to cease their noise. When all the grunts ceased and silence settled, the dog creature shouted with his whiny voice.
“We have a Coin Fight between the King’s Champion of the great and powerful Empire, accepting the challenge of the slave nation’s champion; both warriors are unbeaten. Should either foe die, fail to rise, or drop their coin from their chosen hand so that it hits the ground, then the other shall be victorious. Only one will retain the title and represent his people.”
Once the last line was spoken, the crowd once again erupted into a howling frenzy of grunts and curses. Betting coins were thrown toward table workers and agile hands snatched them before they could hit a mark. While all of this side action was going on, both of the warriors showed that they possessed a coin and which hand they would be placing it in for the fight. Kzard chose his left hand, while Scordalon had always favored his power arm. With the coins shown, the dog creature lowered his arms and chaos began.
Scordalon never saw the first blow, his head was pitched sideways and his eyes lost focus. It was only his instincts that kept the second war hammer blow from landing. Pulling his elbows in tight and raising his fists, the veteran fighter was able to withstand the onslaught of punches that flew at him from unbelievable angles. The warrior weathered blow after blow until his addled thoughts started to come together.
The orc champion backed away from Scordalon to regain his composure, and in that instance the slave-champion mounted his own attack. He was sure that his opponent was ready for a straight-ahead series of blows, so he tried a different tactic and flew in, but cut low and staggered his jab with a burning uppercut to the midsection.
The ploy worked, but hitting the orc’s chest was like punching a cavern wall. The blow sent tingles up Scordalon’s arm and paused his attack just enough for the orc to thunder home a giant overhead slam that knocked the slave to his knees. A wave of cheers assaulted Scordalon’s ears as the orc champion assaulted his body. Hit after hit smacked into his pain ridden body, and the warrior knew that his time was limited if this barrage continued. Rolling backwards, Scordlaon pulled his body into a ball and when he felt the floor bend from his rumbling opponent, he launched out feet first to meet the charging orc. His body was pushed backwards, but his feet planted firmly into the orc’s belly and blasted the wind from his adversary. Rolling to his side, Scordalon rose to continue his surprise advantage, but when he turned, he was met by a waiting jab that snapped his head back and sent blood spraying onto the gambling tables. Once again the warrior was forced to pull his elbows in and hide behind his fists to protect his face from further damage. His hips moved and swayed, and his feet danced, keeping the giant moving and chasing its prey. Suddenly the fighter’s foot became pinned by the orc’s and all movement stopped. Scordalon fell backwards avoiding a solid blow that would have taken his head off. At the same time, his legs pulled apart yanking the chain skirt taut around his waist, catching the orc’s knee before it found his groin. His luck ended there; with his foot pinned the warrior again suffered a beating that even a dwarf would not stand up from.
“them other slaves talked about you like a hero. They shouted your name before they died under the Baron’s blades.”
The world was spinning while the hammering fists were pummeling him, but the words would not leave his head. A reaction kick to the knee sent the giant champion scurrying away for a moment and Scordalon tried to focus his eyes. A golden gleam from his right hand pulled at him and his vision cleared, but the voices remained in his head. It spoke over and over like it was pumping his heart. The warrior rose to his feet as blood dripped into his eyes and onto the floor where he had just been laying, but he locked stares with his foe rather than wipe it away.
The voices grew loader and his heart pumped faster, causing a tingling in his left arm, followed by numbness. A strange peace settled over the pit-warrior like he had never felt before, and that caused a smile to creep onto his beaten features. Scordalon saw rage play across the orc’s face, like he had just insulted his foe, and then the giant roared and charged.
When the orc reached within several steps of the aging warrior, Scordalon opened his hand and flipped the golden coin straight into the air. End over end the coin turned and all eyes watched as it rose toward the rafters, except those of the slave-warrior and he focused on the orc champion’s chin. At the apex of the golden disk’s flight, Scordalon swung his empty fist at the confused orc’s chin. With a resounding crack, years of pent up rage exploded into the giant’s face.
Kzard’s body swung completely around and Scordalon caught his coin on its return trip downward. With the disk nestled again within his hand, he began swinging again and again at the dazed orc’s jaw. It took several swings before the slave realized that his blows were matching his heartbeat and that his left arm was no longer swinging; but instead hung helpless at his side.
The crowd was quiet as the orc champion’s body fell to the floor. The stunned silence was followed only by the sound of a single coin striking the floor and rolling along the groves. Scordalon’s eyes followed his coin as it slipped into a crack in the floorboards, and then the world started to spin again. The echoing voices and thundering heartbeat were replaced by shouts of revolution and weapons clashing, steel on steel. The lone warrior slipped to the ground as feeling left his right arm, but a smile still played on his lips as his heart pumped one last time, for the warrior knew that Odek was wrong, he did find his freedom.
Have fun!
Coin part III
***************************************************
“Well, Well, What have we here?”
Scordalon glanced up from the moonlit trail to stare at his new master, Odek. The obese orc had stopped on the dark path near an outcropping of rocks; at his feet was the figure of what appeared to be a small man dressed in a tattered cloak and traveler’s clothes. The figure was still and silent and Scordalon could tell that the shroud of the Death Queen had fallen over this one.
“Looks like one o’ those blasted rebels tried to get here ‘fore us.” Odek chuckled causing his tusks to jut out toward his slave. Once he had been significantly amused, the fat-bellied orc bent over to examine the body of the fallen stranger.
“I do believe the bastard has somethin’ inna his hand.” The slave master grunted and pulled until he had worked a small velvet bag from the dead man’s grip.
Scordalon used this time to gaze up at the moons. It had been a long while since he had felt the soft glow of the twin daughters, and he felt more alive now than he had in the past years that he had toiled below the surface, chipping stones with dwarves. The aging slave allowed a smile to creep across his features as he dreamed of the feelings that would erupt when once again the shimmering circle blazed across the sky to warm his face.
“Arrrgh,” Odek bellowed. “Taint nuthin but a damn gold piece, and its not even one o’ the kings!” The merchant scowled, glancing over at his property. “What the blazes are ye smiling about?” Scordalon instinctively looked away and lowered his head, awaiting the crack of the whip that was sure to follow. The only sound that met his ears though, was laughter.
“Ho Ho, Pit champion indeed.” The Orc was holding his side in mock pain. “Twenty years and never defeated, but look at ya now. Ya ain’t nuthin but a scared old pit slave. I was supposed to offer ya your freedom if ya took a dirt nap in tonight’s fight, but you don’t have it anymore.” The slave master danced around Scordalon taunting him. “I was ascared of you back then. Dwarf fires! We was all scared of you, even the Baron. I mean you beat them all; Battle Lords, Defenders, and even the King’s Champions fell before your fists.”
The orc merchant paused for a moment lost in thought. “But then they ripped out your tongue and murdered your wife, all because we told the King you wus talking about a revolution.” The orc once again began his prancing around the grim faced slave. “You know, even when you were in the underground, them other slaves talked about you like a hero. They shouted your name before they died under the Baron’s blades. Look. Look and come see.” Odek leapt away and motioned for the fighter to join him at the overhanging rocks.
Scordalon walked toward his master and realized that the rocks were not just an outcropping, but were instead a well-hidden cave entrance. It took a moment under the moonlight for the warrior’s eyes to adjust, and when they did, the scene inside struck him as if he had just been hit by a lucky haymaker. Blood coated the walls and floor of the cavern, dripping into small pools around a makeshift throne of rocks. Atop the stone chair were the remains of the elf maiden Laurellyle, mistress of the revolution. Her eyes stared ahead and seemed to speak to the fighter of the pain and torture that her soul must have endured before she expired. Images invaded his own mind of the night he had begged and pleaded as they tortured his wife and son before his own eyes, and of the pain he endured as they folded a searing knife across his tongue. The memories clawed at the warriors mind until he dropped to his knees, tears rolling down his cheeks.
“No ya don’t!” Odek yelled as he yanked Scordalon to his feet before despair could overtake him. “The Baron pays me ta have ya fight tonite and fight you will. The king’s champion is here just to meet you. When the rebels see ya bloody and beaten before the might of the Orc Empire their spirits will be crushed and then we’ll stake their heads! A whole line of them heads leading to the capitol. I wuz supposed to offer you your freedom to lose tonite, but now I think I’ll just give ya this gold piece instead.” The orc flipped the golden coin at his slave while pulling down on the chains to keep him from catching it. The yellow missile struck the warrior in the temple and then fell onto the body of its former owner.
Scordalon watched as his master laughed and danced down the path back toward the city. Before the chain could tighten and become taut between slave and master, the pit warrior retrieved his golden payment and offered a silent apology to the fallen figure.
The trip through town blurred in the old warriors eyes as his mind whirled with memories and emotions of past events. Odek led his slave through a back door into a small, candlelit room that held only a trunk and a bench. Once inside, the obese master snarled at Scordalon to remind the slave of what pain awaited him if he made any attempts on his master. Scordalon once again bowed his head and his master began unlocking his chains. As he worked on the locks, Odek spoke at the slave-warrior.
“The King’s champion is a fierce combatant whose blood flows with the strength of an ogre. He, like ya, has never been beaten in combat, and he has also been on the battlefield, not just inna the ring.” The orcs eyes glowed with sheer admiration as he finished the last lock. “Kzard is a true warrior, and he will taste your blood afore the night is done. If ya has any wits about ya, give a show and eat the wood.”
With a hearty laugh the orc merchant left the room through the arena exit. Once the door slammed shut, Scordalon was left to his own thoughts and the sounds of booted feet as the great hall filled to capacity. He imagined the wooden stands overflowing with orcs and half-breeds while the area underneath them filled with their slaves of all races. He sensed the air growing stale as a result of the multitude of creatures all breathing and sweating around the gambling tables that enclosed the fighting circle. The Baron would be sitting at the end waving toward the crown and offering promises of an epic duel between the might of the Orc Empire and the remnants of a past civilization.
Scordalon let the images play in his head for a moment before he opened his eyes and focused on the chest. It had been ages since he had seen that weathered trunk. The carvings that had once covered its polished surface were now worn down and unrecognizable, and the hinges that held the lid were rusted and cracked. Inside the box lay the only two pieces of equipment that the slave-warrior had ever owned, a chain skirt and a silver piece. The silver battle skirt shimmered in the candlelight as the aged warrior lifted it up and buckled it around his waist. The skirt flowed out, covering his sensitive area and upper legs, all the way to his knees.
The ritual had always brought him peace before a fight, but now in the solace of the room, the slave knew only fear of the upcoming fight. It seemed to the warrior that summers had passed since he had last thrown a jab or rolled with a blow. His body was now trained to swing a miner’s ax not uppercuts. His once ridged belly now bulged with malnutrition, and his legs bent with aches instead of speed. Scordalon sighed knowing that he was not in fighting shape, much less fighting against a champion.
Scordalon realized that through his musings he was twirling the golden coin that Odek had given him for payment in tonight’s match. He usually twirled a coin before a match but before it had always been his lucky silver piece. It was just as well, for the warrior had never lost a contest with the silver and it was appropriate to keep it that way.
A loud gong sounded and the fighter rose to his feet. With a heavy heart and loud sigh the venerable warrior marched toward the awaiting masses. The heavy door opened as he stepped forward and the stale air blasted his lungs, but the lone warrior kept his eyes forward and proceeded toward the fighting circle. Figures rose on either side of the slave, grunting and shouting curses as he entered the chalk drawn ring. Scordalon’s eyes scanned the crowd dodging the gaze of anyone hidden beneath the stands, but he could still feel their penetrating stares judging him.
Shame almost overwhelmed the noble fighter, but he spared his emotions further scrutiny as his opponent entered the ring amidst a huge round of cheering and stamping of feet. The latter was done more to annoy the throngs of beings below the stands than to cheer for the champion.
Scordalon’s heart raced as he sized up his adversary. The creature stood nearly a head taller than himself and he had muscles that made the warrior believe the story that ogre blood ran in the creature’s veins. The creature’s head resembled a boulder with a knot of horsehair stuck atop it, except for the tusks that jutted from the lower jaw. His arms were like tree trunks that had dwarven anvils attached as fists. This was truly a fighter that would have tested even a younger Scordalon.
A short, dog faced creature limped between the two combatants and whistled for the crowd to cease their noise. When all the grunts ceased and silence settled, the dog creature shouted with his whiny voice.
“We have a Coin Fight between the King’s Champion of the great and powerful Empire, accepting the challenge of the slave nation’s champion; both warriors are unbeaten. Should either foe die, fail to rise, or drop their coin from their chosen hand so that it hits the ground, then the other shall be victorious. Only one will retain the title and represent his people.”
Once the last line was spoken, the crowd once again erupted into a howling frenzy of grunts and curses. Betting coins were thrown toward table workers and agile hands snatched them before they could hit a mark. While all of this side action was going on, both of the warriors showed that they possessed a coin and which hand they would be placing it in for the fight. Kzard chose his left hand, while Scordalon had always favored his power arm. With the coins shown, the dog creature lowered his arms and chaos began.
Scordalon never saw the first blow, his head was pitched sideways and his eyes lost focus. It was only his instincts that kept the second war hammer blow from landing. Pulling his elbows in tight and raising his fists, the veteran fighter was able to withstand the onslaught of punches that flew at him from unbelievable angles. The warrior weathered blow after blow until his addled thoughts started to come together.
The orc champion backed away from Scordalon to regain his composure, and in that instance the slave-champion mounted his own attack. He was sure that his opponent was ready for a straight-ahead series of blows, so he tried a different tactic and flew in, but cut low and staggered his jab with a burning uppercut to the midsection.
The ploy worked, but hitting the orc’s chest was like punching a cavern wall. The blow sent tingles up Scordalon’s arm and paused his attack just enough for the orc to thunder home a giant overhead slam that knocked the slave to his knees. A wave of cheers assaulted Scordalon’s ears as the orc champion assaulted his body. Hit after hit smacked into his pain ridden body, and the warrior knew that his time was limited if this barrage continued. Rolling backwards, Scordlaon pulled his body into a ball and when he felt the floor bend from his rumbling opponent, he launched out feet first to meet the charging orc. His body was pushed backwards, but his feet planted firmly into the orc’s belly and blasted the wind from his adversary. Rolling to his side, Scordalon rose to continue his surprise advantage, but when he turned, he was met by a waiting jab that snapped his head back and sent blood spraying onto the gambling tables. Once again the warrior was forced to pull his elbows in and hide behind his fists to protect his face from further damage. His hips moved and swayed, and his feet danced, keeping the giant moving and chasing its prey. Suddenly the fighter’s foot became pinned by the orc’s and all movement stopped. Scordalon fell backwards avoiding a solid blow that would have taken his head off. At the same time, his legs pulled apart yanking the chain skirt taut around his waist, catching the orc’s knee before it found his groin. His luck ended there; with his foot pinned the warrior again suffered a beating that even a dwarf would not stand up from.
“them other slaves talked about you like a hero. They shouted your name before they died under the Baron’s blades.”
The world was spinning while the hammering fists were pummeling him, but the words would not leave his head. A reaction kick to the knee sent the giant champion scurrying away for a moment and Scordalon tried to focus his eyes. A golden gleam from his right hand pulled at him and his vision cleared, but the voices remained in his head. It spoke over and over like it was pumping his heart. The warrior rose to his feet as blood dripped into his eyes and onto the floor where he had just been laying, but he locked stares with his foe rather than wipe it away.
The voices grew loader and his heart pumped faster, causing a tingling in his left arm, followed by numbness. A strange peace settled over the pit-warrior like he had never felt before, and that caused a smile to creep onto his beaten features. Scordalon saw rage play across the orc’s face, like he had just insulted his foe, and then the giant roared and charged.
When the orc reached within several steps of the aging warrior, Scordalon opened his hand and flipped the golden coin straight into the air. End over end the coin turned and all eyes watched as it rose toward the rafters, except those of the slave-warrior and he focused on the orc champion’s chin. At the apex of the golden disk’s flight, Scordalon swung his empty fist at the confused orc’s chin. With a resounding crack, years of pent up rage exploded into the giant’s face.
Kzard’s body swung completely around and Scordalon caught his coin on its return trip downward. With the disk nestled again within his hand, he began swinging again and again at the dazed orc’s jaw. It took several swings before the slave realized that his blows were matching his heartbeat and that his left arm was no longer swinging; but instead hung helpless at his side.
The crowd was quiet as the orc champion’s body fell to the floor. The stunned silence was followed only by the sound of a single coin striking the floor and rolling along the groves. Scordalon’s eyes followed his coin as it slipped into a crack in the floorboards, and then the world started to spin again. The echoing voices and thundering heartbeat were replaced by shouts of revolution and weapons clashing, steel on steel. The lone warrior slipped to the ground as feeling left his right arm, but a smile still played on his lips as his heart pumped one last time, for the warrior knew that Odek was wrong, he did find his freedom.
Shadowdancer
First Post
Wow.
That was awesome.
Good job.
That was awesome.
Good job.
GWolf
First Post
The Coin Part IV
The pit that Scordalon’s life ended in had seen many deaths, and many victories. The pit itself could not tell either apart, and to the pit it didn’t matter. To Korvis it mattered though, it mattered a whole lot.
The large Human stood looking down at the pit, his black cloak slightly concealing his black and silver armor. Damn, Korvis cursed to himself. Duke Elward had demanded that Korvis return to Orlorn with the coin. Not that mattered; Elward was an old fool and wouldn’t live much longer if Korvis managed to get his way.
The only thing that could stop Korvis now was the coin. He had tracked it all the way to this pit, but time was growing short and if he were to get the coin and get back he would have to get it now. That meant only two things; they would give him the coin, or he would take the coin. He didn’t mind either. He quickly walked down towards the pit itself his black boots smashing into the stone stairs, and his short dark hair prickling with sweat.
As Korvis reached the bottom of the stands he spotted Odek, the former owner of the dead pit champion. He walked over to him casually. When he arrived he spoke. “Quite a fight eh Odek?” He said slyly in orcish. No need in coming right out and asking for, or threatening for the coin yet.
The Orc turned his head at the human and spit. Korvis stood still with no change in expression. Then Odek spoke. “Filthy human, what is it that you want?” Odek commanded back at Korvis. Korvis grinned.
“Well, since you put it that way, I want the coin Scordalon is still holding” Korvis said flatly. He could already tell the old bastard wasn’t going to comply. This didn’t matter to Korvis though; his hand was already hovering near the dagger hidden on his shoulder.
Odek looked at Korvis and laughed. The coin was nothing to the Orc merchant, just another of many gold coins he had seen. This didn’t mean Odek would give it to him, for this was a human, and there was no reason for him to have it. “No. The coin is not yours, it is mine and I will keep it” Odek said as he spit directly next to Korvis’ left boot.
That was enough for Korvis; in an instant his small, but deadly, dagger was in his hand and at Odek’s throat. He whispered into Odek’s ear his voice ringing in the Orc’s ear violently. “You will give me the coin, or I shall take both your life and the coin”
Korvis then removed the dagger, pricking Odek slightly in the process. He sheathed it, but in case thing got out of hand, he kept his other hand next to his large broad sword. He watched as Odek called a servant over and sent him to fetch the coin. The sickly looking gnome left and was back in a second with the coin and handed it to his master.
Odek looked at Korvis a sadistic grin on his face, and a line of blood rolling down his throat. “You will regret this human,” he said as he slapped the coin into Korvis’ hand and turned away.
Korvis laughed to himself at his success, he was sure one damn good madman. He enjoyed the way he had angered the fat man. He now held the coin, his ticket to Orlorn’s deepest darkest secrets. He dropped it into his pocket. Only a few more people to manipulate and he would have everything he needed for his revenge. He would kill. None of them would be left alive.
As Korvis exited the pit he let out a particularly insane laugh, drawing the attention of a few Orcs saddling their horses. He looked at them and gave another laugh, causing them to turn away half afraid. Headed towards his own horse and slung his muscled body over it quickly even in the heavy breastplate he was wearing. He kicked off and headed for Orlorn.
***
Korvis had been on his Journey for three days, and now he was certain there was a band of Orcs following him. And he had no doubt who had sent them. Odek. Korvis sighed, turned around and dismounted his horse. He thirst for blood, and today he would have it, either theirs or his it mattered not to him. He always loved a fight.
As he a stood waiting for his pursuers he strapped his dull black and silver buckler to his arm, and drew his mammoth broad sword and gripped it easily. He also took the time to tie his horse to a tree slightly off the road. It was mere minutes before he heard the hooves…three Korvis guessed from the sound of them, should be easy enough he told himself, as he felt the icy ball erupt through out his body as his adrenaline began pumping.
Korvis greeted Odek and the two Orcish warriors with a grin…he was correct, there were three of them. In orc he called to them. “So, you found me…what a shame I was going to let you live” Odek snapped his fingers and his horsemen moved up slightly.
Odek snapped again. “Wait, let’s see how good this smart mouthed fool really is…dismount.” The bodyguards obeyed obediently and dismounted their black horses. Once they hit the ground they each drew Maces and small metal shields growling at Korvis.
Korvis couldn’t believe his luck; they had even dismounted to fight him. When he was done with these two he would torture odek, cripple him and send him back home never to mess with him again.
The first Orc charged at him failing his mace wildly, Korvis side stepped the attack and brought his giant sword into the back of the beastly man. The Orcs tough hide armor snapped, and the orc went sprawling forward from the force of the blow. The second orc now had his Mace raised high above his head and was about to bring it down onto Korvis’ unprotected head. Korvis’ raised his buckler to block the blow. The mace bounced off the shield with a heavy thud as Korvis drove his boot into the beast’s chest knocking him over.
Korvis swung his sword down at the bodyguard’s neck severing the man’s head from his body. Odek gave a slightly frightened look as the man died. Korvis then felt the mace smack into his back with amazing force sending him forward, but Korvis managed to keep his footing. He thanked god for his armor as he spun around his blade whizzing through the air. With a loud bash the Orcs shield flew from his hand and onto the grassy earth. The Orc was stunned. Korvis used this as and opportunity to ram his blade through the creatures chest. As he pulled his sword from the monsters chest, the beast let out a mouth full of blood collapsing to the blood stained earth.
Odek cursed as he spun his horse away and started to gallop away. “Not yet you bastard!” Korvis called after him sheathing his sword and running toward his horse. He flung himself over the horse and sent it into a mad dash after Odek. As he began closing the gap he called to him. “You wasted my time, and now you don’t want to play anymore?” Korvis laughed as his deep brown horse pulled right next to Odek’s ebony one.
“So, thought you could beat me?” Korvis said as he grabbed Odek by the collar of his vest and flung the Orc violently off his horse and into the clearing they were now in.
The black horse kept running, confused at the whole situation, as Odek tried to get up and out of the grass to confront the monster who had just slain his two body guards.
Korvis dismounted his horse, and raced over towards the old orc just in time to land a kick in his chest, sending him back ground to the floor wheezing. “Come get up! Fight me!” Korvis shouted taunting the old man. The Orc rose clutching his chest in agony. He went to draw his short sword, but met a gauntleted fist in his jaw on the way. “This is my game, and you’ll play how I want!” Korvis commanded sending his elbow into the Orcs nose snapping it. Odek screamed in pain, but was cut short as another fist met his chest and knocked the scream out of him sending him to the ground wheezing. “I’m not finished yet!” Korvis screamed at the defeated merchant with a sick violence in his voice. He picked the fat beast up and hurled him into a tree.
That was enough Korvis though walking towards his horse. “Put your hands behind your head!” He heard a familiar voice call. He looked around to see Orlorn crossbow men surrounding him holding their crossbows pinned at his chest. Duke Elward walked into the circle and looked at Korvis with disgust. “Foolish boy, hand me the coin and you live, disobey, and you die” Korvis reached into his pocket and retrieved the coin, and handed it to Elward with a muttered curse. Elward looked to his men their black and silver armor shining in the afternoon sun. “See he get the best cell in the whole dungeon!” The man in charge nodded as Elward laughed fingering his new coin.
The pit that Scordalon’s life ended in had seen many deaths, and many victories. The pit itself could not tell either apart, and to the pit it didn’t matter. To Korvis it mattered though, it mattered a whole lot.
The large Human stood looking down at the pit, his black cloak slightly concealing his black and silver armor. Damn, Korvis cursed to himself. Duke Elward had demanded that Korvis return to Orlorn with the coin. Not that mattered; Elward was an old fool and wouldn’t live much longer if Korvis managed to get his way.
The only thing that could stop Korvis now was the coin. He had tracked it all the way to this pit, but time was growing short and if he were to get the coin and get back he would have to get it now. That meant only two things; they would give him the coin, or he would take the coin. He didn’t mind either. He quickly walked down towards the pit itself his black boots smashing into the stone stairs, and his short dark hair prickling with sweat.
As Korvis reached the bottom of the stands he spotted Odek, the former owner of the dead pit champion. He walked over to him casually. When he arrived he spoke. “Quite a fight eh Odek?” He said slyly in orcish. No need in coming right out and asking for, or threatening for the coin yet.
The Orc turned his head at the human and spit. Korvis stood still with no change in expression. Then Odek spoke. “Filthy human, what is it that you want?” Odek commanded back at Korvis. Korvis grinned.
“Well, since you put it that way, I want the coin Scordalon is still holding” Korvis said flatly. He could already tell the old bastard wasn’t going to comply. This didn’t matter to Korvis though; his hand was already hovering near the dagger hidden on his shoulder.
Odek looked at Korvis and laughed. The coin was nothing to the Orc merchant, just another of many gold coins he had seen. This didn’t mean Odek would give it to him, for this was a human, and there was no reason for him to have it. “No. The coin is not yours, it is mine and I will keep it” Odek said as he spit directly next to Korvis’ left boot.
That was enough for Korvis; in an instant his small, but deadly, dagger was in his hand and at Odek’s throat. He whispered into Odek’s ear his voice ringing in the Orc’s ear violently. “You will give me the coin, or I shall take both your life and the coin”
Korvis then removed the dagger, pricking Odek slightly in the process. He sheathed it, but in case thing got out of hand, he kept his other hand next to his large broad sword. He watched as Odek called a servant over and sent him to fetch the coin. The sickly looking gnome left and was back in a second with the coin and handed it to his master.
Odek looked at Korvis a sadistic grin on his face, and a line of blood rolling down his throat. “You will regret this human,” he said as he slapped the coin into Korvis’ hand and turned away.
Korvis laughed to himself at his success, he was sure one damn good madman. He enjoyed the way he had angered the fat man. He now held the coin, his ticket to Orlorn’s deepest darkest secrets. He dropped it into his pocket. Only a few more people to manipulate and he would have everything he needed for his revenge. He would kill. None of them would be left alive.
As Korvis exited the pit he let out a particularly insane laugh, drawing the attention of a few Orcs saddling their horses. He looked at them and gave another laugh, causing them to turn away half afraid. Headed towards his own horse and slung his muscled body over it quickly even in the heavy breastplate he was wearing. He kicked off and headed for Orlorn.
***
Korvis had been on his Journey for three days, and now he was certain there was a band of Orcs following him. And he had no doubt who had sent them. Odek. Korvis sighed, turned around and dismounted his horse. He thirst for blood, and today he would have it, either theirs or his it mattered not to him. He always loved a fight.
As he a stood waiting for his pursuers he strapped his dull black and silver buckler to his arm, and drew his mammoth broad sword and gripped it easily. He also took the time to tie his horse to a tree slightly off the road. It was mere minutes before he heard the hooves…three Korvis guessed from the sound of them, should be easy enough he told himself, as he felt the icy ball erupt through out his body as his adrenaline began pumping.
Korvis greeted Odek and the two Orcish warriors with a grin…he was correct, there were three of them. In orc he called to them. “So, you found me…what a shame I was going to let you live” Odek snapped his fingers and his horsemen moved up slightly.
Odek snapped again. “Wait, let’s see how good this smart mouthed fool really is…dismount.” The bodyguards obeyed obediently and dismounted their black horses. Once they hit the ground they each drew Maces and small metal shields growling at Korvis.
Korvis couldn’t believe his luck; they had even dismounted to fight him. When he was done with these two he would torture odek, cripple him and send him back home never to mess with him again.
The first Orc charged at him failing his mace wildly, Korvis side stepped the attack and brought his giant sword into the back of the beastly man. The Orcs tough hide armor snapped, and the orc went sprawling forward from the force of the blow. The second orc now had his Mace raised high above his head and was about to bring it down onto Korvis’ unprotected head. Korvis’ raised his buckler to block the blow. The mace bounced off the shield with a heavy thud as Korvis drove his boot into the beast’s chest knocking him over.
Korvis swung his sword down at the bodyguard’s neck severing the man’s head from his body. Odek gave a slightly frightened look as the man died. Korvis then felt the mace smack into his back with amazing force sending him forward, but Korvis managed to keep his footing. He thanked god for his armor as he spun around his blade whizzing through the air. With a loud bash the Orcs shield flew from his hand and onto the grassy earth. The Orc was stunned. Korvis used this as and opportunity to ram his blade through the creatures chest. As he pulled his sword from the monsters chest, the beast let out a mouth full of blood collapsing to the blood stained earth.
Odek cursed as he spun his horse away and started to gallop away. “Not yet you bastard!” Korvis called after him sheathing his sword and running toward his horse. He flung himself over the horse and sent it into a mad dash after Odek. As he began closing the gap he called to him. “You wasted my time, and now you don’t want to play anymore?” Korvis laughed as his deep brown horse pulled right next to Odek’s ebony one.
“So, thought you could beat me?” Korvis said as he grabbed Odek by the collar of his vest and flung the Orc violently off his horse and into the clearing they were now in.
The black horse kept running, confused at the whole situation, as Odek tried to get up and out of the grass to confront the monster who had just slain his two body guards.
Korvis dismounted his horse, and raced over towards the old orc just in time to land a kick in his chest, sending him back ground to the floor wheezing. “Come get up! Fight me!” Korvis shouted taunting the old man. The Orc rose clutching his chest in agony. He went to draw his short sword, but met a gauntleted fist in his jaw on the way. “This is my game, and you’ll play how I want!” Korvis commanded sending his elbow into the Orcs nose snapping it. Odek screamed in pain, but was cut short as another fist met his chest and knocked the scream out of him sending him to the ground wheezing. “I’m not finished yet!” Korvis screamed at the defeated merchant with a sick violence in his voice. He picked the fat beast up and hurled him into a tree.
That was enough Korvis though walking towards his horse. “Put your hands behind your head!” He heard a familiar voice call. He looked around to see Orlorn crossbow men surrounding him holding their crossbows pinned at his chest. Duke Elward walked into the circle and looked at Korvis with disgust. “Foolish boy, hand me the coin and you live, disobey, and you die” Korvis reached into his pocket and retrieved the coin, and handed it to Elward with a muttered curse. Elward looked to his men their black and silver armor shining in the afternoon sun. “See he get the best cell in the whole dungeon!” The man in charge nodded as Elward laughed fingering his new coin.
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