Story... thingy.

[Filran]

Currently Untitled
By Filran



In the firey pits of hell I stood, shackled and chained before a bone throne. 'Alas!' shouted I as the demons cracked tails like spiked whips, and gnashed teeth in their massive jaws like saw against saw. Their voices shouting 'Punish! Punish!' were oddly similar to a Siren's, luring innocents to their doom.
At last the high king of demons and keeper of the throne strode out of his personal abyss as if he were a high lord striding out of his bedroom after a night of pleasing women. This he sat so abruptly in his seat that the old bones creaked and screamed below him.
Dressed, he was like a battlelord returned to his people and draped in gaudy cloth. Long ebony hair t'was braided long down his back, and wings so many claim of were torn and ragged, making this lord of doom seem more tired than fierce. At long last he spoke, and his voice was a twisted combination of nails on a chalkboard and, oddly enough, bells.
'Thus you stand before me. Thus punishment must be at hand.'
'Mercy!' cried I, 'Mercy! Though outcasted from the comfort of heaven, I have been wrongly accused to serve such fast as this, dear lord.'
A massive sigh rumbled from his chest, and worn eyes gazed downward at I. 'Perhaps,' he voice croaked, 'you would wish to sit and drink wine whilst we talk of you matter in being accused unjustly, he who calls me lord.'
In earnest I nodded as shackles were quickly removed and wine glass placed in my quailing hand. Sipping in sheer politness, I was taken aback by the taste of the drink. It had the quick pang of blood, and the sweet, crisp taste of apple.
'Now we two shall speak, for one should not be condemned unjustly when they have a glimmer of a chance to be elsewhere.'
I then told my long tale to him, though it sounded false and wrong. Of my wife I spoke, my children, anhd those who were near in my life. Throughout all the high lord of demons lisened intentively, as if he truely cared.
'Halt,' bade he suddenly, 'I have heard thy tale, and thus through it I believe it to be true, and you wrongfully punished. I shall free you from thy ties to hell, but always shall you be indebted to me. Remeber it well, he who calls me lord.'
Not yet have I repaid him, though I contemplate I shall do it soon. I have been rejected from heaven, but in hell, eternally, I shall be welcome.

[evilknight]

it needs a sequal... and a prequal... whaddid he do to get thrown outta heaven?

[mastachief]

good story.....thingy but it does need a prequel so it make more sense  LOL  

[Perdition]

Kick ass story Filran.  Don't listen to them it made perfect sense to me   And you didn't make it too long like some people"caugh, Auron,caugh"  I still haven't read his yet. LOL.  I liked the detale it was the perfect amount  

[Filran]

I've been writing short stories recently, because if I got for anything big, I get writers block, or I think up something else and start typing that. I've got a few people on another messege board waiting for the rest of one of my earlier stories that I still haven't worked on for a while...

[Everous]

very nice...now go write a prequal!!

[Everous]

ok...i'm writing this story for English...heres an unpolished draft version...Auron knows what exactly its based on but for now i'd like the setting to remain mostly vague:

What is the price of a life? a thousand? then thousand?...the lives of a million?

The rider reared and dismounted, kicking up a haze of dust behind him, and he would have been wary of the dangers ahead were it not for his present need. He walked forward uneasily and peered hard into the shadow land ahead. The mist fell and wrapped around his figure like a cloak, he would be safe for now; the fog lingered for a second, struggling to hold to a strand of shape, and falling away as the horseman dropped to his knees.

[note: beyond this point is some quick work, an outline]

Scrambling through the foliage there was the unmistakable air of battle. The land was heavy with blood; armour and weapons lay strewn aside in the wastes of war. He could still tell the soft clamour of arms amidst the carnage, there were stroops still mobilsed on the field, it was plain that the fighting had already ended. But who had won? Covering his face the scout scrambled through the undergrowth and spied his first casualty.

He bore the sign of the enemy, red marks on a brazen gold shield. The man lay dead across the foot of a great willow, smote with a powerful blow to the head. The disfigured image made him sick, but he felt gladnessswell up as he knelt over the corpse. Had he won? Maybe it be that he would meet the clear cut call of army sirens rather than cold steel.

[SS]

I wan't to say that's good, but something is stopping me, and I'm not sure what the something is. :cry:

I guess once it is finished and polished it will be better.

[Everous]

um maybe because you don't know what the fek its all about?

[SS]

FECK! It's bad enough Auron getting it wrong, but I'm not going to let his wrongness infect anyone else.


And possibly, yeah.

[Rug]

My story is very good, and the length we were asked to write it

Go read.

[Perdition]

I forgot where its posted also but I failed to m ention that "little" factor so i blame not reading it on it being kinda long LOL