I took this thread offline overnight to give either Shadowkat or FrigidSymphony the honor of starting the story. Nobody else may post until one of them does.
In the forests, far away from the probing eyes of men who would not have the spiritual capacity to understand, never mind the intellectual one, what was going on, the initiate stalked the wolf.
It was a big wolf, and wounded by many days. It would not be able to give much of a fight, and the ritual would be complete soon.
The wolf sniffed the air, his torn ear dripping blood into one of his eyes. He flicked his head, snarling. He could sence the hunters around him, he was trapped. The wolf snarled, how dare they hunt him, one of the Lords of the Forest. He was no common animal, like the tree-climbers of swift running deer. He was ultimate!! Growling deep in his throat, he turned towards the source of the scent that followed him where ever he fled. When he had first encountered it, it had scent fear chilling theough his fur. The impulse to run, far and ar had been strong then. But now that he was here, hurt, bleeding, there was no chance that he would survive. Enough running, he would die like a wolf, with honor and pride! With the last of his strength, he lept, howling the death howl, onto the creatur that had corned him like prey. A flash of sliver was all he saw, before he fell to the ground ssoaked with his warm blood. There was so much of it… it stained the ground, seeping into the moss beneth his heavy body. The powerful thing before him stood, towering, and the last thing the wolf saw before death clouded his eyes was a white hand, reaching towards him.
The initiate drew his ceremonial knife and cut out the wolf’s heart. Then he raised both hands to the sky and intoned the prayer to the spirit of the forest, that he may have glory in defeating the Wolf in his own forest, with his own weapons. Then he ate the heart, still steaming.
The result was almost instantaneous. From his belly, where the Wolf’s Heart fell, a feeling of intense power began flowing into his body. He felt the overpowering urge to raise his head, bold and proud, and howl at the starlight sky. And he did so.
Then he turned, and dragging the dead wolf behind him, made his way to the village, where he was ready to join the ranks of men with the spirit of his chosen beast within him.
When he reached the village, he found the gate closed. He pounded on the gatehouse door for what seemed like an age, until someone finally came. He walked into the town, and to his house. He laid the dead beast on his doorstep, and slept until morning.
The next morning, one of the village’s messenger’s galloped past his house, bringing news from one end of town to the other. When he saw the wolf outside of the initiate’s house, he added another piece of news to his tidings for the Master.
Ok, hang on people. I’m thinking something simple that doesn’t threaten to evolve into a hydra with as many plotlines as it has characters. We have a nice village with a shamanistic people who interact with the forest and the animals, which will then be threatened by something, and a bunch of people will have to go and be heroic.
The initiate lay in his bed a while longer. He would soon get up and confront the day’s tasks, but first he needed to gather himself. He lay in bed, thinking about the wolf inside of him.
He could still feel it. He knew that he would feel it forevermore. It was a part of him, giving him strength, instinct and cunning.
He still remembered how it had begun. When he was born, like with every other child, the Shaman presiding over the ceremony would immerse the newborn in the infinite being of the spirit of the forest. The child’s spirit would come into contact with another spirit, and the two of them would be eternally linked. The initiate could still remember his encounter with the wolf. They had both know, from the very first moment of their existence, that one would kill the other one day. This is the way of the forest, and always has been.
But he had triumphed. He had dominated the wolf, and his spiritual partner was now inside him, for evermore.
He was an initiate no more. He was a man, and would today recieve his naming from the Shaman.
9- Wow, that actually went somewhat along with the plot line I was thinking of in my head.
The Shaman stood in his doorway, his sharp features made even sharper by the shadows cast upon his face by the steadiy rising sun. The eagle feathers plated in his light hair made him apear even more like the dagger that cut through flesh and bone and hide, partially covering his dark eyes which stared mightily ahead. He knew he was strong and cunning, as did the rest of his clan. He could smell the tang odf blood on the morning breeze, a signal that one of the young initiates had succesfuly fought his beast. He would come to the Shamans home soon, carrieing his kill. The Shaman himself remembered the day he had carried the great canon eagle to this very hut, the gold feathers matted with the dark blood, the talons still battle-sharp. Remembering, his hand went to his neck where the talons hung, sharp as they had been on that fatal day. Bowing his head, he ducked though the doorway and went inside again. He had things to prepare, if an initiate had indeed survived his encounter. He felt something inside him stir as he did, the eagle’s spirit waking with the sun. That was aprt of what made him the Shaman, the fact that the spirit of his partner was not entirely subdued inside him. Occasionally it would come out, and he would thoughtlessly tear and harm those near him. In the end, the eagle would win and he would die, as the Shaman before him had. He did not fear the coming day of his demise, why should he? Now was noth the time for thinking. He had to prepare.
The initiatie (not for long, he reminded himself!) walked through the wintery evening, dragging the carcass of the wolf behind him. As he approached the Shaman’s hut he became increasingly aware of a crowd of people following him. This was natural, an initiate’s step into the ranks of men was always a sight worth seeing.
As he neared the hut, he began to feel the urge to turn and run, far away, anywhere, as long as it was not the hut. But he subdued the urge, and marched on.
Ok, I’m going to bed now as it’s 01.40 am and I’ve got stuff to do tomorrow… Could we maybe leave the ritual for a little while, not write it, but just think of it? It should be well thought out, IMO.
The initiate lowered his eyes to the floor as he entered the hut of the shaman, whose firm gaze was overpowering. The shaman placed the carcass on a slab, and raised his knife, bringing it down on the vane which all blod flowed. He caught the fluid of life in his bowl, and began to paint a wolf on the face of the initiate. Then he took the initiate’s spear, flung it into a fire, and a new one rose shimmering from the wolf. The blade of the spear reflected all of the hut in it, as if a wolf’s eye. The new warrior grasped his weapon, then ran outside and raised it to the sky. His fellow townsfoke cheered, and he was consumed by pride.
The Shaman stepped out of the hut, his eyes flashing in the sun like those of an eagle that has sighted its prey. His voice rang out over the people of Wanguto.
“I give you: Bloodfang, bearer of the Wolfspear!”
A roar went up from the crowd, a roar that quickly became a howl as Bloodfang’s voice joined them in their celebration. Gifts were tossed to Bloodfang’s feet as he made his way to the gates. When he reached them, he held up his hands. The crowd went silent. With one more howl and a brandishing of his spear, Bloodfang turned and tore into the forest.
A few miles away, in a town much like Wanguto, a young woman sat on the Head Woman’s porch, weaving various flowers into a wreath to be used for a Coming of Age ceremony later that day. Roses for courage, daisies for innocence, violets for wisdom.
Childe, as she was called, would herself never have a Coming of Age ceremony, for no one knew how old she was. Having been found at the gates of Florgena almost 16 years ago with a note only saying, Beware of the Cat…, how could anyone know when her Coming of Age ceremony should be? Luckily, the Head Woman took her in, sensing some sort of power in Childe. What that power was, no one knew, but if the Head Woman said it existed, it did.
The ceremony to take place today was for a girl who, after 3 days of fasting and meditation in the forest, had discovered that her Primary was Water…therefore, the ceremony would take place on the banks of the Aguana River. It was almost time. Childe stood up, the finished wreath in her hands. She looked up, suddenly, hearing a whisper on the Wind.
“…and of course you just know it’s not true…”, she heard. Oh, well, must be the conversation of some old gossips around the corner, she thought. Little did she know that the conversation was taking place 300 ft. off, across the town. She turned and went into the Head Woman’s hut, on feet as soft as velvet.
Alright, just to clue everyone in…I’m not trying to make it so that everyone has amazing super-powers, or anything, I’m just going on the whole feeling-an-animal-spirit-inside-you-thing, you know? Chlide’s got Cat-spirit in her.
18-Are you new to the blog? If so, *pies*. Anyways, this is an RRR, which stands for Round Robin ‘Ritin. It’s basically where a lot of people work together to write a story.
*Childe…sorry. And I forgot to include that I would like for the Spirits (as we’ll call them) to not give powers, per se, but, rather, to heighten certain senses, okay? Childe’s “heightened senses” are: sight, and hearing. She’s also almost noiseless, and very introverted…I think you can see where I’m going with this, so come up with the other characters’ stuff.
Also, Primary means that the person who has a certain element for their Primary gets strength of a certain sort from that element…a little complicated, but, again, I think you get it.
Beneath the trees of the forest, a man lurked. He had no name, for, like Childe, his coming of age had never come. Despite this, he still had an animal’s heart inside him. His cermony had never come because he had been outcast by the tribe. The reason – he had eaten not one heart, but two.
He had not eaten or drunk for days, but his cracked lips still moved. They whispered a name, over and over.
“Staaghur, Staaghur, Staaghur,” And then, almost as if it were an afterthought; “And his boy.”
Far in the north, away from the eyes of men, stood the mighty mountains of Ristaag. These mammoth mounds stand proud, as old as time itself, and deadly to those who seek to gain too much from them. They are filled with all sorts of dangerous beasts and beings, not all of them of this world. And it was here, deep in the heart of the mountains, that it slept.
It had no direct form- only darkness. The few biengs who dared to enter its lair quaked in terror at the sheer darkness it radiated. Yet despite all its power, it was a coward. It dared not venture out of its lair in fear of its most powerful enemy- the sun.
Okay, so, let’s take a momet to insert some plot before we have eight going at once. So thins things scared of the sun, then? Okay, I guess we could do an eclipse, but that’s sort of generic in my opinion. How about something different- like a huge earthquake that swallows up the village and now suddenly it’s in an underground cavern, all torn apart and lots of people dead/missing? And because there grounds all wacko no, tunnels from the vilage to the mountains, and the people have to… er… do something and get involved with the monsters. Someone elses turn with plot ideas
Alright…let’s say…well, why don’t we have the earthquake, so all the villagers leave their village (and the earthquake is massive, so both villages are evacuated…this is how our hero and heroine meet, but at first they don’t like each other…at all…they’ll develop from there), and flee into the forest. It’s in the dark forest that “mysterious disappearances” start occurring…our stars will find some stuff (like clues, and whatnot), and then go off to look for the monster, and to get to the bottom of the whole thing. On their trek, they run into each other, and, after some bantering, decide to continue together, because they might as well. You guys take it from there.
I’ll continue.
The wind howled in the mountains, outside of its lair. It knew that it just had to wait, to wait until some foolish human seeking shelter from the elements came into its cave. When the human did, it would posess it, and go out into the sun. The sun. Much as it feared it, the inhabitant of the cave loved the sun, loved the soft warmth that it gave out, completely different from the light that came inside of the cave.
As the mass of shadows lay thinking of the world outside, Bloodfang passed outside of the cave. He was not yet Bloodfang, he was still hunting the wolf that he would soon kill. He was in terrible condition, in great need of shelter, but still he did not stop there. He had heard too many tales of men who had lost their minds sheltering in caves to take a chance. Instead, he found a flat, not too rocky place to sleep for the night. It was here that he first encountered the wolf, waking up to find its muzzle right above his throat, ready to tear it out. He shouted, and the wolf leapt back, growling. This gave the soon-to-be Bloodfang the chance to draw his spear. He thrust it at the wolf, missing all of the most vital organs. The wolf ran, which the initiate hadn’t intended. He groaned, anticipating a long hunt. He was right about the hunt, but it wouldn’t be as long as he thought it would be. He could just follow the injured wolf’s blood. He did this, and soon came to the wolf, and killed it.
43-True…well, you came up with a character and a personality for him, and then I came up with a character and a personality for her…it’s your turn…lol. Also, if you want to call “Bloodfang” something else, let me know, and I’ll change it in my compilation.
44-Yeah, but I think we should, instead of going back in the story, just continue, and leave the dark-beast-thingie for a while. We’ve introduced it, and the reader knows it’s there, so the tension is up. Let’s go back to before. Also, it seems somewhat out of character for the beast to like the sun and fear it at the same time, unless it’s a sort of Gollum-like creature…but that’s still unoriginal.
Cont. from post 27:
The sun…the sun would destroy this creature, melting it into a pool of darkness. This the creature knew because of what had happened years ago, when its prey escaped from the cave. It had tried to follow the boy, nipping at his feet as he ran…it had tasted his blood. Unfortunately, the boy had gotten out of the cave and into the sun before the creature realized it. Blood on its lips, the creature was crazed with lust, and stepped into the sunlight. It had immediately regretted it, as its face began to melt in the light. The creature had never forgotten this moment, and had hungered for revenge ever since…one day, it would get it…that much the creature knew was true. As if to escape from this memory, the creature retreated into its cave to await the arrival of its next meal.
Bloodfang came to a stop, out of breath from his run through the forest. He was Bloodfang, bearer of the Wolfspear! Triumphantly, he brandished the Spear over his head, whooping. Sunlight glinted off its blade, and the reflection lit up a nearby cave. A howl of anguish and rage erupted from its depths. Bloodfang started, catching his breath and leaping into fight position in anticipation of an attack. None came.
He started to creep towards the cave, curiosity mingling with a touch of fear of the unknown. A hint of a scent reached Bloodfang’s nostrils. It smelled of blood and rot, thick and strong. Bloodfang knew this smell…an image flashed through his mind, an image of pure darkness and the scramble for life. His heart pumped adrenaline through his veins. His pace quickened slightly with the urge to discover what could’ve possibly caused such a memory.
Just then, the ground shook with a monstrous rumble! Bloodfang lost his footing and tumbled backwards. He would come back to this cave, and search it as he had planned…right now, he had to get back to the village. He had a bad feeling about that rumble. As he started back to the village, the earth rumbled behind him, sounding like the thunder of a thousand running feet.
Hey, guys, sorry to double post, but how long do we want the chapters to be? I’m putting the story together in a Word file, and so far, we have about 3.5 pages…
Walking through the learfy forest, Childe was carrying a clay jar of water back to the village from a small streem. She walked smoothly, her litle body acomidating the rough ground so as not to spill a drop of the water, which was to be taken to the midwife’s hut. Suddenly she froze, the water sloshing inside the jar and sending silver droplets tumbling down to star the grass before her.
The forest was quiet. Why? Her eyes danced across the scenery, but she didn’t feel as if there was anything in the underbrush, no predetors around. She would know, it was almost like an instinct most o the village had, the adrenaline rush was not present in her veins.
But things were… off. She breathed as quietly as she could, listening to the wind for voices or something, anything… this not-knowing bothered her. Wary, she took small staps forward, heading towards the village. The water would be needed soon, one of the woman was expected to give birth any hour. She controled her breathing, slow and steady, wishing she could do the same for her fast beating heart.
Then, she felt the tremors. She almost didn’t notice, or belive, they were there at first, but her shar senses told her they were there. Soft vibrations in the earth… but how? And why? She started to hurry now, the water coming perilously close to spilling down her rough-woven skirt and shirt. These strange movements were still coming, she could hear the stons sliding along the gound where they had been placed to mark the path. They were almost unnoticeable, maybe it was noth- in the middle of her thought, the sky seemed to roar as a wave shook the land. Childe was both mistified and terrified as she was suddenly thrusted off her feet. The red clay post shattered a few feet away, the water being sucked thirstily into the ground as the land buckled and tossed like the sides of a heaving animal moments beofre death. Here, Childe’s normally calm demeanor vanished and she streaked back towards the village, stumbling over the convulsing earth. Her heart pounded and her muscles burned, but when she finally reached the entrance she met with a scene of horror.
People were screaming, running everywhere, as carefully built huts and shelters were torn down like piles of grass to the wind. They cried out, searching for loved one’s or valued possetions. Childe was knocked aside by a sobbing woman, who rushed towards a downedd hut. In horror, she was a limp anckle poking ou from the ruins.
Suddenly she felt sick, witnessing the devistation her home was going through. Thoughtlessly, she rushed towards the place she felt safest and most protected, the head woman’s hut, dreading what she might find.
I should be able to think of something, but I can’t either. *hits himself in head with hammer* Yes, I know that I should play chess (see chess issue of Muse), but I’m too annoyed with myself.
She opened the door. Suddenly, everything seemed normal, safe. The fire was burning brightly, and nothing was disturbed… She stepped further in.
“Head Woman?” She called tentively. “Head woman!” Louder. Still no answer. The blood began to race through her heart again, and she pushed through the curtain over the enterence to Head Woman’s sleeping area. Her knees collapsed under her, and she fell to the ground with horror at the terrible site that met her eyes.
I’m not brave enough to do any more. My writing isn’t at its best, and I’m afraid I’ll mess it up.
She covered her eyes, doing her best not to look at the old woman. One glance at the blood-stained carcass had been enough. She lay there on the floor for a few minutes, crying, and then ran to tell the other villagers.
When she told everyone, she held back one piece of information. She had thought that she had seen a shadow whisking away when she opened the door, headed towards the exit that had once been to the dark forest. She had thought it to just be a trick of the light then, but now she wasn’t sure. It was because of this that she didn’t tell the villagers, in case she was cast out as a mad-girl.
With this, and vengeance, in mind, she raced out after the shadow.
Hey guys, I’m gonna break it off here (as in make a new chapter), because we’re up to 5 pages…this is a good break point, and ya’ll can take it in whatever direction you want, now.
I don’t know, but re-naming him was Fridgey’s idea, and he hasn’t visited this thread in, like, forever, so until he does, I vote we leave it the way it is.
84- No, that’s a different one. This was an actual story.
I miss the RRR version 2006.4. (I think that was it…). I’d post a link except it has some dreadful examples of me PoPoing (it was more accepted then… not so many people and all…)
Gah! Stop apologizing about why you haven’t written and WRITE! JEEZ! I will NOT let the only RRR i’ve ever been on die. Here goes!
Meanwhile, Bloodfang ran panting towards the gates of his village, which were locked, of course. With no one to man them, Bloodfang charged straight at the bars and ripped them apart with an adrenaline spear slash and rushed inside.
The town had been gutted to the bone.
Hokay, gotta quit now `cause it’s ten O’clock, no matter what the crazy time thing on this site says.
Shatered peices of pottery crunched under his feet, and crumpled peices of grass used for roofing lay like dead butterflies on the ground. Nearly all of the dwellings were in ruins, and he could hear no one in the sheel of a village. He headed instinctively for his own hut, and paused as he saw a mother rocking back and forth, sitting on the ground as she stroked a dead child’s hair. He had been crushed by a falling roof beam, and tears left trails in the dust caking her face down her face as she crooned a lullaby to soft for Bloodfang to hear.
Fighting back nausia, he turned away from the wretched sight and walked swifting in the other direction, towards the path leading to the Shaman’s hut, which lay a little beyond the rest of the village. As he walked, a sinewy older child ran towards him, halting a few paces away.
“The Shamen wants everyone to be coming to the clearing by the streem,” he explained brethlessly. “It’s not as broken as here and he says come quickly so they can discuss… things.” He finished, and darted off to another figure coming through the broken gate. Bloodfang nodded at the message, and changed direction slightly so he could make his way to the meeting place. As for what would happen to his people without the protection of weapons or shelter, he could only guess.
92- Oh yeah. I had no idea what it was about, but i wrote something kind of random without reading the rest of the story. Everyone ignored me, so it wasn’t really a contribution.
94- Well, i was trying to help, and i figured “hey, she’s suspicious and it’s science fiction, so i should do something with lasers.” How’d that end up, anyway?
“AAAAUGH!!” screamed Kari. “GIGACORP INTERNAL LASER TRAP!”
“What?” Ian screamed, leaping out of his chair.
“Just kidding!” Kari smiled. “Let’s go.”
“Never… do… that… again,” Ian grated out.
“Come on! It was just a joke. Put yours on.”
Yeah. Sorry. Lasers did come in later though. They shattered the carboglass, which led to Kerj being almost indestructible and Kari, Ian, and Jaa being very out of breath.
I’m not willing to let this thread die, either, as it’s the first RRR that I’ve been on, same as agagabagabag. I’m not helping because I’m stuck again.
Sorry guys, this is just a particularly gruesome RRR, and I don’t do well with gruesome stuff. (Though I have to say that the sci-fi RRR is about to turn pretty bloody pretty quick.)
And again: if you don’t want it to die, then write. I have a feelng that this one isn’t going to go very far anyway. If no one else writes for a few more days I guess I’ll drag something out.
Yeah…you know what, guys? If you want, I’ll just finish writing it on my own, and post it when I’m done…it’s not nearly as fun, though…here’s what we have so far:
Spirits and Blood
Chapter 1:
In the forests, far away from the probing eyes of men who would not have the spiritual capacity to understand, never mind the intellectual one, what was going on, the initiate stalked the wolf.
It was a big wolf, and wounded by many days. It would not be able to give much of a fight, and the ritual would be complete soon.
The wolf sniffed the air, his torn ear dripping blood into one of his eyes. He flicked his head, snarling. He could sense the hunters around him, he was trapped. The wolf snarled, how dare they hunt him, one of the Lords of the Forest. He was no common animal, like the tree-climbers of swift running deer. He was ultimate!! Growling deep in his throat, he turned towards the source of the scent that followed him where ever he fled. When he had first encountered it, it had scent fear chilling through his fur. The impulse to run, far and fast had been strong then. But now that he was here, hurt, bleeding, there was no chance that he would survive. Enough running, he would die like a wolf, with honor and pride! With the last of his strength, he leapt, howling the death howl, onto the creature that had corned him like prey. A flash of sliver was all he saw, before he fell to the ground soaked with his warm blood. There was so much of it… it stained the ground, seeping into the moss beneath his heavy body. The powerful thing before him stood, towering, and the last thing the wolf saw before death clouded his eyes was a white hand, reaching towards him.
The initiate drew his ceremonial knife and cut out the wolf’s heart. Then he raised both hands to the sky and intoned the prayer to the spirit of the forest, that he may have glory in defeating the Wolf in his own forest, with his own weapons. Then he ate the heart, still steaming.
The result was almost instantaneous. From his belly, where the Wolf’s Heart fell, a feeling of intense power began flowing into his body. He felt the overpowering urge to raise his head, bold and proud, and howl at the starlight sky. And he did so.
Then he turned, and dragging the dead wolf behind him, made his way to the village, where he was ready to join the ranks of men with the spirit of his chosen beast within him.
When he reached the village, he found the gate closed. He pounded on the gatehouse door for what seemed like an age, until someone finally came. He walked into the town, and to his house. He laid the dead beast on his doorstep, and slept until morning.
The next morning, one of the village’s messenger’s galloped past his house, bringing news from one end of town to the other. When he saw the wolf outside of the initiate’s house, he added another piece of news to his tidings for the Master.
The initiate lay in his bed a while longer. He would soon get up and confront the day’s tasks, but first he needed to gather himself. He lay in bed, thinking about the wolf inside of him.
He could still feel it. He knew that he would feel it forevermore. It was a part of him, giving him strength, instinct and cunning.
He still remembered how it had begun. When he was born, like with every other child, the Shaman presiding over the ceremony would immerse the newborn in the infinite being of the spirit of the forest. The child’s spirit would come into contact with another spirit, and the two of them would be eternally linked. The initiate could still remember his encounter with the wolf. They had both know, from the very first moment of their existence, that one would kill the other one day. This is the way of the forest, and always has been.
But he had triumphed. He had dominated the wolf, and his spiritual partner was now inside him, for evermore.
He was an initiate no more. He was a man, and would today receive his naming from the Shaman.
The Shaman stood in his doorway, his sharp features made even sharper by the shadows cast upon his face by the steadily rising sun. The eagle feathers plated in his light hair made him appear even more like the dagger that cut through flesh and bone and hide, partially covering his dark eyes which stared mightily ahead. He knew he was strong and cunning, as did the rest of his clan. He could smell the tang of blood on the morning breeze, a signal that one of the young initiates had successfully fought his beast. He would come to the Shamans home soon, carrying his kill. The Shaman himself remembered the day he had carried the great canon eagle to this very hut, the gold feathers matted with the dark blood, the talons still battle-sharp. Remembering, his hand went to his neck where the talons hung, sharp as they had been on that fatal day. Bowing his head, he ducked though the doorway and went inside again. He had things to prepare, if an initiate had indeed survived his encounter. He felt something inside him stir as he did, the eagle’s spirit waking with the sun. That was part of what made him the Shaman, the fact that the spirit of his partner was not entirely subdued inside him. Occasionally it would come out, and he would thoughtlessly tear and harm those near him. In the end, the eagle would win and he would die, as the Shaman before him had. He did not fear the coming day of his demise, why should he? Now was not the time for thinking. He had to prepare.
The initiate (not for long, he reminded himself!) walked through the wintery evening, dragging the carcass of the wolf behind him. As he approached the Shaman’s hut he became increasingly aware of a crowd of people following him. This was natural, an initiate’s step into the ranks of men was always a sight worth seeing.
As he neared the hut, he began to feel the urge to turn and run, far away, anywhere, as long as it was not the hut. But he subdued the urge, and marched on.
The initiate lowered his eyes to the floor as he entered the hut of the shaman, whose firm gaze was overpowering. The shaman placed the carcass on a slab, and raised his knife, bringing it down on the vane which all blood flowed. He caught the fluid of life in his bowl, and began to paint a wolf on the face of the initiate. Then he took the initiate’s spear, flung it into a fire, and a new one rose shimmering from the wolf. The blade of the spear reflected all of the hut in it, as if a wolf’s eye. The new warrior grasped his weapon, then ran outside and raised it to the sky. His fellow townsfolk cheered, and he was consumed by pride.
The Shaman stepped out of the hut, his eyes flashing in the sun like those of an eagle that has sighted its prey. His voice rang out over the people of Wanguto.
“I give you: Bloodfang, bearer of the Wolfspear!”
A roar went up from the crowd, a roar that quickly became a howl as Bloodfang’s voice joined them in their celebration. Gifts were tossed to Bloodfang’s feet as he made his way to the gates. When he reached them, he held up his hands. The crowd went silent. With one more howl and a brandishing of his spear, Bloodfang turned and tore into the forest.
A few miles away, in a town much like Wanguto, a young woman sat on the Head Woman’s porch, weaving various flowers into a wreath to be used for a Coming of Age ceremony later that day. Roses for courage, daisies for innocence, violets for wisdom.
Childe, as she was called, would herself never have a Coming of Age ceremony, for no one knew how old she was. Having been found at the gates of Florgena almost 16 years ago with a note only saying, Beware of the Cat…, how could anyone know when her Coming of Age ceremony should be? Luckily, the Head Woman took her in, sensing some sort of power in Childe. What that power was, no one knew, but if the Head Woman said it existed, it did.
The ceremony to take place today was for a girl who, after 3 days of fasting and meditation in the forest, had discovered that her Primary was Water…therefore, the ceremony would take place on the banks of the Aguana River. It was almost time. Childe stood up, the finished wreath in her hands. She looked up, suddenly, hearing a whisper on the Wind.
“…and of course you just know it’s not true…”, she heard. Oh, well, must be the conversation of some old gossips around the corner, she thought. Little did she know that the conversation was taking place 300 ft. off, across the town. She turned and went into the Head Woman’s hut, on feet as soft as velvet.
Beneath the trees of the forest, a man lurked. He had no name, for, like Childe, his coming of age had never come. Despite this, he still had an animal’s heart inside him. His ceremony had never come because he had been outcast by the tribe. The reason – he had eaten not one heart, but two.
He had not eaten or drunk for days, but his cracked lips still moved. They whispered a name, over and over. “Staaghur, Staaghur, Staaghur,” And then, almost as if it were an afterthought; “And his boy.”
Far in the north, away from the eyes of men, stood the mighty mountains of Ristaag. These mammoth mounds stand proud, as old as time itself, and deadly to those who seek to gain too much from them. They are filled with all sorts of dangerous beasts and beings, not all of them of this world. And it was here, deep in the heart of the mountains, that it slept.
It had no direct form- only darkness. The few beings who dared to enter its lair quaked in terror at the sheer darkness it radiated. Yet despite all its power, it was a coward. It dared not venture out of its lair in fear of its most powerful enemy- the sun.
The sun…the sun would destroy this creature, melting it into a pool of darkness. This the creature knew because of what had happened years ago, when its prey escaped from the cave. It had tried to follow the boy, nipping at his feet as he ran…it had tasted his blood. Unfortunately, the boy had gotten out of the cave and into the sun before the creature realized it. Blood on its lips, the creature was crazed with lust, and stepped into the sunlight. It had immediately regretted it, as its face began to melt in the light. The creature had never forgotten this moment, and had hungered for revenge ever since…one day, it would get it…that much the creature knew was true. As if to escape from this thought, the creature retreated into its cave to await the arrival of its next meal.
Bloodfang came to a stop, out of breath from his run through the forest. He was Bloodfang, bearer of the Wolfspear! Triumphantly, he brandished the Spear over his head, whooping. Sunlight glinted off its blade, and the reflection lit up a nearby cave. A howl of anguish and rage erupted from its depths. Bloodfang started, catching his breath and leaping into fight position in anticipation of an attack. None came.
He started to creep towards the cave, curiosity mingling with a touch of fear of the unknown. A hint of a scent reached Bloodfang’s nostrils. It smelled of blood and rot, thick and strong. Bloodfang knew this smell…an image flashed through his mind, an image of pure darkness and the scramble for life. His heart pumped adrenaline through his veins. His pace quickened slightly with the urge to discover what could’ve possibly caused such a memory.
Just then, the ground shook with a monstrous rumble! Bloodfang lost his footing and tumbled backwards. He would come back to this cave, and search it as he had planned…right now, he had to get back to the village. He had a bad feeling about that rumble. As he started back to the village, the earth rumbled behind him, sounding like the thunder of a thousand running feet.
Walking through the leafy forest, Childe was carrying a clay jar of water back to the village from a small stream. She walked smoothly, her little body accommodating the rough ground so as not to spill a drop of the water, which was to be taken to the midwife’s hut. Suddenly she froze, the water sloshing inside the jar and sending silver droplets tumbling down to star the grass before her.
The forest was quiet. Why? Her eyes danced across the scenery, but she didn’t feel as if there was anything in the underbrush, no predators around. She would know, it was almost like an instinct most o the village had, the adrenaline rush was not present in her veins.
But things were… off. She breathed as quietly as she could, listening to the wind for voices or something, anything… this not-knowing bothered her. Wary, she took small steps forward, heading towards the village. The water would be needed soon, one of the woman was expected to give birth any hour. She controlled her breathing, slow and steady, wishing she could do the same for her fast beating heart.
Then, she felt the tremors. She almost didn’t notice, or believe, they were there at first, but her sharp senses told her they were there. Soft vibrations in the earth… but how? And why? She started to hurry now, the water coming perilously close to spilling down her rough-woven skirt and shirt. These strange movements were still coming, she could hear the stones sliding along the ground where they had been placed to mark the path. They were almost unnoticeable, maybe it was noth- in the middle of her thought, the sky seemed to roar as a wave shook the land. Childe was both mystified and terrified as she was suddenly thrust off her feet. The red clay post shattered a few feet away, the water being sucked thirstily into the ground as the land buckled and tossed like the sides of a heaving animal moments before death. Here, Childe’s normally calm demeanor vanished and she streaked back towards the village, stumbling over the convulsing earth. Her heart pounded and her muscles burned, but when she finally reached the entrance she met with a scene of horror.
People were screaming, running everywhere, as carefully built huts and shelters were torn down like piles of grass to the wind. They cried out, searching for loved one’s or valued possessions. Childe was knocked aside by a sobbing woman, who rushed towards a downed hut. In horror, she was a limp ankle poking out from the ruins.
Suddenly she felt sick, witnessing the devastation her home was going through. Thoughtlessly, she rushed towards the place she felt safest and most protected, the head woman’s hut, dreading what she might find.
She opened the door. Suddenly, everything seemed normal, safe. The fire was burning brightly, and nothing was disturbed… She stepped further in.
“Head Woman?” She called tentatively. “Head woman!” Louder. Still no answer. The blood began to race through her heart again, and she pushed through the curtain over the entrance to Head Woman’s sleeping area. Her knees collapsed under her, and she fell to the ground with horror at the terrible site that met her eyes.
She covered her eyes, doing her best not to look at the old woman. One glance at the blood-stained carcass had been enough. She lay there on the floor for a few minutes, crying, and then ran to tell the other villagers.
When she told everyone, she held back one piece of information. She had thought that she had seen a shadow whisking away when she opened the door, headed towards the exit that had once been to the dark forest. She had thought it to just be a trick of the light then, but now she wasn’t sure. It was because of this that she didn’t tell the villagers, in case she was cast out as a mad-girl. With this, and vengeance, in mind, she raced out after the shadow.
Chapter 2:
Meanwhile, Bloodfang ran panting towards the gates of his village, which were locked, of course. With no one to man them, Bloodfang charged straight at the bars and ripped them apart with an adrenaline spear slash and rushed inside.
The town had been gutted to the bone. Shattered pieces of pottery crunched under his feet, and crumpled pieces of grass used for roofing lay like dead butterflies on the ground. Nearly all of the dwellings were in ruins, and he could hear no one in the shell of a village. He headed instinctively for his own hut, and paused as he saw a mother rocking back and forth, sitting on the ground as she stroked a dead child’s hair. He had been crushed by a falling roof beam, and tears left trails in the dust caking her face down her face as she crooned a lullaby to soft for Bloodfang to hear.
Fighting back nausea, he turned away from the wretched sight and walked swiftly in the other direction, towards the path leading to the Shaman’s hut, which lay a little beyond the rest of the village. As he walked, a sinewy older child ran towards him, halting a few paces away.
“The Shaman wants everyone to be coming to the clearing by the stream,” he explained breathlessly. “It’s not as broken as here and he says come quickly so they can discuss… things.” He finished, and darted off to another figure coming through the broken gate. Bloodfang nodded at the message, and changed direction slightly so he could make his way to the meeting place. As for what would happen to his people without the protection of weapons or shelter, he could only guess.
Argh . . . It’s the blood part that gets me. Anyway, I will think about it while cleaning house and maybe be able to squeeze out something that remotely resembles a story.
It’s so bloody and gruesome! People are dying left and right! I hate this kind of thing! *cringes*
I’m making excuses. *steels herself*
~~~~~~~
The stream looked almost the same as ever, in sharp contrast to the decimated village. A leaf floated gently down from a tree above and was carried away by the swift water. As the water cleared, Bloodfang could see snails crawling across the bottom. How could the stream look so peaceful when such a dreadful thing had happened?
~~~~~~~~~~
I can describe things too, just not bloody things. I’ll sit here and insert some peaceful stuff whenever it’s getting too bloody.
The remaining villagers were gathered by the stream, and Bloodfang could almost see the dark cloud of fear and despair that hovered above the people.
There were many people he knew, but he didn’t see one complete family group. “Everyone has lost someone,” he thought. Then the Shaman appeared, emerging from the woods. A path cleared before him as he walked to the center of the crowd. As always, Bloodfang was struck by the dignity and calmness that surrounded the man, making him feel that the villagers were safe.
Then the Shaman began to speak.
“A terrible thing has happened to our village. Everyone has lost someone, be it parent, sibling or child.” His deep eyes sweeped the congregation. “I cannot seek to offer any consolation to those who suffer, for Old Man Death is a part of Maiden Life just as Brother Night belongs to Sister Day. We must all learn to continue without what we have lost, such is the Way of the Wild, and as the Wild gives, the Wild takes away.” Here there was a murmur among the villagers, but whether it was anger directed to the unfeelingness of the Shaman or a cry of pain, Bloodfang could not tell. “However,” continued the Shaman, “I do not believe that what happened here was part of the Wild.” A gasp rose unanimously. Could it be that the Shaman was really suggesting…? Bloodfang wondered in disbelief. “You have all heard the Prophecy, you know what it implies. You all know the myths, and you have all spent countless hours discussing the morals and lessons of them. But what you do not know…” He trailed off. The whole village was holding its breath, waiting for the Shaman to recommence. “What you do not know is that unlike most of the tales, the Prophecy is historical fact!” The congregation exploded into cries. The Shaman was silent.
Bloodfang was shocked. He, like all the children of the village, had been brought up learning the same stories as everybody else. They were tales of the Forest, always dealing with animals and spirits, and they explained through made-up tales how the spirits worked, and how mankind was best meant to live alongside the Wild. The Prophecy was one such tale, telling of an evil spirit that had long ago ensared humans, making them worship him, and forcing them to do atrocious deeds in his name. Eventually the spirit was defeated by a band of heroes, each with the soul of a different animal. The moral of the story was that only difference and respect for nature could overcome the giant evil of homogeneous thinking that the evil spirit in the tale represented. The prophetic aspect of the tale stated that one day the spirit would return, although Bloodfang had always thought that to be no more than a melodramatic ending to a fable.
Nearg. I’m wet. And nearly was impaled by a clod of leaves and mud. *sigh*
~~~
The group no longer botherd with whispers now, speaking louder as they fought to be heard above the growing roar. Shouts of rage mingled with moans of loss, all of it worsining the shurning nausia that Bloodfang fought to keep at bay. Turning away, he walked from the edge of the goup and into the forest, stoping when the shouts of the people had subsided to a distant thrum. He took deep breaths, controling his stomach as best as he could.
To take his mind off it, he ran through the Prophesy in his head again. 5 heros, a Raven, a Cat, a Hawk, a Wolf, and a Bear. It had been many years since a boy had won against a bear and taken it’s spirit, the only surviving Bear he knew of was an elder now, and almost blind. But how could it be returning now? Times were good, spring was advancing steadily as winter withdrew it’s skeleton fingers rom the earth.
Feeling another wave sweep his body, he crouched down and set his jaw. Only children became sick at the sight of blood and loss, and he was no child. He would bear what came at him, take it in stride. That’s what warriors did.
E2MB, on the HT thread I only meant people burning flags in a malicious way. I actaully have done something similiar to what you did at boy scout camp.
You know, E2MB, instead of posting frequent commands to “COME HERE” you could just write. I’m not especially motivated or moved by this RRR, but I can’t just abandon it (even though I never meant to write on it in the first place) so if someone puts a continuation, I will write more, and besides, if we have me posting every third story piece, it will grow considerably less bloody, which would, IMHO, be a very good thing. I hate blood.
Childe chased the memory of the shadow through along the rocky path. The real thing was long gone, but she kept running, jumping from stone to stone when the path itself disappeared. She was no longer running after something, she was running away from the carnage in the village.
And here was a place where the cliff above had collapsed, obliterating the path and standing too high for even the most nimble of ordinary people to climb. But Childe could.
I’m going to officially quit this RRR. That won’t stop me from unofficially writing, but it might stop me from being quite so extreme as I normally am.
Suddenly she tripped and fell, crying out in pain. From behind a boulder, a man stepped out. He had a soft voice, tinged with deep sorrow, and he helped her to her feet.
“Who are you?” asked Childe.
“I am Bloodfang. Who are you?”
Bloodfang eyed the girl as he helped her to her feet. She apeared to be younger than he, around her Coming of Age. He hadn’t thought twice about helping her, but now his naturally wary nature sprang up to shield him from a possible, if highly unlikely, threat.
“I’m Childe.” SHe said, cringing inwardly as she spoke. In her village, after someone had found their kindred spirit or, mare rarely, Primary, they would include this while introducing themself. SHe couldn’t, however, as she had no idea when her birthday was, hence the single day she would be able to find her connection to the creature. She felt flashes of panic (though she kept them hidden) every now and then at the fear of acceentally missing her Coming of Age, she had been found a few weeks old near the end of the summer, a late birth, so it would be even harder to tell.
“Where do you come from?” The man asked, a guarded tinge coloring his words.
“I’m from…” Childe paused, doubting telling this man the place of her home. She knew nothing about him, he was just a stranger in the forest. He could be anyone, a runaway, an outscast. It was to late to stop now, though, without looking susoicious. “Florgena.” She said finally, watching his face carefully.
Bloodfang relaxed slightly. The girl wasn’t lieing, that much he could tell. And Florgena was a peacefull town about an hour’s walk west. But…
“How did you get across the cliffs? Few can climb them, and rarely one’s as small as you.”
Childe blushed. “I’ve always been good at clibing. And I can fit my hands in some of the places other people can’t.” She looked at him again, her cool green eyes narrowed slightly. “Where are you from?” Her slight stress on the third word was barely evident.
“Wanguto.” He was visably calmer, and noted that at this sudden distraction the nausia he had been atempting to keep at bay had almost compleatly subsided. But something still tugged at his mind…
“Why were you running?” He asked. “You didn’t come all the way from your village, did you? That’s far to be keeping a pace as you were.”
***
Time to stop. I have an idea as to where this could go if no one else posts again. *reproachful looks*
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! Now I have to think of something…Well, here goes. It’ll probably be horrible, but oh well. You can just ignore it.
Childe explained what happened, with Bloodfang listening carefully. Eventually, he spoke, “The same has happened to my village. I have set out to attempt to avenge it, but I have little hope, as I am told by a prophesy that to do that I will have to find another 4 people, a Raven, a Cat, a Hawk, and a Bear. The last troubles me most, however, as bears are notoriously dangerous. I feel confident of finding the Raven and Hawk, and definitely the keen-eared Cat.”
At hearing this last sentence, Childe started. Of course she thought. That would explain how I heard those sounds back at the village.
“I…I…I may be the cat. Before the earthquake, I was hearing sounds from afar, without any explanation. I have even been called a cat by the other children of my village, because of my ability to climb. I may be one of the ones that you are looking for.” She blushed as she spoke, for she thought it a great assumption to believe that she, the nameless girl, could be part of a great prophesy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
All right, I hope that that helps. I’ve got to go to bed.
130- Good, but I don’t know if we should have her realize she’s a cat just yet. She didn’t realize that the conversation she heard had been halfway across the town, and it seems as if her ‘powers’ turn on and off randomly. She makes for a more interesting character if she thinks there’s something wrong with her.
That’s all very nice, but what about writing something? Maybe we should have a rule that you aren’t allowed to post on this thread without writing something. And if no more is posted my writing’ll be useless anyways.
~~~~~~~~~
Childe explained what happened, with Bloodfang listening carefully. Eventually, he spoke, “The same has happened to my village. I have set out to attempt to avenge it, but I have little hope, as I am told by a prophesy that to do that I will have to find another 4 people, a Raven, a Cat, a Hawk, and a Bear. The last troubles me most, however, as bears are notoriously dangerous. I feel confident of finding the Raven and Hawk, and definitely the keen-eared Cat.”
“Can I…” Childe stopped here, regaining the courage that had fled from her as soon as she started speaking, “Can I come with you, to help look?”
Bloodfang was taken aback, never expecting to hear such a request from an orphan. However, recovering from his shock he replied, “I suppose.”
~~~~~~~~~
I’m out of ideas for now. I also reposted the first part of my last post.
“Alright then.” Childe brushed the dirt off her dress, and made as if to start up the cliffs again.
“Wait!” cried Bloodfang. “What are you doing?”
Childe glanced up at the nearly vertical cliffs above. “Climbing,” she stated simply.
“Are you a fool?” Bloodfang asked incredulously. “You would fall and be killed. Why not just go by the paths?”
“Oh.” Childe had nothing to say to that. “I don’t think I would fall. I have very good balance.”
Childe hesitated, looking up at the towering cliffs. It would be so easy just to climb up, much faster and less troublesome than going by the paths, but she didn’t really want to go alone . . . “Oh, alright,” she sighed. “I’ll come by the paths.”
After a day of walking, Bloodfang decided that they would have to rest. Of course, when he mentioned this to Childe she said that it wasn’t worth the time, but she didn’t argue. She knew that they couldn’t afford something like that at the time, after a day of walking, with heated discussions about which way to go. All of this was on top of the climbing incident, as well.
They slept well, without any disturbances. That is, none until the morning, when Childe heard cries of pain. However, Bloodfang heard nothing, and when they looked for people they found nothing, so they dismissed it as a dream. At least, Bloodfang did, but Childe wasn’t so sure.
They traveled like this for days, walking the whole day and stopping at night. They had no idea where they were going, or even why they couldn’t take a rest once in a while, except that all good heroes walked for days on end, rarely stopping. And so, this is what they did.
Once, Childe saw her village, When she did, she didn’t mention it for fear that Bloodfang would stop at it. Only when they were days past it did she mention it, when Bloodfang had told her that they were looking for a village for supplies.
~~~~~~~
Yes, I got bored and changed the style. Too bad, no one else’s writing. At all.
I’m so sorry. I can’t write when I have block, and on this thread I can’t even say I have block without writing. It’s a paradox.
~~~~~
Bloodfang cursed. “We are running out of food!” he told her. “We need to find a village soon!”
Childe stood her ground. “I won’t go back there,” she said.
“We can’t go back,” Bloodfang said, calming somewhat. “We don’t have enough food.”
Childe was silent as this sank in. She wasn’t much bothered. As long as there was a water and fire, she could probably manage to catch something, and she had the small knife that she used to cut flowers and herbs. Bloodfang was worried, though.
“Don’t worry,” she said comfortingly. “We’ll manage somehow. You’re a Wolf, surely you can kill something. I know how to cook.”
146-*gasp!* As if it wasn’t going to be otherwise!
~~~
Just then, a blood-curdling scream ripped through the forest. Childe whipped her knife out of its sheath as Bloodfang sprang into fight stance. Abruptly, the scream was cut off. Bloodfang and Childe glanced at each other and took off running. They tore through the trees in search of the noise’s source, almost sure that it would lead them to something they needed, be it food, information, or anything else that was useful.
~~~
Question: what exactly are they looking for (as in, do they know what destroyed the village, or do they know about the shadow-thingy)?
And, yes, I’m adding another character. I’m leaving for Williamsburg right now, so I can’t write for a while (I don’t know if they have a computer where I’m staying.), but I would like for the character to be somewhat weak in appearance and manner, but to, unbeknowest to them or anyone else, hold a VERY dark secret, essential to the story. Thanks!
Suddenly Bloodfang stopped, and Childe nearly crashed into him from behind. He shook his head angrily, and she stepped away from him warily.
“I am letting my stomach rule my mind.” He growled, mostly to himself. “We have no idea what we’re running towards, it could be anything. A trap.”
Childe paused, considering. This was true. They had sprang up, barely taking the time to grab their belonings befroe hurtling striaght towards whatever had made the noise.
Bloodfang stepped forward, carfully placing his feet on the ground so as not to make much noise, Childe following behind him slowly, stepping lightly on te mosses and new-fallen leaves so as not to alert anyone to their presence.
I had an idea. Whee! I love ideas!
~~~~~~
But their presence had already been detected. “Hello?” queried a thin and unhappy voice, and when they peered around the tree from which it had come, they saw the pale chubby face of a child no older than six.
Bloodfang only tightened his grip on the spear, and Childe made no move. The faces of both remained impassive, until the child burst out of the small pile of leaves and threw his small thin arms around Childe’s legs as high as he could reach.
The girl melted, sinking down onto her knees in front of the boy. “What’s the matter?” she asked, as if it were something she could not guess the answer to.
The child pointed wordlessly to a hump of cloth among the trees. “Staaghur,” he said. “Hurt.” He spoke in strange broken sentences, and it reminded Bloodfang of something that he couldn’t quite recall.
“Staaghur?” asked Childe hesitantly. “Who is Staaghur?” Staaghur. Such an odd and foreign name.
“Father,” said the boy.
~~~~~~~
This ties into Cinnamoon’s post about “Staaghur and his boy.”
Bloodfang looked at Childe, at the boy, then back at Childe. Clearly, she wanted to help him, but after so many strange things had happened, who knew if this were just another trap? He decided to ask a question similar to that which had already been asked, but with a little twist.
“What
NOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It cut off the rest of my post! Grr….
~~~
(Cont.)
is Staaghur?” he inquired of the boy.
“Hurt.” the boy reiterated. Childe looked at him pityingly.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Morbirohn.” replied the boy. A look of terror mixed with anguish crossed Childe’s face as she sprang away from the boy.
“What is it?” asked Bloodfang.
“M-M-Morbirohn…that’s the name of…of…”
“What? The name of what?!”
“…the man who killed…my Keeper.” gulped Childe, tears beginning to flood her eyes.
Sorry, sorry. I’m here now, but I was used to it just being Alice and me, so I didn’t bother refreshing it. I’m guilty…I was going to refresh it next time I did a mass check, though. I’m also being an evil person, and not writing in this post. I’ll do my best to get something out soon, though.
Well, I was going to let somebody else decide that, because I didn’t want to take total control of the story (I already made a new, important character), but I suppose I will…hm…ok, I’ve got it.
A Keeper, in Childe’s village, is a person who takes care of an orphan, taking them in as a child of their own, almost. It’s kinf of like foster care, though, in that the Keeper only takes care of the child until the child is old enough to be an apprentice. In Childe’s case, her Keeper lived next door to the Head Woman, who, as you will recall, came to take care of Childe. Therefore, Childe came to be very close to her Keeper, who we will call–
AAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! I have an idea!!! Ok, so you know how this story is slightly dry, at the moment? And you know how I said that something about a war between light and dark and all that good stuff would make a really cool RRR? And you know how ya’ll said that we couldn’t start another RRR until we finished one? Well, what if we made Myona (the Keeper [get it?] of the Gates of Dawn) Childe’s Keeper, and made this little quest of Childe’s and Bloodfang’s just part of a huge story, having to do with the whole universe as we know it?! How cool would that be??? Ok, I’m done, but let me know what you think, please.
Anyway, Childe and her Keeper were very close, and developed quite the bond, so it was a very emotional experience for Childe when her Keeper was brutally murdered on a dark Spirit’s Night (which is like a combination of Halloween and Devil’s Night)…no one knows why she was murdered, but, at the scene of the crime, an amulet was found, bearing a circle with a triangle in the middle, in which rests a swirl, lying on top of which is a diamond. No one knows what this means, either (which means that it has to come up and be discovered later). [I’ll send a drawing of the amulet mark later.]
The Amulet design sort of sounds like a version of the thing from HP… mmaybe it should just be something like two feathers with a moon-sheped claw mark over them?
“Your Keeper is dead?” Bloodfang said incredulously. A Keeper took care of an orphan, and for a Keeper to die while the orphan was in his or her care was viewed as a curse upon the child forever. Most children whose Keeper had died, died also, having been cast out into the forest. Very few were brave enough to take on a child whose Keeper was dead.
Childe nodded, her tears drying up now, and wiped her face with the back of her hand. The tears were salt, and they stung. “Both of them,” she whispered.
“You had TWO Keepers?” Bloodfang was even more surprised now.
“No,” murmured Childe. “Only one Keeper. But the Head Woman cared for me also, and she died too.”
Bloodfang took several steps back. The air around the group was heavy with far and revulsion. Childe avoiding the boy, Bloodfang avoiding Childe, Moribohn staring beseechingly from one to the other.
174- Just so you know, OK derives from the purposeful misspelling of All Correct, Oll Korrect. (Or Oll Korrekt?)
I’m just saying.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Bad luck!” Bloodfang ejaculated. “Bad luck! Bad luck, yes! It’s a curse!”
“It’s not!” said Childe hotly, the tears starting to fall again, not for her Keepers this time, but for herself. “I’m not cursed!” she cried again. “People always say that, and they avoid me, and won’t meet my eyes, but I’m not! It’s just bad luck!”
Morbirohn interrupted this argument by plaintively tugging on Childe’s skirt. “Staaghurt hurt,” he said, in effort to make himself understood. “Staaghur father.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We need to sort some stuff out. Morbirohn the kid isn’t the same as Morbirohn the murderer, is he?
175-Oh, heavens, no! His name is just the same, but he still has a sort of role in the whole thing, and is a child with a very dark secret, as I said before. I’ll write more later, but it’s, like, 9:40 where I am, and I have things to do. I’m going to a Ron Paul rally in Chicago tomorrow!!! *gasp!* I’m asking my dad if we can visit Muse Hqts. OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!
177- Hisss.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Where is your father?” asked bloodfang.
Wordlessley, the boy brushed some saplings aside to reveal a small hut. A groan came from inside.
180- Not really, Twilight is a relationship story. This isn’t really. There may be some in it later, but it’s not the main focus.
Bloodfang stepped over to the door, dried leaves crunching on the ground near the hut, though it was still summer. He had to hunch his back fit through the doorway, his head brushing he low ceiling once he was through nonetheless.
The room was smalll and cramped, and on the dirt floor sat a low table with an overturned bowl, ash-filled fire pit, and sleeping pallet woven of dried rushes. On the pallet was a man, older then Bloodfang by perhaps as many as 20 summers (I’m thinking Bloodfangs around 17 ish, and the people live to around 40 (it’s a long time ago, and there are many hazzards in their lives)), but it was hard to tell as his face was the color of smoke and his breathing shallow and rapid. A smell like stale meat and congealing pus eminated from his, and flys danced near the corners of his mouth. As Bloodfang looked his gave a slight whimper that rose to a hacking cough, blood sprayiing from his mouth and flecking the sained rushes. He heard a small moan behind him, and glanced around to see Childe swaying on the threshhold, eyes closed. She had not seen much of death before this week, no doubt this brought back memories of how she found her own village.
The boy stood behind her, eyes bright and curious, watching.
Bloodfang grimiced, and shuffled closer to the man. He took the lose ends of the woven mat and gripped them in his strong palms, trying not to jostle the man much as he backed out towards the light and fresh air. He wasn’t quite sure what ailed the man, desease or injury, but he wasn’t going to stay in this chamber any longer. The man gasped and coughed some more as Bloodfang felt the sunlight hit the back of his neck and stood up straight. He carefully laid the palet down in the middle of the clearing, then looked around for Childe. She was leaning against a tree a few feet away, taking deep breaths. “He needs water. Can you find some?” He asked her. She nodded once, then sprung back into the undergrowth, leaving only a ruslte of leaves behind.
The child still looked curiously at Bloodfang. His eyes were unnerving, large and dark and… they didn’t seem troubled. As if he didn’t mind the smell and decay. “How long has he been like this?” Asked Bloodfang, ignoring his misgivings.
190- No, she hasn’t had a coming-0f-age yet anyway, even though she never would have. Blodfang has, and killed a wolf in single combat earlier in the story. He acts older, too.
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MissSwann2223 has decided not to change her name says:
Going through the story, editing it. I may add some things to explain parts better and stuffins while this gathers dust. I’ll post a compilation in a bit.
Though I doubt I’ll finish by november, so it might be delayed for an extra month… Grr. I think I’ll try to come here whenever I have a block on Nano and write a bit, so things keep moving and it might help me find away around probles I have with my nano story.
Whee, this is exciting. Time to step back from Nano, and this is just what I need, so it’ll be great. I’ll add in Aga’s… sentence… and print it out and stay up writing till midnight. Who needs sleep? I’m certainly not used to it.
the old man spoke. “This is witchcraft from a higher dimenson of being. With this witchcraft anything is possible.”
Bloodfange shuffled closer to the man, being very cautious. He reached out to touch the old person’s cloak, but felt nothing but air. His hand retreated with a microsecond.
206) It’s okay, I don’t mind. I did read the entire thread though, alebit a little quickly because I had to go to bed soon after. I think I’ll read it again more slowly this time.
207- Thank you. If you’re confused on anything ask me and I’ll try to explain so you can help write (I must admit, the name change made me more willing to let you join the story. Not that I wouldn’t have, but I would have been wary of your posts).
To go between 116-121/modified versions of them.
***
Childe chased the memory of the shadow through along the rocky path. The real thing was long gone, but she kept running, jumping from stone to stone when the path itself disappeared. She was no longer running after something, she was running away from the carnage in the village.
And now that the Head Woman was gone, she really had no place there. She never really had, to be truthful, but at least then no one had questioned her right to be there. The head Woman had said she was going to stay, and there would be no more discussion after such a proclamation. The village wove her into their workings, and while she didn’t truly belong she fit, a thread that completed the pattern even if it was of a different material.
Childe hadn’t learned about how she’d been found until later, of course, when she noticed that her upbringing in the dark of the Head Woman’s hut and the glaring sun was a bit more chaotic than other childerens, she wasn’t as close to the Head Woman as they were to their parents. No one was.
The Head Woman had told her matter-of-factly that she was a foundling, they didn’t know who her parents were but she was a part of this village now, so she’d better show it by finishing her chores.
She had returned to them, relieved. SHe’d been worried there was something seriously wrong with her.
But now… the Head woman was- well, there would be a new one now and she might not be so accepting, especially in these dark times where anything new was shunned, thinking differently from others starting to be scored. Corruption was leaking into the village, she had heard it in her guardian’s midnight pacings and dark troubled eyes than she’d let on…
It might not be safe to stay now, all in all. If she was considered the source of bad luck, as she might be…
No one would miss her, really. She would be marked down as one of those killed by the terrifying lurching of the earth. She remembered this and squeezed her eyes shut, determined not to cry.
And here was a place where the cliff above had collapsed, obliterating the path and standing too high for even the most nimble of ordinary people to climb. But Childe could. She had ben running for so long, her chest heaved with both lack of air and restrained sobs. Climbing required more thought, more concentration. There would be less room in her mind for other things.
Dead… Well and truly, it would seem. *sadness* Especially since Shadowkat left and it was basically her and me since FS left too, and Glassy helped a bit but he’s gone too. Alice was here a bit but it’s not her thing with the blood and such. *sigh*
I’m not going to forget this place…and I’m not going to talk here. That’s cheating. I don’t doubt that it’s possible to find me on the internet…
*goes off singing Rouse Your Dream until something actually happens*
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Patience, Please
This site is under reconstruction and will look strange for a while. We regret the inconvenience.
I took this thread offline overnight to give either Shadowkat or FrigidSymphony the honor of starting the story. Nobody else may post until one of them does.
Now that’s something I haven’t seen before.
1 – That rule isn’t being enforced very strongly. But I will not start the story. I will let Sk and FS post the first segment.
In the forests, far away from the probing eyes of men who would not have the spiritual capacity to understand, never mind the intellectual one, what was going on, the initiate stalked the wolf.
It was a big wolf, and wounded by many days. It would not be able to give much of a fight, and the ritual would be complete soon.
The wolf sniffed the air, his torn ear dripping blood into one of his eyes. He flicked his head, snarling. He could sence the hunters around him, he was trapped. The wolf snarled, how dare they hunt him, one of the Lords of the Forest. He was no common animal, like the tree-climbers of swift running deer. He was ultimate!! Growling deep in his throat, he turned towards the source of the scent that followed him where ever he fled. When he had first encountered it, it had scent fear chilling theough his fur. The impulse to run, far and ar had been strong then. But now that he was here, hurt, bleeding, there was no chance that he would survive. Enough running, he would die like a wolf, with honor and pride! With the last of his strength, he lept, howling the death howl, onto the creatur that had corned him like prey. A flash of sliver was all he saw, before he fell to the ground ssoaked with his warm blood. There was so much of it… it stained the ground, seeping into the moss beneth his heavy body. The powerful thing before him stood, towering, and the last thing the wolf saw before death clouded his eyes was a white hand, reaching towards him.
Continued from post 4, by the way.
The initiate drew his ceremonial knife and cut out the wolf’s heart. Then he raised both hands to the sky and intoned the prayer to the spirit of the forest, that he may have glory in defeating the Wolf in his own forest, with his own weapons. Then he ate the heart, still steaming.
The result was almost instantaneous. From his belly, where the Wolf’s Heart fell, a feeling of intense power began flowing into his body. He felt the overpowering urge to raise his head, bold and proud, and howl at the starlight sky. And he did so.
Then he turned, and dragging the dead wolf behind him, made his way to the village, where he was ready to join the ranks of men with the spirit of his chosen beast within him.
When he reached the village, he found the gate closed. He pounded on the gatehouse door for what seemed like an age, until someone finally came. He walked into the town, and to his house. He laid the dead beast on his doorstep, and slept until morning.
The next morning, one of the village’s messenger’s galloped past his house, bringing news from one end of town to the other. When he saw the wolf outside of the initiate’s house, he added another piece of news to his tidings for the Master.
Ok, hang on people. I’m thinking something simple that doesn’t threaten to evolve into a hydra with as many plotlines as it has characters. We have a nice village with a shamanistic people who interact with the forest and the animals, which will then be threatened by something, and a bunch of people will have to go and be heroic.
Where did everyone go?
The initiate lay in his bed a while longer. He would soon get up and confront the day’s tasks, but first he needed to gather himself. He lay in bed, thinking about the wolf inside of him.
He could still feel it. He knew that he would feel it forevermore. It was a part of him, giving him strength, instinct and cunning.
He still remembered how it had begun. When he was born, like with every other child, the Shaman presiding over the ceremony would immerse the newborn in the infinite being of the spirit of the forest. The child’s spirit would come into contact with another spirit, and the two of them would be eternally linked. The initiate could still remember his encounter with the wolf. They had both know, from the very first moment of their existence, that one would kill the other one day. This is the way of the forest, and always has been.
But he had triumphed. He had dominated the wolf, and his spiritual partner was now inside him, for evermore.
He was an initiate no more. He was a man, and would today recieve his naming from the Shaman.
9- Wow, that actually went somewhat along with the plot line I was thinking of in my head.
The Shaman stood in his doorway, his sharp features made even sharper by the shadows cast upon his face by the steadiy rising sun. The eagle feathers plated in his light hair made him apear even more like the dagger that cut through flesh and bone and hide, partially covering his dark eyes which stared mightily ahead. He knew he was strong and cunning, as did the rest of his clan. He could smell the tang odf blood on the morning breeze, a signal that one of the young initiates had succesfuly fought his beast. He would come to the Shamans home soon, carrieing his kill. The Shaman himself remembered the day he had carried the great canon eagle to this very hut, the gold feathers matted with the dark blood, the talons still battle-sharp. Remembering, his hand went to his neck where the talons hung, sharp as they had been on that fatal day. Bowing his head, he ducked though the doorway and went inside again. He had things to prepare, if an initiate had indeed survived his encounter. He felt something inside him stir as he did, the eagle’s spirit waking with the sun. That was aprt of what made him the Shaman, the fact that the spirit of his partner was not entirely subdued inside him. Occasionally it would come out, and he would thoughtlessly tear and harm those near him. In the end, the eagle would win and he would die, as the Shaman before him had. He did not fear the coming day of his demise, why should he? Now was noth the time for thinking. He had to prepare.
The initiatie (not for long, he reminded himself!) walked through the wintery evening, dragging the carcass of the wolf behind him. As he approached the Shaman’s hut he became increasingly aware of a crowd of people following him. This was natural, an initiate’s step into the ranks of men was always a sight worth seeing.
As he neared the hut, he began to feel the urge to turn and run, far away, anywhere, as long as it was not the hut. But he subdued the urge, and marched on.
Ok, I’m going to bed now as it’s 01.40 am and I’ve got stuff to do tomorrow… Could we maybe leave the ritual for a little while, not write it, but just think of it? It should be well thought out, IMO.
The initiate lowered his eyes to the floor as he entered the hut of the shaman, whose firm gaze was overpowering. The shaman placed the carcass on a slab, and raised his knife, bringing it down on the vane which all blod flowed. He caught the fluid of life in his bowl, and began to paint a wolf on the face of the initiate. Then he took the initiate’s spear, flung it into a fire, and a new one rose shimmering from the wolf. The blade of the spear reflected all of the hut in it, as if a wolf’s eye. The new warrior grasped his weapon, then ran outside and raised it to the sky. His fellow townsfoke cheered, and he was consumed by pride.
13- I thought we were waiting?
14 – tuh.
The Shaman stepped out of the hut, his eyes flashing in the sun like those of an eagle that has sighted its prey. His voice rang out over the people of Wanguto.
“I give you: Bloodfang, bearer of the Wolfspear!”
A roar went up from the crowd, a roar that quickly became a howl as Bloodfang’s voice joined them in their celebration. Gifts were tossed to Bloodfang’s feet as he made his way to the gates. When he reached them, he held up his hands. The crowd went silent. With one more howl and a brandishing of his spear, Bloodfang turned and tore into the forest.
A few miles away, in a town much like Wanguto, a young woman sat on the Head Woman’s porch, weaving various flowers into a wreath to be used for a Coming of Age ceremony later that day. Roses for courage, daisies for innocence, violets for wisdom.
Childe, as she was called, would herself never have a Coming of Age ceremony, for no one knew how old she was. Having been found at the gates of Florgena almost 16 years ago with a note only saying, Beware of the Cat…, how could anyone know when her Coming of Age ceremony should be? Luckily, the Head Woman took her in, sensing some sort of power in Childe. What that power was, no one knew, but if the Head Woman said it existed, it did.
The ceremony to take place today was for a girl who, after 3 days of fasting and meditation in the forest, had discovered that her Primary was Water…therefore, the ceremony would take place on the banks of the Aguana River. It was almost time. Childe stood up, the finished wreath in her hands. She looked up, suddenly, hearing a whisper on the Wind.
“…and of course you just know it’s not true…”, she heard. Oh, well, must be the conversation of some old gossips around the corner, she thought. Little did she know that the conversation was taking place 300 ft. off, across the town. She turned and went into the Head Woman’s hut, on feet as soft as velvet.
Alright, just to clue everyone in…I’m not trying to make it so that everyone has amazing super-powers, or anything, I’m just going on the whole feeling-an-animal-spirit-inside-you-thing, you know? Chlide’s got Cat-spirit in her.
somebody plz explain whats going on
18-Are you new to the blog? If so, *pies*. Anyways, this is an RRR, which stands for Round Robin ‘Ritin. It’s basically where a lot of people work together to write a story.
*Childe…sorry.
And I forgot to include that I would like for the Spirits (as we’ll call them) to not give powers, per se, but, rather, to heighten certain senses, okay? Childe’s “heightened senses” are: sight, and hearing. She’s also almost noiseless, and very introverted…I think you can see where I’m going with this, so come up with the other characters’ stuff.
Also, Primary means that the person who has a certain element for their Primary gets strength of a certain sort from that element…a little complicated, but, again, I think you get it.
I don’t really like the name bloodfang. Couldn’t it be something a little more… ethnic? Like Wolfstaag, Wolfszahn, Blodstag, something like that?
Ok, next step: figure out what the bad guy here’s gonna be.
Beneath the trees of the forest, a man lurked. He had no name, for, like Childe, his coming of age had never come. Despite this, he still had an animal’s heart inside him. His cermony had never come because he had been outcast by the tribe. The reason – he had eaten not one heart, but two.
Sorry, forgot to put this on my last one.
He had not eaten or drunk for days, but his cracked lips still moved. They whispered a name, over and over.
“Staaghur, Staaghur, Staaghur,” And then, almost as if it were an afterthought; “And his boy.”
Far in the north, away from the eyes of men, stood the mighty mountains of Ristaag. These mammoth mounds stand proud, as old as time itself, and deadly to those who seek to gain too much from them. They are filled with all sorts of dangerous beasts and beings, not all of them of this world. And it was here, deep in the heart of the mountains, that it slept.
fridgy, from what your saying, ethnic apparently means something german or swedish. we’re not changing because of your nationality.
21-Well, sorry…I was going for something kind of suiting for the part, you know? But if you want to change it, you can…just tell me what it is, okay?
25-You know he moved to Switzerland from New York, right?
It had no direct form- only darkness. The few biengs who dared to enter its lair quaked in terror at the sheer darkness it radiated. Yet despite all its power, it was a coward. It dared not venture out of its lair in fear of its most powerful enemy- the sun.
Okay, so, let’s take a momet to insert some plot before we have eight going at once. So thins things scared of the sun, then? Okay, I guess we could do an eclipse, but that’s sort of generic in my opinion. How about something different- like a huge earthquake that swallows up the village and now suddenly it’s in an underground cavern, all torn apart and lots of people dead/missing? And because there grounds all wacko no, tunnels from the vilage to the mountains, and the people have to… er… do something and get involved with the monsters. Someone elses turn with plot ideas
I like the earthquake idea.
Does my bit fit in anywhere? I was just trying to make a villian.
Um, yeah, sure. He could find some glowing rock and use it to threaten the beast and make it attack the villagers.
or go sneaking round in the dark killing the villagers one by one while they’re all underground in the dark
I don’t like the earthquake… And ‘ethnic’ just meant sort of scandic or latvian, as that was my idea… Forests, wolves, shamans…
33- Okay, but we still need a plot.
Keep the earthquake! Use my idea!
Alright…let’s say…well, why don’t we have the earthquake, so all the villagers leave their village (and the earthquake is massive, so both villages are evacuated…this is how our hero and heroine meet, but at first they don’t like each other…at all…they’ll develop from there), and flee into the forest. It’s in the dark forest that “mysterious disappearances” start occurring…our stars will find some stuff (like clues, and whatnot), and then go off to look for the monster, and to get to the bottom of the whole thing. On their trek, they run into each other, and, after some bantering, decide to continue together, because they might as well. You guys take it from there.
Sounds good.
Good. What does everyone else think?
I have to read up on it, as I haven’t had time over the last few days.
Yeah, sounds good. Who continues?
Sounds fine to me. I am just a bit confused- Are we writing to part AFTER that summary, or are we writing the proper version of the summary?
I’ll continue.
The wind howled in the mountains, outside of its lair. It knew that it just had to wait, to wait until some foolish human seeking shelter from the elements came into its cave. When the human did, it would posess it, and go out into the sun. The sun. Much as it feared it, the inhabitant of the cave loved the sun, loved the soft warmth that it gave out, completely different from the light that came inside of the cave.
As the mass of shadows lay thinking of the world outside, Bloodfang passed outside of the cave. He was not yet Bloodfang, he was still hunting the wolf that he would soon kill. He was in terrible condition, in great need of shelter, but still he did not stop there. He had heard too many tales of men who had lost their minds sheltering in caves to take a chance. Instead, he found a flat, not too rocky place to sleep for the night. It was here that he first encountered the wolf, waking up to find its muzzle right above his throat, ready to tear it out. He shouted, and the wolf leapt back, growling. This gave the soon-to-be Bloodfang the chance to draw his spear. He thrust it at the wolf, missing all of the most vital organs. The wolf ran, which the initiate hadn’t intended. He groaned, anticipating a long hunt. He was right about the hunt, but it wouldn’t be as long as he thought it would be. He could just follow the injured wolf’s blood. He did this, and soon came to the wolf, and killed it.
36 I like it, but maybe we should have more then just 2 people… Because then we can have good guys dying, an essential part.
I agree, but how do we introduce them? And is my latest part okay? I did it during writing on Friday, because we got to do free writing.
41-We’re writing the proper version.
43-True…well, you came up with a character and a personality for him, and then I came up with a character and a personality for her…it’s your turn…lol. Also, if you want to call “Bloodfang” something else, let me know, and I’ll change it in my compilation.
44-Yeah, but I think we should, instead of going back in the story, just continue, and leave the dark-beast-thingie for a while. We’ve introduced it, and the reader knows it’s there, so the tension is up. Let’s go back to before. Also, it seems somewhat out of character for the beast to like the sun and fear it at the same time, unless it’s a sort of Gollum-like creature…but that’s still unoriginal.
Cont. from post 27:
The sun…the sun would destroy this creature, melting it into a pool of darkness. This the creature knew because of what had happened years ago, when its prey escaped from the cave. It had tried to follow the boy, nipping at his feet as he ran…it had tasted his blood. Unfortunately, the boy had gotten out of the cave and into the sun before the creature realized it. Blood on its lips, the creature was crazed with lust, and stepped into the sunlight. It had immediately regretted it, as its face began to melt in the light. The creature had never forgotten this moment, and had hungered for revenge ever since…one day, it would get it…that much the creature knew was true. As if to escape from this memory, the creature retreated into its cave to await the arrival of its next meal.
Bloodfang came to a stop, out of breath from his run through the forest. He was Bloodfang, bearer of the Wolfspear! Triumphantly, he brandished the Spear over his head, whooping. Sunlight glinted off its blade, and the reflection lit up a nearby cave. A howl of anguish and rage erupted from its depths. Bloodfang started, catching his breath and leaping into fight position in anticipation of an attack. None came.
He started to creep towards the cave, curiosity mingling with a touch of fear of the unknown. A hint of a scent reached Bloodfang’s nostrils. It smelled of blood and rot, thick and strong. Bloodfang knew this smell…an image flashed through his mind, an image of pure darkness and the scramble for life. His heart pumped adrenaline through his veins. His pace quickened slightly with the urge to discover what could’ve possibly caused such a memory.
Just then, the ground shook with a monstrous rumble! Bloodfang lost his footing and tumbled backwards. He would come back to this cave, and search it as he had planned…right now, he had to get back to the village. He had a bad feeling about that rumble. As he started back to the village, the earth rumbled behind him, sounding like the thunder of a thousand running feet.
Hey, guys, sorry to double post, but how long do we want the chapters to be? I’m putting the story together in a Word file, and so far, we have about 3.5 pages…
46- Ahh, I do that with RRRs too. Hmm… I don’t know.
What exactly is the point of a RRR that peters out after 47 posts?
I was wondering that too.
People have writer’s block. Either that, or they’ve forgotten about the thread.
Well, I don’t know, should I continue the story? I think, oddly enough, Fridgey’s abandoned this thread…how rude.
I’ll help with the story if you want to continue it. I’m only working on four RRRs already.
Show off. (Me.)
I’d help, but I can’t think of anything to add to this story.
Sorry guys, I haven’t abandoned… I’ve just been busy as hell, and I’ve had a tremendous writers block for the past few weeks. Creativity is null.
Ahhg… okay, going to try to force something out here. I’ll post it in my next post so I have time to wwrite. Here goes…
Walking through the learfy forest, Childe was carrying a clay jar of water back to the village from a small streem. She walked smoothly, her litle body acomidating the rough ground so as not to spill a drop of the water, which was to be taken to the midwife’s hut. Suddenly she froze, the water sloshing inside the jar and sending silver droplets tumbling down to star the grass before her.
The forest was quiet. Why? Her eyes danced across the scenery, but she didn’t feel as if there was anything in the underbrush, no predetors around. She would know, it was almost like an instinct most o the village had, the adrenaline rush was not present in her veins.
But things were… off. She breathed as quietly as she could, listening to the wind for voices or something, anything… this not-knowing bothered her. Wary, she took small staps forward, heading towards the village. The water would be needed soon, one of the woman was expected to give birth any hour. She controled her breathing, slow and steady, wishing she could do the same for her fast beating heart.
Then, she felt the tremors. She almost didn’t notice, or belive, they were there at first, but her shar senses told her they were there. Soft vibrations in the earth… but how? And why? She started to hurry now, the water coming perilously close to spilling down her rough-woven skirt and shirt. These strange movements were still coming, she could hear the stons sliding along the gound where they had been placed to mark the path. They were almost unnoticeable, maybe it was noth- in the middle of her thought, the sky seemed to roar as a wave shook the land. Childe was both mistified and terrified as she was suddenly thrusted off her feet. The red clay post shattered a few feet away, the water being sucked thirstily into the ground as the land buckled and tossed like the sides of a heaving animal moments beofre death. Here, Childe’s normally calm demeanor vanished and she streaked back towards the village, stumbling over the convulsing earth. Her heart pounded and her muscles burned, but when she finally reached the entrance she met with a scene of horror.
People were screaming, running everywhere, as carefully built huts and shelters were torn down like piles of grass to the wind. They cried out, searching for loved one’s or valued possetions. Childe was knocked aside by a sobbing woman, who rushed towards a downedd hut. In horror, she was a limp anckle poking ou from the ruins.
Suddenly she felt sick, witnessing the devistation her home was going through. Thoughtlessly, she rushed towards the place she felt safest and most protected, the head woman’s hut, dreading what she might find.
Eh. Not to bad. Someone elses turn now.
54-Just so you know, “rude” was the only word I could think of at the time, I didn’t mean it, and frankly, it wasn’t nice of me to say so…sorry.
56-Very nice! I like it, and will continue when I have more time…thanks.
8) sweet.
:8):
STOP THE POINTLESS POSTING ALREADY PENGUINZRUL!!!!!!!!!*fines penguinZrul 5 pieces of virtual choklit* Post in ** saying that you gave it to me. And don’t argue, or the fine goes up.
Please, GAPAs, put this back up on the home page! PLEASE! PLEASE!!!!!!!
Oh wait, sorry.
This thread is diiiiiiieing again… if no one continues off of mine for a while, I guess I’ll write more, but I don’t really know what to write…
65- I swear I’ll help sometime, (if you’ll have me) but I can’t think of what to add either.
66- It’s collective writers block. *sigh* But if you think of anything, please write though.
67- Okay, if I think of anything.
I should be able to think of something, but I can’t either. *hits himself in head with hammer* Yes, I know that I should play chess (see chess issue of Muse), but I’m too annoyed with myself.
I’ll write something.
She opened the door. Suddenly, everything seemed normal, safe. The fire was burning brightly, and nothing was disturbed… She stepped further in.
“Head Woman?” She called tentively. “Head woman!” Louder. Still no answer. The blood began to race through her heart again, and she pushed through the curtain over the enterence to Head Woman’s sleeping area. Her knees collapsed under her, and she fell to the ground with horror at the terrible site that met her eyes.
I’m not brave enough to do any more. My writing isn’t at its best, and I’m afraid I’ll mess it up.
I don’t want to describe something horrible!
She covered her eyes, doing her best not to look at the old woman. One glance at the blood-stained carcass had been enough. She lay there on the floor for a few minutes, crying, and then ran to tell the other villagers.
When she told everyone, she held back one piece of information. She had thought that she had seen a shadow whisking away when she opened the door, headed towards the exit that had once been to the dark forest. She had thought it to just be a trick of the light then, but now she wasn’t sure. It was because of this that she didn’t tell the villagers, in case she was cast out as a mad-girl.
With this, and vengeance, in mind, she raced out after the shadow.
Hey guys, I’m gonna break it off here (as in make a new chapter), because we’re up to 5 pages…this is a good break point, and ya’ll can take it in whatever direction you want, now.
I’m still here, and I may actually WRITE if it comes to a point where I’m inspired.
Sounds good to me. How about we go back to Bloodfang now, then?
Wait, did we end up re-naming him?
I don’t know, but re-naming him was Fridgey’s idea, and he hasn’t visited this thread in, like, forever, so until he does, I vote we leave it the way it is.
I’m right here… But there doesn’t seem to be any creativity. And deciding names for characters doesn’t really bring the story on.
Sorry. This is not a very inspiring story for me, but for some reason I don’t leave.
Hi! Danggit this RRR is wierd…
There hasn’t been a story-post in over a week. I’d say this RRR is just about dead, because it is barely getting posts anymore.
Well, I’ve seen RRRs that were dead at 60 posts, so I suppose it’s better off than others. At least you can still post on it.
81 – Yea. Look at how far this RRR got: https://musefanpage.com/blog/?p=328
But it was still alive, and most of the posts were story. In fact, I see no reason why it was closed.
83- It was the April Fool’s day trick. Sigh.
I just posted a link on the Newcomers thread. Hope it brings in some traffic.
83 – Nobody had posted on it in over 9 months. It was anything but alive.
84- No, that’s a different one. This was an actual story.
I miss the RRR version 2006.4. (I think that was it…). I’d post a link except it has some dreadful examples of me PoPoing (it was more accepted then… not so many people and all…)
*It was 2006.2, actually. I remembered after I posted.
86- There were a few links, two to the Fractured Fairy Tale, and one to here. I called it a “poor dead thing”.
Gah! Stop apologizing about why you haven’t written and WRITE! JEEZ! I will NOT let the only RRR i’ve ever been on die. Here goes!
Meanwhile, Bloodfang ran panting towards the gates of his village, which were locked, of course. With no one to man them, Bloodfang charged straight at the bars and ripped them apart with an adrenaline spear slash and rushed inside.
The town had been gutted to the bone.
Hokay, gotta quit now `cause it’s ten O’clock, no matter what the crazy time thing on this site says.
To be continued in my next post.
Shatered peices of pottery crunched under his feet, and crumpled peices of grass used for roofing lay like dead butterflies on the ground. Nearly all of the dwellings were in ruins, and he could hear no one in the sheel of a village. He headed instinctively for his own hut, and paused as he saw a mother rocking back and forth, sitting on the ground as she stroked a dead child’s hair. He had been crushed by a falling roof beam, and tears left trails in the dust caking her face down her face as she crooned a lullaby to soft for Bloodfang to hear.
Fighting back nausia, he turned away from the wretched sight and walked swifting in the other direction, towards the path leading to the Shaman’s hut, which lay a little beyond the rest of the village. As he walked, a sinewy older child ran towards him, halting a few paces away.
“The Shamen wants everyone to be coming to the clearing by the streem,” he explained brethlessly. “It’s not as broken as here and he says come quickly so they can discuss… things.” He finished, and darted off to another figure coming through the broken gate. Bloodfang nodded at the message, and changed direction slightly so he could make his way to the meeting place. As for what would happen to his people without the protection of weapons or shelter, he could only guess.
89 – That’s not quite true. You were on the sci-fi RRR for one breif post.
92- Oh yeah. I had no idea what it was about, but i wrote something kind of random without reading the rest of the story. Everyone ignored me, so it wasn’t really a contribution.
93- We did not! We just wanted an explanation, and you disappeared and never came back. Your post was something along the lines of:
Kari put on a suit.
“AAAAGHH! GIGACORP INTERNAL LASER TRAP!”
Is it any wonder we were confused?
94- Well, i was trying to help, and i figured “hey, she’s suspicious and it’s science fiction, so i should do something with lasers.” How’d that end up, anyway?
95- She was joking. It went:
“AAAAUGH!!” screamed Kari. “GIGACORP INTERNAL LASER TRAP!”
“What?” Ian screamed, leaping out of his chair.
“Just kidding!” Kari smiled. “Let’s go.”
“Never… do… that… again,” Ian grated out.
“Come on! It was just a joke. Put yours on.”
Yeah. Sorry. Lasers did come in later though. They shattered the carboglass, which led to Kerj being almost indestructible and Kari, Ian, and Jaa being very out of breath.
96- Oh! Okay then.
I’m not willing to let this thread die, either, as it’s the first RRR that I’ve been on, same as agagabagabag. I’m not helping because I’m stuck again.
Sorry guys, this is just a particularly gruesome RRR, and I don’t do well with gruesome stuff. (Though I have to say that the sci-fi RRR is about to turn pretty bloody pretty quick.)
And again: if you don’t want it to die, then write. I have a feelng that this one isn’t going to go very far anyway. If no one else writes for a few more days I guess I’ll drag something out.
Yeah…you know what, guys? If you want, I’ll just finish writing it on my own, and post it when I’m done…it’s not nearly as fun, though…here’s what we have so far:
Spirits and Blood
Chapter 1:
In the forests, far away from the probing eyes of men who would not have the spiritual capacity to understand, never mind the intellectual one, what was going on, the initiate stalked the wolf.
It was a big wolf, and wounded by many days. It would not be able to give much of a fight, and the ritual would be complete soon.
The wolf sniffed the air, his torn ear dripping blood into one of his eyes. He flicked his head, snarling. He could sense the hunters around him, he was trapped. The wolf snarled, how dare they hunt him, one of the Lords of the Forest. He was no common animal, like the tree-climbers of swift running deer. He was ultimate!! Growling deep in his throat, he turned towards the source of the scent that followed him where ever he fled. When he had first encountered it, it had scent fear chilling through his fur. The impulse to run, far and fast had been strong then. But now that he was here, hurt, bleeding, there was no chance that he would survive. Enough running, he would die like a wolf, with honor and pride! With the last of his strength, he leapt, howling the death howl, onto the creature that had corned him like prey. A flash of sliver was all he saw, before he fell to the ground soaked with his warm blood. There was so much of it… it stained the ground, seeping into the moss beneath his heavy body. The powerful thing before him stood, towering, and the last thing the wolf saw before death clouded his eyes was a white hand, reaching towards him.
The initiate drew his ceremonial knife and cut out the wolf’s heart. Then he raised both hands to the sky and intoned the prayer to the spirit of the forest, that he may have glory in defeating the Wolf in his own forest, with his own weapons. Then he ate the heart, still steaming.
The result was almost instantaneous. From his belly, where the Wolf’s Heart fell, a feeling of intense power began flowing into his body. He felt the overpowering urge to raise his head, bold and proud, and howl at the starlight sky. And he did so.
Then he turned, and dragging the dead wolf behind him, made his way to the village, where he was ready to join the ranks of men with the spirit of his chosen beast within him.
When he reached the village, he found the gate closed. He pounded on the gatehouse door for what seemed like an age, until someone finally came. He walked into the town, and to his house. He laid the dead beast on his doorstep, and slept until morning.
The next morning, one of the village’s messenger’s galloped past his house, bringing news from one end of town to the other. When he saw the wolf outside of the initiate’s house, he added another piece of news to his tidings for the Master.
The initiate lay in his bed a while longer. He would soon get up and confront the day’s tasks, but first he needed to gather himself. He lay in bed, thinking about the wolf inside of him.
He could still feel it. He knew that he would feel it forevermore. It was a part of him, giving him strength, instinct and cunning.
He still remembered how it had begun. When he was born, like with every other child, the Shaman presiding over the ceremony would immerse the newborn in the infinite being of the spirit of the forest. The child’s spirit would come into contact with another spirit, and the two of them would be eternally linked. The initiate could still remember his encounter with the wolf. They had both know, from the very first moment of their existence, that one would kill the other one day. This is the way of the forest, and always has been.
But he had triumphed. He had dominated the wolf, and his spiritual partner was now inside him, for evermore.
He was an initiate no more. He was a man, and would today receive his naming from the Shaman.
The Shaman stood in his doorway, his sharp features made even sharper by the shadows cast upon his face by the steadily rising sun. The eagle feathers plated in his light hair made him appear even more like the dagger that cut through flesh and bone and hide, partially covering his dark eyes which stared mightily ahead. He knew he was strong and cunning, as did the rest of his clan. He could smell the tang of blood on the morning breeze, a signal that one of the young initiates had successfully fought his beast. He would come to the Shamans home soon, carrying his kill. The Shaman himself remembered the day he had carried the great canon eagle to this very hut, the gold feathers matted with the dark blood, the talons still battle-sharp. Remembering, his hand went to his neck where the talons hung, sharp as they had been on that fatal day. Bowing his head, he ducked though the doorway and went inside again. He had things to prepare, if an initiate had indeed survived his encounter. He felt something inside him stir as he did, the eagle’s spirit waking with the sun. That was part of what made him the Shaman, the fact that the spirit of his partner was not entirely subdued inside him. Occasionally it would come out, and he would thoughtlessly tear and harm those near him. In the end, the eagle would win and he would die, as the Shaman before him had. He did not fear the coming day of his demise, why should he? Now was not the time for thinking. He had to prepare.
The initiate (not for long, he reminded himself!) walked through the wintery evening, dragging the carcass of the wolf behind him. As he approached the Shaman’s hut he became increasingly aware of a crowd of people following him. This was natural, an initiate’s step into the ranks of men was always a sight worth seeing.
As he neared the hut, he began to feel the urge to turn and run, far away, anywhere, as long as it was not the hut. But he subdued the urge, and marched on.
The initiate lowered his eyes to the floor as he entered the hut of the shaman, whose firm gaze was overpowering. The shaman placed the carcass on a slab, and raised his knife, bringing it down on the vane which all blood flowed. He caught the fluid of life in his bowl, and began to paint a wolf on the face of the initiate. Then he took the initiate’s spear, flung it into a fire, and a new one rose shimmering from the wolf. The blade of the spear reflected all of the hut in it, as if a wolf’s eye. The new warrior grasped his weapon, then ran outside and raised it to the sky. His fellow townsfolk cheered, and he was consumed by pride.
The Shaman stepped out of the hut, his eyes flashing in the sun like those of an eagle that has sighted its prey. His voice rang out over the people of Wanguto.
“I give you: Bloodfang, bearer of the Wolfspear!”
A roar went up from the crowd, a roar that quickly became a howl as Bloodfang’s voice joined them in their celebration. Gifts were tossed to Bloodfang’s feet as he made his way to the gates. When he reached them, he held up his hands. The crowd went silent. With one more howl and a brandishing of his spear, Bloodfang turned and tore into the forest.
A few miles away, in a town much like Wanguto, a young woman sat on the Head Woman’s porch, weaving various flowers into a wreath to be used for a Coming of Age ceremony later that day. Roses for courage, daisies for innocence, violets for wisdom.
Childe, as she was called, would herself never have a Coming of Age ceremony, for no one knew how old she was. Having been found at the gates of Florgena almost 16 years ago with a note only saying, Beware of the Cat…, how could anyone know when her Coming of Age ceremony should be? Luckily, the Head Woman took her in, sensing some sort of power in Childe. What that power was, no one knew, but if the Head Woman said it existed, it did.
The ceremony to take place today was for a girl who, after 3 days of fasting and meditation in the forest, had discovered that her Primary was Water…therefore, the ceremony would take place on the banks of the Aguana River. It was almost time. Childe stood up, the finished wreath in her hands. She looked up, suddenly, hearing a whisper on the Wind.
“…and of course you just know it’s not true…”, she heard. Oh, well, must be the conversation of some old gossips around the corner, she thought. Little did she know that the conversation was taking place 300 ft. off, across the town. She turned and went into the Head Woman’s hut, on feet as soft as velvet.
Beneath the trees of the forest, a man lurked. He had no name, for, like Childe, his coming of age had never come. Despite this, he still had an animal’s heart inside him. His ceremony had never come because he had been outcast by the tribe. The reason – he had eaten not one heart, but two.
He had not eaten or drunk for days, but his cracked lips still moved. They whispered a name, over and over. “Staaghur, Staaghur, Staaghur,” And then, almost as if it were an afterthought; “And his boy.”
Far in the north, away from the eyes of men, stood the mighty mountains of Ristaag. These mammoth mounds stand proud, as old as time itself, and deadly to those who seek to gain too much from them. They are filled with all sorts of dangerous beasts and beings, not all of them of this world. And it was here, deep in the heart of the mountains, that it slept.
It had no direct form- only darkness. The few beings who dared to enter its lair quaked in terror at the sheer darkness it radiated. Yet despite all its power, it was a coward. It dared not venture out of its lair in fear of its most powerful enemy- the sun.
The sun…the sun would destroy this creature, melting it into a pool of darkness. This the creature knew because of what had happened years ago, when its prey escaped from the cave. It had tried to follow the boy, nipping at his feet as he ran…it had tasted his blood. Unfortunately, the boy had gotten out of the cave and into the sun before the creature realized it. Blood on its lips, the creature was crazed with lust, and stepped into the sunlight. It had immediately regretted it, as its face began to melt in the light. The creature had never forgotten this moment, and had hungered for revenge ever since…one day, it would get it…that much the creature knew was true. As if to escape from this thought, the creature retreated into its cave to await the arrival of its next meal.
Bloodfang came to a stop, out of breath from his run through the forest. He was Bloodfang, bearer of the Wolfspear! Triumphantly, he brandished the Spear over his head, whooping. Sunlight glinted off its blade, and the reflection lit up a nearby cave. A howl of anguish and rage erupted from its depths. Bloodfang started, catching his breath and leaping into fight position in anticipation of an attack. None came.
He started to creep towards the cave, curiosity mingling with a touch of fear of the unknown. A hint of a scent reached Bloodfang’s nostrils. It smelled of blood and rot, thick and strong. Bloodfang knew this smell…an image flashed through his mind, an image of pure darkness and the scramble for life. His heart pumped adrenaline through his veins. His pace quickened slightly with the urge to discover what could’ve possibly caused such a memory.
Just then, the ground shook with a monstrous rumble! Bloodfang lost his footing and tumbled backwards. He would come back to this cave, and search it as he had planned…right now, he had to get back to the village. He had a bad feeling about that rumble. As he started back to the village, the earth rumbled behind him, sounding like the thunder of a thousand running feet.
Walking through the leafy forest, Childe was carrying a clay jar of water back to the village from a small stream. She walked smoothly, her little body accommodating the rough ground so as not to spill a drop of the water, which was to be taken to the midwife’s hut. Suddenly she froze, the water sloshing inside the jar and sending silver droplets tumbling down to star the grass before her.
The forest was quiet. Why? Her eyes danced across the scenery, but she didn’t feel as if there was anything in the underbrush, no predators around. She would know, it was almost like an instinct most o the village had, the adrenaline rush was not present in her veins.
But things were… off. She breathed as quietly as she could, listening to the wind for voices or something, anything… this not-knowing bothered her. Wary, she took small steps forward, heading towards the village. The water would be needed soon, one of the woman was expected to give birth any hour. She controlled her breathing, slow and steady, wishing she could do the same for her fast beating heart.
Then, she felt the tremors. She almost didn’t notice, or believe, they were there at first, but her sharp senses told her they were there. Soft vibrations in the earth… but how? And why? She started to hurry now, the water coming perilously close to spilling down her rough-woven skirt and shirt. These strange movements were still coming, she could hear the stones sliding along the ground where they had been placed to mark the path. They were almost unnoticeable, maybe it was noth- in the middle of her thought, the sky seemed to roar as a wave shook the land. Childe was both mystified and terrified as she was suddenly thrust off her feet. The red clay post shattered a few feet away, the water being sucked thirstily into the ground as the land buckled and tossed like the sides of a heaving animal moments before death. Here, Childe’s normally calm demeanor vanished and she streaked back towards the village, stumbling over the convulsing earth. Her heart pounded and her muscles burned, but when she finally reached the entrance she met with a scene of horror.
People were screaming, running everywhere, as carefully built huts and shelters were torn down like piles of grass to the wind. They cried out, searching for loved one’s or valued possessions. Childe was knocked aside by a sobbing woman, who rushed towards a downed hut. In horror, she was a limp ankle poking out from the ruins.
Suddenly she felt sick, witnessing the devastation her home was going through. Thoughtlessly, she rushed towards the place she felt safest and most protected, the head woman’s hut, dreading what she might find.
She opened the door. Suddenly, everything seemed normal, safe. The fire was burning brightly, and nothing was disturbed… She stepped further in.
“Head Woman?” She called tentatively. “Head woman!” Louder. Still no answer. The blood began to race through her heart again, and she pushed through the curtain over the entrance to Head Woman’s sleeping area. Her knees collapsed under her, and she fell to the ground with horror at the terrible site that met her eyes.
She covered her eyes, doing her best not to look at the old woman. One glance at the blood-stained carcass had been enough. She lay there on the floor for a few minutes, crying, and then ran to tell the other villagers.
When she told everyone, she held back one piece of information. She had thought that she had seen a shadow whisking away when she opened the door, headed towards the exit that had once been to the dark forest. She had thought it to just be a trick of the light then, but now she wasn’t sure. It was because of this that she didn’t tell the villagers, in case she was cast out as a mad-girl. With this, and vengeance, in mind, she raced out after the shadow.
Chapter 2:
Meanwhile, Bloodfang ran panting towards the gates of his village, which were locked, of course. With no one to man them, Bloodfang charged straight at the bars and ripped them apart with an adrenaline spear slash and rushed inside.
The town had been gutted to the bone. Shattered pieces of pottery crunched under his feet, and crumpled pieces of grass used for roofing lay like dead butterflies on the ground. Nearly all of the dwellings were in ruins, and he could hear no one in the shell of a village. He headed instinctively for his own hut, and paused as he saw a mother rocking back and forth, sitting on the ground as she stroked a dead child’s hair. He had been crushed by a falling roof beam, and tears left trails in the dust caking her face down her face as she crooned a lullaby to soft for Bloodfang to hear.
Fighting back nausea, he turned away from the wretched sight and walked swiftly in the other direction, towards the path leading to the Shaman’s hut, which lay a little beyond the rest of the village. As he walked, a sinewy older child ran towards him, halting a few paces away.
“The Shaman wants everyone to be coming to the clearing by the stream,” he explained breathlessly. “It’s not as broken as here and he says come quickly so they can discuss… things.” He finished, and darted off to another figure coming through the broken gate. Bloodfang nodded at the message, and changed direction slightly so he could make his way to the meeting place. As for what would happen to his people without the protection of weapons or shelter, he could only guess.
It’s the edited version, too!
Argh . . . It’s the blood part that gets me. Anyway, I will think about it while cleaning house and maybe be able to squeeze out something that remotely resembles a story.
101- Wow!! It’s great!
I’ll try to do something. l’ll be lest busy two weeks after school. I’m going to Catalina Island the week after.
I agree with agagabagabag. I also agree that it’s not as much fun to do it on your own, but I have no ideas.
It’s so bloody and gruesome! People are dying left and right! I hate this kind of thing! *cringes*
I’m making excuses. *steels herself*
~~~~~~~
The stream looked almost the same as ever, in sharp contrast to the decimated village. A leaf floated gently down from a tree above and was carried away by the swift water. As the water cleared, Bloodfang could see snails crawling across the bottom. How could the stream look so peaceful when such a dreadful thing had happened?
~~~~~~~~~~
I can describe things too, just not bloody things. I’ll sit here and insert some peaceful stuff whenever it’s getting too bloody.
The remaining villagers were gathered by the stream, and Bloodfang could almost see the dark cloud of fear and despair that hovered above the people.
There were many people he knew, but he didn’t see one complete family group. “Everyone has lost someone,” he thought. Then the Shaman appeared, emerging from the woods. A path cleared before him as he walked to the center of the crowd. As always, Bloodfang was struck by the dignity and calmness that surrounded the man, making him feel that the villagers were safe.
Then the Shaman began to speak.
“A terrible thing has happened to our village. Everyone has lost someone, be it parent, sibling or child.” His deep eyes sweeped the congregation. “I cannot seek to offer any consolation to those who suffer, for Old Man Death is a part of Maiden Life just as Brother Night belongs to Sister Day. We must all learn to continue without what we have lost, such is the Way of the Wild, and as the Wild gives, the Wild takes away.” Here there was a murmur among the villagers, but whether it was anger directed to the unfeelingness of the Shaman or a cry of pain, Bloodfang could not tell. “However,” continued the Shaman, “I do not believe that what happened here was part of the Wild.” A gasp rose unanimously. Could it be that the Shaman was really suggesting…? Bloodfang wondered in disbelief. “You have all heard the Prophecy, you know what it implies. You all know the myths, and you have all spent countless hours discussing the morals and lessons of them. But what you do not know…” He trailed off. The whole village was holding its breath, waiting for the Shaman to recommence. “What you do not know is that unlike most of the tales, the Prophecy is historical fact!” The congregation exploded into cries. The Shaman was silent.
Bloodfang was shocked. He, like all the children of the village, had been brought up learning the same stories as everybody else. They were tales of the Forest, always dealing with animals and spirits, and they explained through made-up tales how the spirits worked, and how mankind was best meant to live alongside the Wild. The Prophecy was one such tale, telling of an evil spirit that had long ago ensared humans, making them worship him, and forcing them to do atrocious deeds in his name. Eventually the spirit was defeated by a band of heroes, each with the soul of a different animal. The moral of the story was that only difference and respect for nature could overcome the giant evil of homogeneous thinking that the evil spirit in the tale represented. The prophetic aspect of the tale stated that one day the spirit would return, although Bloodfang had always thought that to be no more than a melodramatic ending to a fable.
^^ Yay, more story.
I’ll continue in my next post, I have to go hold a ladder for dad while he cleans the gutters and sprays me with water.
Nearg. I’m wet. And nearly was impaled by a clod of leaves and mud. *sigh*
~~~
The group no longer botherd with whispers now, speaking louder as they fought to be heard above the growing roar. Shouts of rage mingled with moans of loss, all of it worsining the shurning nausia that Bloodfang fought to keep at bay. Turning away, he walked from the edge of the goup and into the forest, stoping when the shouts of the people had subsided to a distant thrum. He took deep breaths, controling his stomach as best as he could.
To take his mind off it, he ran through the Prophesy in his head again. 5 heros, a Raven, a Cat, a Hawk, a Wolf, and a Bear. It had been many years since a boy had won against a bear and taken it’s spirit, the only surviving Bear he knew of was an elder now, and almost blind. But how could it be returning now? Times were good, spring was advancing steadily as winter withdrew it’s skeleton fingers rom the earth.
Feeling another wave sweep his body, he crouched down and set his jaw. Only children became sick at the sight of blood and loss, and he was no child. He would bear what came at him, take it in stride. That’s what warriors did.
***COME HERE***
109- The only person who saw that was me, and I come here anyways. Try doing it in the daylight hours.
****COME HERE****
E2MB, on the HT thread I only meant people burning flags in a malicious way. I actaully have done something similiar to what you did at boy scout camp.
Wow. You couldn’t find him?
*ahem* COME HERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
You know, E2MB, instead of posting frequent commands to “COME HERE” you could just write. I’m not especially motivated or moved by this RRR, but I can’t just abandon it (even though I never meant to write on it in the first place) so if someone puts a continuation, I will write more, and besides, if we have me posting every third story piece, it will grow considerably less bloody, which would, IMHO, be a very good thing. I hate blood.
Childe chased the memory of the shadow through along the rocky path. The real thing was long gone, but she kept running, jumping from stone to stone when the path itself disappeared. She was no longer running after something, she was running away from the carnage in the village.
And here was a place where the cliff above had collapsed, obliterating the path and standing too high for even the most nimble of ordinary people to climb. But Childe could.
115 – I’d write, except I have absolutely no inspiration for this story at all. I’ll stop.
Wow. I’ve been gone for a week, and this thread has gained nine posts.
118 – I know. This thread has been shockingly active lately, hasn’t it?
119- Sarcasm?
I’m going to officially quit this RRR. That won’t stop me from unofficially writing, but it might stop me from being quite so extreme as I normally am.
Suddenly she tripped and fell, crying out in pain. From behind a boulder, a man stepped out. He had a soft voice, tinged with deep sorrow, and he helped her to her feet.
“Who are you?” asked Childe.
“I am Bloodfang. Who are you?”
SOMEONE ACTUALLY WROTE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
*dies of shock*
“I am no one,” said the girl sadly. “But my name is Childe.”
82- Why did it close?
I’m not going to quit, I’m going to try to get over my writer’s block. Maybe I’ll join an RRR that actually lives.
*sigh* This thread is almost offically dead. Even if I did write something, no one would continue. *sadnes*
126- I might.
126- I’d try, but I probably wouldn’t have anything to say.
Bloodfang eyed the girl as he helped her to her feet. She apeared to be younger than he, around her Coming of Age. He hadn’t thought twice about helping her, but now his naturally wary nature sprang up to shield him from a possible, if highly unlikely, threat.
“I’m Childe.” SHe said, cringing inwardly as she spoke. In her village, after someone had found their kindred spirit or, mare rarely, Primary, they would include this while introducing themself. SHe couldn’t, however, as she had no idea when her birthday was, hence the single day she would be able to find her connection to the creature. She felt flashes of panic (though she kept them hidden) every now and then at the fear of acceentally missing her Coming of Age, she had been found a few weeks old near the end of the summer, a late birth, so it would be even harder to tell.
“Where do you come from?” The man asked, a guarded tinge coloring his words.
“I’m from…” Childe paused, doubting telling this man the place of her home. She knew nothing about him, he was just a stranger in the forest. He could be anyone, a runaway, an outscast. It was to late to stop now, though, without looking susoicious. “Florgena.” She said finally, watching his face carefully.
Bloodfang relaxed slightly. The girl wasn’t lieing, that much he could tell. And Florgena was a peacefull town about an hour’s walk west. But…
“How did you get across the cliffs? Few can climb them, and rarely one’s as small as you.”
Childe blushed. “I’ve always been good at clibing. And I can fit my hands in some of the places other people can’t.” She looked at him again, her cool green eyes narrowed slightly. “Where are you from?” Her slight stress on the third word was barely evident.
“Wanguto.” He was visably calmer, and noted that at this sudden distraction the nausia he had been atempting to keep at bay had almost compleatly subsided. But something still tugged at his mind…
“Why were you running?” He asked. “You didn’t come all the way from your village, did you? That’s far to be keeping a pace as you were.”
***
Time to stop. I have an idea as to where this could go if no one else posts again. *reproachful looks*
THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU! Now I have to think of something…Well, here goes. It’ll probably be horrible, but oh well. You can just ignore it.
Childe explained what happened, with Bloodfang listening carefully. Eventually, he spoke, “The same has happened to my village. I have set out to attempt to avenge it, but I have little hope, as I am told by a prophesy that to do that I will have to find another 4 people, a Raven, a Cat, a Hawk, and a Bear. The last troubles me most, however, as bears are notoriously dangerous. I feel confident of finding the Raven and Hawk, and definitely the keen-eared Cat.”
At hearing this last sentence, Childe started. Of course she thought. That would explain how I heard those sounds back at the village.
“I…I…I may be the cat. Before the earthquake, I was hearing sounds from afar, without any explanation. I have even been called a cat by the other children of my village, because of my ability to climb. I may be one of the ones that you are looking for.” She blushed as she spoke, for she thought it a great assumption to believe that she, the nameless girl, could be part of a great prophesy.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
All right, I hope that that helps. I’ve got to go to bed.
I don’t know what to post. *cringes under the glares*
It’s fine, I feel the same way a lot here. When I re-read my post it sounds even worse than it did when I was writing it.
130- Good, but I don’t know if we should have her realize she’s a cat just yet. She didn’t realize that the conversation she heard had been halfway across the town, and it seems as if her ‘powers’ turn on and off randomly. She makes for a more interesting character if she thinks there’s something wrong with her.
Yeah, good point. How much of it can be salvaged? I don’t really mind if my writing’s made useless, but it would be nice if some was saved.
134- The first paragraph, before Childe realizes that she could be the Cat.
134- Yes, I like the first part. We’ll keep that. Just the last 5 lines.
That’s all very nice, but what about writing something? Maybe we should have a rule that you aren’t allowed to post on this thread without writing something. And if no more is posted my writing’ll be useless anyways.
~~~~~~~~~
Childe explained what happened, with Bloodfang listening carefully. Eventually, he spoke, “The same has happened to my village. I have set out to attempt to avenge it, but I have little hope, as I am told by a prophesy that to do that I will have to find another 4 people, a Raven, a Cat, a Hawk, and a Bear. The last troubles me most, however, as bears are notoriously dangerous. I feel confident of finding the Raven and Hawk, and definitely the keen-eared Cat.”
“Can I…” Childe stopped here, regaining the courage that had fled from her as soon as she started speaking, “Can I come with you, to help look?”
Bloodfang was taken aback, never expecting to hear such a request from an orphan. However, recovering from his shock he replied, “I suppose.”
~~~~~~~~~
I’m out of ideas for now. I also reposted the first part of my last post.
“Alright then.” Childe brushed the dirt off her dress, and made as if to start up the cliffs again.
“Wait!” cried Bloodfang. “What are you doing?”
Childe glanced up at the nearly vertical cliffs above. “Climbing,” she stated simply.
“Are you a fool?” Bloodfang asked incredulously. “You would fall and be killed. Why not just go by the paths?”
“Oh.” Childe had nothing to say to that. “I don’t think I would fall. I have very good balance.”
“Are you sure?” cried Bloodfang. “What if you fall? I dont want you to die!”
How much of the story have you read? Because I don’t really think that Bloodfang would care much, or at least wouldn’t communicate it in that way.
~~~~~~~~~
“Well, as long as you’re coming along with me you’re not going to risk your life. You’re coming on the paths with me, unless you want to go alone?
~~~~~~~~
No, that wasn’t very good either.
140- It was good.
Childe hesitated, looking up at the towering cliffs. It would be so easy just to climb up, much faster and less troublesome than going by the paths, but she didn’t really want to go alone . . . “Oh, alright,” she sighed. “I’ll come by the paths.”
137- That’s a good idea.
~~~
“Come on then,” said Bloodfang briskly, and set off, with Childe trotting resignedly behind him.
Hope this helps.
~~~~~~~
After a day of walking, Bloodfang decided that they would have to rest. Of course, when he mentioned this to Childe she said that it wasn’t worth the time, but she didn’t argue. She knew that they couldn’t afford something like that at the time, after a day of walking, with heated discussions about which way to go. All of this was on top of the climbing incident, as well.
They slept well, without any disturbances. That is, none until the morning, when Childe heard cries of pain. However, Bloodfang heard nothing, and when they looked for people they found nothing, so they dismissed it as a dream. At least, Bloodfang did, but Childe wasn’t so sure.
Come on, people! Where are you?
~~~~~~
They traveled like this for days, walking the whole day and stopping at night. They had no idea where they were going, or even why they couldn’t take a rest once in a while, except that all good heroes walked for days on end, rarely stopping. And so, this is what they did.
Once, Childe saw her village, When she did, she didn’t mention it for fear that Bloodfang would stop at it. Only when they were days past it did she mention it, when Bloodfang had told her that they were looking for a village for supplies.
~~~~~~~
Yes, I got bored and changed the style. Too bad, no one else’s writing. At all.
I’m so sorry. I can’t write when I have block, and on this thread I can’t even say I have block without writing. It’s a paradox.
~~~~~
Bloodfang cursed. “We are running out of food!” he told her. “We need to find a village soon!”
Childe stood her ground. “I won’t go back there,” she said.
“We can’t go back,” Bloodfang said, calming somewhat. “We don’t have enough food.”
Childe was silent as this sank in. She wasn’t much bothered. As long as there was a water and fire, she could probably manage to catch something, and she had the small knife that she used to cut flowers and herbs. Bloodfang was worried, though.
“Don’t worry,” she said comfortingly. “We’ll manage somehow. You’re a Wolf, surely you can kill something. I know how to cook.”
Shadowkat said that she’d post again on this thread, so the Kokonvention was actually useful.
~~~~~
“I suppose,” admitted Bloodfang.
~~~~~ That was completely useless, but I had to write something.
146-*gasp!* As if it wasn’t going to be otherwise!
~~~
Just then, a blood-curdling scream ripped through the forest. Childe whipped her knife out of its sheath as Bloodfang sprang into fight stance. Abruptly, the scream was cut off. Bloodfang and Childe glanced at each other and took off running. They tore through the trees in search of the noise’s source, almost sure that it would lead them to something they needed, be it food, information, or anything else that was useful.
~~~
Question: what exactly are they looking for (as in, do they know what destroyed the village, or do they know about the shadow-thingy)?
And, yes, I’m adding another character. I’m leaving for Williamsburg right now, so I can’t write for a while (I don’t know if they have a computer where I’m staying.), but I would like for the character to be somewhat weak in appearance and manner, but to, unbeknowest to them or anyone else, hold a VERY dark secret, essential to the story. Thanks!
Suddenly Bloodfang stopped, and Childe nearly crashed into him from behind. He shook his head angrily, and she stepped away from him warily.
“I am letting my stomach rule my mind.” He growled, mostly to himself. “We have no idea what we’re running towards, it could be anything. A trap.”
Childe paused, considering. This was true. They had sprang up, barely taking the time to grab their belonings befroe hurtling striaght towards whatever had made the noise.
Bloodfang stepped forward, carfully placing his feet on the ground so as not to make much noise, Childe following behind him slowly, stepping lightly on te mosses and new-fallen leaves so as not to alert anyone to their presence.
I had an idea. Whee! I love ideas!
~~~~~~
But their presence had already been detected. “Hello?” queried a thin and unhappy voice, and when they peered around the tree from which it had come, they saw the pale chubby face of a child no older than six.
Bloodfang only tightened his grip on the spear, and Childe made no move. The faces of both remained impassive, until the child burst out of the small pile of leaves and threw his small thin arms around Childe’s legs as high as he could reach.
The girl melted, sinking down onto her knees in front of the boy. “What’s the matter?” she asked, as if it were something she could not guess the answer to.
The child pointed wordlessly to a hump of cloth among the trees. “Staaghur,” he said. “Hurt.” He spoke in strange broken sentences, and it reminded Bloodfang of something that he couldn’t quite recall.
“Staaghur?” asked Childe hesitantly. “Who is Staaghur?” Staaghur. Such an odd and foreign name.
“Father,” said the boy.
~~~~~~~
This ties into Cinnamoon’s post about “Staaghur and his boy.”
I feel like a fog, not that it matters. I’ve pretty much been doing nothing , but eh. Today was a loss. I haven’t gotten much done for a while.
150- Excuse me? What does that have to do with this? Do you know what an RRR is? Are you new? *pies just in case*
And now I’ve posted, so I have to write. Botherbotherbother. Meh.
~~~~~~
Childe threw Bloodfang a glance that clearly said, Should we help him?
Bloodfang looked at Childe, at the boy, then back at Childe. Clearly, she wanted to help him, but after so many strange things had happened, who knew if this were just another trap? He decided to ask a question similar to that which had already been asked, but with a little twist.
“What
NOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! It cut off the rest of my post! Grr….
~~~
(Cont.)
is Staaghur?” he inquired of the boy.
“Hurt.” the boy reiterated. Childe looked at him pityingly.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Morbirohn.” replied the boy. A look of terror mixed with anguish crossed Childe’s face as she sprang away from the boy.
“What is it?” asked Bloodfang.
“M-M-Morbirohn…that’s the name of…of…”
“What? The name of what?!”
“…the man who killed…my Keeper.” gulped Childe, tears beginning to flood her eyes.
OY!!! GLASSBORO, I need you here!!!!!!
Sorry, sorry. I’m here now, but I was used to it just being Alice and me, so I didn’t bother refreshing it. I’m guilty…I was going to refresh it next time I did a mass check, though. I’m also being an evil person, and not writing in this post. I’ll do my best to get something out soon, though.
154- Will I do? Tough he’ll probably drop by also.
155-*growls* Lol.
156-I was going to say “Or Jadestone.”, but I figured you’d probably check it out, anyway. I would.
it’s a neat story, but I don’t want to read it all yet…I’ll just wait for someone to compile it.
What’s a Keeper?
I’m not writing in this post. Oh dear.
Well, I was going to let somebody else decide that, because I didn’t want to take total control of the story (I already made a new, important character), but I suppose I will…hm…ok, I’ve got it.
A Keeper, in Childe’s village, is a person who takes care of an orphan, taking them in as a child of their own, almost. It’s kinf of like foster care, though, in that the Keeper only takes care of the child until the child is old enough to be an apprentice. In Childe’s case, her Keeper lived next door to the Head Woman, who, as you will recall, came to take care of Childe. Therefore, Childe came to be very close to her Keeper, who we will call–
AAAHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!! I have an idea!!! Ok, so you know how this story is slightly dry, at the moment? And you know how I said that something about a war between light and dark and all that good stuff would make a really cool RRR? And you know how ya’ll said that we couldn’t start another RRR until we finished one? Well, what if we made Myona (the Keeper [get it?] of the Gates of Dawn) Childe’s Keeper, and made this little quest of Childe’s and Bloodfang’s just part of a huge story, having to do with the whole universe as we know it?! How cool would that be??? Ok, I’m done, but let me know what you think, please.
Anyway, Childe and her Keeper were very close, and developed quite the bond, so it was a very emotional experience for Childe when her Keeper was brutally murdered on a dark Spirit’s Night (which is like a combination of Halloween and Devil’s Night)…no one knows why she was murdered, but, at the scene of the crime, an amulet was found, bearing a circle with a triangle in the middle, in which rests a swirl, lying on top of which is a diamond. No one knows what this means, either (which means that it has to come up and be discovered later). [I’ll send a drawing of the amulet mark later.]
So, you like?
Yes! I like! And I also like the idea of compiling those two stories.
woah. at least it’ll be more interesting.
Yup, yup, yup! I’m just that cool…lol.
HEY PEOPLE!!! KINDA NEED YOU HERE!!!!
I only have so much resources, guys…
The Amulet design sort of sounds like a version of the thing from HP… mmaybe it should just be something like two feathers with a moon-sheped claw mark over them?
Sorry! I’ll be back later, but I kinda have to get off now.
165-I was going for semi-symmetrical, and I hadn’t gotten to that part in HP, yet…it’s along story, don’t ask, please.
166-It’s ok…I was just attracting attention.
PEOPLE, PLEASE DON’T JUST LEAVE ME LIKE THIS!!!!!!!!!!!!
(I’ll be sending in a drawing of the amulet marking shortly.)
I’m not meaning to, but if you notice I haven’t been on any of the threads much recently.
Sorry!
I’m sorry too, but…well…I suppose I could write this one all by me lonesome, but…well, I’d rather not, savvy?
“Your Keeper is dead?” Bloodfang said incredulously. A Keeper took care of an orphan, and for a Keeper to die while the orphan was in his or her care was viewed as a curse upon the child forever. Most children whose Keeper had died, died also, having been cast out into the forest. Very few were brave enough to take on a child whose Keeper was dead.
Childe nodded, her tears drying up now, and wiped her face with the back of her hand. The tears were salt, and they stung. “Both of them,” she whispered.
“You had TWO Keepers?” Bloodfang was even more surprised now.
“No,” murmured Childe. “Only one Keeper. But the Head Woman cared for me also, and she died too.”
Bloodfang took several steps back. The air around the group was heavy with far and revulsion. Childe avoiding the boy, Bloodfang avoiding Childe, Moribohn staring beseechingly from one to the other.
*fear and revulsion
Childe glared at Bloodfang.
“Look, I’m not cursed, ok?! I’ve just…had some…bad luck with my Keepers, if you want to call both of them that.”
174- Just so you know, OK derives from the purposeful misspelling of All Correct, Oll Korrect. (Or Oll Korrekt?)
I’m just saying.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Bad luck!” Bloodfang ejaculated. “Bad luck! Bad luck, yes! It’s a curse!”
“It’s not!” said Childe hotly, the tears starting to fall again, not for her Keepers this time, but for herself. “I’m not cursed!” she cried again. “People always say that, and they avoid me, and won’t meet my eyes, but I’m not! It’s just bad luck!”
Morbirohn interrupted this argument by plaintively tugging on Childe’s skirt. “Staaghurt hurt,” he said, in effort to make himself understood. “Staaghur father.”
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
We need to sort some stuff out. Morbirohn the kid isn’t the same as Morbirohn the murderer, is he?
175- Which origanated in WW ||
175-Oh, heavens, no! His name is just the same, but he still has a sort of role in the whole thing, and is a child with a very dark secret, as I said before. I’ll write more later, but it’s, like, 9:40 where I am, and I have things to do. I’m going to a Ron Paul rally in Chicago tomorrow!!! *gasp!* I’m asking my dad if we can visit Muse Hqts. OMG!!!!!!!!!!!!!
177- Hisss.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“Where is your father?” asked bloodfang.
Wordlessley, the boy brushed some saplings aside to reveal a small hut. A groan came from inside.
178-Oh, hush…I’ll write soon.
omigosh, have u guys read Twilight by Stephenie Meyer??? it totally rocks, and it’s all about blood. NEway, kool story
180-So write! Please…
“what should we do?” cried out ______.
I left it blank because I don’t know if bloodfang or childe.
Et-em! Twilight, you people! Read it! (childe should say it)
If you want to tell people to read certain books, do it in the thread designated for such.
I already did exclamationpoints
180- Not really, Twilight is a relationship story. This isn’t really. There may be some in it later, but it’s not the main focus.
Bloodfang stepped over to the door, dried leaves crunching on the ground near the hut, though it was still summer. He had to hunch his back fit through the doorway, his head brushing he low ceiling once he was through nonetheless.
The room was smalll and cramped, and on the dirt floor sat a low table with an overturned bowl, ash-filled fire pit, and sleeping pallet woven of dried rushes. On the pallet was a man, older then Bloodfang by perhaps as many as 20 summers (I’m thinking Bloodfangs around 17 ish, and the people live to around 40 (it’s a long time ago, and there are many hazzards in their lives)), but it was hard to tell as his face was the color of smoke and his breathing shallow and rapid. A smell like stale meat and congealing pus eminated from his, and flys danced near the corners of his mouth. As Bloodfang looked his gave a slight whimper that rose to a hacking cough, blood sprayiing from his mouth and flecking the sained rushes. He heard a small moan behind him, and glanced around to see Childe swaying on the threshhold, eyes closed. She had not seen much of death before this week, no doubt this brought back memories of how she found her own village.
The boy stood behind her, eyes bright and curious, watching.
Bloodfang grimiced, and shuffled closer to the man. He took the lose ends of the woven mat and gripped them in his strong palms, trying not to jostle the man much as he backed out towards the light and fresh air. He wasn’t quite sure what ailed the man, desease or injury, but he wasn’t going to stay in this chamber any longer. The man gasped and coughed some more as Bloodfang felt the sunlight hit the back of his neck and stood up straight. He carefully laid the palet down in the middle of the clearing, then looked around for Childe. She was leaning against a tree a few feet away, taking deep breaths. “He needs water. Can you find some?” He asked her. She nodded once, then sprung back into the undergrowth, leaving only a ruslte of leaves behind.
The child still looked curiously at Bloodfang. His eyes were unnerving, large and dark and… they didn’t seem troubled. As if he didn’t mind the smell and decay. “How long has he been like this?” Asked Bloodfang, ignoring his misgivings.
186- I’d say bloodfang is 16 and childe is 18/19.
yeeeaaaaaah, that fits, and twilight has some blood in it [looks slightly offended]
187-I think it’s reversed…
189- why do you think that? chide missed intion, right?
190- No, she hasn’t had a coming-0f-age yet anyway, even though she never would have. Blodfang has, and killed a wolf in single combat earlier in the story. He acts older, too.
Now i changed my mind and agree w. jadestone
OOOGY. BLOODDE.
*hands over choklit*
Going through the story, editing it. I may add some things to explain parts better and stuffins while this gathers dust. I’ll post a compilation in a bit.
194-Oh, good! That’ll really help us get back on track…
Though I doubt I’ll finish by november, so it might be delayed for an extra month… Grr. I think I’ll try to come here whenever I have a block on Nano and write a bit, so things keep moving and it might help me find away around probles I have with my nano story.
But woo! All the spelling has been corrected!
“Always,” said the boy simply.
Bloodfang stared at the man in amazement. What kind of witchcraft was this?
l’m thinking that the man is some kind of spirit, and that he gives aid or reveals knowledge or something to those who help him.
198-Um, I was more thinking that he was Staagur, you know? But it’s ok, we can make this the adopted father, or the father, or whatever….
Why can’t staguur be a spirt? That’s what l meant.
*stares in shock*
People….people…. I can’t handle this. People actually posted on here. On RRR2007.5. *dies of shock*
I guess that I need to catch up.
Whee, this is exciting. Time to step back from Nano, and this is just what I need, so it’ll be great. I’ll add in Aga’s… sentence… and print it out and stay up writing till midnight. Who needs sleep? I’m certainly not used to it.
COOL! I THINK I’LL TRY!
the old man spoke. “This is witchcraft from a higher dimenson of being. With this witchcraft anything is possible.”
Bloodfange shuffled closer to the man, being very cautious. He reached out to touch the old person’s cloak, but felt nothing but air. His hand retreated with a microsecond.
203- NOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
*dies* *comes back to life*
204 – what’s your problem, buster?
203- Er, sorry, but that doesn’t really fit with what we’re writing at all. Have you read this whole thread/story?
Oh, I did write more. It’s in the middle though, to help explain some things. I’ll type it up in a bit.
206) It’s okay, I don’t mind. I did read the entire thread though, alebit a little quickly because I had to go to bed soon after. I think I’ll read it again more slowly this time.
207- Thank you. If you’re confused on anything ask me and I’ll try to explain so you can help write (I must admit, the name change made me more willing to let you join the story. Not that I wouldn’t have, but I would have been wary of your posts).
To go between 116-121/modified versions of them.
***
Childe chased the memory of the shadow through along the rocky path. The real thing was long gone, but she kept running, jumping from stone to stone when the path itself disappeared. She was no longer running after something, she was running away from the carnage in the village.
And now that the Head Woman was gone, she really had no place there. She never really had, to be truthful, but at least then no one had questioned her right to be there. The head Woman had said she was going to stay, and there would be no more discussion after such a proclamation. The village wove her into their workings, and while she didn’t truly belong she fit, a thread that completed the pattern even if it was of a different material.
Childe hadn’t learned about how she’d been found until later, of course, when she noticed that her upbringing in the dark of the Head Woman’s hut and the glaring sun was a bit more chaotic than other childerens, she wasn’t as close to the Head Woman as they were to their parents. No one was.
The Head Woman had told her matter-of-factly that she was a foundling, they didn’t know who her parents were but she was a part of this village now, so she’d better show it by finishing her chores.
She had returned to them, relieved. SHe’d been worried there was something seriously wrong with her.
But now… the Head woman was- well, there would be a new one now and she might not be so accepting, especially in these dark times where anything new was shunned, thinking differently from others starting to be scored. Corruption was leaking into the village, she had heard it in her guardian’s midnight pacings and dark troubled eyes than she’d let on…
It might not be safe to stay now, all in all. If she was considered the source of bad luck, as she might be…
No one would miss her, really. She would be marked down as one of those killed by the terrifying lurching of the earth. She remembered this and squeezed her eyes shut, determined not to cry.
And here was a place where the cliff above had collapsed, obliterating the path and standing too high for even the most nimble of ordinary people to climb. But Childe could. She had ben running for so long, her chest heaved with both lack of air and restrained sobs. Climbing required more thought, more concentration. There would be less room in her mind for other things.
Fart Festival? Excuse Me?
Dead…
Well and truly, it would seem. *sadness* Especially since Shadowkat left and it was basically her and me since FS left too, and Glassy helped a bit but he’s gone too. 
Alice was here a bit but it’s not her thing with the blood and such. *sigh*
Wow. I posted on the exact aniversary of this thread’s creation about it’s death. That’s… sad…
I may write on this randomly, as I’ve said, but no promises anymore. I don’t have a lot of time, though I did enjoy tis plot and such
As I said when I left, if anything happens on here I may well help. No other threads, though.
212- Hi, Glassboro!
I don’t think I can bring this thread back to life, but I’m glad you haven’t forgotten the Blog.
I’m not going to forget this place…and I’m not going to talk here. That’s cheating. I don’t doubt that it’s possible to find me on the internet…
*goes off singing Rouse Your Dream until something actually happens*