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    • CommentTimeFeb 14th 2007 edited

    Gahc Yeemoli ran swiftly in the dark night, clutching his son Drahc, age four, close to his chest. Far distant yet clear noises from their pursuers could be heard echoing through the parched desert air. Noise could travel vast distances in arid regions, and the angry tones of the men behind never allowed Gahc to slow his pace. He slipped over a loose stone and gasped when his shoulder was badly bruised by a sharp rock. turning hard, he had rolled on his shoulder to protect the child from the fall. Drahc moaned slightly in fear as they fell, but quickly grew quiet has his father again sped across the unknown desert into he night.
    Unable to run any longer and covered with bruises and bloody gashes, Gahc stumbled against a lage rock. Feeling with his left hand and guiding Drahc at a slow walk with the other, he discovered a man sized opening and slipped through it. Just two steps beyond his feet found a small stream, about three feet wide, which seemed to be coming out of the rock. Right then an overly loud coarse voice filled the air no more than thirty feet distant.
    "He's here somewhere. The dogs are getting excited. Let's let them go and finish him off."
    "No," said the cold and remorseless voice of their leader. "We will capture him alive. And his child." The other man grunted unwilling acquiescence.
    Hastily, Gahc felt around the opening where the water was rushing out. It might just be large enough to fit both him and the child through. He could, however, feel no air flow coming out with the water. If they swam into the hole either they would drown if he couldn't find an air pocket, or be swept out into the hands of those in pursuit. Deciding it was their only chance, Gahc grasped his son tightly against him with one arm, placed both feet on the solidest ground in the stream he could find, and shoved through.


    A torch light in the hands of one of the pursuers shone flickering light patterns on the rocks surrounding them as the dogs discovered the opening through which their prey had fled. Then they came to the stream. First they sniffed around the near side, and next on the far. The searchers cursed angrily when they returned to their masters without success.
    "Make them search again!" The leader snarled angrily at his subordinate. "I will take those two prisoner again or know why not!"
    All the animals were sent to search anew, but returned no more successful than previously. The men looked anxiously at their leader. He snarled again, and spit out another command.
    "All of yo, get down and serach this place thoroughly. He had no where to go but across the stream!"
    At one end of the twenty feet of visible water the stream entered view from out of a rock, and at the other vanished into another. Another twenty minutes of futile search and the men returned with clothing torn and fingers bloodied from the rough rock. The man with the overly loud voice approached their leader and hesitantly said, "he's not here anywhere. . . " There was a loud crunching noise as the leader backhanded him and broke his nose.
    "The whole lot of you is incompetent" screamed their leader furiously. "You've gone and missed where he's gone off to and now there's no telling where that is! You've completely trampled the ground and wiped off his tracks!"
    His followers stayed silent, and well out of range should he desire to knock their heads around. The man continued to rage for over a half hour.

    So, this is the first snippet of a story of mine. I'll continue adding pieces at intervals, be they regular or no. Anyhow, comments and such are welcome.

    I really like this one! I hope you'll have some more material for me by the time you get all the previous posted ...

    I'll be reading right along.


    *encourages, encourages*
    • CommentTimeFeb 14th 2007
    Now maybe you'll write more on it for me!!!!!

    *claps gleefully*
    • CommentTimeFeb 27th 2007
    They're going to get caught, I just know it! Aren't incompetent bad guys fun? Me, I'm a sorta badguy, because I do blackmail and threats and all that, but I'm not incompetent.
    • CommentTimeMar 5th 2007 edited
    Gahc and Drahc had surfaced in an underground cavern, only twenty seconds after submerging. They sat panting heavily on its dry floor as they listened to the efforts being made outside to discover their whereabouts. Then, when Gahc had regained his breath, he began to search around them, afterordering his son to remain where he was. He had felt his way cautiously for about five feet when he accidently knocked something metal out of a large hole in the wall onto the ground. Kneeling, he picked up what seemed to be a candle holder, although alas it held no candle. Then he spoke in an undertone.
    "Drahc, crawl slowly over her and hold this for me."
    "What is it Dad?" Came the child's voice.
    "I believe it is a candle stand," answered his father,"but it doesn't have a candle in it. I am going to search this hole where it fell from."
    Drahc reached him without mish and held the stand while Gahc explored the crevice with his fingers. "Aha," exclaimed his father. "There it is." He placed the stub of a candle firmly onto he stand. "And here, it seems, is the flint and steel. we shall have light in no time." A small light soonshone from the candle which Drahc held tightly with both hands. Its light revealed the haggard features of a worn and wearied man and the pale countenance of his son.
    Instead of immediately continuing their search of the chamber they sat in silence until the echoes of noise made by thoe outside the rock died completely away. Following a prolonged absence of sound, Gahc forced himself to rise and assess their situation. As he held the candle high and looked around his gaze alighted on a small wooden table and bench. Upon it, covered with a thick layer of dust, were two items. A small scroll was lying in the center of the table, and a map of sorts was spread over the majority of it. Attached to the scroll was a note which said, "He who is in need of aid, read what can be found within this scroll." Also mysteriously inscribed on the wall above the table were the words, "next stop, The Dwelling."
    Drahc had followed his father, and upon sighting the bench ran over and sat on it with obvious delight. He had the same dark hair as his father and a strong frame. When grown, he would likely be of average height also comparable to his father. Even though the night's journey had been rough on him, he still reacted pleasurably to the frst real seat they'd seen in weeks. It took only one night in a cell to form an opinion as to its accommodations, and their stay had been considerably longer.
    The cavern itself was about ten feet wide in any direction, except where a small tunnel seemed to lead off in the direction opposite that which they had come in. Its ceiling was high enough to allow anyone under eight fet tall to stand straight in mst spots. There as also a small pool of clear water in a naturally rounded stone which a small trickle of water constantly flowed through, divertin from the main stream. In certain spots it was obvious that the natural cavern had been further excavated with hand tools, giving it a moe uniform shape. One corner looked to have held a supply of food which had long since been eaten by small animals or had simply decayed over time. Several pairs of old shoes and some old rags were placed neatly in another corner.
    Having surveyed their surroundings once more, Gahc limped over to the bench and sat by his son. He curiously lifted the scroll from the table and slowly undid the leather bindings holding it closed. The writing was in an ancient script, but had faded only slightly with time as it had been kept in a dark and dry area. It was addressed to: The Hope of Rayghar. Slowly Gahc began to read the words aloud. Although sometimes he puzzled over the strange flourishes, it was still his language just hundreds of years old.
    • CommentTimeMar 5th 2007
    Clue for Gahc: f generally = s

    How would I know? So what if I'm a sophisticated blackmailer!* It isn't like that's an oxymoron.

    *At least, I've read the Declaration of Independence...
    I think most blackmailers would consider themselves 'sophisticated.' However, that doesn't make you any less so, Oh Dreaded Shadow of the Night.
    • CommentTimeApr 26th 2007 edited
    You have reached the last of your many way points, it read, and escape is near. However, the most treacherous portion of your journey is still ahead. In this place can be found all the necessary items for your journey. On the table you will find a map which will guide you as safe a location as has ever been known to exist. I, the last Master of Rayghar, hope that you may succeed in escaping the havoc which was wreaked on our city. A book of highest importance rest s in your hands for safe keeping, and it is imperative that you keep it from the hands of our enemies. They would use it as a tool for the destruction of all which is good. The secrets within it cannot be lost or destroyed, for they may still save us in our direst hour. Until that time, journey in obscurity and prepare yourself for the coming war. As a final token of my goodwill, you will find a small east to west compass which can guide you by the copper poles. It may not be in our lifetime, but we will teach our children so that they are enabled to finish what we have begun.

    Late Master of Rayghar,
    Nheema Morchci
    P.S. I would have kept the font more interesting, but the forum doesn't support it, so, no flourishes sorry.
    • CommentTimeSep 30th 2007 edited
    Chapter One
    Secrets veiled in Sand

    Gurobbli desert was destitute of visible life under the midday sun. The air was still, although occasionally a slight breeze would waft over the sand dunes, scattered rock, and cacti to give a slight respite to any creature possibly braving the scorching heat. As large as all the surrounding territories put together, the Gurobbli spanned an easy five thousand miles in any direction. Caravans avoided traversing more than one day’s journey of it and still, occasionally, some small group would lose their path and be lost hopelessly amidst the dunes. Any compass was useless since many of the small rocks scattered across the sea of sand were magnetic and even the sand itself contained much iron. Unknown to anyone, however, was the fact that someone, two people in fact, lived in the center of the most feared region in all QRursma.


    Had anyone dared to enter the desert and come close to The Dwelling, they would doubtless have missed it altogether. The large rock outcropping was naturally formed and no openings were visible, a detail into which large amounts of strenuous effort had gone, coupled with a skilled mechanical expertise. Access to the entrance was guarded by several ingenious booby traps, as if the desert’s killing heat wasn’t enough. Obscured from view by some large boulders, the door was small, but sturdy and disguised as rock although made mostly of steel.
    Deep within the rock fortress was a forge where the abundant iron ore was put to good use. The smoke which issued from the rocks was the only sign of human life, other than the dwellers themselves, that ever exited the fortress. After each foray the inhabitants erased all signs of life in the vicinity of their dwelling.
    Gahc Yeemoli and his son Drahc Yeemoli had lived in The Dwelling since Drahc was age four. It had taken them three months of slow going with all Gahc’s wounds, following the map’s directions, to reach it. According to the apparent plan of the relay’s previous inhabitants, there would have been enough food available for a portion of the journey. Some snares and a small skinning knife had been beneath the pile of rags in the cavern, which would have been used to secure whatever other sustenance a traveler had needed. Further searching had awarded them with the discovery of a large canteen. It was obvious from the letter and supplies that someone else had been expected there, but had never arrived. This was extremely fortunate for Gahc and Drahc, for without the implements stored there, they wouldn’t have survived the trek. Indeed, likely they would have starved in the cave or been discovered upon their exiting its confines. A search for them went on for days after their disappearance.
    Before leaving they had done several things. Gahc had fashioned Drahc some shoes from one of the pairs which was stored there, and had bound his own wounds with the rags. He also made a pack of sorts within which he placed the snares and an extra pair of shoes. The skinning knife he attached to his belt.
    It was impossible for them to return the way they had come, so he had decided to use the map and go to the mysterious hideaway it spoke of. After a stay of only one night, they both had crept out the rear tunnel and emerged at the base of a large boulder. The hole looked much like one of those made by the five legged saraben, who dwelt in the desert, and who could be captured as food for their journey with the snares.
    Of the whole trip, the first leg was the most difficult. To make tracking or following almost impossible, the first water hole was five nights distant for a healthy traveler. It took them seven, and the last night they had traveled without water.
    When they reached their destination on the ninety-fourth day of travel, they had been confused as to what dwelling had been meant in the letter. A quick examination of the rocks thankfully had revealed a hidden entrance which led them down some stairs for several meters before it opened into a large room. The air that far below the surface of the desert was many degrees cooler and since it was night they were soon shivering. Light from the candle which they had saved showed some oil lamps inset into the rock walls. These were quickly lit to shine brightly upon an immense underground chamber. And in the very center, upon a familiar looking table, with an extremely welcome bench, was another dusty scroll sitting on an old book. Addressed as the other had been it read as follows.

    To: The Hope of Rayghar
    You have reached safety at last an now the time of preparation will begin. In the book under this letter you will find all the information you should need for this preparation. Over these last few , long years you have been trained for the task ahead. Now is the time to fulfill your duty.

    Late Master of Rayghar
    Nheema Morchci
    A medium sized saraben was nibbling complacently on some tender cacti blossom. Little did it suspect that its short, but happy life was about to come to an end. THUNK! All that was still visible of the dagger was its short handle which protruded near the animals heart. Drahc ran over triumphantly from where he had been hiding behind a surprisingly small clump of brush. He’d been stealthily stalking his prey for nearly half an hour before he had been in throwing range. Although he had at his disposal a sling shot and unlimited ammo, nothing compared to the challenge of successfully sneaking up on a creature as wary as the speedy saraben. Also, the knife had been his birthday present for his eighteenth birthday the day before and he had been anxious to test its accuracy. It was decidedly more accurate than his last knife, which was a (token)? to the improvement in his father’s skills as a blacksmith. All assassins were trained as smiths because they never knew when they would need a new weapon, or when it would be necessary to repair an old one. Gahc’s skills had been rusty, however, and he’d needed much practice to bring them back in play. It had taken them until Drahc was ten just to set up a suitable forge and bellows, even with the abundant supply of material. Much difficulty had arisen from the shortage of tools and their first tools hadn’t been properly refined, which had detracted from the amount of heat stress they could stand. After much trial and error, however, they had succeeded in refining the processes to produce strong, but not brittle, high quality steel. The ore available to them was also of a high quality, which eased their task slightly.
    The book under the letter had contained instructions on how to make an assortment of weapons, to be stockpiled as preparation for what seemed to have been an attack. It was a plan to launch an attack upon the ancestors of someone of the same lineage as those who were ruling when they had fled. Gahc had been able to make little sense of some items described in the book, but had taken several useful ideas from it has well. Such as how to make a very lightweight knife with a superb balance. Drahc finished cleaning his prey and placed it in an especially made carrying loop on his belt. After cleaning his knife in the sand, he began to jog home at a rapid pace. The sooner his prey was stored and out of the heat, the longer it would last and the less likely it would turn rancid. All his hunting was done in the early morning, which was the coolest time of day, since they could not hunt at night for fear of the flying creatures called Grethum that winged their way over the desert in the dark. Unless he managed to bag two saraben almost simultaneously, he and his father would usually eat one meal with meat each day. If and when they were hungered during other hours, they would consume the different types of edible roots which were in abundance in the desert. All that was required was the knowledge of where to search.
    As Drahc neared the entrance to their abode, he slowed to a fast walk. The entrance was littered with nasty surprises insisted upon by his father, who had a clearer remembrance of their pursuers. He removed a rock from a crevice at the doors side to deactivate the rockslide which would begin if anyone attempted to break through, although it was unlikely that they would find signs of passage. After entering, he replaced the trap’s trigger and headed down the numerous steps, out of the already hot day, into the Dwelling’s coolness. His father was in one of their only two wooden furnishings. They had constructed two ironwood chairs in the last year. Ironwood trees were the only kind which seemed to grow with any success in the desert. Shaping and collecting ironwood was a chore, however. Even after they had improved their black smithing methods, the ironwood had still dulled their tools rapidly. All of their weapons not made of steel had been constructed of the ironwood, which could be hardened to a degree were the finest sword would grow dull or break without damaging the wood to any great extent. Both of their quarter staffs were made in such a fashion, as well as their slingshots, arrows, and the axes they made. Of course, with the axes it was just the handles which were manufactured with ironwood. They had even joked between the two of them that ironwood trees had more iron ore in them than wood. That explained why the iron in the name came before the wood, which was just an afterthought.
    “What are you puzzling over now?” asked Drahc of his father. “ This passage on the last page is still bothering me,” replied Gahc. “ It should have no affect upon us, as it was meant for someone so far in the past. I, however, am convinced that we have overlooked something vital, which is right here if I could only see it.”
    “Well, I have brought in a saraben and will place it in the cellar.” The cellar was no more than a small hole at the deepest region of the Dwelling, where it stayed the coolest. Frequently the cellar stayed twenty degrees cooler than the rooms where the inhabitants spent most of their time.
    “Good job” answered his father. “So how does your new knife work?”
    “It is far more accurate, and better balanced as well,” answered Drahc grinning. “I was able to take this,” he glanced at the creature, “from twice the usual distance.”
    “Nicely done!” exclaimed his father.
    “Now that you’re back,” Gahc continued, “ I ‘ll go below to the armory and begin on today’s project. Meet me down there after you store the saraben and maybe we can study more than just weapon construction.”
    Drahc grinned even more widely at this and made off with his burden. Although he had trained consistently with his father since they had been here, frequently he hadn’t been getting much practice. His father’s speech had more than hinted that they might take some time to improve Drahc’s skills. Just recently, Drahc had proven that he could give as much has he took with either the sword or quarterstaff. Although his weapons were still necessarily lighter than his father’s, they were quite adequate. He had greater agility, as he spent a great deal more time clambering over the exterior of their dwelling than his father. His skill level was such, that though his father was expert, their bouts left Drahc feeling as though if he had only tried a little harder he would have come out the obvious victor. This was, in fact, because Gahc let just enough of his own skill show as would press Drahc to greater efforts, although he himself was ready to admit that it was doubtful whether or not he ever held back any longer.
    Wow, that's long. Well, like I said a bunch at once.
    If people feel interested enough to comment, who knows, maybe more will come. As some of you well know, more has been written. ^^
    C'mon, you have more written, add it all. Then you won't have an easy way out when we want more, and we can holler at you for slacking.


    Besides, it's been a while since I read this, and I want more! more! more!!!

    O.o, you're on here also? Well, I'll consider continually adding larger portions at least.
    • CommentTimeOct 7th 2007
    Greedy us. Give us more.

    I won't threaten Drahc until I know him better, though
    It seemed that being taught by an expert from a young age was once again proving to be the best way to make a new expert; a better expert. At times in the past couple of years they had even spent time toying around with some knew, completely unorthodox moves. Gahc had made sure that Drahc understood that these moves should absolutely never be used against a master, unless proven to be effective without opening oneself up to a counter attack.
    Their daily life in the Dwelling had been mostly unchanged in the last ten years, since Drahc was eight. They hunted, manufactured weapons, utensils, traps, and furnishings, and puzzled over their gift book which had been under the letter. One thing which had interrupted this was Gahc instructing Drahc in how to read, write, and strike a bargain. Many lessons could not be taught without social interaction. He was, however, educated thoroughly in all possible respects.
    Drahc finished his task quickly and hurried over to the armory. Gahc had taken up a sword and was stropping the blade. Although with swords they only practiced with dull weapons, they would never let their personal weapons fall into disarray. While they had never been used, Gahc had insisted that a practice of constant readiness be applied. His blade doubtless had a flawlessly sharp edge this time, but old habits of alertness and preparation had not died.. Gahc broke off from his sharpening and said, “what weapon shall we have a bout with today?”
    “I would like to attempt the quarterstaff once more,” replied Drahc. This was his father’s favorite weapon, and consequently the one upon which Drahc had failed to match his father’s skill with. Recently he had been practicing his routines much in his spare time, and therefore hoped for a closer outcome this time.
    “Suit yourself” grinned his father in reply. “I can go a bit easy if you prefer,” he suggested, knowing Drahc would refuse. Indeed Drahc showed his disdain for the offering clearly.
    “You will need all the help you can get today,” he replied. “I wouldn’t throw away any advantage if it was me in your position.” Drahc then walked over to the weapon’s stand and chose his favorite staff, one which he had made himself with little guidance from his father.
    “If you like,” he offered his father challengingly, “I will give you a lead of five points to begin with.” Points were scored much as they would have affected someone in a real fight. Although they attempted to lighten their blows if sure of them, their bouts with quarterstaff always ended with both of them bruised and battered to some degree. Drahc had suffered much more than he liked in past fights, and wasn’t letting it happen again, if he could help it. Leaving an obvious opening gave the opponent points as well. Simply pretending to take advantage of such an opening would gain you points. It had been some time since either of them had given up free points though. Gahc had never done so except when the lessons had first begun and he hadn’t needed to exert himself.
    They squared off in the fighting room that was part of the armory. Little within there could be damaged past repair; which was well, since they often knocked over countless other items during their mock battles. There was only one rule: unless otherwise agreed, neither of them could use any object as a weapon besides that which they began with.
    Gahc started the fight by saying, “You leave me no choice but to trounce you sorely!” While finishing his sentence he leapt foreword and thrust with an end of his staff at Drahc’s stomach. This ploy did not catch his son by surprise, since an early lesson had been to ignore what your opponent said when fighting. He pivoted smoothly on one foot and deflected the blow with his own staff. Immediately upon saving himself he swung the opposite end of his staff back at his father. Knowing, of course, that this would be deflected easily, he used the move as a distraction. Just as his attacking blow was parried, he swung again with the lower end of his weapon in a swift arc. This strike had enough force and rapidity to it, although Gahc saw it coming, that he couldn’t bring his weapon with the speed necessary to totally block the blow.
    Drahc stepped back and said, grinning, “One point for me. Sure you don’t want that lead?” Gahc shook his numb arm in surprise, then he grinned back and attacked without a word.
    Don't want to make a single post longer for now. :) Needs one comment before I post the rest of the fight.
    Hurrah for fight scenes! Bring them on!

    The Avid Anemone

    (Note that I did not say 'bloodthirsty Anemone' ...)
    • CommentTimeNov 9th 2007 edited
    Hurrah for fight scenes! Bring them on!

    The Bloodthirsty Trenchcoat

    (Note that I did say 'bloodthirsty Trenchcoat' ...)
    Hahaha, I see how it is. Well, time to unleash the action!
    It was over an hour later when they finally stopped the sparring match. Both had sweated enough to thoroughly soak most of their clothing, and they sank down upon the floor in exhaustion after ending the last round.
    “That was the most tiring match I’ve fought in over eighteen years!” exclaimed Gahc after he had regained the ability to speak.
    “And,” he continued, “you beat me! Never once, in all my years as a member of the Krilch assassins was I beaten with a quarterstaff!
    Gahc had long since told Drahc of his years as an assassin in the city of Krilchi. Among the best with all his weapons, none had bested him at his favorite.
    Drahc still lay panting beside him although he was grinning like a madman. He had gotten the first quick point in the match, but that had not happened so easily again. His father had been careful to guard against such feints afterwards. He’d quickly scored his own first point as well, causing Drahc to make certain that his own guard was tight. They’d fought in a flurry of speed, with staves flickering through the air. Each blow would be blocked rapidly and then followed by another attack. At the end, they were almost to tired to react. Since both were almost equally fatigued, however, this didn’t give an advantage.
    After drawing back from the next to last round, Drahc had realized that neither of them was able to wear out the other. Either he would have to win quickly, or they would tie. At this point, although a tie was several points better than any previous score of his, he didn’t want to settle for it.
    He rapidly assessed his chances, and found only one, since he was not more skilled than his father. Speed had been his greatest asset so far, against the strength and tested skill of his father. This time, however, he had to use skill, and combine it with as subtle a ruse as he could devise. Any trick he would try with speed would be blocked because of his exhaustion. A rapid defeat would follow, as his father always pressed every advantage and was likely looking for a rapid finish as well.
    His decision complete, he advanced holding his weapon in a fast strike position. The majority of his score had come from hits too rapid to be blocked completely. Most likely his father would expect him to try the same, semi-reliable speed moves with the added speed of hope for the finish.
    This of course he did not do. Letting Gahc attack first, he started defensively and made no offensive moves. After deflecting the first set of blows (his father’s hits were to hard to be blocked directly, so his feet had to move almost as fast as his hands) Drahc pressed his offensive. He moved quickly (as quickly as anyone can after sparring for an hour) through a planned routine of speedy feints until he thought the moment was right. Then he pretended an attempted final strike. As Gahc barely managed to position to block it, Drahc shifted and slid his quarterstaff over his father’s staff, but then under his father’s arm. A quick twist and downwards jerk numbed Gahc’s arm and broke his hold on his weapon.
    Yes! Wonderful fight scene! I can tell that you really thought it out. Step by step ... So, tell me, did you act out the moves in your room, or just in your head? I hope all that studying you did of fencing helped.


    That had effectively ended the match, although Drahc had ended his move with the quarter staff positioned directly above Gahc’s heart. In a real fight and hard blow near that region would incapacitate someone for days, if not kill them. Any solid blow would put them out of action for at least the fight’s duration.
    Drahc finally regained his breath and rasped, “My practice,” huff “with the mechanism,” huff, huff, “helped a lot.” He managed to sit upright after finishing his sentence.
    What he spoke of was a device designed by the two of them. They had incorporated a knowledge of springs and levers found in the Book. It was the height of a tall man, and had four arms. Each was slightly longer than half a quarterstaff. All four were set in slots that allowed different movements. One arm moved vertically, another horizontally, and the others moved on two different diagonals. Hitting any arm forced the others to a new position. The device was also on two swivels, which enabled rotation and slight forward- backward movement.
    Drahc had spent many hours practicing with this aid. It had bruised, disarmed, and jarred him for weeks, until practice paid off. He continually had to guard against moving arms while within range.
    “It must have,” agreed Gahc. “Your biggest problem is still a weakness in secondary defense. You tend to leave yourself open to a counter attack. If your first strike does not disable an opponent, then a more than ordinarily strong man will rapidly break that defense.”
    His son listened intently as usual to his father’s advice. “I will take more time to practice defensive moves,” he replied after a moments thought. “ However, today I had hoped to finish yesterday’s project.”
    “Perhaps,” suggested Gahc “we could take a meal break first.” Drahc readily agreed, and they moved to the main chamber for a repast of bread made of dried roots, juicy cacti, and the remains of the previous night’s saraben meat. They first went out to their natural water source to quench their thirst.
    After the meal they met below to complete the making of a small stiletto as a secret weapon for Drahc to carry at the small of his back, and an even smaller one which could be carried up his sleeve. This task took some time, and when they had finished the sun had sunk to the horizon.
    As they again went out to get some water, Gahc said, “this seems like a good night to gather some more ore and possibly some ironwood.” The cool evenings served as collecting times frequently. “Your knifes have used the last of the scraps.”
    They both went and got their packs, and set out into the evening.
    Approximately one mile distant was a good source for iron ore, and a small grove of ironwood trees grew there as well. They soon reached this and rapidly filled their packs with materials; for it was quickly growing dark, and the Grethum would soon be about.
    Thankful People: Dynamic Juggernaut
    • CommentTimeJul 26th 2008
    Hip hip hooray! Someone posted!
    We was in a rut doncha know! (orders all to ignore bad grammer)

    Yay!  *pointedly ignores bad grammar*


    *also ignores le grammar malo*
    Noticing the speed at which dusk approached Gahc said, “Let’s hurry and return with what we have; I’d prefer to be back at the Dwelling when the Grethum are hunting.” He had beat off two attacks by these ugly creatures on their journey, and still bore scars to testify of their fierceness.
    Drahc immediately secured his bundle of gathered iron wood, grabbed his staff, and walked over to where his father waited. As he approached, Gahc also turned to go, turning and taking a step while scanning the darkening sky for any Grethum venturing out early. Watching the sky caused him to miss seeing a medium sized jagged rock that was in front of him. He stumbled and let out a short, pained cry as his right ankle twisted underneath him.
    “Dad!” exclaimed Drahc, “are you okay?” He caught his father’s arm and aided him in rising to his feet. Gahc stood on his left foot easily with this help.
    “I’ve sprained my ankle,” he said angrily. “And I couldn’t have picked a worse time.” He cautiously placed his right foot on the ground, but jerked it up with an exclamation of agony. His ankle was obviously swelling up and was unable to support him in the least.
    “We’ll leave the packs behind,” he said after a moments silence. “You will have to give me support on my right side. There isn’t any chance of making it back before dusk, but let’s hope the Grethum patrol elsewhere this night.”
    Thankful People: Dynamic Juggernaut
    Drahc deposited their packs at the base of a large rock, and returned quickly. He then grasped his staff in his right hand and supported his father with the other. Gahc held his own staff in his left hand as an extra support. They started off at a slow pace, Gahc wincing each time he inadvertently touched his foot to the ground.
    They managed the first half of the mile back without a rest, but it took them half an hour. An old stump at this point allowed Gahc a means of rest, while Drahc took the time to stretch the arm which had cramped from supporting Gahc’s injured side. Five minutes later his father insisted that they continue. The Dwelling was visible from the small rise they were on, only a short distance away in reality yet quite far for their necessary mode of travel.
    Drahc leaned down and assisted Gahc, who grunted in pain as he regained his feet. As they both straightened, the moons light was completely blocked off for a fraction of a second before reappearing. They both froze, instantly knowing that one, if not several Grethum were flying overhead.
    Thankful People: Dynamic Juggernaut
    • CommentTimeSep 22nd 2008
    You've come back! Hopefully, Drahc and Gahc can defeat the Grethum and make it safely back to the cave (*pretends not to have read this far in the story already)

    *pretends with Trenchcoat*

    More, please!


    Pretend away :P Now on with the story . . .remember to note me errors :)
    The desert offered no cover from an overhead attack, nor could they run. Drahc held his staff tightly in one hand. He could not let go of Gahc, who could stand but shakily on his good foot. His father could scarcely stand up to an attack while balancing on one foot. As they stood locked in indecision a huge Grethum rammed into them without warning .
    Gahc gasped in pain as he stumbled to the rocky ground, and struck his injured limb on the hard packed sand. Drahc flew head over heels and rolled to his feet. He had sustained a small scratch from the beasts front claws, and also knew that one of it’s hind hooves had hit him in the left shoulder which felt completely numbed with pain.
    The temporarily departed creature let out a terrifying growl that ended in a shriek much like the sound a saraben made when attacked by a desert owl. Drahc felt goose bumps covering his arms and legs. He moved over to where his father had fallen and grasped his quarterstaff in both hands to fend off the Grethum when it or they returned. A knife as small as a stiletto would be like a flea bite to such a creature.
    Drahc heard the faint leathery sound of wings right before two Grethum appeared out of the sky. They were scant feet away when he switched to a two handed grip at the base of his staff and swung with a powerful overhand at the nearest animal. His hit sent it smashing to the ground in a stunned heap, as the Grethum’s momentum carried them both off their feet. Drahc glimpsed the other veer off towards his crippled father as he tumbled. He groggily pulled his throwing knife from its sheath. Struggling to see straight he threw just as the creature struck at Gahc with its monstrous claws.
    Thankful People: Dynamic Juggernaut
    Found one! An error I mean.

    You said "note me errors" and you should have said "note my arrows". :P

    D.J. The faithful arrow reporter.
    I'll have to change that in my spare time. :P
    Nooo ...! That's not nearly enough! More!!!
    Goooo Anemone!!
    Gahc cried out in pain as two of the Grethum’s claws gouged deep wounds in his thigh and side. Drahc’s knife hit it handle first in the back of it’s head, causing it to falter slightly before flying back into the darkness. The one he had poleaxed still lay in an unconscious heap.
    “Dad,” cried Drahc urgently, “are you badly injured ?”. He was still wobbling as he hurried to his father.
    Gahc was barely able to answer, the shock from blood loss and pain setting in swiftly. “You must bind my leg and side quickly,” he gasped in a whisper. “He cut me to the bone, and the wounds will become infected if you can’t get them cleaned soon.” His son grimaced at this and set to work slicing his cloak in wide lengths and tightly binding the gashes. The dead flesh from a Grethum’s previous kill rotted under its claws, and was as bad as poison in an open wound. They had but to injure their prey and follow like vultures until it dropped from the gangrenous infection that inevitably followed.
    Quickly tying the ruined cloak to the two quarterstaffs, Drahc made a makeshift litter which he could drag by holding the ends of each staff. His father had passed out during the process of binding his wounds, and Drahc strained and grunted dragging him onto the litter. Then he started off, pulling it behind him with the opposite ends bouncing along the rock hard, desert ground.
    Drahc had gone about ten steps when he remembered the Grethum he had rendered unconscious. He gently, but rapidly, lowered the litter to the ground and returned to where it was. The beast had begun to stir as he approached it. Taking his larger stiletto from where it had remained at the small of his back, he plunged the blade full length into its neck, severing its jugular vein and killing it almost instantly. Swiftly wiping the stiletto on the Grethum’s leather-like coat, he replaced it and started back to where Gahc lay.
    Reaching his father he looked back once to be sure that the creature, with its flat, ugly face, and oddly long, floppy ears, was dead.
    Drahc laid a freshly soaked rag on his father’s forehead. The wounds had festered even though he’d cleaned them thoroughly after they made it back to The Dwelling. One injury, the lesser one on Gahc’s leg, had begun to heal. His wounded side had been cut down to several ribs, and was half a foot long and an inch and a half deep. Drahc had watched helplessly as it became infected.
    Gahc had regained consciousness soon after they arrived inside. It had taken almost an hour for Drahc to drag him there across the uneven ground. After asking for water he lapsed back into unconsciousness for a short period. Now, two days later, he was aware of the situation.
    • CommentTimeDec 16th 2008 edited
    I don't know. I'm really bad at picturing evil with floppy ears. I'll work on it. Thanks for posting more!
    Keep it up!
    Chapter Two
    Death, Departure,
    and Deception

    Three days after Gahc regained consciousness, it became evident that the infection had spread to his lungs. Drahc desperately ignored the fact despite his father telling him that they had to accept it.
    When Gahc first realized that he wasn’t going to get better, he had commanded Drahc to sit and listen to him for a moment. Drahc had been driving himself to the point of exhaustion in his attempts to catch saraben and care for his father.
    He wouldn’t allow himself to think. Instead his free time was spent pounding furiously at the forge. Gahc decided it was time for a decision to be made as to the future for his son’s benefit.
    “I may only live a few days longer,” he began, but stopped as he saw the stony expression of Drahc’s face. Then he said firmly, “ You must listen to me! Your future is at stake here, and nothing can be done for me.”
    “That’s not true,” exploded Drahc suddenly. “If you don’t get better everything is over. I have nowhere to go and, and, it was a ridiculous accident!” The last came out in an angry rush.
    “I hope you are not trying to blame yourself Drahc,” said his father sadly. “You protected both of us as well as you could. And spraining my ankle was my own silly mistake.” He grimaced and sighed weakly, “Not so slight a mistake at that.” Then he continued, “But the important thing now is what can be done to prepare you. I believe it is necessary for you to leave this home once I am dead.” He raised his hand slightly to stifle his son’s immediate protest.
    “No, you won’t......” Drahc managed to get out.
    Gahc continued undeterred. “You must take the map, compass, and rations for a month long journey, plus a full canteen. Leave the heavier weapons since you can return for them if necessary. Take only your knifes, staff, and the book to which we have added our improvements on some things. You may think of other things, but only take what is absolutely essential to the trip. It will be fairly speedy since you are in good condition.” His voice began to falter from lack of air, but he continued for another moment. “The most important task of all I will now give you. Find you mother. She is likely still alive, although I know not where. All I have to offer as a guide is the name Riss Treij. He was captain of the guard where we were first held.”
    His son sat immovable after this revelation. Then he spoke, slowly and faltering. “ My mother is alive?” Gahc nodded shakily. He had never mentioned his wife’s fate before. Then he waited as his son took in this newest shock.
    After a moment Drahc shook himself to awareness and spoke. “Very well, I...I will go find my mother.” He spoke softly as though to himself. Then more loudly to his father. “If not for that I do not think I could leave here.” Gahc did not reply, so he continued. “I will go and make a list of things to take now. If you need anything just thump since I’ll be in the room below.” Then, attempting to smile although he had tears in his eyes, he exited the room.
    Does Chapter One have a name?

    Just curious,

    *dances*. Moremoremoremoremoremore!!!!!!
    • CommentTimeJan 10th 2009
    Thinks SC may be operating in a high distraction mode but nevertheless (such a nice word) pleads for additional story
    So . .you may wish to scroll back up to the beginning of chapter 1. Thanks D.J. Somehow the beginning got left off b/c of the two letters being so similar.
    As the days passed with Drahc preparing for his departure, his father grew steadily weaker, with the infection draining all strength from his body. Four days after telling Drahc to leave, Gahc again asked him to sit for a moment. Drahc could tell that he was near death, and his own face was as pale as his father’s. He sat alertly waiting for whatever new topic could possibly be brought up.
    “Have you finished you preparation?” asked Gahc first off. Drahc immediately felt a lump come into his throat.
    “Yes,” he answered. “All but the final packing. Except that book that you wanted me to take. I can’t find it.”
    “That is what I wanted to talk about,” replied Gahc. I have been studying it in my spare time, which has just greatly increased.” He managed a slight, shaky grin. “ Finally I’ve managed to decipher that section which was puzzling me for so long. Only to a degree, however. My notes are on the last pages describing what I have found. I would ask that you keep them unread until you have exhausted the possibilities of finding your mother or until you find her. And I realized yesterday that I have never told you her first name, which is Yimli (ee-im-liu) , or even her maiden name, which is Hereer( hur-y-ear).”
    This long discourse had completely exhausted him. He settled into the bed, and for a moment Drahc believed he had died. As he started to rise, however, Gahc opened his eyes and said one last thing.
    “You must not be an assassin, Drahc. Your mother would not approve. Just remember to be an upright, trustworthy friend, and a thorn in your enemy’s side.” Then he exhaled slowly and did not breath in again.
    It was hours before Drahc had himself back under control to a degree. His father was the only human he could really remember, and his mind was numbed by the shock of death. At dusk he lowered the body into its grave in the rocky ground and covered it first with dirt and then with rocks to keep off scavengers. Then he took one of their chisels and fashioned a marker which read;

    He taught me everything
    Gahc Yeemoli, my father.
    Died from wounds at age forty-six,
    Year D. 107