AN: Hello campers, greetings and salutations :P. I really enjoyed the concept of this game, and I just couldn't resist writing something based on it. It is the first time I'm writing something other people will read (I hope) so, be gentle ;P.
As for the story itself, it is an original cast, mostly because I have no confidence in myself to keep the game's characters IC. It goes in Lyndbaum as well, and the mechanics will be similar to the swordcraft stories, the weapon crafting, guardian beasts and so on.
Disclaimer: I don't own the idea, the base of summon night swordcraft story. I can only take credit for this story... don't hit me.
Terra's Song
Chapter 1: The Mark
Darkness, the room was dark and silent and though someone was inside it, no breathing sound was heard. Then there were footsteps from outside the room. Far away but getting closer and closer till they stopped, right outside the room's door.
"It's time." A male voice said with authority while giggling a set of keys and placing one of them in the lock.
The door opened revealing light onto a small size room, around 4 per 3 meters, there was something like a really small forge attached to one of the walls, a small anvil and a bed with rusty metal framing and grey sheets. The room had no windows, though it had a barred chimney, right above that sorry-excuse-for-a-forge thing. Sitting on the floor, leaning against the bed, was a person who revealed no notion of recognition or intention of moving.
"It's time! They're waiting for you… c'mon." The young man said with slight annoyance and impatience. He must've been around his mid 20s, had short black hair and wore a dark blue uniform, with black combat boots, gloves and a vest. He had this look about him, like a bouncer ready to kick you out of the club at the least disturbance sign.
The figure slowly raised it's head, not looking at the bouncer, just staring forward at nothing in particular. When he was about to say something else, the figure rose, supported on the bed framing, picked up and put on a long golden brown jacket that reached the knees, and strapped something at the waist. Then turned at the bouncer, not looking directly at him… it was like he wasn't even there. Bret frowned at this, and then shivered slightly as the mysterious character seemed to shift the eyes at his. There was something about those eyes that made just about everyone feel uneasy. Not many could stand staring at them for long, maybe it was the pale silver colour that awkwardly seemed to change to an odd shade of a golden green… in other words weird, or maybe it was the intensity of those emotionless eyes, they seem to bore a hole in you and see right through, like you weren't even there. Either way it was very disconcerting.
A few seconds had passed till he suddenly remembered what he was there for.
"Ok, let's go!"
Bret stepped to the side to give passage but once more no movement came. He then let go a sigh and started walking through the halls towards a non specific destination. The extra sound of footsteps indicated him he was being followed. He sighed again and kept moving through a few more halls, always checking if he was still being followed, which he was. After around 10 minutes of walking, some cheering, screaming and howling was heard. They stopped in front of a blue armoured door. Once again Bret looked for the key that would open this door, placed it in the lock and turned it.
"Ok, you know the drill." He said while opening the door. The silent figure gave no nod nor acknowledgement as it stepped into the room. The roaring grew louder and louder and something could be heard over the cheering, of course Bret didn't understand it through the walls and the screaming, but he had a good idea of what was being said. "Good luck!" He screamed. He had no idea if he was heard or not, he knew that there would be no reaction even if he was. The cheering grew louder, so he closed the door, locked it and ran up the nearby staircase. He didn't want to miss this.
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In one word, the environment could be described as wide. It was a sort of covered arena or coliseum. A large round pit, about six meter deep, then rows and rows of, now, filled seats reached high up, almost to the ceiling. On the ceiling a set of monitors and speakers were placed, now showing mindless publicity, during the match it would switch to images of the field, from cameras set on top of the walls of the pit. The crowd was cheering endlessly, either excited for the beginning of the fight, or calling the salesmen or the bookies.
On one side, a special room was separated from the normal seats, the so called V.I.P. room. There the boss of the operation would sit, along with trusty companions or people he had to suck up to, and watch the fight. The Arena was his "little" project. Two or more people would fight for the entertainment of the crowd, and to lighten their pockets. There were days that the entrance fees along with the betting gains could reach and surpass the hundred thousand boam, which usually happened when their new undefeated star fought. No one could get a crowd going like that character… and with no special effort from it's part. His musings ceased as the door opened.
"Full house again, huh?" The newly arrival said as he leaned in the doorway. He was a man, maybe in his late 30s, with short light brown hair and a smugly attitude. He wore a worn out brown leather jacket with a white shirt underneath and equally worn out dark blue jeans and brown boots. We strolled in a very casual way and sat next to the host.
"As always." The other man said, smiling. If one would say that this man never suffered starvation, one might be correct. He wasn't excessively fat, he would said he had a large bone structure, but was sharply dressed, in his grey and black tailored (no standard would fit) suit and shiny black shoes. "Did you expected any different, Serge? It is always full when The Mark fights."
"Yes Bylrom that was indeed a fine catch. It's surprising how people still bet against that… craftknight right? Managed to convince our star to make weapons for you already?"
"That is just about the only refusal I get." Bylrom frowned slightly as he looked to his watch. "You sent the guard?"
"Twenty minutes ago. They should be there already." Serge answered.
"Very well." Bylrom lifted his gold rings full hand onto something resembling a phone, dialled a few numbers and set it on speaker.
"Yes, sir?" A voice from the device said in the middle of some interference.
"Time to start this."
"Very well, sir. Over." The voice responded and after a click the static ceased.
"This is gonna be good." Serge murmured.
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The place was ready to blow with noise, all the people were anxious for this next fight. As usual, a several number of fights came before the main event. First there was a four people tournament, the winner had the opportunity to challenge the star of the Arena, the one called The Mark. After the tournament a few lesser fights were arranged so that the winner had time to rest before the match.
There was a screeching sound from the speakers, the back noise lowered a bit.
"Ladies and gentlemen, the moment you have been waiting for is finally here." The voice coming from the speaker was the same that spoke to Bylrom seconds ago, static could be heard from the speakers, some connection problem… no one really gave a danm anyway. "And without further delay. On the north corner," a sound very similar to drums could be heard "you have already seen what he can do, the winner of today's competition, the powerful, the brave, yet foolish, SIMON!"
The bars on the north gate rose and a figure came from it. He was tall, but not abnormally tall, an strong, ditto, young man, maybe in his early 20s. He wore an olive green trench coat and green trousers, he had a brown hat, like an old pilot leather hat, with leather straps dangling on the sides, brown belt and combat boots. He seemed to have straps with bullets attached to his coat, probably for the weapon he was holding in his right hand, a black gatling type.
"And on the south corner, you know who's there! The one you dragged your sorry asses here to see today. The one that haunts your dreams, that never sleeps, still undefeated and hard to the core. I said Simon was foolish, well, that's because he WANTS to fight the devil of the Arena, our shining star… THE MARK!"
For the first time that day, the Arena was silent. All that was heard were the screeching of the rising south gate. And one could almost hear the foot steppes of The Mark as it entered the Arena.
----------To Be Continued----------
So, how was it?
I'm already working on the second chapter, should put him soon. Any review will be more than welcome. I'll post the continuance either way, but reviews are always incentives right, RIGHT?!?! Anyway please R&R.