I'm baaaaa-aaaack! ::scree scree scree:: ::screams in background::
::laughs hysterically:: Mwahaha!!! I have overcome my writer's block with ::dun dun dunnn:: the knitting needles of doom! :: cackles evilly:: ::pokes writer's block with needles:: ::writer's block flees::
Thank you /so/ much to everyone who reviewed! I got /so/ many good ideas... I was planning on replying to everyone with good ideas and telling them which I used and which I didn't...but...I decided that I'm going to keep writing and you'll find out which I chose and which I didn't...I know...I'm /so/ evil!
Disclaimer: Haha. I own it all! ::nose grows an inch:: Really! I do! ::nose grows two inches:: Why don't you believe me??? ::nose grows foot:: ::weeps hysterically:: Okay! Fine! I admit it! I don't own anything! ::nose disappears with a 'pop':: ::nose is completely gone:: Hey! My nose is /gone/! Oh yeah...I /do/ own the plot...::nose comes back in regular size:: Awww...I was hoping I could blame my plot on someone else...::sob::
My creation...It LIVES!!!
()()()()()()()()()()
Chapter Eight: Dreams
Kel fell onto her bed with a groan. Was she really chosen by the Goddess for something? How /could/ she be chosen by the Great Mother for something? It was...well.../impossible/!
Realizing that she had to get up sometime and ready herself for sleep, Kel heaved herself into a sitting position, then slowly walked across the room. She removed her tunic and dropped it on the floor, still thinking. Her shirt and breeches joined it, and she removed her breastband's straps and pulled her breastband down her body to kick it off her foot. The undergarment flew across the room and hit a wall, sliding to the bottom. She would pick it up in the morning. Right now she had too much on her mind to tidy up things.
She grabbed her night gown and slid it over her head, then cleaned her teeth, still brooding.
Finally she plopped down on her bed, mind whirling with activity. What would become of this? Inwardly she sighed and slipped under the blankets. Although it took her mind a while to calm, she finally slipped into slumber.
/Everywhere around her, women were screaming. Heat glared and smoke stung her eyes as she tried to find the source of the screeching. Women. Tortallan women. Something looked familiar—she was in a place she had seen in a few text books in her page years...it appeared to be...the Goddess's Hold./
/She recalled a bit of her page learning: The Goddess's Hold was a small fort-like temple near the Tyran border. It was in a beautiful valley hundreds of leagues away from the palace: a place where the Goddess was worshipped completely. Women lived by themselves in that valley where they made a life of their own, without men, and protected by the Goddess herself./
/She turned a corner and came upon a horrid sight: About twenty women were surrounded by rough, evil-looking men. The males appeared to be Tyran—uneducated brutes. The women were most definitely Tortallan, and Daughters of the Goddess./
/This was where the screaming had come from. Men beat the girls mercilessly, hands lashing out to strike their faces or bodies. Women cried out in pain. Everywhere girls were being raped and abused, struck and tormented. Some women fought back, but most just gave up, finding resistance useless./
/Rage boiled in the pit of her stomach, complete and utter fury. How could those men do this? Most of the girls were around fifteen—how could this be happening?/
Kel sat up with a start, breathing hard, hear still thumping quickly in her chest. That voice she had heard, that beautiful, painful, melodious, jarring, horrible, wonderful voice, spoke within her head: The Tyran raiders came and destroyed, their own Gods kept with them, not allowing me to interfere. My daughters are being hurt. You must stop them. You must stop this. That is your task.
()()()()()()()()()()
The man's figure was sprawled in his bed. Moonlight fell upon his face, and all seemed peaceful. But looks can be deceiving.
/He was running, running to find something, he wasn't sure what, just something. His feet padded along the deserted corridor. Where was everyone?/
/Smoke reached his nostrils, and his eyes watered. Where was he?/
/He came upon a scene, a horrible scene. Women were huddled in a dark corner of a room, trying to keep close to each other for warmth. Eyes were red and swollen from weeping. Many were naked, bloody bodies trying to retain the warmth that was lost. Purple, black, and blue marks spread across faces, cuts adorning a few. What was worse was that all of them were hardly women—most were girls, fifteen, a few seventeen, even one who looked around the age of thirteen./
/Outside the room he heard men joking with each other in Tyran, getting drunk and jesting about the girls they had raped./
/He stiffened. How could anyone be this cruel? What was more was the fact that he had recognized the place he was now—the Goddess's Hold. All of those girls were worshippers of the Goddess. They must have all been virgins before this—and had they been deflowered by a man they loved? No. They had all been forced. Scarred for life./
/Suddenly there was a flash. The cell with the girls was no longer the vision before his eyes. Now he could see a large room, full of Tyran raiders. Then she was there, the woman that had puzzled him so many times. Behind her were the unicorns. The immortals were everywhere, killing as their eyes turned scarlet and their teeth jagged./
/He watched as she faced the man who appeared to be the leader of the men. She drew her sword and slashed at him. He parried the blow, and stabbed. The fight continued as battle raged around them. He saw the leader falter, and she disarmed him. She pressed her blade to his throat, but didn't see the Tyran pull a small dagger from his boot. The Tyran leader hurled the dagger, and it sunk into her chest. The man grinned evilly as he watched her fall to the ground. The dagger had been poisoned./
/He reached out a hand and yelled with a voice full of anguish, "Kel!"/
Dom sat up in his bed, cold sweat coursing down his face. Inside his mind echoed a female voice, a voice that sounded of discord and harmony, pain and comfort, war and peace. It gently inquired, Do you love her enough? This will happen if you do not help.
The voice was gone, leaving only pain in Dom's mind. He held his head and thought rebelliously, I /don't/ care about her! Well, not like /that/... but the picture of her falling back, poisoned dagger through her heart, flashed before his eyes. He heard his own voice call her name, filled with pain.
Dom's eyes shone over-bright in the moon-light that crept in the barracks window. What would he do? What would he do?
()()()()()()()()()()
The plot thickens...
Okay...here's the deal—you review, and when I get to 85, I'll post the next chappie. Sounds okay, don't it?
Fanta
::laughs hysterically:: Mwahaha!!! I have overcome my writer's block with ::dun dun dunnn:: the knitting needles of doom! :: cackles evilly:: ::pokes writer's block with needles:: ::writer's block flees::
Thank you /so/ much to everyone who reviewed! I got /so/ many good ideas... I was planning on replying to everyone with good ideas and telling them which I used and which I didn't...but...I decided that I'm going to keep writing and you'll find out which I chose and which I didn't...I know...I'm /so/ evil!
Disclaimer: Haha. I own it all! ::nose grows an inch:: Really! I do! ::nose grows two inches:: Why don't you believe me??? ::nose grows foot:: ::weeps hysterically:: Okay! Fine! I admit it! I don't own anything! ::nose disappears with a 'pop':: ::nose is completely gone:: Hey! My nose is /gone/! Oh yeah...I /do/ own the plot...::nose comes back in regular size:: Awww...I was hoping I could blame my plot on someone else...::sob::
My creation...It LIVES!!!
()()()()()()()()()()
Chapter Eight: Dreams
Kel fell onto her bed with a groan. Was she really chosen by the Goddess for something? How /could/ she be chosen by the Great Mother for something? It was...well.../impossible/!
Realizing that she had to get up sometime and ready herself for sleep, Kel heaved herself into a sitting position, then slowly walked across the room. She removed her tunic and dropped it on the floor, still thinking. Her shirt and breeches joined it, and she removed her breastband's straps and pulled her breastband down her body to kick it off her foot. The undergarment flew across the room and hit a wall, sliding to the bottom. She would pick it up in the morning. Right now she had too much on her mind to tidy up things.
She grabbed her night gown and slid it over her head, then cleaned her teeth, still brooding.
Finally she plopped down on her bed, mind whirling with activity. What would become of this? Inwardly she sighed and slipped under the blankets. Although it took her mind a while to calm, she finally slipped into slumber.
/Everywhere around her, women were screaming. Heat glared and smoke stung her eyes as she tried to find the source of the screeching. Women. Tortallan women. Something looked familiar—she was in a place she had seen in a few text books in her page years...it appeared to be...the Goddess's Hold./
/She recalled a bit of her page learning: The Goddess's Hold was a small fort-like temple near the Tyran border. It was in a beautiful valley hundreds of leagues away from the palace: a place where the Goddess was worshipped completely. Women lived by themselves in that valley where they made a life of their own, without men, and protected by the Goddess herself./
/She turned a corner and came upon a horrid sight: About twenty women were surrounded by rough, evil-looking men. The males appeared to be Tyran—uneducated brutes. The women were most definitely Tortallan, and Daughters of the Goddess./
/This was where the screaming had come from. Men beat the girls mercilessly, hands lashing out to strike their faces or bodies. Women cried out in pain. Everywhere girls were being raped and abused, struck and tormented. Some women fought back, but most just gave up, finding resistance useless./
/Rage boiled in the pit of her stomach, complete and utter fury. How could those men do this? Most of the girls were around fifteen—how could this be happening?/
Kel sat up with a start, breathing hard, hear still thumping quickly in her chest. That voice she had heard, that beautiful, painful, melodious, jarring, horrible, wonderful voice, spoke within her head: The Tyran raiders came and destroyed, their own Gods kept with them, not allowing me to interfere. My daughters are being hurt. You must stop them. You must stop this. That is your task.
()()()()()()()()()()
The man's figure was sprawled in his bed. Moonlight fell upon his face, and all seemed peaceful. But looks can be deceiving.
/He was running, running to find something, he wasn't sure what, just something. His feet padded along the deserted corridor. Where was everyone?/
/Smoke reached his nostrils, and his eyes watered. Where was he?/
/He came upon a scene, a horrible scene. Women were huddled in a dark corner of a room, trying to keep close to each other for warmth. Eyes were red and swollen from weeping. Many were naked, bloody bodies trying to retain the warmth that was lost. Purple, black, and blue marks spread across faces, cuts adorning a few. What was worse was that all of them were hardly women—most were girls, fifteen, a few seventeen, even one who looked around the age of thirteen./
/Outside the room he heard men joking with each other in Tyran, getting drunk and jesting about the girls they had raped./
/He stiffened. How could anyone be this cruel? What was more was the fact that he had recognized the place he was now—the Goddess's Hold. All of those girls were worshippers of the Goddess. They must have all been virgins before this—and had they been deflowered by a man they loved? No. They had all been forced. Scarred for life./
/Suddenly there was a flash. The cell with the girls was no longer the vision before his eyes. Now he could see a large room, full of Tyran raiders. Then she was there, the woman that had puzzled him so many times. Behind her were the unicorns. The immortals were everywhere, killing as their eyes turned scarlet and their teeth jagged./
/He watched as she faced the man who appeared to be the leader of the men. She drew her sword and slashed at him. He parried the blow, and stabbed. The fight continued as battle raged around them. He saw the leader falter, and she disarmed him. She pressed her blade to his throat, but didn't see the Tyran pull a small dagger from his boot. The Tyran leader hurled the dagger, and it sunk into her chest. The man grinned evilly as he watched her fall to the ground. The dagger had been poisoned./
/He reached out a hand and yelled with a voice full of anguish, "Kel!"/
Dom sat up in his bed, cold sweat coursing down his face. Inside his mind echoed a female voice, a voice that sounded of discord and harmony, pain and comfort, war and peace. It gently inquired, Do you love her enough? This will happen if you do not help.
The voice was gone, leaving only pain in Dom's mind. He held his head and thought rebelliously, I /don't/ care about her! Well, not like /that/... but the picture of her falling back, poisoned dagger through her heart, flashed before his eyes. He heard his own voice call her name, filled with pain.
Dom's eyes shone over-bright in the moon-light that crept in the barracks window. What would he do? What would he do?
()()()()()()()()()()
The plot thickens...
Okay...here's the deal—you review, and when I get to 85, I'll post the next chappie. Sounds okay, don't it?
Fanta
