Okay, I do some talking about an 'ancient' language, and I say that it was
spoken in lore, because the Tortall times are only up to a few hundred, and
I don't know what the history is. I'm saying that it is old enough that
there were languages before. Now, the language I have chosen is Latin. I am
not good with languages, and I thus cannot come up with my own. And Latin
rocks.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kel decided that she would do some exercises before breakfast. She retreated back into her room to grab her glaive and practice. She remembered some of the reasons that she didn't like drinking. She was slow and sluggish, and her head was pounding terribly, her brain threatening to burst out of her skull.
Slowly, she sat back down on her bed. Her audience barked and chirped at her.
"Oh, get over it. I'm not practicing, it hurts!" She felt very silly saying that. She was never one to quit for a little pain, but she decided to let it go until the evening, when she felt a bit better.
She decided to just go down to breakfast anyway, and force something down her gullet. Dom got there just about the same time as her. "Morning, Kel." He grinned.
Kel frowned. "Didn't we already do this?"
Dom chuckled. "Not truly. We have seen each other, yes, but we have not said 'good morning' yet."
Kel sighed. "Fine. Good morning." She glared at him. "Slug."
He bowed elaborately and deeply. "Oh, and I am but a humble slug, willing to spend my days trailing my slime around..." Kel hit his head softly and he fell over, face first. By the time he stood up, she was already sitting down at the table, saying her good mornings to her friends.
Kel was sitting at the table that morning when she noticed something. There was a voice, whispering somewhere. It was not a fellow knight, she could tell. Someone was whispering loudly enough that she could easily hear. She looked around at her friends. None of them were whispering. Kel furrowed her brow in confusion.
"What's wrong?" Neal asked, gesturing at her.
Kel cocked her head. "Do you hear that?" She said.
Neal looked up absentmindedly. "Nope.' He finally said. "Nothing."
Dom nodded. "I agree. You're just getting old, Mother."
Kel turned to him. "Do you have a death wish?" She asked.
Dom grinned, but ducked away before she could hit him. She did not say anything, but she as glad to have them call her Mother again. She did not want it to continue, of course, but it was nice to know they remembered.
But it was not Dom's voice that bothered her. The strange whispering had stopped. Kel looked around again, more subtly. There was no one there. She knew she recognized the voice, but she could not pinpoint it. Who, or what was it? Suddenly, it came to her, and she excused herself from the table.
It was speaking in another language. That was why she could not pinpoint the voice. It was not a language she spoke, either. She knew Scanran and Yamani as well as Common Tongue, but this was something else. She recognized it as something they had studied in lessons, briefly. It was an ancient language... but what?
She kept thinking it all the way to the Chapel of the Ordeal. She stopped in front of the door, hesitating. The voice whispered again. She slowly took a step forward and slipped into the dark Chapel. It was dusty and cold, just as she had remembered it. She slowly walked towards the Chamber and touched the cold brass handle. Nothing happened. No voice, no vision. Just cold metal.
She opened the door as wide as it would go and stepped into the black room. As soon as she did, the door slammed shut and the voice started whispering again. It grew louder and faster, and other voices joined in, weaving in and out of each other like insects crawling over each other. Suddenly, the doors swung open, and the voices stopped, leaving only an echo of the loudest.
Kel didn't know what they had said. She know knew it was Latin, an ancient language, spoken in lore long before this world existed.
She went to the library to figure out what the voices had said. She searched the thick dictionaries for the first word. "Magnus..." she muttered to herself, committing it to memory. She flipped the page in the large dictionary slowly. It was thin and brittle, and it felt like it would break in her rough hands. "Magnus," she said. "great or large."
She sighed and continued. "This cannot be good." She muttered. "Periculum." She looked it up. "Danger. Bloody brilliant." She sighed again. Last word, she thought. Almost there. "Adire. Approach."
She dropped her head onto the desk. "Why do you keep doing this to me?" She yelled. Her voice echoed through the small room, and she was glad she had accepted the private space. Sighing, she gathered up her books and gave them back to the clerk at the front.
Great danger approaches. Not quite the inspiring words she had been hoping for.
* * * * *
Kel went for a ride the next day on Peachblossom. She rode him straight out of the city and further down the road to the river. She rested there for a while, sitting by the clear black water with a book. Finally, she stood up, stretched her seized up muscles, and strode over to her horse. Just as she was getting near him, a hand came out and grabbed her arm.
Instinctively, Kel twisted her arm back and pinned the mans arm behind his back. She pushed him up against a large tree. "Ouch!" He said.
Kel pushed him harder. "What do you want?" She said.
"I just wanted to say..." he faded off. Kel pushed him again and he squealed as his face rubbed against the coarse bark. "I wanted to tell you that we know! We know your little secret!"
Kel pushed him again, the hardest this time. "Who? You and who? And what do you know?"
He chuckled. "We know about your little friend. That sergeant."
Kel hit the back of his head and backed away. She took one look at him, disgusted, and turned to walk to her horse.
"Don't walk away from me, wench!" He yelled.
Kel rolled her eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I know, before you tell me. It was incredibly short. That is because I am in desperate need of some help! I need to know the names of the living cronies of Joren. I know Vinson and Garvey, I think, but I know that one of them did not make it, but got those crazy beatings. Only, I don't remember who it is. So, I need the name of one of his cronies, one who succeeded in becoming a knight (preferably not Quinden... I know they don't like him, but he's not that bad). Well, thank you, and please don't complain about the shortness. It is going to rock very soon.
Dream Wall: that's always fun.
Rubber Duck: glad you like it, I am very proud of my humour, even though it sucks. Tell me, are you Canadian? (you spelled humour with an u, so I'm wondering)
Lady of Masbolle: haha, so true.
Smiles28: I enjoyed it as well.
Secret Agent Angel: Aww, I am truly sorry. I promise.
PsychoLioness13: Of course!
Pinky; nom don't worry, it was not Joren. But maybe you could help me with that problem!
Sal: Ha ha ha... don't worry, Joren is dead. I am not one of those people who is going to say 'he's dead. No, he's alive. No, wait he's really dead. But wait! He's alive again! Aha!' I am a firm believer in the when you're dead, you're dead theory. You sound like someone who could help me out with my predicament.
Legofiance: I agree, I just suck at writing kissing scenes. And battle scenes. And every other scene. So how do I end up with so many fans???
Tanydwr: Actually, he's a sergeant... wait, sergeant is higher than corporal, right? Because I know he is at least a sergeant.
Anonymous: Nope, fiancée is spelled right. If it is the woman, it is fiancée, and if it is the man, it is fiancé, no apostrophe. I think. And yes, I meant to say rooms. Sometimes I just say room, but usually rooms, because it really is more than one. She has a bathroom, and sometimes I like to stick a study in there, just for discontinuity's sake. (that's a joke)
Wake-Robin: Yay!
Kore Yan: Not really. It doesn't really matter if they are. It's not just that she is a woman, really...it's complicated. Ok, maybe it is that she's a woman. Shut up! Stop hurting my feelings!
"If I lived back in the wild west days, instead of carrying a six-gun in my holster, I'd carry a soldering iron. That way, if some smart-aleck cowboy said something like "Hey, look. He's carrying a soldering iron!" and started laughing, and everybody else started laughing, I could just say, "That's right, it's a soldering iron. The soldering iron of justice." Then everybody would get real quiet and ashamed, because they had made fun of the soldering iron of justice, and I could probably hit them up for a free drink."
That is the best quote ever. Read the whole thing, it rocks. And make sure to answer my query!
-unolimbo
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Kel decided that she would do some exercises before breakfast. She retreated back into her room to grab her glaive and practice. She remembered some of the reasons that she didn't like drinking. She was slow and sluggish, and her head was pounding terribly, her brain threatening to burst out of her skull.
Slowly, she sat back down on her bed. Her audience barked and chirped at her.
"Oh, get over it. I'm not practicing, it hurts!" She felt very silly saying that. She was never one to quit for a little pain, but she decided to let it go until the evening, when she felt a bit better.
She decided to just go down to breakfast anyway, and force something down her gullet. Dom got there just about the same time as her. "Morning, Kel." He grinned.
Kel frowned. "Didn't we already do this?"
Dom chuckled. "Not truly. We have seen each other, yes, but we have not said 'good morning' yet."
Kel sighed. "Fine. Good morning." She glared at him. "Slug."
He bowed elaborately and deeply. "Oh, and I am but a humble slug, willing to spend my days trailing my slime around..." Kel hit his head softly and he fell over, face first. By the time he stood up, she was already sitting down at the table, saying her good mornings to her friends.
Kel was sitting at the table that morning when she noticed something. There was a voice, whispering somewhere. It was not a fellow knight, she could tell. Someone was whispering loudly enough that she could easily hear. She looked around at her friends. None of them were whispering. Kel furrowed her brow in confusion.
"What's wrong?" Neal asked, gesturing at her.
Kel cocked her head. "Do you hear that?" She said.
Neal looked up absentmindedly. "Nope.' He finally said. "Nothing."
Dom nodded. "I agree. You're just getting old, Mother."
Kel turned to him. "Do you have a death wish?" She asked.
Dom grinned, but ducked away before she could hit him. She did not say anything, but she as glad to have them call her Mother again. She did not want it to continue, of course, but it was nice to know they remembered.
But it was not Dom's voice that bothered her. The strange whispering had stopped. Kel looked around again, more subtly. There was no one there. She knew she recognized the voice, but she could not pinpoint it. Who, or what was it? Suddenly, it came to her, and she excused herself from the table.
It was speaking in another language. That was why she could not pinpoint the voice. It was not a language she spoke, either. She knew Scanran and Yamani as well as Common Tongue, but this was something else. She recognized it as something they had studied in lessons, briefly. It was an ancient language... but what?
She kept thinking it all the way to the Chapel of the Ordeal. She stopped in front of the door, hesitating. The voice whispered again. She slowly took a step forward and slipped into the dark Chapel. It was dusty and cold, just as she had remembered it. She slowly walked towards the Chamber and touched the cold brass handle. Nothing happened. No voice, no vision. Just cold metal.
She opened the door as wide as it would go and stepped into the black room. As soon as she did, the door slammed shut and the voice started whispering again. It grew louder and faster, and other voices joined in, weaving in and out of each other like insects crawling over each other. Suddenly, the doors swung open, and the voices stopped, leaving only an echo of the loudest.
Kel didn't know what they had said. She know knew it was Latin, an ancient language, spoken in lore long before this world existed.
She went to the library to figure out what the voices had said. She searched the thick dictionaries for the first word. "Magnus..." she muttered to herself, committing it to memory. She flipped the page in the large dictionary slowly. It was thin and brittle, and it felt like it would break in her rough hands. "Magnus," she said. "great or large."
She sighed and continued. "This cannot be good." She muttered. "Periculum." She looked it up. "Danger. Bloody brilliant." She sighed again. Last word, she thought. Almost there. "Adire. Approach."
She dropped her head onto the desk. "Why do you keep doing this to me?" She yelled. Her voice echoed through the small room, and she was glad she had accepted the private space. Sighing, she gathered up her books and gave them back to the clerk at the front.
Great danger approaches. Not quite the inspiring words she had been hoping for.
* * * * *
Kel went for a ride the next day on Peachblossom. She rode him straight out of the city and further down the road to the river. She rested there for a while, sitting by the clear black water with a book. Finally, she stood up, stretched her seized up muscles, and strode over to her horse. Just as she was getting near him, a hand came out and grabbed her arm.
Instinctively, Kel twisted her arm back and pinned the mans arm behind his back. She pushed him up against a large tree. "Ouch!" He said.
Kel pushed him harder. "What do you want?" She said.
"I just wanted to say..." he faded off. Kel pushed him again and he squealed as his face rubbed against the coarse bark. "I wanted to tell you that we know! We know your little secret!"
Kel pushed him again, the hardest this time. "Who? You and who? And what do you know?"
He chuckled. "We know about your little friend. That sergeant."
Kel hit the back of his head and backed away. She took one look at him, disgusted, and turned to walk to her horse.
"Don't walk away from me, wench!" He yelled.
Kel rolled her eyes.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
I know, before you tell me. It was incredibly short. That is because I am in desperate need of some help! I need to know the names of the living cronies of Joren. I know Vinson and Garvey, I think, but I know that one of them did not make it, but got those crazy beatings. Only, I don't remember who it is. So, I need the name of one of his cronies, one who succeeded in becoming a knight (preferably not Quinden... I know they don't like him, but he's not that bad). Well, thank you, and please don't complain about the shortness. It is going to rock very soon.
Dream Wall: that's always fun.
Rubber Duck: glad you like it, I am very proud of my humour, even though it sucks. Tell me, are you Canadian? (you spelled humour with an u, so I'm wondering)
Lady of Masbolle: haha, so true.
Smiles28: I enjoyed it as well.
Secret Agent Angel: Aww, I am truly sorry. I promise.
PsychoLioness13: Of course!
Pinky; nom don't worry, it was not Joren. But maybe you could help me with that problem!
Sal: Ha ha ha... don't worry, Joren is dead. I am not one of those people who is going to say 'he's dead. No, he's alive. No, wait he's really dead. But wait! He's alive again! Aha!' I am a firm believer in the when you're dead, you're dead theory. You sound like someone who could help me out with my predicament.
Legofiance: I agree, I just suck at writing kissing scenes. And battle scenes. And every other scene. So how do I end up with so many fans???
Tanydwr: Actually, he's a sergeant... wait, sergeant is higher than corporal, right? Because I know he is at least a sergeant.
Anonymous: Nope, fiancée is spelled right. If it is the woman, it is fiancée, and if it is the man, it is fiancé, no apostrophe. I think. And yes, I meant to say rooms. Sometimes I just say room, but usually rooms, because it really is more than one. She has a bathroom, and sometimes I like to stick a study in there, just for discontinuity's sake. (that's a joke)
Wake-Robin: Yay!
Kore Yan: Not really. It doesn't really matter if they are. It's not just that she is a woman, really...it's complicated. Ok, maybe it is that she's a woman. Shut up! Stop hurting my feelings!
"If I lived back in the wild west days, instead of carrying a six-gun in my holster, I'd carry a soldering iron. That way, if some smart-aleck cowboy said something like "Hey, look. He's carrying a soldering iron!" and started laughing, and everybody else started laughing, I could just say, "That's right, it's a soldering iron. The soldering iron of justice." Then everybody would get real quiet and ashamed, because they had made fun of the soldering iron of justice, and I could probably hit them up for a free drink."
That is the best quote ever. Read the whole thing, it rocks. And make sure to answer my query!
-unolimbo