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PostPosted: May 17th, '07, 07:49 
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Location: Another world.
[Available in most Solinar book stores, the Library and various traveling merchants.]

The Meaning of Honor

Well most loved reader, I Sammal Ynand have not long returned from my Travels into the Blasted North, across the seas I have traveled to bring to you the tales and myths of that war torn region. This tale I collected not long after my departure and so it is the first I tell you. I am proud to tell a tale of betrayal and death, I bring to your eyes; The Meaning of honor.

The evening sun dripped red macabre light upon the land. Stone ruins stuck up out of the earth like the bones of some great beast, bleached by the dying sun. The wind howled its dying cry at an uncaring and unloving world, all was dead, lifeless. Black rain dripped like ichor from the ebony clouds, drenching the barren earth in its tar like self.

The two men faced each other. They both had come here to experience what had never befallen the other, the taking of life their last soul purpose on this dying world. They both had once been great knights, oath sworn to protect what now lay in ruins, the great City of Kallash, and the Hoop was gone, as was the cities life. So was she, their shared love.

Reigor shifted his stance to the left, his plate mail battered and torn, and the Rose emblem just about visible amidst the layer of dust and grim that covered him. He did not bother cleaning his armor anymore, there was not much point, the blighted evening sun cared little what he looked like when he came to die, only fools contend themselves with such things. His shield lay smashed into the ground some feet away, the strap finally given in after the minutes of strikes from his opponent, Meinkar. The Red Rose on his boss stared lifelessly at the crimson sun, the deathly light reflecting off its cracked and bent surface. Cracked and bent like the honor of these soon dead Knights.

Meinkar shifted his weight backwards in anticipation of Reigor’s next move, a move that would mean the killing blow, for both of them rather than one, if all went to plan. Reigor stared at the younger Knight as he stood their ready for the death that would come, he gripped his chipped and dented long sword in his chained and plate gauntleted hand, blood had long ago created a bloody hand out of the Knight’s once proud sword arm, the blood that trickled syrupy from a myriad of cuts, some deep some not. Let almost as if his body it’s self had given up closing the wounds, even the smaller cuts oozed the crimson life fluid.

Meinkar was in no better shape, the younger Knight wore only a plate vest and greaves over a shirt of interlocking chains. Beneath the dark soil and blood their lie signs of a once green tunic around the boy’s neck, his shield is in now better repair that Reigor’s yet still strapped to his arm it lies, although his long sword has lost it’s tip, the price of a parry against such a formidable warrior as Reigor.

The cold dry wind whips up around the legs of the two warriors like the caress of an unforgiving god it bites into the exposed flesh of their faces, the picked up dust irritating and inflaming their wounds, like the incapacitating presence of a an unknown poison.

“Your killed her!â€Â


Last edited by Illy-Dan on Sep 16th, '07, 19:50, edited 1 time in total.

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PostPosted: May 17th, '07, 09:04 
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Location: Another world.
Feedback most welcome

critical analysis most welcome

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"Arrogance on the part of the meritorious is even more offensive to us than the arrogance of those without merit: for merit itself is offensive."
Friedrich Nietzsche


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PostPosted: May 17th, '07, 11:29 
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Going to pick this apart with you, beep me on msn after 17:00 GMT

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THIS. IS. SPOON!!"


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PostPosted: May 17th, '07, 19:37 
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thanks glor, see you then

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"Arrogance on the part of the meritorious is even more offensive to us than the arrogance of those without merit: for merit itself is offensive."
Friedrich Nietzsche


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