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 [Short RP Story] The Song of the Blades

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Join date : 2007-09-28

PostSubject: [Short RP Story] The Song of the Blades   Mon Jan 21, 2008 8:34 pm


He drew his daggers, and he knew that this was his last time. Fear was nowhere to be found in his heart. A small patch of sorrow, hidden in the back of his mind, for all the sunrises he would miss. But all the rest of him was one with his blades. And the blades began to sing. And their song was death. In those moments, his awareness heightened. He could see every tiny speckle of sand, hear every whisper of the wind. His blood drummed in his ears. His breath a hurricane. His blades sang to him, calling him forward. And forward he leapt. The world slowed down for him. The demons tried to strike at him, yet he was avoiding every blow, flowing through their strikes as the water streams through the rocks, never stopping. Green and black blood covered his chest, his hands, his blades. And the blades kept singing.

On the edge of his vision, her figure, clad in white, was giving her own battle. A lost battle, he knew. Too many against only two, and soon both would fall. He tried to move towards her, but they kept blocking his path, swords desperately craving for his blood, claws gripping only air instead of his flesh, desperate yells, as they fell on the ground never to rise again. But soon it would all end in vain, and he knew. A gush appeared in his chest, and he didn’t pay any more attention to the searing pain, than to the buzzing insects around him. Another at his forehead, and he still kept going. And another, and another.

Suddenly, a wave of euphoria filled him, wounds healing, flesh knitting itself back. He wanted to stop it, to give her back the energy she had wasted on him. He wanted to scream at her; run, flee go away, save yourself, leave me now. But he couldn’t. All the air in his lungs he had to use it for his breath, to keep himself from falling down. And his lungs were on fire. And the blades kept singing. He saw a black axe hack at the white dressed figure. He saw the figure fall at her knees, and the pain in his soul was greater than any wound he had ever felt. Steps away, he still could not reach for her. No matter how many he had brought down, they were others to take their place.

And the figure fell on the ground, and his heart was torn in two. The world grew red, the red of blood. Wounds covered his body, but he cared not. All that mattered, was to reach her. And then, his legs finally gave up, exhausted beyond his limits. And as he fell, he heard his blades sing their last tunes. Happy tunes, he thought. On the ground, blood oozing from every part of his body, he tried to claw his way to her. A spear went through his back, impaling him to the ground. His hand reached, yet still she was too far. Laughter came, a shape with horns and wings approached. And the eyes of the shape bound in the ceremonial cloth of the demon hunter. More laughter, hard laughter. And he kept looking at her, a figure clad in white, her clothes now stained with red. Until the world turned black. Shadows, I come, he said, yet only his lips moved, because no air was left in his lungs. Black. And in the distance, a humming red light…
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Posts : 341
Join date : 2007-09-28

PostSubject: Re: [Short RP Story] The Song of the Blades   Mon Jun 30, 2008 10:04 pm


In the ruins of the once great night elf city in Azshara, a rider comes upon a nightsaber. The beast’s fangs, shining silvery white under the moonlight, would be enough to make any beast, dragon or naga think twice before attacking. The auras on the rider’s daggers, one blood red, one electric green, would surely make them keep distance. But it’s the glow of his eyes, gold showing under a dark hood that hides all features, that makes them run away as fast as they can. For it’s a pair of frozen fires.

He makes his way slowly, patiently, with the cold stature of one that knows exactly where he’s going. Steadily he rides towards Lake Mennar. And behind him, almost engulfed by his presence, another rider. Following him carefully, keeping the distance, as if afraid to come too close, or drop too far behind.

They reach a small hilltop that overlooks the lake, and there the first rider brings his saber to a halt. The other figure stands right next to him.

“This is the hill where Elendrell was supposed to meet us. We found him here, standing, waiting for us. I didn’t realize it was a trap until I saw the two spears he was impaled with, to keep him forever standing. But it was when I saw his eyes, that I was certain who had laid the trap. The eyelids were torn away, and the eyes burned to ashes. I was too appalled to think clearly at that moment, or we might have managed to run away…”

Once again the mount moves, obedient to its master, and they reach a rocky formation.

“This… this is where the trap was sprung close. This is where they caught up to us, and blocked our escape. This is where we fell.”

He pulls a small white night flower out of a bag and throws it on the ground.

“I never managed to find her remains. I’m not sure there was anything left. I just hope she’s forgiven me. But I can’t forgive myself. Time comes…”

Abruptly, the hooded figure springs his saber forth, quickly gaining distance over the terrain. For a moment, the other rider watches motionless, speechless. With a sigh, he turns the second saber to the opposite direction the first rider took and picks up speed as well.
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