Skip to main content

The Post You SHOULD Read!

Writing Sample from theProse

  Writing Sample from the Prose The following was written for a writing challenge on theprose.com. The prompt was as follows: Grey Wall  Check out the original over at  Grey Wall . Grey Wall Towering over everything was the Grey Wall. For a thousand generations the Grey Wall had separated the worlds, looming above each in silent threat of what lay on the other side. Looming in the heart of the unchosen. No being had every crossed the Wall. No human would try for the abject terror it brought the imagination. Even the birds, circling and wheeling about the azure sky would not cross the line of demarcation. The Wall meant safety and the Wall meant death. Zenyassa did not care for safety and she did not fear death. She was Unchosen. What did it matter? What was life without the risk of losing it? She could not feel alive sitting before a thatch hut milling grain while the men of her village hunted wild yissana beasts. Their hunt brought them adventures and risk for the great ...
Post a Comment
Read more
Labels

Original Writing: The Battle of the Embrin Downs


Armored night swinging a sword.

The Challenge: Swords and Arrows Part II

    
Write about a collection of armies heading off into the first battle of a war, not knowing exactly what it to come of it. Have fun. Poetry or Prose. 330 words max. Tag Me.

The Battle of the Embrin Downs

Flags and pennants flapped in the cold, fell wind that drove down from the North, into the borderlands of Galdornia. The wind carried the breath of change, of life and death for men and nations, proceeding the black hordes pouring out of their mountain fastnesses in Gheldeth and Narasul.

King Palanthir, who would be named the "Victorious", sat atop his bay charger, his golden armor glinting in the failing light of the sun, watching as dark clouds descended over the field ahead. Clouds that covered the advance of untold thousands of barbarians and thrallachs, armored in black leather and charcoal suits of iron ringed mail. Their crooked spears and jagged swords waved above them like a sea of dying grass.

The mighty King shook his head and spat on the ground in disgust and shame. Shame for not seeing the mustering of the North until it was too late. Now he faced the storm alone, even as his allies to the south mustered their own forces. They would come too late, and only in time to bury the dead.

Arrayed behind him, was the indomitable host of Galdornia. Ten thousand stalwart warriors clad in glimmering steel. Long spears rested against mighty shields, ready to form a unmoving wall of death. Yet higher on the hill stood the Galdornian archers, the finest shots in the Northern realms, armed with their Elven heritage and ironthorn longbows. On the flanks and hidden behind the rolling foothills of the Embrin mountains, were the unwavering Galdornian Knights, cavalry waiting for the right moment to charge into the enemy's flanks.

The King turned his charger and rode along the front, saluting his men and giving them courage. Courage alone would not be enough. King Palanthir had been born for this moment, so the prophets said, and he would not fail. Iron will and the determination to survive as a people would propel the Galdornians to victory.

Want some more of this good shit? Huh? Do yah, punk? Check out Facility 57 or Thrallachs.
Labels:

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular Posts