Kian
Creative!
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Welp... I gave prose a try. Added some small poetic elements to it, but that's about it. I sincerely hope you like it, it might motivate me to keep writing these! It was very fun to do, so I hope it's more or less enjoyable.
THE RATTLESNAKES UNFOLD
No thinking, De’Lasi murmured to herself. I have to keep running.
Running until everything fades black. I can’t allow myself to rest. I should go faster.
Faster than any human has ever run. The Unworthies weren’t messing around.
Around here, she had to take a steep right turn (The Righteous Path, a famous pathway from the cliffs to the lower grounds) to reach her people.
People were taking their very last breaths as she arrived. Asmara was covered in fire.
Fire in her eyes. As if a volcano was about to burst. She was close to passing out.
Out of nowhere, a voice spoke. You couldn't save him. Nor them. You tried and you tried, but you wasted your efforts.
Efforts were made by her not to faint. Her vision began to blur. She saw a shooting star, and wished for all to turn out well.
WELL, WE'RE ALL SET. HEAD OUT! WE MARCH UPON CINTH’EL!
Voice of the people, Minre, assembled the men for an all-out assault upon Cinth’el, the Barrows of the Unworthy Traitors, commonly known as Unworthies. They are damned.
Damned Minre, she thought. Although Minre’s motives were more than justified, this could only end in bloodshed. She had to stop him and his forces.
Forces that were able to adjust to any environment, armed to the teeth could not even realize a beneficial outcome. Minre couldn’t, wouldn’t, realize that.
"That is a huge mistake you’re making, Minre. Stealing our cattle as offers to the Deities of the Lost is a wrong call by the Unworthies, but the Deities care not. They care only for their sacrifices."
"Sacrifices have to be made, my dear De’Lasi. We will return. With the heads of the Unworthies. I promise you." "You don’t have a clue, do you?"she said. "They serve the Deities of the Lost, and they are not to be messed with!"
With those words, Minre showed a shocked expression. It rapidly turned into a face of anger, while proceeding towards the City of Cinth’el.
Cinth’el was home to the outcasts, the abandoned, the traitors. Those who had no place on society gathered there.
There was something eerie about that place. Rumors had spread that some of the Unworthies left Cinth’el to steal cattle in order to sacrifice them to the Deities of the Lost. The only ones who would offer refuge.
Refuge might not be the correct word, more like involuntarily enslavement. Refuge has this nice connotation attached to it. And it wasn’t nice. Not in the slightest.
The slightest disturbances on Earth could have large consequences. The Unworthies were wrong to come claim their herds because they ran out of potential sacrifices. But it would be unwise to start a war.
A war which could not be won. But Minre was blinded by hatred.
“Hatred is what drives me”, he once spoke. And those seemed prophetic words. Mere months later, here we are. Waging war upon something we do not understand. Waging war over stolen cattle. Waging war and risking lives.
Lives on Earth were precious. Our planet faced a huge, unforeseen meteor shower that struck all parts of the world. Only small parts of Africa were left alone. Survivors immediately tried to claim pieces, which led to disagreements and the First War of the Continent. How many precisely fell in battle, I dare not say. But the lost and cost was great. The biggest part, in the southern part of Africa, was claimed by a bandit group. But they did not know how to work the lands, nor salvage scrap and remains. And so, but a few weeks later, they starved to death, trying to get to the other remaining pieces of land. They are now forever merged with the Wasteland. Most of the survivors of the FWC agreed that some kind of mini-country should be established, so that the people could feel safe again. Mankind was made to be ruled. Rule provided safety. Rule provided equality. Rule provided fraternity. Mankind was made to be ruled. But, as history repeated itself, some felt oppressed and wanted to overthrow Mara, our small state. Mara got divided in two, equally big parts: Promarians and Contramarians. Many drops of blood touched the Earth’s surface those months. Yes, months. It was a long, painful conflict with little to no hiatuses. Eventually, the Contramarians surrendered because they were running out of forces and arms. But little did they know, so were the Promarians. If they waited a few more days, they’d have probably won, similar to Germany versus Great Britain in the Second World War, centuries ago. That concluded the Second War of the Continent. Out of the ashes of Mara came, quite metaphorically, Ashmara. But over the ages, people just said Asmara. A new rule was set, with the people having just as much power as the overseers. There was a swift silence. But it turned out to be one before the storm.
Storm, yes. That was exactly what we would face now. History is ever repeating itself. Minre has more or less declared war upon the Unworthies. The survivors that refused to be a part of Asmara, turned their back on the others. They left, hoping to find undiscovered pieces of land. But travelling through the Wasteland was dangerous. We never went too far, afraid of what lurks in the dark. But they did not hesitate. They managed to cross a big part of the south before being poisoned and consumed by the unclean air, filth and diseases of the rotting corpses that laid in the Wasteland. They suffered excruciating pain. For some reason, they didn’t die. That was because the Deities of the Lost commanded it. They have adapted to the suffering and now are but mere pawns. They are the Unworthies. After years of being oppressed by the other Deities that mankind worshipped, they finally were able to seize control due to mankind losing its belief and faith. If there really were Deities, they would have never let this happen, many thought. And thus, they stopped worshipping them. Little did they know that the Deities were able to protect Earth from the huge catastrophe. If not for them, Earth would be destroyed. Obliterated. Wiped off the grid, for good. It was written so. Mankind had become too greedy, too disrespectful that the universe must’ve decided to rid itself of them. Seeing that Deities gave all they had left to protect their subjects, the universe concluded that the Deities still had hope for mankind. And so they were allowed to live. While the Deities were left to rot, abandoned and forgotten.
Forgotten? Minre said to De’Lasi. I have not forgotten a thing. We will emerge as victors, I swear to you! There won’t be a Third War of the Continent, because wars are lengthy and have many casualties on both ends. This will be retribution. This will be payback.
Payback… The way he said it disgusted De’Lasi. But she just observed without uttering a word. She noticed that Minre dropped something, marching towards Cinth’el. A magnifying glass? What could he possibly need that for? But he was too far already, so she took it back to his tent. It had strange markings on it. And the letter ‘L’ on top. But again, she did not wonder too much about it. She had better things to worry about.
About 3 hours. That’s how far Cinth’el is for men. To the ever agile Unworthies, it shouldn’t take longer than a half hour to reach Asmara. What if they sent scouts to spy on us? What if they noticed we were marching to their city? To then launch an all-out attack while we are here, without anyone to protect us? She began to fear for the worst.
The worst plan ever, she heard being whispered. What about us? I thought we had a say in this matter? We want to vote! “Calm down” De’Lasi spoke. “The men are already marching, all geared up. Even if we were to gain the most votes, it’s already a lost cause. Eventually, the leaders have the final say. The fact that we have anything to do or say is an illusion. It has always been like that. We felt safe under rule, knowing that we were supposedly being protected, while we were being spied on constantly, being brainwashed that eventually we accepted everything our government fed us with the spoon. And even with Earth blown to pieces, it is still like that. I guess people don’t change after all.
”All of this silenced everyone. For five minutes, everyone sat without even sighing. Until one of the women stood up and said. “If we can’t stop this war, we can at least defend Mara. Those who had the strength to fight all went, because the Unworthies are supposedly the only threat. But what if they’re not? And what if they’re on their way now?” De’Lasi smiled a little bit and said: “My thoughts exactly. You are completely right. What’s your name?” “I don’t have a name, miss. My parents decided a child could not properly be taken care of in these dark times. They were killed in the Second War of the Continent. Like almost all of the Contramarians.” “I’m sorry to hear that. May I call you… Virtus? It’s Latin for courage. I remember my brother telling me about Latin years back.” “Yes, miss. Heck, I’d be fine with you calling me Scoundrel. You prevented many deaths in TSC. We owe our lives to you.” She smiled. “And in return, you must make the most of it. Come, we’ve work to do.”
Do as I say, men, and we shall be victorious. I have a plan. There’s no way we could beat the Unworthies. They are with half a million, while our army consists of 10,000 men. All of the soldiers were shocked. But before they could scream at him he said. Relax, I have a secret weapon. An artifact that was said to be a myth by many and those who believed the tale, thought it was long destroyed. But years ago, before my father died, he handed it to me. I was given the Luxtor, the Rayshiner. It contains fragments from the Deity Lux’ power. But don’t take fragments too lightly. We shall end this once and for all.
All of them will burn. Over the years, we’ve lost so many people due to lack of food. We always thought the cattle escaped. But they were taken. Stolen. Let’s rid the world, or what’s left of it, from this plague. Men, brace yourselves, we are not far away now.
“Now, that is not a bad idea at all. Virtus, are you sure?” “Well, now that we’ve fortified Asmara a bit, I suppose one person could be missed. But are you sure it’ll work?” “Well, De’Lasi said, “we haven’t used lightplanes for ages. But the weather didn’t change, nor did the elements, so it’s worth a shot. You’ll be safe with that parachute of yours, anyway.” He nodded in agreement. After discussing while setting up defenses, they concluded that there was too much at stake here. While salvaging scrap and remains, one of the townspeople, a woman, was able to construct a small lightplane. The idea behind it was to send someone off towards Minre to try and convince him to turn back while they still can. Virtus heard this and immediately volunteered. And so, they hooked him up on the lightplane after they pushed it up a nearby cliff. “You’ll be a hero, Virtus. You’ll do your name proud.” He smiled, but behind that smile, a lot of fear was hiding. But there was no turning back. And he felt that he had to do is. They pushed and pushed and… there he went. He was gazing over Asmara and laughing out of pure joy. The sight was beautiful. He could see miles ahead in every direction. He could even see small pieces of the Wasteland. But he was on a mission. He mustn’t forget. He flew north, where the soldiers were heading. He looked behind and saw silhouettes waving in the distance. They were counting on him. To prevent a third outbreak of war.
“War… War has always been a part of the universe”, Minre said. “War is inevitable. It’s around us, yet nowhere to be seen. It’s inside us, but outside of us. It’s light, yet dark. The duality in war is much like the duality we constantly find in ourselves. And that what we find in ourselves, mustn’t be suppressed. It must be expressed.” His men cheered in unity. They were just a few miles away from the pyramid in which Cinth’el was located. They marched and marched, chanting battle cries. “I don’t know what you’ve been told” (echoing by soldiers), “but to me it seems the dice has rolled” (echoing by soldiers). This definitely boosted the morale. The chants were so loud, Virtus knew which direction to fly towards. And at last, he saw the men. He didn’t hesitate and immediately flew lower, gaining speed while doing so and when he reached the appropriate height, he disconnected himself, opened his parachute, and landed closely to Minre, as the lightplane mercifully touched the ground. Most of the soldiers thought of it as a huge bird, some that it was the incarnation of a Deity, and some that it was a lightplane. Virtus ran towards Minre, out of breath, and said: “Minre… There are way too many lives on the line here. We must retreat. For the sake of our kin. Don’t let cattle be the cause of a third war!” “Your presence here is in vain, messenger. I won’t call off the attack. And it’s not so much the stolen cattle that made me do this. It’s the lives that were lost because of it. But you needn’t worry: I have a secret weapon.” Right at that time, a massive spear was thrown out of the pyramid, piercing Virtus. He cried out and screamed. The men were in shock, and started to panic. Virtus started bleeding heavily, and in less than a minute, he fell, painting the dirt on which the men’s feet stood, in a dark red color. Minre’s face was growing as red as the blood that was spilt in front of him. “This man died for our cause. Let us crush them once and for all!” And so, his death was in vain. Out of the dark entrance of the pyramid, the creatures from Cinth’el crawled, carrying a variety of weapons, such as throwing daggers, spears, blades, kunais, and so on. They looked even more frightening and ugly than presumed. The men were shaking. Even the greatest warriors have a breaking point. Minre tried to assure the men: “Now it is time. They’ve all gathered in a massive group. THEY SHALL SUFFER THE WRATH OF LUX!” The Unworthies stopped advancing. Some even stepped back. This made Minre laugh. He was searching his pockets to then notice it was gone. The Luxtor was gone. Minre repeatedly said to himself “no… no… no… no…” until the Unworthies realized what was going on. They launched a full-fledged attack on the shivering troops, and in a matter of minutes over half of the men were slaughtered. A group of ten men escorted Minre, along with the lightplane that Virtus arrived with. Minre was to lead the the Asmarians away, or at least warn them, from this threat. Luckily, there were cliffs all over these foul parts. He attached himself to it and was pushed off by his soldiers, who stayed behind. A lightplane could only carry two men at max, with a high risk of crashing, so only Minre left. After a bit more than half an hour, the last 200 men were giving all they had left in them to slow down the vile Unworthies and to buy Minre and De’Lasi time. Minre noticed he was getting near Asmara, so he started to fly lower and lower. FTSCH! Two spears pierced the lightplane. Minre tried to control it but… it was in vain. He crashed against the cliff that Virtus took off from. De’Lasi ran towards him, crying. “Minre! MINRE! …. BROTHER! No… NO!” Minre’s body was broken, he was suffering an inhuman amount of pain but he lost the power to scream or express himself verbally. He took a sharp part of the lightplane, and stabbed himself in his own heart, right after he gave De’Lasi the sign to run. There was no time for sorrow now. She realized this. She could not waver. No.
No thinking, De’Lasi murmured to herself. I have to keep running.
Running until everything fades black. I can’t allow myself to rest. I should go faster.
Faster than any human has ever run. The Unworthies weren’t messing around.
Around here, she had to take a steep right turn (The Righteous Path, a famous pathway from the cliffs to the lower grounds) to reach her people.
People were taking their very last breaths as she arrived. Asmara was covered in fire.
Fire in her eyes. As if a volcano was about to burst. She was close to passing out.
Out of nowhere, a terrifying voice spoke. You couldn't save him. Nor them. You tried and you tried, but you wasted your efforts.
Efforts were made by her not to faint. Her vision began to blur. She saw a shooting star, and wished for all to turn out well, right before an arrow pierced her heart.
"Not every story has a happy ending, but that doesn't mean it's not worth telling."
- Steven Dos Santos
< Message edited by Kian -- 2/22/2015 16:21:01 >
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