Sticks and black flesh

[flynx]

Originally Posted by TheEndIsNigh

How did it do

I have no idea. That site is all over the place.

and where can we read it.

Sticks and Black Flesh

With a loud crash , something smashed through the roof and slammed into the living room floor.

Atop the straw pallet in the next room, separated by a curtain over rope, Saul opened his eyes. Though his naked body tensed he maintained the breath of sleep whilst eyes grew accustomed to the unexpected darkness washing through his bright lit dream.

Dismissing his awakening as part of the dream, Saul let his eyes close. Two very small sounds brought him sitting straight and reaching for his sword: Creaking sinew straining a prod and the snick of yew against ash. A crossbow being loaded. Saul rose from his bed.

Alondra blinked her eyes wide and listened, after a while she got up from the rough straw bed and picked up her spearthrower which she knocked onto the end of Saul’s heavy war lance, then sauntered through the curtain, naked as daylight.

“Ho-ho. What have we here?” a dark voice carolled from the middle of the dirt floor that was scattered with splintered thatch from a hole in the roof.

Alondra took in the scene with a glance and a half pace backwards.

“Put down the big spear child.” said Darkvoice. “This isn’t a game for girls. We will play with you later though.”

Saul spoke out.

“Alondra, no. This is the man. Put down the spear.” Saul; strained to look over his shoulder at the naked girl.

Alondra bent her knees and lowered her arm towards the floor.

“ALONDRA. NO.”

Before ‘no’ had left Saul’s mouth the lance was whistling, twisting upwards then writhing through the heavy thatch.

Darkvoice followed its advance and never saw the spearthrower following a different path, ending at his right temple.

As the man on the roof tumbled through the hole Alondra grabbed Saul’s sword and brought it slashing through the cord that linked them.

Saul ducked below her sweeping arm and brought himself between Alondra and the felled Darkvoice.

“I need him.”

Alondra gave in to her companions plea and simply murmured “the bonds.”

Saul turned for Alondra to sever the cords about his wrists when the crude wooden door burst inwards followed by three soft-armoured guardsmen. Alondra pressed the pommel of the sword into Saul’s hand and became a frightened, very dark skinned girl, hiding behind her rescuer.

* * *

“And what is this…. Ebon, to you?” asked the Crucial, indicating Alondra with a flick of the wrist.

Saul looked at the Crucial, comfortable in his gilded chair. “She is a companion.” he said.

“I see.” the Crucial reached down and produced one of Alondra’s boomerangs. Flicking his long blond hair from his face he held up the weapon. “And this?” he said as he examined the craftsmanship and intricate detail burned into the surface.

Alondra stiffened, her face darkened, making her eyes glow brighter. Saul caught the alarm and the straightening of her casual guards. With a tiny shake of the head Saul indicated that she should stay calm.

“A throwing stick.” he said to the Crucial who was acting today as judge and jury both, for the crime of murder charged against him.

“A throwing… stick.” the Crucial repeated, emphasising the last word. He turned to the Marchall and asked “Is this the… weapon he used?”

The man fingered the livid bruise on his temple and cast hatred at Alondra then turned back and replied “I’m not sure, Crucial. It all happened very fast. I think he must be some kind of warlock-warrior to move so quick.”

“Quick indeed” the Crucial sneered. “Quicker than your sheriff that lies dead at least.” he laughed at his wit. “Let me understand this properly. The man was noosed and bound and then snapped his bonds, hurled a battle spear, sliced his own noose and used this… throwing stick” he waved it at the Marchall “and all before you could tighten the trigger on your armbrost?”

Again the murderous glance at Alondra then he replied “Yes Crucial. As I said he must be--”

“No matter what he must or must not be.” the Crucial cut him off. “We deal with facts.”

Saul allowed himself a faint smile at the Marchall’s discomfort, assigning wizard powers to himself in order to deny Alondra’s skill and speed and that he was felled by a woman. A black skinned heathen woman that stood only shoulder height to him. But Saul had no doubts about Alondra’s fate should this ‘trial’ go badly.

“Alan?” the Crucial called, peering around the courtroom. “Alan Attouille. My chief guardsman. Tell us what you witnessed.”

“I and two men burst open the door and found the Marchall lain upon the ground amidst thatch straw. Some kind of stick like that in your hand, was at his side. A sheriff was tumbled to the floor, seemingly from the roof above, with a battle lance through his chest. The accused was standing with a cut noose around his neck and a sword in his hand. The Ebon cowered behind him.”

“Very well.” said the Crucial. “From the ‘facts’ presented to this court I officially find that the man so charged: Saul of the Reach, acted in defence of his life and liberty and is free to go.”

Saul breathed a sigh of relief then the Marchall rose and screamed “THIS MAN IS A FUGITIVE OF THE FAR REACH AND I CLAIM HIM AS BOUNTY.” then he turned towards Alondra, baring his teeth and growled “I claim the Ebon as prize.”

Alondra took a determined pace forward but was held by her guards.

The Crucial rose swiftly from his seat pointing Alondra’s boomerang “AND YOU, MARCHALL--” then he paused, anger washing his quick staring eyes and then subsiding.

He continued, his voice at a lower pitch but filled with menace. “You Marchall are in a court of the Crutiate Lands. Notwithstanding our several agreements, trade and love for our neighbours, you took it upon yourself to steal into our home and attempt kidnap of our guest. Your grasp, Marchall, has exceeded your reach. The Crucial paused for appreciation of his wit, he smiled at Saul then continued “and for this you may return to your lands shamed and held in displeasure.”

“This is said and shall be.” he declared. He turned to leave when the Marchall shouted again.

“HE IS MINE AND I CLAIM HIM BY PAX OR BY WAR.”

Another voice, clear and piping “I claim the Marchall mine by right of conquest.”

The Crucial turned his head and a wide smile replaced surprise on his features. He asked “YOU… claim the MARCHALL?”

“By right of conquest.” Alondra repeated. “It was I that felled him e’er this long night.”

Rage and shame suffused the Marchall’s face, building as muffled laughter filled the room.

The Crucial looked towards Saul who returned an impassive gaze.

“The challenge is made.” silence fell as the Crucial spoke. “Make area. Let it be.”

As the assembled court moved to clear the floor the Marchall roared and drove towards Alondra, his soft-armour slapping in time to the thrusting muscle of his thighs.

The guards released their grip on Alondra and she took a pace forward standing, knees flexed and eyes bright. She watched his feet.

At a metre and a half, with the Marchall’s meaty fingers grasping for her head, thumbs hooked, Alondra stooped and flicked a foot at his stepping boot which set the Marchall’s heavy frame plunging to the floor and filling the room with the sound of breaking bone where the knee met the unyielding floor.

The roar turned to a howl of pain then Alondra was astride his back pulling both arms around to hold his elbows with her knees, his shoulder joints creaking.

Alondra took hold of the flailing, knee-broken leg and held the booted foot in the crook of her elbow.

With her free hand Alondra gripped the Marchall’s lank hair in a fist and pulled back his head.

“Mine. Yield.”

“Never while I draw breath to speak will I yield.” the Marchall screamed.

“Then speak not.” Alondra released the foot and brought her fist crashing into the Marchall’s neck. When she let go of his hair his head slumped forward. Alondra stood and asked the assembled room “Do any dispute my right?”

* * *

In the quiet of the Crucial’s dwelling, Saul and Alondra relaxed in leather chairs, guests for the moment.

The Crucial addressed Alondra “By right of conquest you are now the Marchall of the Far Reach. Hmm?”

Alondra looked into the Crucial’s eyes seeing amusement tempered by respect. “I claim only the person not the office.” she said.

“And what do you intend, with this ex-Marchall’?” he asked Saul.

“Information only, concerning my family and certain events from years gone.” Saul said.

“Then I wish you speed and luck.” said the Crucial “And be gone from the Cruciate demesne before the day’s end.”

Saul rose from the chair. Willingly” he said “As was my intent from sunrise.”

“Then I shall call you ‘friend’.” said the Crucial, grasping Saul’s hand in his own, then turning to Alondra he bowed slightly and took hold of her shoulders “And you I shall call Marchall Alondra and wish you both well and safe in your journey.”

* * *

As Saul settled himself to sleep by the open fire on the open plain within the border of the Far Reach he gazed at his companion’s silhouette her eyes flickering between the roped and unconscious former Marchall and the darkling land ahead. “It would be well,” he said, eyes closing “that not every day begins with a crash and smashed roofs.”

[TheEndIsNigh]

Flynx:

Nice. Worthy of further development certainly.

A few points seemed odd

Dismissing his awakening as part of the dream, Saul let his eyes close. Two very small sounds brought him sitting straight

I doubt he would close his eyes after such a wake up call without an explanation of why and thinking it was a dream doesn't work for me. When I wake up suddenly I lie awake eye's open flicking from side to side listening for what was the cause.

soft-armour slapping in time to the thrusting

I didn't think the reference to the soft armour helped the flow of the piece armour works just as well for me after all the armour doesn't play any part in the fight, quite the opposite since it's not there moments later to protect his knee. Also - How big is this room that a grown man can charge across it leaving time for a release of a prisoner who also has time to do some dodging about before the clash begins. A cricket square maybe?

Of course the usual caveats apply. I'm an idiot and my opinions are likely to be rubbish.

[flynx]

Nope, you read it and are allowed an opinion. Both are good points.

For the first, you're quite right, a noise loud enough to wake me would have me unable to sleep too but (if I remember correctly) a phrase something like "feigning sleep he listened for enemies both real and imagined" which went in the edit.

The soft armour was to differentiate between leather and metal as no-one in their right mind (apart from Hollywood heroes) would think of joining hand-to-hand in full armour.

and the room is gigantic (which also went in the edit) a village meeting hall, court room or what have you.

Thanks for reading.

[dustinzgirl]

I am very confused on the setting and sequences. It seems to be in several places at once, so I'm not sure where the first attack rescue thing occurs, it feels like a home because of the thatched roof but also a jail cell but then there are guys walking on the roof thing....its just confusing to me. That doesn't mean it would confuse others, just me personally.

[flynx]

Originally Posted by dustinzgirl

I am very confused on the setting and sequences. It seems to be in several places at once, so I'm not sure where the first attack rescue thing occurs, it feels like a home because of the thatched roof but also a jail cell but then there are guys walking on the roof thing....its just confusing to me. That doesn't mean it would confuse others, just me personally.

I think that's probably to do with the editing down (from about 3000) to fit the contest it was for.

[dustinzgirl]

Originally Posted by flynx

I think that's probably to do with the editing down (from about 3000) to fit the contest it was for.

I'd like to read the whole version please.

[TheEndIsNigh]

OK then fair enough. I like DG wouldn't mind the whole nine yards.

However, before I commit to reading War and Peace just how big was the original (not nine yards I hope)

In any case, could/would you take it to the ultimate conclusion, IE a full book.

Or is it consigned to the darker realms, never to see the warm rays of the yellow sun fading it's typeface on a warm summer afternoon.

[flynx]

Ok, I'll try to dig out the unexpurgated version (or add back what I can remember if not)

It was closer to 3000 words and begins and ends in the same places so, if anything, it was a chapter. I didn't have any further plans (as I'm not fond of sword and sworcery) but who knows.

[flynx]

Hmm, that's odd it turns out at 1900 and odd. I may have deleted something that I forgot about instead of pasting it over to the edit. Anyway:


Sticks and Black Flesh

With a loud crash , something smashed through the roof and slammed into the living room floor.

Atop the straw pallet in the next room, separated by a curtain over rope, Saul opened his eyes. Though his naked body tensed he maintained the breath of sleep whilst eyes grew accustomed to the unexpected darkness washing through his bright lit dream. A dream of thundering hooves and the crash of war lances on shining armour plate.

Dismissing his awakening as part of the dream, Saul let his eyes close, listening the while for enemies real or imagined. Two very small sounds brought him sitting straight and reaching for his sword: Creaking sinew straining a prod and the snick of yew against ash. A crossbow being loaded. Saul rose from his bed.

*

Alondra blinked her eyes wide and listened, after a while she got up from the rough straw bed and picked up her spearthrower which she knocked onto the end of Saul’s heavy war lance, then sauntered through the curtain, naked as daylight.

“Ho-ho. What have we here?” a dark voice carolled from the middle of the dirt floor that was scattered with splintered thatch from a hole in the roof. His eyes gleamed as he surveyed Alondra’s naked body.

Alondra took in the scene with a glance and a half pace backwards. She smiled and glanced downwards as though shy and flattered whilst she made mental calculations on distance, height and reaction time.

Saul was balancing on tiptoes for two equally good reasons. One was that he had the tip of a quarrel, still notched in a short crossbow held by the man with the dark voice, poked under his chin. The second was that a noose led from around his slender white throat up through the hole in the roof where a second leering face could be seen peering in.

“Put down the big spear child.” said Darkvoice. “This isn’t a game for girls. We will play with you later though.”

Before Alondra could draw breath Saul spoke out.

“Alondra, no. This is the man. Put down the spear.” Saul strained to look over his shoulder at the naked girl. risking both the crossbow bolt and noose and severe injury.

“That’s right dearie.” said Dark Voice “Do as the boss says.”

Alondra bent her knees and lowered her arm towards the floor.

When Saul, from the corner of his eye saw the girl bend he screamed “ALONDRA. NO.”

Before ‘no’ had left Saul’s mouth the lance was whistling, twisting upwards just short of the hole there, then writhing through the heavy thatch.

Darkvoice followed the advance of the missile and never saw the spearthrower following a different path, across his captive’s shoulder and ending at his own right temple.

As the man on the roof tumbled through the hole Alondra grabbed Saul’s sword and brought it slashing through the cord that linked them.

Saul ducked below her sweeping arm and brought himself between Alondra and the felled Darkvoice.

Alondra looked murder into Saul’s dark flashing eyes and through gritted teeth Saul uttered “I need him.”


Casting her glance down Alondra eventually heeded to her companions plea and simply murmured “the bonds.”

Saul turned for Alondra to sever the cords about his wrists when the crude wooden door burst inwards followed by three guardsmen clad in soft leather armour. Alondra pressed the pommel of the sword into Saul’s hand and became a frightened, very dark skinned girl, hiding behind her rescuer.

* * *

“And what is this…. Ebon, to you?” asked the Crucial, indicating Alondra with a flick of the wrist.

Saul surveyed the short hall, about half filled with Advocates, prosecutors, accuser and witnesses. He smiled at the last and looked at the Crucial comfortable in his gilded chair. “She is a companion.” he said.

“I see.” the Crucial reached down beside his chair and produced one of Alondra’s boomerangs. Idly flicking his long blond hair from his face he held up the weapon. “And this?” he said as he examined the craftsmanship and intricate detail burned into the surface.

Alondra stiffened, her face darkened, making her eyes glow brighter. Saul caught the alarm and the straightening of her casual guards. With a tiny shake of the head Saul indicated that she should stay calm.

“A throwing stick.” he said to the Crucial who was acting today as judge and jury both, for the crime of murder charged against him.

“A throwing… stick.” the Crucial repeated, emphasising the last word. He turned to the Marchall and asked “Is this the… weapon he used?”

The man fingered the livid bruise on his temple and cast hatred at Alondra then turned back and replied “I’m not sure, Crucial. It all happened very fast. I think he must be some kind of warlock-warrior to move so quick.”

“Quick indeed” the Crucial said. “Quicker than your sheriff that lies dead at least.” he laughed at his own wit. “Let me understand this properly." He numbered the points on his fingers: "The man was noosed and bound and then snapped his bonds, hurled a battle spear, sliced his own noose and used this… throwing stick” he waved it at the Marchall “and all before you could tighten the trigger on your armbrost?”

Again the murderous glance at Alondra then he replied “Yes Crucial. As I said he must be--”

“No matter what he must or must not be.” the Crucial cut him off. “We deal with facts.”

Saul allowed himself a faint smile at the Marchall’s discomfort, assigning wizard powers to himself in order to deny Alondra’s skill and speed and that he was felled by a woman. A black skinned heathen woman that stood only shoulder height to him. But Saul had no doubts about Alondra’s fate should this ‘trial’ go badly.

“Alan?” the Crucial called, peering around the courtroom.

A large man still in soft armour stood to attention. “Crucial.” he said and touched two fingers of his right hand to his forehead in respect to the office.

“Alan Attouille. My chief guardsman. Tell us what you witnessed.”

“Very little Crucial. I and two men burst open door and found The Marchal of the Far Reach,” he nodded in his direction, “lain on the floor amidst dust and thatch. Some kind of stick similar to that in your hand was at his side. A sheriff was also tumbled to the floor seemingly from the roof above with a battle spear through his chest. The accused was standing with a cut noose around his neck and a sword in his hand. The Ebon cowered behind him.”

“Very well.” said the Crucial. “From the ‘facts’ presented to this court I officially find that the man so charged: Saul of the Reach, acted in defence of his life and liberty and is free to go.”

Saul breathed a heavy sigh of relief and Alondra, along the hall let her shoulders slump when the Marchall rose and screamed “THIS MAN IS A FUGITIVE OF THE FAR REACH AND I CLAIM HIM AS BOUNTY.” then he turned towards Alondra, baring his teeth and growled “I claim the Ebon as prize.”

Alondra took a determined pace forward but was held by her guards.

The Crucial rose swiftly from his seat pointing Alondra’s boomerang and shouted “AND YOU, MARCHALL--” then he paused, anger washing his quick staring eyes and then subsiding.

He continued, his voice at a lower pitch but filled with menace. “You Marchall are in a court of the Crutiate Lands. Notwithstanding our several agreements, trade and love for our neighbours, you took it upon yourself to steal into our home and attempt kidnap of our guest. Your grasp, Marchall, has exceeded your reach. The Crucial paused for appreciation of his wit, he smiled at Saul then continued “and for this you may return to your lands shamed and held in displeasure.”

“This is said and shall be.” he declared. He turned to leave when the Marchall shouted again.

“HE IS MINE AND I CLAIM HIM BY PAX OR BY WAR.”

Another voice, clear and piping “I claim the Marchall mine by right of conquest.”

The Crucial turned his head and a wide smile replaced surprise on his features. He asked of the short dark skinned girl “YOU… claim the MARCHALL?”

“By right of conquest.” Alondra repeated. “It was I that felled him e’er this long night.”

Rage and shame suffused the Marchall’s face, building as muffled laughter filled the room.

The Crucial looked towards Saul who returned an impassive gaze.

“The challenge is made.” silence fell as the Crucial spoke. “Make area. Let it be.”

As the assembled court moved to clear the wide floor the Marchall roared and drove towards Alondra, his soft-armour slapping in time to the thrusting muscle of his thighs covering the distance with thunderous weight.

The guards released their grip on Alondra and she took a pace forward standing, knees flexed and eyes bright. She watched his feet.

At a metre and a half, with the Marchall’s meaty fingers grasping for her head, thumbs hooked, Alondra stooped and flicked a foot at his stepping boot which set the Marchall’s heavy frame plunging to the floor and filling the room with the sound of breaking bone where the knee met the unyielding floor.

The roar turned to a howl of pain then Alondra was astride his back pulling both arms around to hold his elbows with her knees, his shoulder joints creaking.

Alondra took hold of the flailing, knee-broken leg and held the booted foot in the crook of her elbow.

With her free hand Alondra gripped the Marchall’s lank hair in a fist and pulled back his head.

“Mine. Yield.”

“Never while I draw breath to speak will I yield.” the Marchall screamed.

“Then speak not.” Alondra released the foot and brought her fist crashing into the side of the Marchall’s neck. When she let go of his hair his head slumped forward. Alondra stood and with bared teeth challenged the assembled room “Do any dispute my right?”

* * *

In the quiet of the Crucial’s dwelling, Saul and Alondra relaxed in leather chairs, guests for the moment.

The Crucial addressed Alondra “By right of conquest you are now the Marchall of the Far Reach. Hmm?”

Alondra looked into the Crucial’s eyes seeing amusement tempered by respect. “I claim only the person not the office.” she said.

“And what do you intend, with this ex-Marchall’?” he asked Saul.

“Information only, concerning my family and certain events from years gone.” Saul said.

“Then I wish you speed and luck.” said the Crucial “And be gone from the Cruciate demesne before the day’s end.”

Saul rose from the chair. Willingly” he said “As was my intent from sunrise.”

“Then I shall call you ‘friend’.” said the Crucial, grasping Saul’s hand in his own, then turning to Alondra he bowed slightly and took hold of her shoulders “And you I shall call Marchall Alondra and wish you both well and safe in your journey.”

* * *

As Saul settled himself to sleep by the open fire on the open plain within the border of the Far Reach he gazed at his companion’s silhouette her eyes flickering between the roped and unconscious former Marchall and the darkling land ahead. “It would be well,” he said, eyes closing “that not every day begins with a crash and smashed roofs.”

[dustinzgirl]

-ing, -ed, does your story take place in the past or present?

Dismissing his awakening

I just don't like this phrase.

More to come later..kids are bugging me. I do, however, like the story and I think you have done a good job with making your idea into a story (characters, dialogue, ect) so far, I think it needs some cleaning up though.

[flynx]

Originally Posted by dustinzgirl

-ing, -ed, does your story take place in the past or present?

Yes, yes it does. (I'm completely hopeless with tenses)

Dismissing his awakening

I just don't like this phrase.

That's because I try far too hard to avoid passive phrasing and try to make every sentence immediate. Which is probably where my tense switching comes in. For some reason I just can't bring myself to use a phrase like "He dismissed the noise..."

More to come later..kids are bugging me. I do, however, like the story and I think you have done a good job with making your idea into a story (characters, dialogue, ect) so far, I think it needs some cleaning up though.

It was a competition entry at 'Flashing Swords' from a first sentence prompt and I immediately loved the two characters as they sprung into being as I typed. The setting was more or less forced on me by the competition but I quite enjoyed that too, particularly since it gave me scope for that specific style of dialogue

[shadowbox]

as it is much to read, I felt better working as I read.

Nit Pick

Original :

Atop the straw pallet in the next room, separated by a curtain over rope,

From a litterary point of view, this might read better:

Atop the straw pallet in the next room, separated by nothing but a curtain,