Posted by Greengiant on March 3, 2000 at 12:35:09:
In Reply to: The beginning to a story posted by Daishar on March 2, 2000 at 23:24:34:
> I am trying my hand at writing and since cf'ers are the most honest critical bunch I know I thought I'd see what you all think. Flame if you want either way the critisism will help. Btw I couldn't figure which board to post this on so it ended up here.
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> As Destal stepped through the gate, that last fading rays of sunshine softly illuminating the chamber, his shoes stepping off of hard wood floors and the familiar sound of boot striking stone, the unwashed rags vanished like a subtle breeze. In place of stained white t-shirt, ill fitted torn blue jeans, and mismatched sneakers that barely held together was the battle armor of the Haalrak Kingdom. A fearsome sight adorned in what appeared to be petrified human bones overlaying a black scale-mail. His tangled dingy mess of black hair seemingly changed in less than a blink of an eye. Now it hung down his back, straight and shining with health, pulled back by a bone clasp that matched his armor. As he strode by the throne he grabbed and sheathed his sword in one graceful movement never breaking pace. Destal moved with the ease and prowess of a mountain cat. The man walked as though he new his gaze alone would clear a path faster than his blade.
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> Never missing a stride as Garlan, a man of slighter wiry build although appearing no less lethal even with his gray hair and battered form, perhaps even more so, was Destal's chief advisor and had been like a father when his was lost in the war defending this kingdom and it's neighbors from the dark Emporer from the east. Normally when he returned from that place of safety to his homeland Garlan would meet him with a light in his eyes, ready to go about the buisness of insuring that the kindgom was ran properly, talking of old times and usually taking down a bottle of mead in the process. The look on Garlan's face was more than enough to let him know of the severity of the matters at hand. His advisor's face rarley revealed so much, especially worry. Destal had never known the man feared anything, this was certainly bad.
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> Walking down the hall they passed countless doors and several tapestries depicting great battles. As they came upon the door that held the council they could already here the distressed arguments from within. As they entered a sigh of relief passed through the men seated around the plain wooden table, all standing to greet him. In formal greeting of the lords of his lands and the few from directly on the other side of their borders, Destal drew his blade from the scabard on his back. A thing more dreadful than his armor, if that was possible. The blade itself was nearly two arm lengths long and half a hand across. It was edged on each side even the hand length of wicked curve at it's end. Meticulous runes carved down each side. The handle a smooth and blackened femur wrapped in silver with a fang from what must have been a montrous beast protruding from the bottom of the pommel. What was obviously a two-handed weapon he drew with ease using only his right hand despite it's immensity, knelt on his right knee laying the blade across his left forearm speaking the words "My honor, my kingdom, and my life to serve my people." Destal stood and sheathed his sword and took his seat at the head of the table. As the others hesitantly took theirs as well he waited for someone to inform him of what the cause for all this tension and bickering was.
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