Cedric-Scorch

Chapter 6 Hundreds of leagues away from Fogpoint, the deeper parts of Blackpines Bright wisps of light streaked through the dense everblackened pines, briefly illuminating the ensuing mayhem unfolding in the forest. Heads laced with the most potent poison, chemical reaction glowing a faint blue, the bolts whistled and sliced the air as they flew straight toward the relentless horde approaching from the shadows. Each sickly glow revealed the brief shadows of their morbid forms, lean and deadly, as several hundreds of humans loomed far from the distance. The volley from their sleek black crossbows was erratic, without pattern or form, yet every loose bolt found its mark despite the pitch blackness, killing or maiming a rot creature with malevolent ease.  The hunters kept up the onslaught with mechanical efficiency, their actions terse and repetitive. No movement was wasted, no gesture hindered, reloading and aiming, their crossbows picking at the nearest target for another lethal

CHAPTER 5 In the midst of dense pines and foliage, something glimmered in the dark. A dozen black crossbow heads ominously pointed at the prince’s escort, their grim still silence betrayed no movement despite the temperature dropping dangerously low to chill-biting conditions. Clad in mere black leather armour and cloaked tunics designed for stealth, their signature H-shaped helmets glowed, the lenses incorporated behind them giving off a ghostly pale hue that could be perceived fully through the bleakest night.  They each chose their targets with lethal intent, steadily aiming at the riders and their mounted raptors. It was apparent none of them were taking their chances, and the one thing that needed to be taken down the most was the wolf itself. Ghast had that personal honour with this particular target, breathing in and out in measured breaths, momentarily deciding which part of the body he should aim for to deliver the maximum toll. Long has it been since he had crossed paths

Chapter 4 Blackpine woods remained as dense, its pine trees far larger and darker than what Jared last remembered. Rarely, a few imperials, before a time when Fogpoint was still theirs, dared traverse in the dark, lest they be lost in a maze of a forest never to return.   The only thing about this place that was unremarkable was the extravagant stories that spun about it. Mostly wild fantasies and gossip-mongering, the populace of the Empire spun tales of every type of horror unimaginable, sometimes too unbelievable for Jared to understand the sheer jest and hilarity in his youth to take them to heart. Now, however, things were different.  Ever since the city had been lost, another rumour rose above all else, with very much volume enough for the words to pass among nobles’ lips. Cases of missing persons, strange sightings of ghostly wisps in a faint, sickly blue light just at the border's edge. Most that went missing were considered unimportant, either some gutter-trash smugglers who

CHAPTER 3 As soon as the young goat prince stepped out from the lavish halls of the royal chamber, he wasted no time. Expectedly, his adjutants were waiting just outside the lavish, ornate doors, their faces betraying telltale signs at the prospect of a successful business.  Sadly, Jared had none to give. “Kais, Gar,” he said in a way of greeting, voice clipped and tight with strain. “Pack up your things. We’re moving out.” The two glanced at one another, suddenly baffled, but Jared did not have the luxury to explain as he passed them and headed straight to his personal quarters. “My lord?” Gar was the first to speak, hurrying as he caught up from behind the left. Concern etched behind those two words alone, but there was also a hint of interest in his tone, something that the Minoan bull had a keen sense to tell when trouble was brewing. The Minoan had been cooped up here long enough in the capital, denying him and his band of mercenaries the prospect of a good fight. Scant reports

Shadows gazing upon the gathered plane; where brave men dare and dwell in dread the most. Onto farewell yon reach the red steps claim. There from great men, wander flightless and tame, their furious deeds spent a deep, heavy cost. Shadows gazing upon the gathered plane. Of folk lined, snuffed and parted from flame; Took too soon to tell from willing host. Onto farewell yon reach the red steps claim. Fair not what mad undone. Heaven ordain right of foolish hearts that rage and boast, shadows gazing upon the gathered plane. From shattered lot, scars formed, bodies turned lame; each meager piece of self forever engrossed onto farewell yon reach the red steps claim. To the final end of tales woven to frame, Askew, bereft, fulfilled to some. Not most shadows gazing upon the gathered plane; onto farewell yon reach the red steps claim.

Those little things that left me to wonder; like nagging pieces on a puzzle board, For this, at last, it draws the end much closer. Each new day of sand passed by in a blur that twist the heart of knot and cord. Those little things that left me to wonder. For night of eve, now long due for slumber; Never once those forsaken dreams it could afford, For this, at last, it draws the end much closer. Hot the furnace! Spark clever minds, they stir, Where more and more come to swell and hoard Those little things that left me to wonder. Repeat, repeat, those who struggle and err Find in themselves wanting before the sword. For this, at last, it draws the end much closer. No merit or trait. No need more than a humbler to thought and dream. Beating hearts, they roared those little things that left me to wonder, for this, at last, it draws the end much closer.

Last of the line, by the curse of fate, Forever doomed to walk on Dust and state. Stark the choice from hunger and slake, Or brook to endure in this hollowed wake. Yet fall the House by the Mother's cold, Of tempest storms and hostile old. Of broken forms, they whisked away, To distant realm of richly gain. For then yet faced what owed to thee, For lands submerged by the deepest sea. And thus the few shall go for the sword, To break or make these hollowed Lords.

CHAPTER 2 The constellations were fine on this night. Aurelio Verus watched the stars with rapt attention on a lonely hill, his eyes sparking an interest behind the helmet that bordered close to childlike wonder. His mind and attention were beamed towards the myriad collections of hues. All wonderful. All terrible, yet raw and honest and good. Thousands, maybe tens of thousands, twinkled and twined across the dark sky as if gems were carefully woven on a fabric by a meister’s delicate touch. It was the one thing, the only thing, he wanted to do in his spare time.  But, as he knew well through and through, time was a luxury he couldn’t afford.  That moment of his simple pleasures was tainted by smoke. Somewhere in the distance, a town was dying, burning bright and raw like a golden morn.  Aurelio tilted downwards from the hill and stared over the result, the deed already done. He watched the destruction of yet another den of beasts and felt almost captivated as the constellations

Lieutenant Davic Sphinx, callsign ‘Riddler’, trudged through the sliding door to his sparse ship quarters still wearing his flightsuit. The soft lights of his quarters flicked on as the young starfighter pilot flopped down in the chair at his desk. After removing his helmet, he ran a hand through his short brown hair and sighed. It had been a long day flying escort for the supply convoys. While it was important, escort duty was often tedious: hours dragging on, flying circles around the freighters and watching for signs of Sh’ra raiders or a very unlucky pirate. On occasion the tediousness would be interrupted by short bouts of danger and violence. More than once they had tangled with Sh’ra starfighters and bombers. The Sh’ra - an empire of expansionist reptiles. How long had it been since the war began? Months? Years? Riddler looked at his haggard expression. Was he really just in his early twenties? He shook his head to clear it, his hands absent-mindedly pulling

emboldened author kindles creation's tinder a gyre sharpens afire, forging taming a nameless sorrow a song for no one elegy or hymn hide one hundred noble words like a guarding beast.