For all you that have welcomed me the past few days, thank you. I've written more than I have in months. It's had a backlash, though, now I can't seem to shut the voices in my head up. LOL. Anyway, with Grayell incommunicado for a bit I thought I'd challenge you all to join me in a cooperative story.
A few rules of the game.
1. You must build off the previous post. No showing up out of the blue in a tank unless someone has already introduced such a vehicle before you, or you have a logical explanation for it being there.
2. No random acts of violence that results in someone's character being killed without allowing them to react. Have fun with it, introduce new characters by the hundreds if you like, but should someone die, they must write it out themselves. It's perfectly acceptable to assume they will do what they must to survive.
That is it. I will start us off, and anyone is welcome to join in at any time.
Have fun!
Eternity
“Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don't-even-blink wench.”
The keep was old, far older than any of it's inhabitants. At one time it had been a border fort. The fortunes of war had move boundaries outwards decades ago. Those fortunes were now reversed and the keep was once again a border fortress.
It was strong. It had always been strong. It was built by warriors, held by warriors who always keep an eye out to protect those behind its walls. Long and lean, much like the soldiers that manned the gates, these days, there was no excess to it. There was nothing that could not be drawn back behind the immense stone walls.
The walls were lined with grey green stone, thick with moss. The once gleaming white walls had grown grey with age and battle. Wildflowers sprung up around the cracks in the battlements, but everyone knew they would be gone soon. Battle had a way of sweeping everything away in an instant, and make no mistake battle was coming.
The faint coo of the pigeons turned his head around. Another messenger had landed. The birds had long since been a favorite of their commander. Stuck as they were in this long forgotten keep. He had often spoke of the birds being his only connection with home and their Queen.
He dropped the a scrap of wildflower from his fingers and turned to the bird. It hopped from one foot to the other as he fumbled with the tiny message band. He read it, once retrieved, and frowned. The latest reports said they had perhaps a day before the enemy arrived at their walls.
A day.
Attachments:
Eternity
“Put some clothes on, you weird, yellow-eyed, table-dancing, werewolf-training, cryptic, stare-me-right-in-the-eyes-and-don't-even-blink wench.”