Corvus' Short Scenes!!

[Medium he/they]

Scene #85: The Man In Green

Spoiler

Staring sightlessly, he lay on the battlefield.

His mind was as mud, thick and slow.

His arms were bleeding, and he had a gash on his nose that turned the mud below him maroon.

So… He thought, This is how I go. 

A shadow appeared, covering the maroon mud, and covering his face.

He looked up, and saw a man. Wide hat, with lengths of chain hanging from the hat. At the ends of the chains were small emeralds. His dark green cloak was unblemished, as was his face and hat.

He had not been in the battle.

The boy in the mud stirred, then stood, much to the shock of the man in green. Holding a hand to the wound in his side, the boy began to speak, too angry to care that this might kill him.

“You,” He said as a mutter, before his voice rose, “You do not deserve to be here. You do not deserve to tread on this ground!”

The boy had to crane his neck to look up, as the man with the emerald-adorned hat was quite tall.

The man looked at the boy, almost in pity.

The boy began to cry, his demeanor cracking, “You did not fight here. You did not win, you did not lose.”

“I have come to bury the dead,” The man said softly, “I have come to give them rest.”

“Why do you deserve to do this?!” The boy shouted, tears streaming down his face, “You did not fight for them, or with them, or even against them!”

“Why should you be the one to bury them?” The boy whispered.

“Because,” The man said, his face as stone, “No one else will.”

The boy froze then. No one? Not even their families? Had… What had happened to their families?

“I do not have to bury one of you, however,” The man said, and extended a hand to the boy, “I can help,” He whispered.

The boy slowly reached up, and took the extended hand of the man in green.

 

[The Wandering Wizard he/him]

Spine tingles!

That was good!

[Morningtide she/her]

Oh that one's gooooooood! Intrigue! I agree with Wizard. Spine tingling!!! 

[Medium he/they]

Scene #86: Neon

Spoiler

I hit the ground with a grunt, running at a fast pace across the rooftop. My feet splash into puddles, but my breath stays even. I’ve been running for years, I’ve mastered the art of it.

Some would want me to say welcome. But The Iridescent City has never been the most welcoming.

Not with the cams, the bots, and definitely not with the graffiti that gives it its title. Its true name has been forgotten after years of crime and graffiti. They sent the bots and installed the cams to try to fix it, but people like me, members of the Sixth Sense, quickly started a resistance.

I haven’t been here long, but the longer I’m here, the more I realize just how much this city is messed up.

Flickers of neon on the edges of my vision, flashes of monochrome searing my retinas, it’s all too confusing.

The Sixth Sense recruits very seldom, and I don’t know why they picked me. Might be because of how I run, might be because of how I fight.

I don’t know, I don’t care. I’m alive.

That’s what matters.

I leap off the roof as bots close in, and tuck and roll onto the next. I turn, flipping the bird to the bots, who draw their stun guns and start firing.

Those damn guns… bane of my existence right there.

I blink, and my Sense activates. The reason we’re called the Sixth Sense, is that members of our group can use the Sense. The Sense is what we call it when we go Neon.

And oh, how I love going Neon.

My vision clears, then brightens, and every color pops into existence. My path becomes clear, the bots fade out of existence, and the graffiti even dims as I see my next moves laid out before me.

No, it’s not a drug.

No, it’s not a chip.

It’s the Sense. It’s going Neon.

I jump, fly, and land. I don’t even tuck and roll, I don’t need to.

I’m Neon. I blink, and three bots appear in front of me. I whip out my Flash, press the button, and swing the small cylinder in a wide arc in my hand. A pulse of light and energy blows the bots off the roof, and I take a quick breather. Sure, I’ve mastered running, but a girl’s still gotta breathe from time to time.

I jump from the roof, down to an alley, and blink.

My Sense activates, I breathe in, and I go Neon.

I dash right, through the graffiti, which has opened to me.

Next thing I know, I’m in the subway tunnel, and I blink again. Bots fade into view, nine of them.

I’m out of Flashes, they’re one use only, repurposed from old spray cans, but they’re damn effective and I’m cursing myself for running out.

My Sense is only good for getting around, and I’m out of Flashes.

I hand myself over.

 

I’m in a bot car, driving towards Precinct F Station. I glance out the window, noting the Neon outlines of other Sixth Sense members. I can see them, they can see me. But the bots can’t see them, and non-members can’t see them either.

We pull up next to the station, and I shoot my shot. I kick open the door, and leap out. I blink, going Neon, and my cuffs fall off.

I dash through some graffiti, and fall into Sixth Sense HQ.

I puff my hair out of my face and walk to the couch, flopping down.

I grin. ‘Course I’d never let them get me for real, it’s just fun to let them think that.

Keeps me alive.

 

[The Wandering Wizard he/him]

Interesting, very interesting!

[Thaidakar the Ghostblood he/him]

Interesting...

[Morningtide she/her]

That's fascinating! 

It's a different word than interesting

[Szeth's Facepalm]

(thesaurus game?)

it's compelling...

[Medium he/they]

Scene #87: Monolith

Spoiler

“Welcome, citizens,” He said in a cold, calculating voice. Even as he spoke, it was as if he was planning his next move. His next bid. His next attack.

“Welcome to a new era,” Said Monolith. That was not his true name, I don’t think, but it was what everyone called him.

Monolith. Monolith the Great, Savior of Our Kind, Ruler of the Seventh Land.

“An era of peace, an Age of prosperity. The Stars have shone down upon this land, and they have deemed it worthy. I am to turn this land into a bustling utopia. The Stars have said it as such.”

I scoffed under my breath. Monolith was just a man. Few know this, for all the words he said were well crafted, to instill fear, reverence, and respect into the people.

“The Sands rule in the Sixth Land, the Timekeepers in the Fourth, the Wheel in the First Land. And I, the Monolith, firm and strong,” He said, holding up a fist at the podium, “Rule the Seventh Land.”

Soldiers marched up on stage, their helmet visors red, their guns loaded, held to their chests. Their armor and uniform black, with the name of their organization on their sleeve.

They were the Pillars of Downfall. Everyone called them the Pod’s. They were brutal.

“My predecessor was a foolish man,” Monolith continued, his voice rising, “He did not care for this land as I do. He did not care for you as I do! He did not care! And he is dead because of it!”

Monolith took a deep breath, straightening his tie. “But it is okay,” He said softly, and a grin spread across his face, “Because I care. I care about this land, I care about you, and I am not dead.”

“And I will not die!” He shouted, “Not if the Leonin Seat in the Second Land comes to call, not if the Sands blow in from the Sixth, not if anything happens. I will stand in defense of this Seventh Land.”

He leaned forward.

“For as the Great Prophet Anachi said, ‘So, when the Grand Wave crests on the shore of the Ages, so too will the world shake as the Foam blasts across the world. With every Crash of the Wave, a new Age begins.’ The Wave has just Crashed, my friends,” Monolith said, spreading his arms wide, “A new Age has begun! The Wave prepares, the Foam spreads inward, and the Age strengthens. And we will grow with it! We will become such a power in the world, we will break the Wheel, turn the Sands to glass, and sit in the Leonin Seat!”

The people cheered. I stared in horror at the spectacle. So many… so many will die. Because of this man’s arrogance.

What he had said about the Wave was true. A new Age had begun, I had felt it. Everyone had.

But I was not about to let him taint the Water red.

 

[The Wandering Wizard he/him]

4 minutes ago, Ookla the Crow said:

Scene #87: Monolith

  Hide contents

“Welcome, citizens,” He said in a cold, calculating voice. Even as he spoke, it was as if he was planning his next move. His next bid. His next attack.

“Welcome to a new era,” Said Monolith. That was not his true name, I don’t think, but it was what everyone called him.

Monolith. Monolith the Great, Savior of Our Kind, Ruler of the Seventh Land.

“An era of peace, an Age of prosperity. The Stars have shone down upon this land, and they have deemed it worthy. I am to turn this land into a bustling utopia. The Stars have said it as such.”

I scoffed under my breath. Monolith was just a man. Few know this, for all the words he said were well crafted, to instill fear, reverence, and respect into the people.

“The Sands rule in the Sixth Land, the Timekeepers in the Fourth, the Wheel in the First Land. And I, the Monolith, firm and strong,” He said, holding up a fist at the podium, “Rule the Seventh Land.”

Soldiers marched up on stage, their helmet visors red, their guns loaded, held to their chests. Their armor and uniform black, with the name of their organization on their sleeve.

They were the Pillars of Downfall. Everyone called them the Pod’s. They were brutal.

“My predecessor was a foolish man,” Monolith continued, his voice rising, “He did not care for this land as I do. He did not care for you as I do! He did not care! And he is dead because of it!”

Monolith took a deep breath, straightening his tie. “But it is okay,” He said softly, and a grin spread across his face, “Because I care. I care about this land, I care about you, and I am not dead.”

“And I will not die!” He shouted, “Not if the Leonin Seat in the Second Land comes to call, not if the Sands blow in from the Sixth, not if anything happens. I will stand in defense of this Seventh Land.”

He leaned forward.

“For as the Great Prophet Anachi said, ‘So, when the Grand Wave crests on the shore of the Ages, so too will the world shake as the Foam blasts across the world. With every Crash of the Wave, a new Age begins.’ The Wave has just Crashed, my friends,” Monolith said, spreading his arms wide, “A new Age has begun! The Wave prepares, the Foam spreads inward, and the Age strengthens. And we will grow with it! We will become such a power in the world, we will break the Wheel, turn the Sands to glass, and sit in the Leonin Seat!”

The people cheered. I stared in horror at the spectacle. So many… so many will die. Because of this man’s arrogance.

What he had said about the Wave was true. A new Age had begun, I had felt it. Everyone had.

But I was not about to let him taint the Water red.

 

I get WoT vibes from this.

Really good!

[Medium he/they]

Yeaaah it's very WoT inspired...

WoT has a lot of instances where it dumps names and stuff on you and I love when books do that sooo i wrote my own.

[Medium he/they]

Scene #88: Evelyn Evelyn. Based off the song, using the same lyrics. Also this animatic, for the emotional inspiration.

Spoiler

“I’m only trying to do what is best for us!” She shouts at me, placing a hand on her chest.

“Well, I never wanted this! I never asked for this!” I shout back, raising my hands, gesturing around us, at nothing in particular, “All I wanted was some time for myself! But you had to get in the way of that! It was all I wanted!”

She steps forward, extending a hand, “I’m willing to give you that, but please-”

“No,” I say, taking her wrist and shoving it back, “No, no buts. Give me a break, please.”

“So you’re going to leave me alone?” She asks, and I know what kind of alone she means.

“No,” I say, “I’m just asking for you to leave me alone,” meaning the other kind of alone.

“You’re only scared of me,” She shoots back coldly.

“You never cared for me!” I shout back.

“Why don’t you let me free?” She asks.

“Because you never dared to be!” I spit.

“You never listen,” She says, tears streaming down.

“You’re always insistent,” I say, “Just stop reminiscing.”

“I’m just reminiscing!” She says at the same time.

“I just want my privacy,” I say, crying myself, “Why won’t you leave me alone!?”

She stares at me.

I stare at her.

And we don’t move.

 

[Morningtide she/her]

87 is intense! I love it! I really like 88. It's good!

[Sequence she/they]

On 12/9/2022 at 1:43 PM, CalanoCorvus said:

Scene #86: Neon

  Hide contents

I hit the ground with a grunt, running at a fast pace across the rooftop. My feet splash into puddles, but my breath stays even. I’ve been running for years, I’ve mastered the art of it.

Some would want me to say welcome. But The Iridescent City has never been the most welcoming.

Not with the cams, the bots, and definitely not with the graffiti that gives it its title. Its true name has been forgotten after years of crime and graffiti. They sent the bots and installed the cams to try to fix it, but people like me, members of the Sixth Sense, quickly started a resistance.

I haven’t been here long, but the longer I’m here, the more I realize just how much this city is messed up.

Flickers of neon on the edges of my vision, flashes of monochrome searing my retinas, it’s all too confusing.

The Sixth Sense recruits very seldom, and I don’t know why they picked me. Might be because of how I run, might be because of how I fight.

I don’t know, I don’t care. I’m alive.

That’s what matters.

I leap off the roof as bots close in, and tuck and roll onto the next. I turn, flipping the bird to the bots, who draw their stun guns and start firing.

Those damn guns… bane of my existence right there.

I blink, and my Sense activates. The reason we’re called the Sixth Sense, is that members of our group can use the Sense. The Sense is what we call it when we go Neon.

And oh, how I love going Neon.

My vision clears, then brightens, and every color pops into existence. My path becomes clear, the bots fade out of existence, and the graffiti even dims as I see my next moves laid out before me.

No, it’s not a drug.

No, it’s not a chip.

It’s the Sense. It’s going Neon.

I jump, fly, and land. I don’t even tuck and roll, I don’t need to.

I’m Neon. I blink, and three bots appear in front of me. I whip out my Flash, press the button, and swing the small cylinder in a wide arc in my hand. A pulse of light and energy blows the bots off the roof, and I take a quick breather. Sure, I’ve mastered running, but a girl’s still gotta breathe from time to time.

I jump from the roof, down to an alley, and blink.

My Sense activates, I breathe in, and I go Neon.

I dash right, through the graffiti, which has opened to me.

Next thing I know, I’m in the subway tunnel, and I blink again. Bots fade into view, nine of them.

I’m out of Flashes, they’re one use only, repurposed from old spray cans, but they’re damn effective and I’m cursing myself for running out.

My Sense is only good for getting around, and I’m out of Flashes.

I hand myself over.

 

I’m in a bot car, driving towards Precinct F Station. I glance out the window, noting the Neon outlines of other Sixth Sense members. I can see them, they can see me. But the bots can’t see them, and non-members can’t see them either.

We pull up next to the station, and I shoot my shot. I kick open the door, and leap out. I blink, going Neon, and my cuffs fall off.

I dash through some graffiti, and fall into Sixth Sense HQ.

I puff my hair out of my face and walk to the couch, flopping down.

I grin. ‘Course I’d never let them get me for real, it’s just fun to let them think that.

Keeps me alive.

 

Oh. My. GOSH. I cannot even say how much I love this. You should write a full book about this. That sort of fantasy magic, gritty, street criminal stuff is just so perfect, and this just makes it better.

On 12/14/2022 at 8:27 AM, CalanoCorvus said:

Scene #87: Monolith

  Hide contents

“Welcome, citizens,” He said in a cold, calculating voice. Even as he spoke, it was as if he was planning his next move. His next bid. His next attack.

“Welcome to a new era,” Said Monolith. That was not his true name, I don’t think, but it was what everyone called him.

Monolith. Monolith the Great, Savior of Our Kind, Ruler of the Seventh Land.

“An era of peace, an Age of prosperity. The Stars have shone down upon this land, and they have deemed it worthy. I am to turn this land into a bustling utopia. The Stars have said it as such.”

I scoffed under my breath. Monolith was just a man. Few know this, for all the words he said were well crafted, to instill fear, reverence, and respect into the people.

“The Sands rule in the Sixth Land, the Timekeepers in the Fourth, the Wheel in the First Land. And I, the Monolith, firm and strong,” He said, holding up a fist at the podium, “Rule the Seventh Land.”

Soldiers marched up on stage, their helmet visors red, their guns loaded, held to their chests. Their armor and uniform black, with the name of their organization on their sleeve.

They were the Pillars of Downfall. Everyone called them the Pod’s. They were brutal.

“My predecessor was a foolish man,” Monolith continued, his voice rising, “He did not care for this land as I do. He did not care for you as I do! He did not care! And he is dead because of it!”

Monolith took a deep breath, straightening his tie. “But it is okay,” He said softly, and a grin spread across his face, “Because I care. I care about this land, I care about you, and I am not dead.”

“And I will not die!” He shouted, “Not if the Leonin Seat in the Second Land comes to call, not if the Sands blow in from the Sixth, not if anything happens. I will stand in defense of this Seventh Land.”

He leaned forward.

“For as the Great Prophet Anachi said, ‘So, when the Grand Wave crests on the shore of the Ages, so too will the world shake as the Foam blasts across the world. With every Crash of the Wave, a new Age begins.’ The Wave has just Crashed, my friends,” Monolith said, spreading his arms wide, “A new Age has begun! The Wave prepares, the Foam spreads inward, and the Age strengthens. And we will grow with it! We will become such a power in the world, we will break the Wheel, turn the Sands to glass, and sit in the Leonin Seat!”

The people cheered. I stared in horror at the spectacle. So many… so many will die. Because of this man’s arrogance.

What he had said about the Wave was true. A new Age had begun, I had felt it. Everyone had.

But I was not about to let him taint the Water red.

 

I love how foreboding and poetic this is. It reminds me of Tarnished of the Stars in some ways, Hyperion in others, and just kind of like that religious Sci-Fi vibe, if you know what I mean.

 

Overall, you are AMAZING AT THIS! You have so much talent that I'm kinda jealous .

[Medium he/they]

8 minutes ago, Sequence said:

Oh. My. GOSH. I cannot even say how much I love this. You should write a full book about this. That sort of fantasy magic, gritty, street criminal stuff is just so perfect, and this just makes it better.

I love how foreboding and poetic this is. It reminds me of Tarnished of the Stars in some ways, Hyperion in others, and just kind of like that religious Sci-Fi vibe, if you know what I mean.

 

Overall, you are AMAZING AT THIS! You have so much talent that I'm kinda jealous .

It won't let me rep it so I'll just say thank you.

THANK YOU :DDD

[The Wandering Wizard he/him]

@DoomslugLuna

[Medium he/they]

@The Wandering Wizard Don't worry, she comes here a lot. She's read them all here, and has almost all of them (minus like 5) in hardcover book format, courtesy of me for christmas.

[Morningtide she/her]

OOOOOH that's cool

[Medium he/they]

Scene #89: War Amongst The Klans

Spoiler

The hill sloped gently upward, the side Cyrus stood on bathed in shadow. And above, Cyrus’ beloved, Attica, stood staring down the other side.

She turned, long red ponytail flaring around, and ran back down the side of the hill, hand on the hilt of her sword, and stopped in front of Cyrus.

“Thirty thousand,” She whispered to him, putting a hand on his shoulder and leaning in, “At least. Of Klan Kalador.”

Cyrus cursed. “Kalador?” He whispered back, “You’re sure?”

“Positive,” Attica responded, looking him in the eyes with her steely gray-blue eyes, a symbol of Klan Riora. Cyrus and Attica’s relationship was forbidden, an inter-Klan marriage forbidden by the High Kouncil. Attica was of Klan Riora, and Cyrus was of Klan Tuvin.

But, they were the best pair of warriors the Klans had seen in centuries, so while the Kouncil did frown upon their marriage, they dubiously accepted it due to their prowess on the battlefield in defense of their two Klans. Such a unification hadn’t been seen since the reign of Grand Kouncilman Tarilco, who had united all the Klans.

But that had been centuries ago.

Now, Klans Riora, Tuvin, and Alakona were united against Klan Kalador. The Dark Klan, it had come to be called.

Klan Kiro had decided to remain neutral throughout the conflict, locking its borders and not allowing anyone into the Crystal Peaks.

Cyrus cursed again, looking up at the light that crested over the hill. The sun was just barely rising, and the clouds seemed darker as the light came at them horizontally.

“Where did they get thirty thousand?” Cyrus asked, tearing his eyes away from the light.

“That’s anyone's guess,” Attica said, “Probably Necromancy. Dark Magic.”

Cyrus cursed again, pinching the bridge of his nose.

“How many do we have?” He asked Attica.

“28 thousand,” Attica whispered.

Cyrus put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it, “Then we fight like we’re Fallen.”

He turned to his army of 28 thousand, dressed in the colors of Riora, Tuvin, and Alakona. Grays, and blues, and greens, arrayed in a beautiful marbling of defiant confidence in the face of the Dark Magic.

“Brethren!” He shouted, magnifying his voice by dipping his soul into the Pool, the ethereal source of magic he was connected to, “Today, over this rise, thirty thousand men and women of Klan Kalador wait to attack.”

Some of the soldiers shuffled. They knew they were outnumbered, and against Kalador- even with a difference of 2 thousand, a possible victory- it was terrifying.

“My brothers and sisters!” Cyrus shouted again, “Today, Kalador would take from us the one thing they should never be allowed to take! Our partners! Our homes! Our freedoms and liberties! Will we allow this to happen?”

A defiant cry rose from the assembled ranks, accompanied by a raising of spear and sword, defiant shots of flame and ice shooting into the air. Magic users, ready to fight for the cause.

Cyrus shouted with them, fire flaming from his mouth in a ferocious tongue of death.

“We fight for the fallen! We fight like Fallen! We fight like the Fallen Angels of old, nothing left to lose!”

Attica took his hand, and Cyrus looked at her as the army shouted, preparing to do battle.

Cyrus kissed her, holding her face in his hands. When he broke off the kiss, he whispered to her, “Stay by my side in this.”

Attica put her hands on his, and whispered back, “Always.”

And they turned and charged over the hill, to fight like demons, to fight for themselves, their brethren, and their freedoms.

 

[Wittles he/him]

2 hours ago, CalanoCorvus said:

Scene #89: War Amongst The Klans

  Hide contents

He turned to his army of 28 thousand, dressed in the colors of Riora, Tuvin, and Alakona. Grays, and blues, and greens, arrayed in a beautiful marbling of defiant confidence in the face of the Dark Magic.

 

This is so cool! This line especially stood out to me, not exactly sure why, but I loved it. Good job.  

[Medium he/they]

Scene #90: Not Alone.

This poem like piece was part of me writing my feelings out. It was originally posted in an earlier SU today, by me.

Spoiler

“Do you have a story?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s your story?”

“My story?”

“Yeah.”

“My sister died. Suicide. She was my best friend. And it broke me.”

“How did you recover from that?”

“I didn’t.”

“What do you mean?”

“I never recovered. I will never recover fully. I was far away when it happened, I saw it coming. I helped as much as I could. I shouldn’t have left, that’s for sure. I vowed, afterwards, that I would never leave again.”

“Do you miss her?”

“Every day. Every damn day. There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t think of her.”

“Do you have friends who’re there for you?”

“I do.”

“Do they help?”

“They do.”

“Do you know anyone who’s veering towards the path your sister took?”

“I do.”

“Are you trying to help them?”

“Absolutely.”

“Is it working?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is there something you wish you could say to them?”

“Too many.”

“Try something.”

“Don’t… don’t think it’s over because the past year has been absolute crap. Don’t think it’s over because no one at school cares to look your way. Don’t think it’s over because there’s only 3 of 8 billion people that care to ask how you’re doing. 3 is better than none.”

“That’s some good advice.”

“Don’t think that just because very few people care about you, that no one will miss you. People will miss you. My sister had nobody. Absolutely nobody. Except me. And I did all I could. And it still wasn’t enough. She reached out, she tried, but it wasn’t enough. I don’t blame myself. I don’t blame her. I blame people.”

“What do you mean?”

“People are absolute pricks. People will leave you in the dust without a second thought, because you don’t fit their vibe, or you don’t match their beliefs, or they just grow tired of you. I try to not be people. It hurts to call myself a human being, because most of us are absolute assholes.”

“Yeah.”

“I vowed never to leave anyone. Not after my sister. I will not be leaving anyone ever again. I will sacrifice my entire life for theirs. To see them succeed. To see them live.”

“Anything else?”

“Yeah. Nobody should have to hurt alone. Ever. And I know you’re probably thinking, ‘but I am alone, how can I fix that? I don’t know anyone who can help.’ Well, you’ll have to start somewhere. The path to healing and recovery is long, and hard. But one of the good things about people? They’re strong. Stronger than anything. You’ll get through this. And I’ll be here to guide you and help you every step of the way.”

“That was beautiful. Thank you.”

“Thank you for having me.”

 

[Morningtide she/her]

Still amazing. So many emotions. You have a gift for conveying amazing and completely realistic and relatable emotions through only dialogue. Keep writing!

[Medium he/they]

Scene #91: In Your Arms

This is a continuation of Scene #89.

Spoiler

Hours later, after most of the battle had concluded, Cyrus stood atop the hill, looking out over the carnage.

When he had arrived, the sky was blue, the sun high.

And now, the sky was still blue, but tainted by clouds of black smoke, the sun low on the horizon, creating a scene as if from hell.

He looked down at the fires burning, little fights and duels still going on.

And then, through the smoke, walked a High Kaladorian Warrior.

Cyrus paled, the dark smoke around him a sharp contrast to his skin. The Kaladorian strode purposefully across the battlefield.

Cyrus searched across the battlefield for his love, Attica.

Time seemed to slow down as he looked. Was she okay? Was she still fighting?

He found her, armor still gleaming, ponytail whipping around as she spun, cutting down foe after foe.

Knowing she was okay bolstered him a bit, and he drew his sword, then ran down the hill.

The battle wasn’t over yet, and he intended to secure a duel with the High Kaladorian Warrior, to kill him himself.

Cyrus ran at the Kaladorian and shouted, raising his sword. The Kaladorian turned, drew his sword, and blocked Cyrus’ blow.

Simply. Almost lazily.

This infuriated Cyrus, who unleashed a wicked attack of Tuvin battle techniques.

Klan Tuvin lived along the west bank of the River Tuvin, sharing its name. Their techniques were fluid, yet powerful. They harnessed their emotions and turned them into graceful, flowing moves, which struck with passion and force.

The Kaladorian responded, firmly pressing his attack forward. His helm shone in the refracted light of the evening sun, and his eyes seemed to bore into Cyrus’s.

Back and forth they went, slashing and slicing, neither gaining the upper hand for any longer than a few seconds.

“Cyrus!” Attica shouted from across the battlefield.

Cyrus smashed into the Kaladorians sword, sending him sprawling backwards. Cyrus leaped backwards, turning to look at Attica. Her face was panicked, glancing between him and the Kaladorian. She sprinted towards him, and he grabbed her hand, pressing a firm kiss to the back of it.

“You thought you were going to fight him alone?” She asked.

“You were busy. And I like a challenge every now and then.” He replied.

“And you didn’t call me?” She asked again.

Cyrus shrugged. “I wanted to see if I could take him.”

Attica smiled, glancing towards the Kaladorian. “Well, now you can.” She muttered.

“Such little faith, love?” Cyrus asked with a chuckle.

“Only in him,” She said, gesturing to the Kaladorian.

She turned, drew her sword, and dashed at the Kaladorian, who had risen and was preparing a move. Attica laughed, blocking the attack with her sword, as Cyrus ran in to slash at the man's helm.

The Kaladorian dodged the blow, and stepped backward. Attica brandished her sword at the man, and Cyrus stood nearby, ready to strike.

The Kaladorian glanced between the two, then, quicker than a blink, struck out at Attica.

Apparently, he had been holding back on his true skill.

Attica didn’t have time to block.

The Kaladorian’s sword buried itself deep into Attica’s gut.

And Cyrus screamed.

The Kaladorian jumped back in surprise, releasing his sword and covering his ears. Kaladorians didn’t like loud noises. The man was temporarily stunned.

Cyrus ran to Attica, picking her up and running a distance away.

He slid to his knees, sobbing. Attica looked up at him, face stricken with soot, blood, and pain.

“Cyrus…” She said softly, reaching up to stroke his cheek.

Cyrus closed his eyes, hissing through his teeth, relishing the touch, knowing he would never get it again after today.

“Don’t go,” He moaned, doubling over Attica, “Please, I can’t lose you.”

“Cyrus,” Attica whispered, coughing. Blood and spittle dribbled down her chin, and she smiled weakly.

“Bury me where we first met.”

Cyrus’ mind flashed back to that day.

Standing on a balcony overlooking the Tuvin Reservoir. Attica had been there as a tourist and student, studying the reservoir wall’s support system to keep the water in. He had provided information on it, and then had asked her if she wanted to go grab something at a local place he knew.

She had graciously accepted.

“I don’t want to,” He said, “I don’t want to bury you, I want to be buried next to you.”

“Your time here is not over yet, love,” She said, “You still have more to do. And you’ll have to finish it without me.”

Cyrus pushed Attica’s hair out of her face, looking in her eyes one last time.

“I love you.” He whispered.

“I know,” She said, smiling up at him. Her steely gray-blue eyes, one of his favorite colors- mostly because of her- were glistening. “And I love you. I always will.”

Cyrus smiled back, knowing it would make her feel better. She loved his smile, she always told him.

“Ah, I love that smile,” She said, and laughed softly. It quickly turned into coughs.

“Think of me often?” She muttered, eyes drifting shut.

“Always,” He whispered, stroking her hair, “Always. Always.”

Attica’s heartbeat slowed.

Until it was no more.

Cyrus doubled over, in more pain than if he had been stabbed himself.

He screamed again, louder than before. He heard a shout behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder.

The Kaladorian had been running at him, preparing to strike. He must have assumed it would be an easy kill. He was stunned again, on the ground.

Cyrus’ eyes flashed viciously. Tuvin soldiers answered his call, running up. Their faces showed no emotion.

Thank the Elders.

“Take her,” Cyrus said hoarsely, “Keep her safe until I return.”
“Sir,” One of them said, the badge on his plate declaring him a 2nd Officer, “Don’t you require help?”

“No,” Cyrus said as the Kaladorian stood, “I’ll handle this. Go! Now!”

The soldiers saluted and picked up Attica, dashing away with her.

“I will avenge you, my beloved,” He whispered to the wind, turning around, “Here and now.”

The Kaladorian stood, shook his head, and prepared to strike.

Cyrus shouted, and leaped at him with his sword.

His onslaught was fueled by so much; grief, pain, rage, love, loss, and a million more emotions.

The Kaladorian looked small.

Cyrus slashed and hacked. The Kaladorian blocked, panicking.

Their swords connected with a crash, and they shattered. Sparkling bits of metal flew through the air, bouncing off the pair's armor.

The Kaladorian stumbled back, the sound shocking him.

And Cyrus ran him through with the shattered, sharp tip of his sword. A dagger now, more like.

The broken sword slammed into a chink in the shoulder of the Kaladorians armor, and Cyrus turned, throwing the Kaladorian to the ground.

“Tell her I send my love,” He spat, then withdrew his sword- which elicited a grunt from the Kaladorian- and plunged it into his chest, killing him.

He then collapsed to the ground, and began to cry.

@DoomslugLuna @Morningtide

pinging y'all because this is... a heavy one. want y'all to see it, give your thoughts.

[Edema Rue she/her]

I haven't read all of them but that was really good. The emotion is, like always, really powerful. Good job!

Edited January 24, 2023 by Aes Sedai

[The Wandering Wizard he/him]

49 minutes ago, CalanoCorvus said:

Scene #91: In Your Arms

This is a continuation of Scene #89.

  Hide contents

Hours later, after most of the battle had concluded, Cyrus stood atop the hill, looking out over the carnage.

When he had arrived, the sky was blue, the sun high.

And now, the sky was still blue, but tainted by clouds of black smoke, the sun low on the horizon, creating a scene as if from hell.

He looked down at the fires burning, little fights and duels still going on.

And then, through the smoke, walked a High Kaladorian Warrior.

Cyrus paled, the dark smoke around him a sharp contrast to his skin. The Kaladorian strode purposefully across the battlefield.

Cyrus searched across the battlefield for his love, Attica.

Time seemed to slow down as he looked. Was she okay? Was she still fighting?

He found her, armor still gleaming, ponytail whipping around as she spun, cutting down foe after foe.

Knowing she was okay bolstered him a bit, and he drew his sword, then ran down the hill.

The battle wasn’t over yet, and he intended to secure a duel with the High Kaladorian Warrior, to kill him himself.

Cyrus ran at the Kaladorian and shouted, raising his sword. The Kaladorian turned, drew his sword, and blocked Cyrus’ blow.

Simply. Almost lazily.

This infuriated Cyrus, who unleashed a wicked attack of Tuvin battle techniques.

Klan Tuvin lived along the west bank of the River Tuvin, sharing its name. Their techniques were fluid, yet powerful. They harnessed their emotions and turned them into graceful, flowing moves, which struck with passion and force.

The Kaladorian responded, firmly pressing his attack forward. His helm shone in the refracted light of the evening sun, and his eyes seemed to bore into Cyrus’s.

Back and forth they went, slashing and slicing, neither gaining the upper hand for any longer than a few seconds.

“Cyrus!” Attica shouted from across the battlefield.

Cyrus smashed into the Kaladorians sword, sending him sprawling backwards. Cyrus leaped backwards, turning to look at Attica. Her face was panicked, glancing between him and the Kaladorian. She sprinted towards him, and he grabbed her hand, pressing a firm kiss to the back of it.

“You thought you were going to fight him alone?” She asked.

“You were busy. And I like a challenge every now and then.” He replied.

“And you didn’t call me?” She asked again.

Cyrus shrugged. “I wanted to see if I could take him.”

Attica smiled, glancing towards the Kaladorian. “Well, now you can.” She muttered.

“Such little faith, love?” Cyrus asked with a chuckle.

“Only in him,” She said, gesturing to the Kaladorian.

She turned, drew her sword, and dashed at the Kaladorian, who had risen and was preparing a move. Attica laughed, blocking the attack with her sword, as Cyrus ran in to slash at the man's helm.

The Kaladorian dodged the blow, and stepped backward. Attica brandished her sword at the man, and Cyrus stood nearby, ready to strike.

The Kaladorian glanced between the two, then, quicker than a blink, struck out at Attica.

Apparently, he had been holding back on his true skill.

Attica didn’t have time to block.

The Kaladorian’s sword buried itself deep into Attica’s gut.

And Cyrus screamed.

The Kaladorian jumped back in surprise, releasing his sword and covering his ears. Kaladorians didn’t like loud noises. The man was temporarily stunned.

Cyrus ran to Attica, picking her up and running a distance away.

He slid to his knees, sobbing. Attica looked up at him, face stricken with soot, blood, and pain.

“Cyrus…” She said softly, reaching up to stroke his cheek.

Cyrus closed his eyes, hissing through his teeth, relishing the touch, knowing he would never get it again after today.

“Don’t go,” He moaned, doubling over Attica, “Please, I can’t lose you.”

“Cyrus,” Attica whispered, coughing. Blood and spittle dribbled down her chin, and she smiled weakly.

“Bury me where we first met.”

Cyrus’ mind flashed back to that day.

Standing on a balcony overlooking the Tuvin Reservoir. Attica had been there as a tourist and student, studying the reservoir wall’s support system to keep the water in. He had provided information on it, and then had asked her if she wanted to go grab something at a local place he knew.

She had graciously accepted.

“I don’t want to,” He said, “I don’t want to bury you, I want to be buried next to you.”

“Your time here is not over yet, love,” She said, “You still have more to do. And you’ll have to finish it without me.”

Cyrus pushed Attica’s hair out of her face, looking in her eyes one last time.

“I love you.” He whispered.

“I know,” She said, smiling up at him. Her steely gray-blue eyes, one of his favorite colors- mostly because of her- were glistening. “And I love you. I always will.”

Cyrus smiled back, knowing it would make her feel better. She loved his smile, she always told him.

“Ah, I love that smile,” She said, and laughed softly. It quickly turned into coughs.

“Think of me often?” She muttered, eyes drifting shut.

“Always,” He whispered, stroking her hair, “Always. Always.”

Attica’s heartbeat slowed.

Until it was no more.

Cyrus doubled over, in more pain than if he had been stabbed himself.

He screamed again, louder than before. He heard a shout behind him, and he glanced over his shoulder.

The Kaladorian had been running at him, preparing to strike. He must have assumed it would be an easy kill. He was stunned again, on the ground.

Cyrus’ eyes flashed viciously. Tuvin soldiers answered his call, running up. Their faces showed no emotion.

Thank the Elders.

“Take her,” Cyrus said hoarsely, “Keep her safe until I return.”
“Sir,” One of them said, the badge on his plate declaring him a 2nd Officer, “Don’t you require help?”

“No,” Cyrus said as the Kaladorian stood, “I’ll handle this. Go! Now!”

The soldiers saluted and picked up Attica, dashing away with her.

“I will avenge you, my beloved,” He whispered to the wind, turning around, “Here and now.”

The Kaladorian stood, shook his head, and prepared to strike.

Cyrus shouted, and leaped at him with his sword.

His onslaught was fueled by so much; grief, pain, rage, love, loss, and a million more emotions.

The Kaladorian looked small.

Cyrus slashed and hacked. The Kaladorian blocked, panicking.

Their swords connected with a crash, and they shattered. Sparkling bits of metal flew through the air, bouncing off the pair's armor.

The Kaladorian stumbled back, the sound shocking him.

And Cyrus ran him through with the shattered, sharp tip of his sword. A dagger now, more like.

The broken sword slammed into a chink in the shoulder of the Kaladorians armor, and Cyrus turned, throwing the Kaladorian to the ground.

“Tell her I send my love,” He spat, then withdrew his sword- which elicited a grunt from the Kaladorian- and plunged it into his chest, killing him.

He then collapsed to the ground, and began to cry.

@DoomslugLuna @Morningtide

pinging y'all because this is... a heavy one. want y'all to see it, give your thoughts.

You ping them but not me

It is quite heavy and my mind wonders two things, do you always just replace C's with K's Chaos = Kaos. Clan = Klan. And what happens to Cyrus now? Where does he go, how does he fit back in, does he ever fit back in?