Another Literary Attempt

[Jerome]

Deciding to go with the current trend of young authors displying their work here, I thought I'd stick this up for comments. This would/might/could be chapter 1 of a story, if i could be bothered writing any more.

Please be aware of three things before reading however: One, i'm a novice and any mistakes you spot are probably not intentional on my part. Two, all comments are welcome, evenig it's just to tell me how much you hate it (as long as you also provide some sort of indicator WHY)

And three, Some of the characters are named after some of you... no offence inended if you're not portrayed the way you'd like.


*Untitled As Of Yet*

The tavern’s drinking patrons were slowly gaining momentum, the usual town drunkards in the corner - who had been devouring bottles and glasses since early noon - leading the rest of the rabble with exaggerated drunken grandeur. Growing numbers of customers, mostly human except for the occasional dwarf, began to fill the seats around the circular oaken tables that were marked from long usage, littered with burns scars and dents. Some of them were young, some old, all carrying at least one hidden weapon, as was customary for a tavern with as dubious a reputation as this one.
The torches were being lit along the ancient oaken walls as the light slowly began to fade outside the taverns small, circular windows and thus heralding a new influx of thirsty regulars whom strode to the bar with eagerness. The new arrivals entered with bellows of familiar greetings, vigorous waves and pantomimed kisses were hurled at of the well endowed waitresses in provocative garb who glided swiftly from table to table with a constant smile plastered to their young faces. The tavern slowly began to reach bursting point, and the young girls anticipated a long night ahead of them; all of them were already hard at work.

All of them but one.

The short and heavily weighted owner of the tavern surveyed the entire establishment from the balcony of the second floor, eyes piercing, a hawk searching for it’s prey. He went by the name of Pygmius Arrtium (or secretly as "piggy", though never to his face). His large hairy arms folded menacingly over his ample chest, fingers drumming absent-mindedly on his opposite arm. A small and much worn pipe hung from the corner of his mouth, puffing small rings of smoke into the air in steady rhythm. From beneath a pair of bushy eyebrows, his narrow eyes focused distastefully on the couple at the far corner of the bar. A vibrant young girl and a colourfully dressed man leaned increasingly close into one another, the girl throwing back her golden hair periodically as she laughed at the mans comments. Her soft green eyes shining with fascination at whatever stories that were now being bequeathed into her small dainty ears, as full of expectation as a kitten as it’s owner pours milk into it’s bowl. She was, the owner realised in retrospect, the double of her mother, who once had held his attention in the same magical manner as the handsome young man, who sat beside her now.
The owner continued to watch them as his grubby fingers felt around his belt for the small dagger that was often being called into use to “warn” other gallivanting hopefuls of the danger of being involved romantically with his daughter. He sensed, with much experience, that the weapon was going to get an airing tonight. The idea of driving the blade through the young man’s gullet pleased the owner momentarily, a small smirk passing over his lips. Still smiling faintly, he went downstairs to assist at the increasingly busying bar, though ever keeping his eyes firmly locked on his precious daughter.

Over at the far corner of the bar, the girl - who had been flirted with more times by various men in a day than most girls do in a lifetime - was being most impressed by the charming, and increasingly more intoxicated, bardic stranger that now sat before her. He was dressed differently from most of the rabble from the bar, under the ragged and torn seams of his ancient cloak, a set of leather gleamed brilliantly. It had not a mark on it, as far as the girl could see, and it was beautiful. Gold, purple and dark red merged kaleidoscopically, and shimmered and shone gracefully when he moved. The cloaks hood had been laid back, revealing a full head of long black hair, that hung gracefully over his shoulders, and also revealed the deep emerald eyes that hungrily watched with drunken fascination as she poured yet another drink for him.
"Four of them?" she asked, eyes full of wonder as she placed yet another mug of cold ale on the counter in front of them.
"Did I say four? I meant five…, so anyway, all six of these orge's, had me surrounded they did… huge they were, two or three times my height anyways." He hiccuped loudly and looked dazed for a moment or two, before his eyes refocused on the entranced lady before him. "Yeah… huge… fought em off with my bare hands, all seven of them versus just me" He smiled proudly and proceeded to empty the contents of the mug in a single long gulp, and looked longingly at the now empty container, and then at the barmaid.
She caught his meaning and while refilling his mug for the hundredth time that night she asked: "Weren’t you scared? From what I’ve heard that Ogres can lift a man above their heads with a single hand! What happened?" the excitement in her voice telling the bard that not only had he found a good audience, but that the fact he was penniless would do little to hamper his drinking tonight.
He nodded in agreement, momentarily loosing balance and nearly brought himself out of his seat, but recovered quickly. "Oh, they were big, and strong all right… and they smelled something awful" his brow furrowed in concentration for a few seconds, before he turned and elbowed the figure, resplendent in sapphire-coloured robes, in the ribs. "Oy, Rikky… what’s that word that starts wi’ an r? Means smelly, uh rac? Ran?.."
The figure uttered a few curses under his breath, sighed and replied: "0Yorick, for the last time my name is Rikard, not Rikky or Rik or any other shortening." He smoothed out his ruffled robes and leaned in closer to his partners ear. "The word is rancid. Please, can we finish up here quickly and make haste? You know the consequences if we fail to arrive on ti…” his whispered warning was cut off by a good-natured punch on the shoulder.
"Rik, just stay calm…" he hiccuped again. "We’ll make it on time… just have a drink and enjoy the company" He smiled again at his friend and patted him affectionately on the head and then turned back to his adoring audience. "Now where was I? Oh yeah. Rancid they were, these eight ogres. They were all around me, ready to spring when I sa…" His heroic story was interrupted by a small tapping on the back of his shoulder. Wearily and none to happy to be interrupted he turned to face the flustered, goatee wearing face of Rikard, his eyes glaring, which made Yorick feel uncomfortably sober.
"We must move NOW. You know what is at risk Yorick, if we don’t keep moving they’ll find us, and you know what that means." Rikard whispered urgently. Yorick looked as if he was deep in contemplation, before he turned and downed the brownish liquid in front of him.
"No. We’ve been moving for months, through forests and swamps and dungeons and god knows what else. I’ll be buggered if we’re going to pass up the chance at some ale, a warm bed and - he looked at the attractive girl over the bar - and the chance for a bit of ‘company’ eh? He winked at Rikard before continuing. "Besides, anyone following us will have a hell of a time finding us, and one night won’t make a difference…right?"
Rikard paused and stared into Yorick’s warm smile. He thought about curling up between linen sheets instead of on the ground beside a hastily built campfire for a few hours, it would have been the first real sleep he had got in months. The thought of food clinched it. After all, he reasoned what difference could a day make?

He was about to find out.


It was a few hours later, when Yorick was well and truly drunk, slumped in his seat and still talking to the barmaid, though no more than a barely coherant syllable at a time before erupting in a fit of coughing and hiccuping.

Rikard was studying a map thoughtfully, and was reclining into padded chair he sat on… which was about as laid back as Rikard was ever going to be. His ears still pricked at the slightest sound and in all respects looked like a field mouse searching for predators.
The tavern was still busy, and would probably remain so till the early hours of the morning. In many respects it was quieter than usual, most of the patrons retired to tables where various games of cards were in full swing. Rarely was it so peaceful, which partly accounted for Pygmius’s good mood. He jingled the money in his pocket gleefully; it had been a good night after all he conceded. Even the colourful rouge he had worried about was almost asleep. He anticipated the reaction he would get when after the bard awoke tomorrow, and he found that not only had Pygmius been keeping track of his drinks. And not only that: he expected payment too. While still smiling he raised his head from his large record-log book at the sound of an approaching horse. There was a stable to the side of the tavern, empty at the moment except the two steeds and the caravan of a local merchant who was sleeping peacefully at this moment in time. He listened closely, but he couldn’t hear any sign of the horse going anywhere. He heard the cold metallic ‘clink’ of chain mail on the cobbles that slowly lead to the door.

The door burst off its hinges.

The place went silent as the clinking figure strode purposefully through the now decimated door. All conversation stopped as everyone turned to look at the almost inhuman figure that stood before them. He was huge, standing eight feet from head to toe, and was clad in brilliant sliver chain. Over his back she had the hide of a winter wolf, it’s long dead head had been worked on by a smith of skill, and was now resting over the figures head, like a helmet, while the rest of the poor animals body hung over his back. The huge forelegs of the wolf had been forged onto the armour, the fur running almost the full length of the man’s arms. It must have a magnificent creature in life, but in death its cold and empty eyes almost matched the pair below it, that still had life but of a different sort. The figure eyes radiated evil; their icy gaze touching all that it passed over, making them involuntarily shudder. His skin was light blue, and almost looked like he was frozen, his lips had no colour at all. He looked long dead.
"The time has come, bard, mage. Your complacency will be your downfall. My master has ordered the return of his amulet, and no longer will it feel the tainted touch of mortal meddlers. The master has commanded it thus, and you shall feel the icy sting of the Azurewolf’s claws." It sounded like there was not just one speaker, but three or four, all speaking a fraction after the one before, which marked him quite clearly as not of this world.
Yorick dragged himself, along with Rikard’s help, to his feet, and stood wobbling uncertainly and trying to focus on the voice that addressed them. "Oh shit." He groaned when his eyes found their mark. The figure began to turn towards them, but found his path blocked by the stout, if small, figure of Pygmius, who at the click of a finger was flanked by a squad of four burly bodyguards, he kept around the bar to ‘remove’ troublemakers.
"Stand aside." The figure said, in a voice not of malice, but of pure evil intent. Pygmius just smiled and nodded to the bodyguards, who moved towards the one who called himself Azurewolf.
"Quickly! Come with me!" The waitress was at Yorick’s arm, dragging him towards the stairs to the bedrooms, Rikard in tow behind them.

As the trio made their way up the stairs, Pygmius stood, mouth gaping at what he saw. Azurewolf smiled grimly as the first, and biggest of the bodyguards reached him, he dodged a blow aimed roughly at his head without effort, then drove his left fist into the ribs of the bulky bodyguard. Pygmius cringed as he heard the sound of cracking bones.
Swiftly, Azurewolf then his right-fist into the face of his adversely, who crumpled to the ground as Azurewolf grabbed the falling man’s sword from its sheath.
He pirouetted, and just as the outstretched arms of the second bodyguard nearly touched him, the sword of his former colleague slashed cleanly through his neck. He paused momentarily, as the blood seeped through his wound, and never saw the second swing as the sword embedded deep in his skull.
The third and fourth saw their friend fall to the floor eyes glazed over as Azurewolf withdrew two small daggers from his belt. He threw one of them, and it found its mark in the eye of one of the bodyguards, while the other ran at him, fuelled by his rage of his dead friends. He swiftly felt the iron heel of Azurewolf’s boots in his jaw and the stabbing pain in his gut as the second dagger carved him open brutally. His last moments of consciousness were looking up at the grinning face of Azurewolf from the ground, before his head was crushed in a moment by an iron boot.
Pygmius looked on in abject horror at Azurewolf, whose bared canine teeth, grinned at him evilly. "You mortals are always such…fun… to play with." He taunted, before launching the bloodied second dagger at Pygmius’s heart. He died without feeling pain. Azurewolf retrieved his daggers, sheathed them and ran with demonic speed up the stairs towards his prey.

Upstairs, the trio stood in the waitress’s bedroom, Rikard stood drawing a chalk circle on the floor as the waitress stood in the centre, as per Rikard’s instructions. Yorick was leaning against the window overlooking the stable, nursing his head and groaning. Rikard completed his circle and stood in it, and shouted:
"Yorick, get into the circle! I’ll teleport us out of here!" Rikard yelled. Yorick began his unsteady walk to the circle when Azurewolf burst form up the stairs and charged at him. Yorick looked up in time to see Azurewolf’s face up close before a shoulder hit Yorick squarely in the chest and threw him through the second storey window, through the stable roof and directly into the empty wooden cart of the merchant’s caravan. The horses, spooked by the large thump, broke free of their weak restraints and galloped off, both Yorick and cart dragging behind them.
The waitress screamed as Azurewolf wheeled and lept towards them, Rikard muttered a few arcane words, and Azurewolf found himself on the floor with his prey gone. He leaped to his feet and howled fiercely. He growled with fury and threw a chair through the now broken window, and drove his fist into the large mirror up on the wall, shattering it into thousand of tiny shards.
He stood and panted, staring at his fragmented reflection in the mirror; his rage exhausted, and with the look of one who knew his task he jumped out of the window. He landed with a soft thud, ran to the front of the tavern and leapt onto his steed. With the soft clicking on his tongue both man and mount rode off, into the midnight darkness.

Yorick felt pain all over his body, he could feel broken bones, and his mind seemed to roll around inside his head with every bump from every stone under the wheels of the speeding caravan. Slowly, pain shooting up his arms and legs, he pulled himself up into a crouch, and then unsteadily raised himself to his feet and exclaimed for the second time that night; "Shit."
All the bumping made it difficult to stay balanced, and his current condition made it worse. He tried to spy where he was, or even sees the horses that ran now without abandon in the inky blackness that enveloped him. So black was the night’s crevices that he could see less than two feet in front if him, and thus never saw the overhanging tree branch that hit him directly on the forehead. It was rotting, and made of only oak, but at the speed he was travelling at, it might have well as been Iron.

Rikard was already up and on his feet, helping the waitress up. She was in shock.
"That…that man…who…was he?" She asked, teeth chattering and eyes wide.
"He is the least if our problems if me and Yorick do not meet our deadline, there are far worse creatures following us than him, and I do not sense things getting any easier." He sighed. "And to make matters worse, I’ve just lost prehaps the only person in the multiverse that can save us." He glanced at her up and down while brushing off some of the loose grass from his robe. "What is your name girl?" he asked.
"K-Kaz. What’s going on? Who are you?"
"Questions lead to answers my dear, and you wont like the ones you’ll be hearing. I must head onwards, hopefully Yorick will recover enough from his…endeavours… to make his way towards the meeting place." He began to stride away, into the dark recesses of the night, when he felt a hand on his arm, and looked up into Kaz’s pleading face.
"Please, let me come." Her face was dishevelled, she had tears on her cheeks and a small cut stained an otherwise attractive face. Rikard sighed again.
"There’s a thousand reasons I could refuse, and a number of spells that could send you right back from where we came." He replied wearily. "Why do I need you?" Kaz leaned very close into Rikard’s face and placed her hand on his cheek.
"You dont become a Barmaid in the that part of the city without learning to look after yourself, she said defiantly, plus; you wouldent send me back there would you? To fight that thing alone?" She took Rikard's wearisome sigh as an invitation and then started walking alongside him. "So who is Yorick anyway? And where are we going?"
Rikard actually laughed. "Yorick, apart from being a raging drunk and a womaniser, is prehaps the most knowlegeable person on this entire plane...he’ll be fine no matter where he is, I assure you. As for our destination… well, I think I’d better start at the beginning, hadn’t I? To really understand where we’re going I need to tell you about the one called Jerome."

********

Yorick awoke with his mind on fire. He groaned with pain and tried to sit up. He couldn’t. His eyes spun wildly around the room, where was he? He found it difficult to focus, his vision was blurry, and his bones screamed with fury at the pain that raced up and down his spine and he couldn’t even feel his legs. He looked at himself; he was naked except from the strange amulet that hung round his neck.
The cold bite of steel pressed into his neck, and the deep voice that followed it’s pressing did little to quell his fear.
"Well, it looks like the boy’s awake Lilly, and with quite a temper too. Listen to me very closely boy, you making that racket has been scaring my little girls, keep doing it and I’ll throw you back out on the road where I found you, right?" Yorick, without looking at the source of this voice, nodded.
"Good. 'Least he understands common, that’ll make things easier. Now, you got a name boy?"

Yorick made to open his mouth then closed it abruptly. With cold, abject horror he slowly overcame the numbing pain in his body to realise a far worse injury to his mind. He had no idea who he was. Everything beyond the last five minutes was obscured behind a shadowy curtain in his mind, and one he could not shift. He also realised, philosophically, that he was in deeper shit than he could ever have imagined.

"I-I dont know". He said quietly, and began to cry.

END. (for now at least, sorry for length of post!)



------------------


Within the jungle of my deepest emotion,
With a coat resplendant in a golden sheen,
Swiftly hunting my tender love,
Stalks the regal, Feline Queen

[DragonMage]

Well, let me say that, though I don't know how those represented in your story will react, they shouldn't have a problem with it. It's a GREAT beginning!
And you have such wonderful imagery! And a great vocabulary! (Gee! I think I just became your fan !)

If it's not too presumptuous, may I make a couple small suggestions?

1. Instead of "a set of leather gleamed brilliantly", you might want to consider "leather armor gleamed brilliantly". The "a set" leaves one asking "a set of..what?"

2. Also, after "devouring bottles and glasses" add something like "of alcohol" or change it to "downing bottles and glasses of alcohol". If you leave it as is, it seems that they are EATING the bottles and glasses.

Other than that, a few understandable typos is all I found "wrong" with it.

I think it's great! Keep it up! I want to read more!

------------------

The day we stop learning is the day we start dying!(c)

Owner/operator of the Evil Petting Zoo and devout member of the HADB clan.
Mage extraordinair.
Commander of the Dragon Fleet, IW Peacekeeping Force
Occasional subjugate to Gwhanos the Fluffy

Hopeless Romantic *sigh*

"Allright! We'll call it a draw."

[Jerome]

Originally posted by DragonMage: 2. Also, after "devouring bottles and glasses" add something like "of alcohol" or change it to "downing bottles and glasses of alcohol". If you leave it as is, it seems that they are EATING the bottles and glasses.

LMAO! Diddn't I mention that they hadn't eaten in days?

Many thanks for the suggestions!


------------------


Within the jungle of my deepest emotion,
With a coat resplendant in a golden sheen,
Swiftly hunting my tender love,
Stalks the regal, Feline Queen

[DragonMage]

Your welcome, sweetie! I've been writing almost as long as you've been alive (gee, I feel old!) I'm just glad if my suggestions helped.

------------------

The day we stop learning is the day we start dying!(c)

Owner/operator of the Evil Petting Zoo and devout member of the HADB clan.
Mage extraordinair.
Commander of the Dragon Fleet, IW Peacekeeping Force
Occasional subjugate to Gwhanos the Fluffy

Hopeless Romantic *sigh*

"Allright! We'll call it a draw."

[Kaz]

Jerome, if I ever come to Scotland I will kill you Nah, just kidding . I do hope I'm not that naive, though. I hope the character Kaz develps well. Apart from that, great story! I can't wait to hear what happened to Yorick!

------------------


Kazara

Sapphire Dragoness of ALSB
Waitress at Cloudy's Cafe

[Jerome]

Originally posted by Kaz: I do hope I'm not that naive, though.

ummm, no... of course not...



The characters will all develop in their own ways. Waitress's arent always what they seem to be you know...



------------------


Within the jungle of my deepest emotion,
With a coat resplendant in a golden sheen,
Swiftly hunting my tender love,
Stalks the regal, Feline Queen

[Ramon de Ramon y Ramon]

Wow !!! Jerome, that is just awesome: I was absolutely glued to the screen during the entire read ! Other than that, I am almost speechless - and knowing me you should realize that is the ultimate compliment !

Well, not entirely speechless: first thing tomorrow drop out of school, send that story to all publishing houses involved with fantasy, so that they can fire all those sad pretenders that they have employed and paid so far for wrting fantasy novels and allow them generously to outbid each other when trying to buy the publishing rights for your story !

But seriously, you should really consider making writing what you will later do for a living, you have got a great gift and talent there !




------------------
So long !

R³ aka "The Ramonster"(thanks Sir Tainly) - proud to be the official spokesman for the most noble Lady Bilqis, Desert Rose of Ironworks

Btw, the cow is queuing in the slaughterhouse right now !

[This message has been edited by Ramon de Ramon y Ramon (edited 09-24-2001).]

[Ramon de Ramon y Ramon]

Originally posted by DragonMage: Your welcome, sweetie! I've been writing almost as long as you've been alive (gee, I feel old!) I'm just glad if my suggestions helped.

But dearest Miss DragonMage, has nobody ever told you that it is a wellkown fact that true Southern Belles only slowly start approaching their prime well after reaching 35 ? Just ask Reeka, she will second me on that, I am sure !

So, by that standard you are still nothing but a blossom that has just begun to unfold !

------------------
So long !

R³ aka "The Ramonster"(thanks Sir Tainly) - proud to be the official spokesman for the most noble Lady Bilqis, Desert Rose of Ironworks

Btw, the cow is queuing in the slaughterhouse right now !

[Jerome]

Originally posted by Ramon de Ramon y Ramon: Wow !!! Jerome, that is just awesome: I was absolutely glued to the screen during the entire read ! Other than that, I am almost speechless - and knowing me you should realize that is the ultimate compliment ! Well, not entirely speechless: first thing tomorrow drop out of school, send that story to all publishing houses involved with fantasy, so that they can fire all those sad pretenders that they have employed and paid so far for wrting fantasy novels and allow them generously to outbid each other when trying to buy the publishing rights for your story ! But seriously, you should really consider making writing what you will later do for a living, you have got a great gift and talent there !

Well.... I think all i can say in return is Thanks!

Has the silver tounged Ramon Triplets never utilised their "wordiness" () to write? If so I would be most interested to see the results...




------------------


Within the jungle of my deepest emotion,
With a coat resplendant in a golden sheen,
Swiftly hunting my tender love,
Stalks the regal, Feline Queen

[Fljotsdale]

You have a good vocabulary Jerome, and people have already pointed out things I was going to suggest.

But - may I say it? - I was howling with laughter all the way through! I HOPE it meant to be a comedy? It reads like a great send-up of AD&D adventures! You should complete it! Leave in the 'devouring bottles'! Nice comic picture, that. You have an ability to create word pictures - we can SEE that scene in the pub!
You need to tidy it up a little, but not too much.

------------------