I've decided to post something here that I wrote a few years ago. I kind of want it to be preserved someplace and I figure this is as good as any. I'll throw up a spoiler on it cause it's kinda long, and anyone who doesn't want to read it doesn't have to.
It's just a little story that I wrote while I was at work one day. Nothing special.
It's just a little story that I wrote while I was at work one day. Nothing special.
SPOILERS! (Click to view)
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A Heroes Death
A Tribute to The Ganner
by: Alex Star
"The main thing about being a Hero is to know when to die"
- Will Rogers
Sidestep, duck, parry, thrust, Kill. Duck, parry, cut, Kill. Sidestep, block, thrust, Kill. Sidestep, block, duck, slash, Kill. Duck, thrust, Kill. Slash, Kill. Thrust, Kill. Duck, Kill. Parry, Kill. Block, Kill. Thrust, Kill, Kill, Kill, Kill.
A moment of clarity. How many had he killed? Ten, fifty, a hundred... it didn't seem to matter, for each of them who fell before him was quickly replaced by another, and another. In truth it really didn't matter, because he knew that he could kill them all. Regardless of how many there were he would triumph in the end. With each flick of his blade another of his foes would fall before him.
Stepping aside from the falling body his blade moving before him in a brilliant display of skill and mastery as he took down another. His strikes efficient, and deadly as he cut down his next opponent. He ducks, parries, and takes his opponents leg off at the knee. Twisting up and around he cuts another one cleanly in two. With barely a glance to his side he thrusts his blade through the neck of another battle scarred warrior.
A moment of regret. He felt a sudden surge of sorrow as he realized that these were not simple soldiers he killed. They were highly trained warriors, most of them veterans of many battles. They had fought his people to the brink of destruction, and yet they fell before him like blades of grass bending as a sudden gust of wind swept over them.
And they continued to fall, another warrior starting to fall even before his comrade had hit the ground. He moved among the corpses of his enemies with the grace and precision of a great artist, his feet touching the ground only in the most exact of places. His blade a constant blur as his body twisted and spun cutting down each warrior in turn. Beyond the bodies of the fallen warriors he could see the column of his foes stretching almost farther than he could see.
A moment of insight. What if he did kill them all? A thousand warriors driving forward to die at his hand. Their charge was relentless, and he knew that they would continue to fight him until none remained. And he would walk away the Hero in an anonymous battle. Even then their charge would not cease, and he could not hold them back forever. Soon they would push his people to the edge of defeat, and over it.
He and his blade were one. A deadly weapon that danced between the warriors like the grim reaper. Each one he touched would fall into the darkness. They scrambled over the bodies of their dead, seemingly more enraged at his ability to remain standing. They surged forward, and they died. He continued his dreadfully exquisite dance, and they died.
A moment of realization. His last words echoed through his mind, his vow that none of them would pass. He knew that this vow extended far beyond the battle that lay before him. He knew that with each of the warriors that he slew, his vow was made again. He knew that his people would make the same vow. He realized, that it was time to let his enemies know.
* * * * *
The warrior stood among the throng of his comrades, their slow shuffle forward having stopped a while ago. The warriors around him were beginning to become impatient, longing for their chance to kill this man who stood before them. Word trickled back through the ranks of warriors detailing the madman who stood defiantly against them. Rumors that he was slaying their warriors as fast as they could join the battle. All that time the warriors had continued a slow march towards battle, but now it had stopped.
Slowly a message seemed to be working its way back towards the warrior. The others far ahead of him seemed to be enraged over something. And then the words began to drift back to his own ears. "He's dead...", "He killed himself...", "The path is blocked...", "He killed himself and colapsed the passage with him..." Suddenly all around the warrior was confusion, his comrades howling in rage at this final act of defiance by their enemy. And then someone shouted, "He's sacrificed himself, and now the passage is blocked!" It was then that the warrior realized, their progress had ended.
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______________________________________
A Heroes Death
A Tribute to The Ganner
by: Alex Star
"The main thing about being a Hero is to know when to die"
- Will Rogers
Sidestep, duck, parry, thrust, Kill. Duck, parry, cut, Kill. Sidestep, block, thrust, Kill. Sidestep, block, duck, slash, Kill. Duck, thrust, Kill. Slash, Kill. Thrust, Kill. Duck, Kill. Parry, Kill. Block, Kill. Thrust, Kill, Kill, Kill, Kill.
A moment of clarity. How many had he killed? Ten, fifty, a hundred... it didn't seem to matter, for each of them who fell before him was quickly replaced by another, and another. In truth it really didn't matter, because he knew that he could kill them all. Regardless of how many there were he would triumph in the end. With each flick of his blade another of his foes would fall before him.
Stepping aside from the falling body his blade moving before him in a brilliant display of skill and mastery as he took down another. His strikes efficient, and deadly as he cut down his next opponent. He ducks, parries, and takes his opponents leg off at the knee. Twisting up and around he cuts another one cleanly in two. With barely a glance to his side he thrusts his blade through the neck of another battle scarred warrior.
A moment of regret. He felt a sudden surge of sorrow as he realized that these were not simple soldiers he killed. They were highly trained warriors, most of them veterans of many battles. They had fought his people to the brink of destruction, and yet they fell before him like blades of grass bending as a sudden gust of wind swept over them.
And they continued to fall, another warrior starting to fall even before his comrade had hit the ground. He moved among the corpses of his enemies with the grace and precision of a great artist, his feet touching the ground only in the most exact of places. His blade a constant blur as his body twisted and spun cutting down each warrior in turn. Beyond the bodies of the fallen warriors he could see the column of his foes stretching almost farther than he could see.
A moment of insight. What if he did kill them all? A thousand warriors driving forward to die at his hand. Their charge was relentless, and he knew that they would continue to fight him until none remained. And he would walk away the Hero in an anonymous battle. Even then their charge would not cease, and he could not hold them back forever. Soon they would push his people to the edge of defeat, and over it.
He and his blade were one. A deadly weapon that danced between the warriors like the grim reaper. Each one he touched would fall into the darkness. They scrambled over the bodies of their dead, seemingly more enraged at his ability to remain standing. They surged forward, and they died. He continued his dreadfully exquisite dance, and they died.
A moment of realization. His last words echoed through his mind, his vow that none of them would pass. He knew that this vow extended far beyond the battle that lay before him. He knew that with each of the warriors that he slew, his vow was made again. He knew that his people would make the same vow. He realized, that it was time to let his enemies know.
* * * * *
The warrior stood among the throng of his comrades, their slow shuffle forward having stopped a while ago. The warriors around him were beginning to become impatient, longing for their chance to kill this man who stood before them. Word trickled back through the ranks of warriors detailing the madman who stood defiantly against them. Rumors that he was slaying their warriors as fast as they could join the battle. All that time the warriors had continued a slow march towards battle, but now it had stopped.
Slowly a message seemed to be working its way back towards the warrior. The others far ahead of him seemed to be enraged over something. And then the words began to drift back to his own ears. "He's dead...", "He killed himself...", "The path is blocked...", "He killed himself and colapsed the passage with him..." Suddenly all around the warrior was confusion, his comrades howling in rage at this final act of defiance by their enemy. And then someone shouted, "He's sacrificed himself, and now the passage is blocked!" It was then that the warrior realized, their progress had ended.
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- Everything I tell you is a Lie -
Alex Star
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...always good to know!