by John Roberts
a bunch of small pieces. If you want something longer, read "Heroes Die"
|Scarlet rays of a dying sun, like scarred hands of valor, stabbed through the gilded majesty of the clouds. Then did Mortuus descend, bringing swift eventide to drown thy waning hope.
-fall of the city Arcos
(Mortuus is the same dragon from my other piece entitled "dragon". Mortuus and this city and this event are all part of an ongoing project to explore the history of this world I'm working on. I hope to soon finish the world-building so I can get into the larger story)
Mortuus, that awful leviathan, descended upon the blissful glade like a demon plauge. Even the wolves quailed as his claws rent the earth, and the trees cringed at his presence as slaves might an overly cruel taskmaster. Noxious vapors billowed from his snout, like the black smoke of an ancient foundry, as he leered at the imperial spire that defied him. He opened the porticullis that was his infernal maw, and from the very bowels of his evil vomitted a gout of ebony doom. The pinnacle, its uppermost turrets, furled and sagged and melted away as a waning candle. And so the tower of Lucet, once like an oak in the morning sun, withered into a black stump of gloom. (Mortuus, same dragon. Lucet is a wizard who has long stood against the might of Mortuus. This scene depicts the fall of Lucet's tower. It is dark times in the history of my world. I guess that's all you need to understand this scene)
The sun buried his wretched face in the grey gloom of the clouds, swamping the world in a dismal shadow. Thunder rumbled as he struggled to supress his welling grief. The massif gazed morosely upon its father, tugging at the ether, as if to lament at his feet. The wind wailed in agony and the weeping willows bowed low in solemn prayer. A thick haze choked the land as that tormented father let pour his tears; and so the world was drenched in mourning. (I guess I'd use this scene right after the death of a hero, like a Gandalf character or something. yeah...it rained)
The brooding horizon, like a seawall, it damned up the morrow's light. But radiant hope yet frothed and churned behind that great dike as a swelling whitecap. Then those evanescent waves of courage broke the horizon and flooded over the vale, purging the abysmal eventide. (dawn)
Long did he sit, hunched over as a willow, gazing out across the ebon sea. There was no wind and no noise save the silent crush of waves infringing upon the shore, first rushing up as if to devour the sand, then receding again into the deep. The stars, those burning tears of night, wavered like lonely candles in the sky. (not sure who the man is, but I guess I'll find out eventually)
shallow whisps of clouds streaked across the azure canvass of the sky. In the midst of that blue expanse was painted the gilded sun, its light and warmth dripping down to the brook far below. the cool, clear rivulet trickled over rocks that jutted out above the surface, eager to bathe in the sun's rays. froth churned about those rocks, and the gentle singing of the water splashed over the embankments and basked the forest in joy. (not all is dark and gloomy)
please rate this piece; I'd like some feedback.