Oh, and while I'm still here, here's a little spoiler from my upcoming story on the forums, Darker Nights.
~Darker Nights~
The cold, brisk, icy winds slashed upon his bare, blistered hands. Turning his agonised left hand over, he revealed he had a small cut, from which cold blood streamed down his arm. Tears started to well in his eyes, but he managed to control himself.
“No,” he thought. “A little further…” He shuddered to a halt, and out of agonising pain he let out a muffled; yet somehow distinct “Help!”. Silence. The man knew that nobody in the whole of Oroe would ever hear him. And even if they did, and came to his aid, they’d never oblige to help. He still had blood streaming down his arm onto the hard, icy, soil; and he wore dark, damp, despairing robes that were black, the colour of death, and trimmed with orange, the colour of Oroe.
The man knew that if anybody saw him in these robes he’d suffer the full extent of the law. “Never mix orange with black” , they always said; “Oroe and Death together are horrible things, together, they could destroy the whole of the Regad region”. Not that he wanted to destroy either the beautiful, exotic lands of Oroe, or any of the Regad region, even though they had once threatened to kill him. He was born in these robes.
Shaking himself back to existence, he looked on the sunlit, horizon. He could make it. He had been living in the wild for all his life, why be such a weak coward now? “Because it hurts,” he thought. "It hurts”. He folded his hood back over his head, it had evidently been blown off his head in the wind. He slowly made his way back to his tiny, destroyed camp. The wind had blown most of the stuff away, but thankfully the bare essentials were left behind.
17-Nov-2007 21:27:21
- Last edited on
17-Nov-2007 21:30:47
by
Glow250
:)