Sunday, January 19, 2003

Chapter 2
Dead Bog

After packing his things quickly and lightly, Rolo rushes out of the huge iron gates of Saraho and into the fields of Yondifi, accompanied by his faithful advisor Fafa, and the White Elves, Galdralie and Asalima. They set out south bound to the land of the Purple Elves, hoping to find their leader Pso and their legendary army general Psi.
As they walk past the gates of Saraho the ground becomes wet and soggy, and the air is haunted by the lost souls of Yondifi. They are entering the Dead Bog, a swamp in which the souls of all Purple Elves are held.
"I do not think that we should be traveling here. Blood has been shed tonight and the spirits will be angered," whispers Galdralie.
Suddenly a sound like a whip cracks through the night sky as if it were attempting to shatter the air itself.
Drawing his bow, Asalima cries, "Get down! It's one of the beasts that attacked Elindil!"
A roaring sound of a thousand hooves beats through the night. From out of the sky appears a Black Unicorn. It was at least ten feet tall and road through the night sky on a black cloud of smoke. It breathed black fire and killed everything in its path. Asalima releases his arrow. The rider falls off of the unicorn and to the ground. Galdralie and Asalima begin releasing a volley of arrows until they had entirely depleted their supplies. The creature was covered in at least twenty arrows, and was staggering around in the sky. It shot a spout of fire across the land, but Galdralie blocked it with his shield, which dissolved to dust upon impact with the evil flame.
The creature now looked upon its prey with renewed strength. It hunched back on to two legs, preparing to attack, when the ground began to glow white. Out of the misty swamps appeared hundreds of spirits of Yondifian warriors. They began to attack the beast and distract it from Aslima, Galdralie, Rolo, and Fafa, who snuck away quietly, and then began sprinting as hard as they could away from the bog. Soon they came to the edge of a forest. As they entered it, they could still hear screaming sounds of the dying beast.
The four warriors staggered through the dark forest, trying to find their way out. They soon realized that it was to no prevail.
Four armed Purple Elves jumped out of the trees and surrounded them.

Chapter 3 is coming next week!

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Friday, January 17, 2003

Chapter 1
Rise of the King

Rolo, son of Samso entered the dueling arena. He was tall for a dwarf, almost 5 feet. His leather armor was encrusted with mud and blood, and his ax was the same one he had used to cut down a tree the previous morning.
Rolo had passed all of the tests; he was smart, with an I.Q. of 170, an the best military strategist that the dwarves had. More importantly, all of his peers loved him. In order to become the Almighty King Rolo the First, he would need to complete one more task, kill the current ruler, Elzono the Stern, in a kingdom match. Whoever won would be king.
Fafa, High Advisor of Elzono the Stern and Official Kingdom Match Referee stepped into the ring. The great dwarven colloseum of Tordalor in the mines of Tordalo was immense. And Kingdom Matches were no small deal. Billions of dwarves had flocked to this mine in the heart of the Ula Mountains, to see who would be there next king. It is to them that Fafa spoke, "Welcome, to the Official Match of the Kingdom of Saraho, Land of the Dwarves! Our challenger today is our Great Army General Rolo, son of Samso! He will be fighting our beloved Sovereign, the Almighty King of Saraho, Land of the Dwarves, Elzono the Stern, son of Baltolo! Let the fight commense!"
Rolo pulled out his axe and held it diagonally across his chest, walking into the middle of the floor. Elzono charges. Rolo slices with his axe, attempting to decapitate Elzono, but at the last second the dwarven king leapt into the air, kicking Rolo in the face. Rolo falls to the ground and rolls away just in time to save his head from the bitter blade of Elzono. Elzono hurls his blade at his rolling opponent, but Rolo deflects it with his own. Rolo picks up the tossed blade and slowly closes in on the unarmed King. Rolo spikes the axe into Elzono's chest, and then decapitates him. The sound of snapping bone and hissing blood, spraying from Elzono's arteries fills the colloseum.
Fafa approaches Rolo and says, "Well done my new King. All in this stadium please give a huge chear for our new king, the Almighty Lord Rolo the First!" The stadium erupts with cheers.

Rolo sat on his thrown, signing the Royal Papers of the day and reviewing the cases of those who were to be hanged. Suddenly the doors burst open.
"Majesty! I have grave news! Follow me quickly!" shouts Fafa.
Grabbing his ax and adorning his armor, Rolo steps out into the pooring rain, chasing after his Head Advisor, Fafa.
"Your Lord, we have ambassadors from the Elven city of Elindil!" gasps Fafa, panting for air.
Rolo stepped into the Hall of Kings, the dwarven meeting hall. Two White Elves of Elindil are sitting in chairs at the Great Table.
"Your Majesty," bows one of the elves, but the other sticks out his hand.
"I am greatly sorry my lord, but we must skip the formalities. Elindil is under siege. They came from the north, these manlike creatures donned in black cloaks, riding Black Unicorns. From the south the Dark Elves of Isamnado attacked. We had no place to run. I am afraid that the only White Elven survivors were Galdralie and I, Asalima." says one of the elves.
Rolo looks solemnly at Asalima.
"How may we dwarves serve you?"

This is the first part to my new story, Rising Light. It is about an evil Dark Elf who tries to take over the world by stealing all of the light and turning everything black and dark. Only the Swords of Light, locked in a vault in Elindil, the heart of enemy territory, can save the peoples of this blackened land.

Chapter 2 will be posted next week.
"Between August and November 1888, at least seven women were murdered in London's Whitchapel area. The gruesome nature of their deaths caused fear and panic in the East End for months, and gave rise to sobriquet that was to become shorthand for a serial killer- Jack the Ripper. For over a hundred years the murders have remained among the world's greatest crimes, and a wealth of theories have been posited which have pointed the finger at royalty, a barber, a doctor, a woman, and an artist. Using her formidable range of forensic and technical skills, Patricia Cornwell has applied the rigorous discipline of twenty-first-century police investigation to the extant material, and here presents the hard evidence that the perpetrator was the world-famous artist Walter Sickert. By using techniques unknown in the late Victorian age, Patricia Cornwell has exposed Sickert as the author of the infamous Ripper letters to the Metropolitan Police. Her detailed analysis shows how his art continually depited his horrific mutilation of his victims, and her examination of this man's birth defects, the consequent genital surgical interventions and their effects on his upbringing presents a casebook example of how a psychopathic killer is created. With her knowledge of criminal investigation and her consummate skills as a bestselling writer, Patricia Cornwell has produced a book which is as compelling as it is authentic and which pays due respect to the people whose early deaths spawned one of the twentieth century's least attractive entertainment industries- Mary Ann Nichols, Annie Chapman, Elizabeth Stride, Catherine Eddows, Mary Kelly, and others." This is what the inside cover of the book that I am currently reading, "Portrait of a Killer Jack the Ripper Case Closed" by Patricia Cornwell, reads. In about a week I will have the review and summary of this book.