A Red Sun Sets on Auburn Crowns

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A Red Sun Sets on Auburn Crowns

Postby Kiaran on Sun Dec 13, 2015 2:11 am

Smoke rises in the south. Above auburn crowns dark clouds gather. In the west the sun is blood red, as it sets above the ancient woods.
The ground is red too.

Screaming, loud, shrill and intense. It continues endlessly, piercing, almost cutting flesh as it makes the heart beat faster and the skin prickle.
On the ground lies a body. It yet moves, but it is not alive. How could it be? It has no face. Just a bloodied mass of flesh and bone. It has a mouth. And from it comes the scream.

They look down upon him, this shape that was once a man, proud and beautiful. Their vision grows blurry as tears gather in the corners of their eyes. This was their brother, once. Now nothing is left of him. Only suffering.

The tallest of them, the one with the wild, dark hair reaching to his waist, kneels beside their former brother. He whispers to him, silently, privately. Then he cuts his throat. The screaming ends.
They all close their eyes. But just for a moment. For there are others screaming, and much suffering to end.

---

Word reaches by way of courier. Riding hard from the south, the infernal city. The enemy is beat, the war is won. Joy, exaltation, roars of happiness, cries of bliss. We have won!

---

After a day of joy comes a day of sadness. It is the way of the world. Balance. The living go on, but the dead must be laid to rest. And they are many. There can be no eulogies, for many are unknown. Many are unrecognizable.
Instead there is one wake. One chance to mourn all. One moment to take it all in, to understand. Death. It is unnatural, but now inevitable.
They died. For home. For family. For life. They died to let live, and their death bought life. Their blood bought victory.


---

Time passes and uncertainty rises. When will they leave? These invaders. They lost the war, we won. Why are they not leaving? Will there be another war?


---

Word reaches by way of courier. Riding hard from the south, the infernal city. The enemy is beat, the war is won. But we must go. Victory was bought with blood and lives, but peace is bought with land. Our land. Our home. We must leave, find another.
Then it hits. We fought for home. We were used. Our lives stolen. Our brothers died for nothing.
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Re: A Red Sun Sets on Auburn Crowns

Postby Edradir on Sun Dec 13, 2015 5:56 pm

Well written, I say.

I like the style.

More, please!
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Re: A Red Sun Sets on Auburn Crowns

Postby Aariam on Mon Dec 14, 2015 1:11 pm

Kiaran wrote:Death. It is unnatural, but now inevitable.


My favourite passage. So very kaldorei.

Glad to see you writing and posting stuff too! :D
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Re: A Red Sun Sets on Auburn Crowns

Postby Eluvere on Mon Dec 14, 2015 5:40 pm

So much feels in the last paragraph :'(
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Re: A Red Sun Sets on Auburn Crowns

Postby Kiaran on Mon Dec 14, 2015 11:32 pm

Thank you for reading, and for the feedback :) If you have any tips and tricks, things you feel I could improve on, I would like to hear it. I welcome judgement. That goes for later stuff I'll be posting as well.
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Re: A Red Sun Sets on Auburn Crowns

Postby Kiaran on Thu Dec 17, 2015 3:41 pm

Her Blades

A horn blows, distantly. Something whistles past his ear, lodging itself with a thump in something yielding behind him. A cry, and a roar.
He vaults back, narrowly dodging the swing of an axe. He ducks, avoiding the next swing.
He thrusts his own sword, hoping to hit flesh, yet the blade strikes nothing but air.
The axe comes back, he parries, teeth rattling as metal bites metal. The bones in his arm shake from the impact.
Still crouched, he does a spin and a kick. The green bundle of muscles falls, grunting as its head hits dirt.

Back up, look to the right. The heat of flames blur the air. Through smoke he recognizes her, the eyes, nose and mouth; all contorted in a scowl. Her blades move in a flurry. They fall around her.
A shout from behind. Duck! Arrows whistle overhead. Cries of pain as they bite flesh. Breathe in, breathe out.
He vaults to his feet, his own blade swinging in an upwards arch. Skin opens from groin to collar, red viscera spilling from green skin.
Pirouette, face left, swing! Another roar, as a heavy green arm comes detached.

Sweat drips from his brow. His eyes sting from smoke. On his lips he can taste blood. Whose? His or theirs? No time to wonder, here comes another axe. Parry! Riposte! Blocked. Curses.
Dodge left, the air whistles in the wake of the axe’s swing. Too close. One hand on the back of the axe, the other makes a horisontal swing. It hits only air. His wrist hurts from the vice grip of the strong green hand. Then his head hurts, he sees stars. Knees go weak, but only for a moment.
Focus!

The green beast is disoriented too. Headbutting will do that. Another pirouette frees him from the vice grip. Quickly followed by a whirling slice. A painful grunt, as green skin parts, revealing red muscles. He smiles. Now to finish it.

A scream, from the right. His head jerks to see. The heat of flames blur the air. Through smoke he recognizes her, the eyes, nose and mouth; all contorted in a sneer of pain. Her blades drop to the ground. She falls before them.
A shout from behind. He turns. The edge of the axe comes closer. Darkness.
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Re: A Red Sun Sets on Auburn Crowns

Postby Kiaran on Sun Dec 20, 2015 10:01 pm

Beyond Memory

Yaevinn arrived too late. In the glade the silence was palpable. There were no singing of the birds, no rustle of the leaves in the wind. Everyone and everything was in mourning. Amongst the trees walked sentinels, inspecting the corpses strewn about. It had been a critical battle, they told him. The orcs had attacked in full force. Many had fallen, including the demigod Cenarius.
He walked with the sentinels, a knot in his chest. He felt nausea. Not because of the dead, he had seen dead before, and many more. His heart was beating fast, he could feel it and hear it. It was distracting. Made it hard for him to focus on his task.
He made his way to a great oak. At its foot lay a figure, face down. Her silvery hair made his breath stick in his throat. With shaking hands he reached out to her, turned her. A sigh of relief, then followed by immediate guilt. She was not who he was looking for.
He murmured a prayer for the fallen as he picked up an acorn, nestled amongst fallen leaves beside her. He placed it in her hand and gently folded her cold, stiff fingers around it.
May your death give way to new life, he thought. Then he left her.

How many had fallen in this glade? How many lives had been ended? He walked among them, now and then kneeling down to examine some closer. Each time he knelt with bated breath, each time he rose with renewed hope. It grew stronger.
She is not here, his mind formulated. She did not fall.
Then he saw her. Unmistakable. Silvery hair, matted with thick crimson blood. She lay on her side, circled by the corpses of many orcs. Besides her lay two gilded glaives. He recognized them too, for he had made them himself.
As in a dream, he walked to her. Slowly, feeling nothing. He knelt besides her and turned her over. There she was. Her eyes, her nose, her mouth. She looked exactly like the woman he had loved. And yet, she looked nothing like her. Her eyes were open, but dim. In his recollection they sparkled like the moon’s light, fiercely, with purpose.
He looked over her body. The axe that had taken her life, was yet lodged in her abdomen. In spite of it, she looked peaceful.

As he knelt beside her, tears gathered in his eyes. He thought that he would not mourn her. That he would accept that which he could not change. But he didn’t. The tears became too many. They fell from his eyes, wetting the face of his love. He had never cried before.
Inside of him, there was so much pain. In his stomach, in his chest, in his throat and in his head. It was too much, he had to let it out. He wailed. Around the glade, sentinels turned to look at him, but he did not notice. He wailed. Then roared. He cradled her in his arms, then collapsed by her side, his face next to hers.
How many years had they had together? Too few. How much of their time had he spent sleeping? Too much.
He lay down beside her and none disturbed him. For hours. Days. Years. He did not know how long. It felt like eternity.
Finally, he opened his eyes. Looked at her one last time. He brought his face to hers and planted one last kiss on those cold lips. Then he got to his feet, turned away, and froze.

Recognition of ones kin goes deep, beyond memory. It is primal, an instinct. One does not recognize ones own blood with the eyes, nor by smell. The recognition happens in the heart. The soul is stirred by the presence of its own descendant.

And so it was, that Yaevinn recognized him, though he had never seen him in his life. As he looked with his eyes, he saw that same silvery hair, that same proud face, though it was half covered in blood.
He was lying, maybe eight feet from his love. Yaevinn walked to him.
Indeed, there was no mistaking him. Kiarán. He knew his name, though he had never been told. He knew it, for he had whispered it himself in his sleep. Felt it in the Dream, when the boy had sprung to life from his mother’s womb.
My son.
With a sleeve wet from tears, he wiped away the dark, clotted blood from his son’s face. He did not even wince, as he saw the damage that had been done to his boy’s face. That ugly, deep gash that had been carved through the forehead and eye down the cheek, almost splitting the handsome face in two.
That is her nose, Yaevinn thought, her mouth. But my eyes. He ran a bare hand through the silvery hair of the fallen elf. And gasped. He is still warm. He lives.

He carried him from the glade in his arms. The sentinels did not stop him. He carried him for days, as he climbed the slopes of Mount Hyjal. There was talk in some parts of the woods, of a bear walking the ancient trails to the Moonglade, carrying on his back a lifeless elf.
When finally they arrived in the sacred glade, he carried him to the barrows. They descended, and none objected.
The tie to the Dream is strong here, Yaevinn thought. He laid the body of his son down on a stone slab, gently.
I will find you in the Dream.
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Re: A Red Sun Sets on Auburn Crowns

Postby Aariam on Mon Dec 21, 2015 3:50 pm

Amazing. You write -really- well. I felt a bit choked up Reading it all...
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Re: A Red Sun Sets on Auburn Crowns

Postby Eluvere on Wed Dec 30, 2015 11:01 pm

Second that, there are some real nice passages and real feeling feelings(totally intended) in there!

Me likes ;)
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