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AeroFlyBoy
Moon
- Joined
- Nov 22, 2018
- Location
- New Jersey
A little about me as a roleplayer first. I've been on and off as a forum roleplayer for around 15ish years on various sites. My experience on this site has been spotty, but I chalk it up to not having found the right partners yet. I am by no means a professional writer, but I'd give myself a 7/10 overall in my literary ability. Action is by far my forte. Whether that action is a combat scene, a chase scene, or a sex scene, what my character DOES and SAYS is what I write best. I'm admittedly weaker when it comes to describing environment. I'm working on that aspect, but don't be disappointed in me if I skip over the smells in the room, or the lighting. I understand that being new-ish here makes it hard to pull in quality partners, so at the bottom of this post you can find some writing samples of mine, excerpts from some roleplays that didn't end up working out.
Some simple Do's and Don'ts for me:
1) Be understanding of my schedule. I'm usually good for posting once a day, but sometimes I can't because of work. I'm NEVER able to post during work time. My schedule isn't 9-5 M-F. I may be working at any given hour. If I'm on the road for work, I may be able to post multiple times per day, but not always.
2) Don't take actions for my character, or assume they do anything. I think there's a term for this, but I can't remember what it is, haha! I'm sure you know what I'm talking about though. I will always treat your characters the same way. Sometimes it's better to write less content if there is a dialog happening, to allow your partner to have input at crucial times, than assume their actions because you feel the need to write a wall of text.
3) Be open to discussing story direction and plot before writing it into the roleplay. I LOVE plot twists, but if I'm thinking of something big, I'll discuss it with you first, and hope you'll do the same.
4) Be okay with posting our roleplay in public. EDIT: Okay, looks like this is a deal breaker for a lot of great potential writing partners, so I'll have to be flexible here. I WILL do roleplays via PM. However, I'm still a big fan of writing for the public, so threads are preferred.
5) Third Person roles only. I thought this was the standard, but everyone kept asking, so I guess it's not a given.
Okay, so now that that's out of the way, here's a list of Story Ideas I'd like to explore. I'm not going to go in depth describing my character for each story here, but I will give a general framework for the story, which of course, is open to discussion!
Alaskan Lodge:
You: Your family owns a resort/hunting lodge in rural Alaska. Growing up, you've always had a crush on the pilot who flies in and drops off clients at the lodge, and now that you're of age, you'd like to fulfill your fantasies about him.
Me: A rugged pilot who flies adventure seekers into rural Alaska for hunting trips.
Smut/Story: 40/60
Modern Day Bonnie and Clyde:
You: Your choice. Either a girl who's committed a terrible crime and is in trouble with the law, or a girl who's fallen in with a man who's committed a terrible crime and is in trouble with the law.
Me: Whichever of the above you don't choose. I'm either the man who gets pulled into your life of crime by falling for you, or the man who pulls you into my life of crime.
Smut/Story: 50/50
Rich Man, Exhibitionist Girl:
You: You've fallen in love with a rich, older man, but even though his reputation is the source of his wealth, you can't shake your fetish for being caught.
Me: Brilliant, rich entrepreneur. I've fallen for this younger girl, but she constantly puts me in compromising positions because of her exhibitionist fetish.
Smut/Story: 80/20
Witch's Coven:
You: A member of a modern day witch's coven, who's front is a strip club, where they lure select men into their deaths. You want out, and the opportunity arises when a private investigator begins looking into the disappearances.
Me: A private investigator looking into the mysterious disappearance of a man I've been hired to find.
Smut/Story: 30/70
Locked Up Abroad:
Both: We may or may not know each other already, but we've found ourselves locked up in a dangerous South American prison, and need to work together to escape.
Variant: Gladiator helped to escape by his owner's daughter. I started building this variant of the "Escape from dire circumstances" type of story with someone else, but felt that our writing styles were too different to continue. I really loved the concept though, and would like to find another partner that I'm more compatible with.
Smut/Story: 10/90
As I said earlier, here are a few writing samples of mine. They are either beginnings or excerpts from roleplays that I've taken part in in the past, that ended up not working out due to either a loss of interest or differing writing styles. Hopefully they'll give an idea of my writing style so that you can judge for yourself if we might be a good match. These aren't story ideas in and of themselves, but some of them are taken from the ideas I listed above.
Thanks for reading my list. If you're interested in any of my story ideas, please PM me! All ideas are open to discussion about changes!
Some simple Do's and Don'ts for me:
1) Be understanding of my schedule. I'm usually good for posting once a day, but sometimes I can't because of work. I'm NEVER able to post during work time. My schedule isn't 9-5 M-F. I may be working at any given hour. If I'm on the road for work, I may be able to post multiple times per day, but not always.
2) Don't take actions for my character, or assume they do anything. I think there's a term for this, but I can't remember what it is, haha! I'm sure you know what I'm talking about though. I will always treat your characters the same way. Sometimes it's better to write less content if there is a dialog happening, to allow your partner to have input at crucial times, than assume their actions because you feel the need to write a wall of text.
3) Be open to discussing story direction and plot before writing it into the roleplay. I LOVE plot twists, but if I'm thinking of something big, I'll discuss it with you first, and hope you'll do the same.
4) Be okay with posting our roleplay in public. EDIT: Okay, looks like this is a deal breaker for a lot of great potential writing partners, so I'll have to be flexible here. I WILL do roleplays via PM. However, I'm still a big fan of writing for the public, so threads are preferred.
5) Third Person roles only. I thought this was the standard, but everyone kept asking, so I guess it's not a given.
Okay, so now that that's out of the way, here's a list of Story Ideas I'd like to explore. I'm not going to go in depth describing my character for each story here, but I will give a general framework for the story, which of course, is open to discussion!
Alaskan Lodge:
You: Your family owns a resort/hunting lodge in rural Alaska. Growing up, you've always had a crush on the pilot who flies in and drops off clients at the lodge, and now that you're of age, you'd like to fulfill your fantasies about him.
Me: A rugged pilot who flies adventure seekers into rural Alaska for hunting trips.
Smut/Story: 40/60
Modern Day Bonnie and Clyde:
You: Your choice. Either a girl who's committed a terrible crime and is in trouble with the law, or a girl who's fallen in with a man who's committed a terrible crime and is in trouble with the law.
Me: Whichever of the above you don't choose. I'm either the man who gets pulled into your life of crime by falling for you, or the man who pulls you into my life of crime.
Smut/Story: 50/50
Rich Man, Exhibitionist Girl:
You: You've fallen in love with a rich, older man, but even though his reputation is the source of his wealth, you can't shake your fetish for being caught.
Me: Brilliant, rich entrepreneur. I've fallen for this younger girl, but she constantly puts me in compromising positions because of her exhibitionist fetish.
Smut/Story: 80/20
Witch's Coven:
You: A member of a modern day witch's coven, who's front is a strip club, where they lure select men into their deaths. You want out, and the opportunity arises when a private investigator begins looking into the disappearances.
Me: A private investigator looking into the mysterious disappearance of a man I've been hired to find.
Smut/Story: 30/70
Locked Up Abroad:
Both: We may or may not know each other already, but we've found ourselves locked up in a dangerous South American prison, and need to work together to escape.
Variant: Gladiator helped to escape by his owner's daughter. I started building this variant of the "Escape from dire circumstances" type of story with someone else, but felt that our writing styles were too different to continue. I really loved the concept though, and would like to find another partner that I'm more compatible with.
Smut/Story: 10/90
As I said earlier, here are a few writing samples of mine. They are either beginnings or excerpts from roleplays that I've taken part in in the past, that ended up not working out due to either a loss of interest or differing writing styles. Hopefully they'll give an idea of my writing style so that you can judge for yourself if we might be a good match. These aren't story ideas in and of themselves, but some of them are taken from the ideas I listed above.
Vigtolo's eyes followed the keys as Diana handed them to Garreth and whispered to him.
"He won't do it, he'll betray us all you bitch!" Vigtolo snarled, and he spit at her as she turned back toward the door to wait outside.
Garreth had not been calm to this point, his heart beat hard, his muscles were tense, and his senses heightened, knowing the danger of this escape. He had however, up to this moment, kept all of that in check. To not do so would endanger their chances of success. Now though, as he saw Vigtolo demean Diana like this, the woman who's voice was a single point of lasting comfort, whose touch had been like the healing of all his wounds, he sprung like a coiled snake. Without warning, and taking Vigtolo off guard, he slammed his fist into the big man's face, sending him stumbling back into the pale shaft of moonlight coming through the window.
Yes, Vigtolo was a monsterously large man, but Garreth had spent nearly 6 months fighting in the pit, honing his own skills for violence. Although not as big, he was still extremely strong, and his punch dazed Vigtolo for a moment. In that moment though, he heard the other men begin to waken and stir.
"What's going on?" Came one voice
"The door is open" Came another
Finally another shouted "FIGHT!"
Garreth gritted his teeth. Despite his disgust at the man's actions, Vigtolo was right. Every one of these men deserved escape as much as he did, and here he was, escaping, leaving the rest of them behind. He hesitated, clenching the key ring in his hand. He looked at all of them clamoring to their feet, barely visible shapes and shadows in the darkness. His thoughts were shattered though by Vigtolo's voice.
"GUARDS!" Vigtolo shouted at the top of his lungs, regaining his composure. He lunged for Garreth, but Garreth responded by throwing the one thing Vigtolo wanted more than Garreth's head....the key ring. It clattered to the floor in the back of the cell, and Vigtolo pulled up short, turning to chase them like a starving dog to a morsel of meat.
He didn't wait to see the men fight for those keys, he didn't need to. He'd seen them all fight far too many times, and the situation had grown much more urgent. The guards will have heard Vigtolo's cry. He sprung though the open door to find Diana.
"He won't do it, he'll betray us all you bitch!" Vigtolo snarled, and he spit at her as she turned back toward the door to wait outside.
Garreth had not been calm to this point, his heart beat hard, his muscles were tense, and his senses heightened, knowing the danger of this escape. He had however, up to this moment, kept all of that in check. To not do so would endanger their chances of success. Now though, as he saw Vigtolo demean Diana like this, the woman who's voice was a single point of lasting comfort, whose touch had been like the healing of all his wounds, he sprung like a coiled snake. Without warning, and taking Vigtolo off guard, he slammed his fist into the big man's face, sending him stumbling back into the pale shaft of moonlight coming through the window.
Yes, Vigtolo was a monsterously large man, but Garreth had spent nearly 6 months fighting in the pit, honing his own skills for violence. Although not as big, he was still extremely strong, and his punch dazed Vigtolo for a moment. In that moment though, he heard the other men begin to waken and stir.
"What's going on?" Came one voice
"The door is open" Came another
Finally another shouted "FIGHT!"
Garreth gritted his teeth. Despite his disgust at the man's actions, Vigtolo was right. Every one of these men deserved escape as much as he did, and here he was, escaping, leaving the rest of them behind. He hesitated, clenching the key ring in his hand. He looked at all of them clamoring to their feet, barely visible shapes and shadows in the darkness. His thoughts were shattered though by Vigtolo's voice.
"GUARDS!" Vigtolo shouted at the top of his lungs, regaining his composure. He lunged for Garreth, but Garreth responded by throwing the one thing Vigtolo wanted more than Garreth's head....the key ring. It clattered to the floor in the back of the cell, and Vigtolo pulled up short, turning to chase them like a starving dog to a morsel of meat.
He didn't wait to see the men fight for those keys, he didn't need to. He'd seen them all fight far too many times, and the situation had grown much more urgent. The guards will have heard Vigtolo's cry. He sprung though the open door to find Diana.
Not much surprised Franklin any more, and even less shocked him. Nevertheless, his breath inhaled sharply and his muscled tensed as the beautiful woman put that gun to her head. He wasn't ashamed when that breath was let out audibly at the gun's hollow "click." Regaining his composure, he finished his drink. He reached out and took the briefcase, pulling it across the table. Experience in dealing with dangerous men told him not to check the briefcase in front of Mr. D. Instead, he took the bag of vials with his other hand.
"My reward will be our continued success and business together" he replied with a respectful nod as he stood. "Seems I've got work to do" He added, extending his free hand to Mr. D. "You'll hear from me soon" he said as they shook hands, looking into each other's eyes each still weighing the other man for what he's worth. With that, he turned and left, closing the door behind him and making his way back to the waiting car. Once inside, out of the rain that had now picked up he carefully laid the briefcase and the bag on the seat.
"Your office sir?" came the driver's voice from the front.
"Yes" is all he replied. As the car began to drive he found himself once again lost in thought.
"Never. Show. Your. Hand." His father's words resonated in his head as the streetlights started to flicker out, one by one, giving way to the muted grey sunlight of the morning. Enslaving the AFSS agents would be all too easy for him, considering his involvement in bringing the group into existence. Mr. D. didn't need to know that part. "Never. Show. Your. Hand."
He picked up his phone. It was time for the call. He had hoped it he could make it to his office, but the red tail lights of the car in front of them let him know that the traffic wouldn't allow for it.
********************************************************************************************************************************************************
Chief Carver sat silently in his darkened office. Having the lights off told the other officers that he shouldn't be bothered, even though they knew he'd be in there. He flicked his cigarette into the ashtray. He had been doing well with quitting, but this morning was going to be stressful, and times like these drove him to light up again. The screen on his phone lighting up before ringing was the only thing that kept him from jumping out of his chair. He picked it up.
"Yeah?" was all he answered.
"Are we good? They all there?" came the voice on the other end.
"Yeah, Marty told me all but a few of them are already down there." Carver replied, leaning forward in his chair and opening the folder that lie in front of him on the desk. His big fingers spread the papers inside, each one with a photo paperclipped to the top of it.
"This better not fucking backfire on us Carver" the voice sounded sternly. "Word on the street is that these women are serious."
Carver further spread the papers. Resumes. Each one highlighting an illustrious career in Law enforcement. Special Victims Unit. SWAT. FBI. CIA. Undercover Ops Unit. Each photo showed the face of the woman attached to those credentials, and each one was more beautiful than the last.
"Yeah, they're serious, they have to be in order for this bullshit to seem believable to the eyes that are watching us. But don't worry, it's hard to win when your boss is working against you. You're going to have to fuckin' trust me Mr. Henry."
"No, I don't Carver" said the stoic voice. "You know the stakes if this doesn't work out."
"It'll fucking work out, and you're soon going to have the baddest bitches in the city sucking the Mayor's dick, literally." Carver replied.
"Good" was the last words spoken by the voice before the phone cut out.
"Fuck me" Carver said as he dropped his phone with a thud on the desk, and scooped the papers back into the folder. His chair scraped back as he stood. "Let's get to work" he said under his breath, leaving his office, headed for the room downstairs where the toughest women in the city sat waiting for him.
"My reward will be our continued success and business together" he replied with a respectful nod as he stood. "Seems I've got work to do" He added, extending his free hand to Mr. D. "You'll hear from me soon" he said as they shook hands, looking into each other's eyes each still weighing the other man for what he's worth. With that, he turned and left, closing the door behind him and making his way back to the waiting car. Once inside, out of the rain that had now picked up he carefully laid the briefcase and the bag on the seat.
"Your office sir?" came the driver's voice from the front.
"Yes" is all he replied. As the car began to drive he found himself once again lost in thought.
"Never. Show. Your. Hand." His father's words resonated in his head as the streetlights started to flicker out, one by one, giving way to the muted grey sunlight of the morning. Enslaving the AFSS agents would be all too easy for him, considering his involvement in bringing the group into existence. Mr. D. didn't need to know that part. "Never. Show. Your. Hand."
He picked up his phone. It was time for the call. He had hoped it he could make it to his office, but the red tail lights of the car in front of them let him know that the traffic wouldn't allow for it.
********************************************************************************************************************************************************
Chief Carver sat silently in his darkened office. Having the lights off told the other officers that he shouldn't be bothered, even though they knew he'd be in there. He flicked his cigarette into the ashtray. He had been doing well with quitting, but this morning was going to be stressful, and times like these drove him to light up again. The screen on his phone lighting up before ringing was the only thing that kept him from jumping out of his chair. He picked it up.
"Yeah?" was all he answered.
"Are we good? They all there?" came the voice on the other end.
"Yeah, Marty told me all but a few of them are already down there." Carver replied, leaning forward in his chair and opening the folder that lie in front of him on the desk. His big fingers spread the papers inside, each one with a photo paperclipped to the top of it.
"This better not fucking backfire on us Carver" the voice sounded sternly. "Word on the street is that these women are serious."
Carver further spread the papers. Resumes. Each one highlighting an illustrious career in Law enforcement. Special Victims Unit. SWAT. FBI. CIA. Undercover Ops Unit. Each photo showed the face of the woman attached to those credentials, and each one was more beautiful than the last.
"Yeah, they're serious, they have to be in order for this bullshit to seem believable to the eyes that are watching us. But don't worry, it's hard to win when your boss is working against you. You're going to have to fuckin' trust me Mr. Henry."
"No, I don't Carver" said the stoic voice. "You know the stakes if this doesn't work out."
"It'll fucking work out, and you're soon going to have the baddest bitches in the city sucking the Mayor's dick, literally." Carver replied.
"Good" was the last words spoken by the voice before the phone cut out.
"Fuck me" Carver said as he dropped his phone with a thud on the desk, and scooped the papers back into the folder. His chair scraped back as he stood. "Let's get to work" he said under his breath, leaving his office, headed for the room downstairs where the toughest women in the city sat waiting for him.
The surface of the lake looked as if a million diamonds had been scattered across it, the way the water glinted in the sunlight of the early morning. From the air Andrew had seen thousands of lakes glisten like that, but none ever felt as welcoming as this one. It came into sight as he rounded the last craggy, conifer spotted peak on approach, and he started to pull the throttle back on the big airplane, letting it descend more rapidly. He aimed toward the eastern shoreline, where he could see something even more inviting than the lake itself. The Lodge. Despite being spring, smoke still curled into the air from it's numerous chimneys, and snow still covered the multitude of angles that created it's roofline. Covered porches encircled nearly all of the large building, and from the western side, that fronted the lake, stairs descended from that porch, down to a long dock.
With the throttles back, he could hear the excited din of the passengers behind him. The chattered with wonder in their voices as they looked out the windows, not just at the lodge, but the splendor of the landscape around them. Snow capped mountains encircled the frost and snow covered trees that filled basin containing the lake. Andrew couldn't blame them, he felt the same way, despite seeing it time and time again. Their voices didn't stop until just before he touched down on the water, the pontoons throwing up spray around the sides of the airplane, and decelerating it hard enough to put one's weight against the seat belts.
Before he had pulled the airplane fully into position by the dock, he already saw another heart warming sight. David, a red-haired bear of a man, and the owner of the lodge, was already stumping his way down the dock with his son, who was nearly his equal in size. Cutting the engine, Andrew drifted the airplane the last few feet, and by the time it closed to within arms reach, David already had ropes in hand, wrapping it deftly around the anchors, securing the aircraft in place. As soon as his boots hit the dock, he was caught up in a crushing embrace from the burly owner.
"It's good to see ya man" the huge form growled into his ear as his massive hand patted his back. David's son had already opened the back door, and was helping the lodge's newest guests onto the dock.
"You too" Andrew replied. "The city life was starting to wear on me...I couldn't wait for the season to start out here....I never can, come spring." When David finally let him go, he turned to start unloading bags, but found David's hand gripping his arm.
"Let Kyle do that" the man said, referring to his son, who had indeed, already started on the task, dropping bag after bag out of the baggage compartment. "The kids are all old enough now to run the whole show here by themselves...and good thing too, we're getting too damn old" he added after a pause.
Andrew grimaced at the reference. The stout man was only a few years older than he was, but he wasn't ready to begin thinking about, or referring to himself as "old." Hell, he was only 42. He did however, concede to letting Kyle shoulder a bulk of the bags, with himself and David each hefting the last few and following Kyle up the long, wooden stairs leading to the lodge.
"It's been a hell of a winter" David said, his breath visible in puffs of steam as he spoke. "The first round of guests bringing in some money and life to the damn place has gotten everyone excited."
"Well, you can tell me all about it, I'll be staying until this group leaves. Next pickup isn't until the 24th." Andrew replied, his own breathing heavy as they ascended. Nearing the top, he looked up. David was right, his children could now run the place by themselves. Standing there, greeting the guests, where it had once been his wife, stood his daughter instead. She had always felt like a daughter to himself, having watched her grow up through her teen years, each season working with her mother around the lodge. What a difference this year had made though. She was certainly grown now. Andrew wasn't sure if it was her stunning beauty, having blossomed into adulthood, or seeing her take charge the way her mother always had that made him feel that way.
"Don't die on me old man" David spoke back over his shoulder from a few stairs above, and Andrew realized that he had stopped climbing during his reverie. He grunted an inaudible response, and began again.
With the throttles back, he could hear the excited din of the passengers behind him. The chattered with wonder in their voices as they looked out the windows, not just at the lodge, but the splendor of the landscape around them. Snow capped mountains encircled the frost and snow covered trees that filled basin containing the lake. Andrew couldn't blame them, he felt the same way, despite seeing it time and time again. Their voices didn't stop until just before he touched down on the water, the pontoons throwing up spray around the sides of the airplane, and decelerating it hard enough to put one's weight against the seat belts.
Before he had pulled the airplane fully into position by the dock, he already saw another heart warming sight. David, a red-haired bear of a man, and the owner of the lodge, was already stumping his way down the dock with his son, who was nearly his equal in size. Cutting the engine, Andrew drifted the airplane the last few feet, and by the time it closed to within arms reach, David already had ropes in hand, wrapping it deftly around the anchors, securing the aircraft in place. As soon as his boots hit the dock, he was caught up in a crushing embrace from the burly owner.
"It's good to see ya man" the huge form growled into his ear as his massive hand patted his back. David's son had already opened the back door, and was helping the lodge's newest guests onto the dock.
"You too" Andrew replied. "The city life was starting to wear on me...I couldn't wait for the season to start out here....I never can, come spring." When David finally let him go, he turned to start unloading bags, but found David's hand gripping his arm.
"Let Kyle do that" the man said, referring to his son, who had indeed, already started on the task, dropping bag after bag out of the baggage compartment. "The kids are all old enough now to run the whole show here by themselves...and good thing too, we're getting too damn old" he added after a pause.
Andrew grimaced at the reference. The stout man was only a few years older than he was, but he wasn't ready to begin thinking about, or referring to himself as "old." Hell, he was only 42. He did however, concede to letting Kyle shoulder a bulk of the bags, with himself and David each hefting the last few and following Kyle up the long, wooden stairs leading to the lodge.
"It's been a hell of a winter" David said, his breath visible in puffs of steam as he spoke. "The first round of guests bringing in some money and life to the damn place has gotten everyone excited."
"Well, you can tell me all about it, I'll be staying until this group leaves. Next pickup isn't until the 24th." Andrew replied, his own breathing heavy as they ascended. Nearing the top, he looked up. David was right, his children could now run the place by themselves. Standing there, greeting the guests, where it had once been his wife, stood his daughter instead. She had always felt like a daughter to himself, having watched her grow up through her teen years, each season working with her mother around the lodge. What a difference this year had made though. She was certainly grown now. Andrew wasn't sure if it was her stunning beauty, having blossomed into adulthood, or seeing her take charge the way her mother always had that made him feel that way.
"Don't die on me old man" David spoke back over his shoulder from a few stairs above, and Andrew realized that he had stopped climbing during his reverie. He grunted an inaudible response, and began again.
Arne watched her horse lunge forward and disappear into the darkness. Satisfied that the beast would carry her to safety, he spun around and pulled his sword from it's scabbard in a smooth movement.
"Svend!" he called again, running as best he could in the direction the boy had went when Arne had sent him off to collect water and bandages. He stumbled over bodies, their limbs, shields, and broken spears jutting up to grab at him as he passed over them in haste. Again and again he called the boy's name, climbing a small rise. Just as he crested, he finally heard a response. The tone of it however made his heart sink.
"Arne!" he heard the boy scream, and his voice was laced with fear.
Arne's head spun in the direction of Svend's voice, and he spotted two more points of orange light quickly approaching. He resisted the urge to run down the tiny hillock toward them, checking his emotion in favor of his tactical advantage. It was only moments before the orange points were clearly the open flames of torches, and they illuminated four men, one of them holding Svend by the scruff of his tunic, and holding a knife to his throat. The other three men held brandished axes. Arne surmised they must have flanked around to the south, away from the main force that continued it's advance on the east side of the open field.
"Where's the Queen?" growled the man holding Svend.
"I don't know what you're talking about" replied Arne. "The boy and I are just local villagers, here to loot the dead. Let him go and we'll be on our way."
"Nice try fool, but no commoner would have a sword like that." the man with the knife responded, nodding toward Arne's weapon. "And it's too late for deception, the boy already told us who he was when he tried to threaten us with his father's wrath....his father the KING of Danelaw!"
Arne gritted his teeth at the thought of Svend's foolishness. The ruse, if had ever existed at all, was now certainly up.
"The Queen is gone. She rode north, undoubtedly back to Skal" Arne lied. He could no longer lie about himself and Svend, but he could at least keep them men from chasing Freya.
"We'll see about that" the man holding Svend said in response. "Until we find her, we'll be holding onto this whelp." he added with a sneer. Yanking Svend with him he exited the circle of light cast by the other men's torches.
"Kill that scum" was the last words Arne heard from him before the remaining men charged up the mound. Arne set himself as the men reached him. As is inevitably the case, one of them was a bit faster, and he was the first to reach Arne. Raising the axe to strike a blow, Arne's free had was equally fast, and gripped the man's wrist as it was above his head. Halting his swing and leaving him defenseless, Arne drove his sword deep, penetrating the man's bowels. The second man was taken off guard as Arne thrust the corpse he had just created into him as he charged, throwing him off balance. His sideways lurch to avoid the sprawling body was all Arne needed to swing wide, and the momentum of his sword hitting the man's neck easily removed his head.
The third man came to a halt in his advance, seeing his two fellows perish swiftly. He turned his head, checking the advancement of the rest of his force. He had no will left to face Arne alone. Instead he called out to the others, who were now no more than 50 meters away.
"Over here's one" he called out, backing away from Arne as he shouted. Arne had no desire to follow the man though. He wouldn't get Svend back by being killed. Grabbing one of the dead men's torches, he quickly surveyed his surroundings. The small rise he had topped fell away behind him, all the way to the river. He knew this was his way out. As the man turned back toward him, Arne hurled the torch at the man who yelped and ducked away. In that moment, Arne hurled himself down the embankment, splashing into the river below. The freezing water took his breath away, but it also swept him quickly downstream, away from the advancing soldiers.
After what felt like an eternity of flesh numbing cold, the river finally shallowed. He could make out in the moonlight tall standing stones on the eastern bank. Using what was left of his severely sapped strength he grabbed a rock on the western bank and drug himself out of the water. Heaving for breath, he lay there for long moments and listened. This is where he had instructed Freya to cross the river. If she had already crossed, he'd need to muster the strength to climb the west trail to the woods, where he told her he'd meet her.
A thought came to him then, as he lay in the dark, shivering, still clutching his sword. That man was looking for the QUEEN...could it be true? Could that woman have been telling the truth? Was she really Freya Val'mere, Queen of Skal? Grunting, he pulled himself up to his knees and looked at the trail winding upward. He could only hope she made it out alive.
"Svend!" he called again, running as best he could in the direction the boy had went when Arne had sent him off to collect water and bandages. He stumbled over bodies, their limbs, shields, and broken spears jutting up to grab at him as he passed over them in haste. Again and again he called the boy's name, climbing a small rise. Just as he crested, he finally heard a response. The tone of it however made his heart sink.
"Arne!" he heard the boy scream, and his voice was laced with fear.
Arne's head spun in the direction of Svend's voice, and he spotted two more points of orange light quickly approaching. He resisted the urge to run down the tiny hillock toward them, checking his emotion in favor of his tactical advantage. It was only moments before the orange points were clearly the open flames of torches, and they illuminated four men, one of them holding Svend by the scruff of his tunic, and holding a knife to his throat. The other three men held brandished axes. Arne surmised they must have flanked around to the south, away from the main force that continued it's advance on the east side of the open field.
"Where's the Queen?" growled the man holding Svend.
"I don't know what you're talking about" replied Arne. "The boy and I are just local villagers, here to loot the dead. Let him go and we'll be on our way."
"Nice try fool, but no commoner would have a sword like that." the man with the knife responded, nodding toward Arne's weapon. "And it's too late for deception, the boy already told us who he was when he tried to threaten us with his father's wrath....his father the KING of Danelaw!"
Arne gritted his teeth at the thought of Svend's foolishness. The ruse, if had ever existed at all, was now certainly up.
"The Queen is gone. She rode north, undoubtedly back to Skal" Arne lied. He could no longer lie about himself and Svend, but he could at least keep them men from chasing Freya.
"We'll see about that" the man holding Svend said in response. "Until we find her, we'll be holding onto this whelp." he added with a sneer. Yanking Svend with him he exited the circle of light cast by the other men's torches.
"Kill that scum" was the last words Arne heard from him before the remaining men charged up the mound. Arne set himself as the men reached him. As is inevitably the case, one of them was a bit faster, and he was the first to reach Arne. Raising the axe to strike a blow, Arne's free had was equally fast, and gripped the man's wrist as it was above his head. Halting his swing and leaving him defenseless, Arne drove his sword deep, penetrating the man's bowels. The second man was taken off guard as Arne thrust the corpse he had just created into him as he charged, throwing him off balance. His sideways lurch to avoid the sprawling body was all Arne needed to swing wide, and the momentum of his sword hitting the man's neck easily removed his head.
The third man came to a halt in his advance, seeing his two fellows perish swiftly. He turned his head, checking the advancement of the rest of his force. He had no will left to face Arne alone. Instead he called out to the others, who were now no more than 50 meters away.
"Over here's one" he called out, backing away from Arne as he shouted. Arne had no desire to follow the man though. He wouldn't get Svend back by being killed. Grabbing one of the dead men's torches, he quickly surveyed his surroundings. The small rise he had topped fell away behind him, all the way to the river. He knew this was his way out. As the man turned back toward him, Arne hurled the torch at the man who yelped and ducked away. In that moment, Arne hurled himself down the embankment, splashing into the river below. The freezing water took his breath away, but it also swept him quickly downstream, away from the advancing soldiers.
After what felt like an eternity of flesh numbing cold, the river finally shallowed. He could make out in the moonlight tall standing stones on the eastern bank. Using what was left of his severely sapped strength he grabbed a rock on the western bank and drug himself out of the water. Heaving for breath, he lay there for long moments and listened. This is where he had instructed Freya to cross the river. If she had already crossed, he'd need to muster the strength to climb the west trail to the woods, where he told her he'd meet her.
A thought came to him then, as he lay in the dark, shivering, still clutching his sword. That man was looking for the QUEEN...could it be true? Could that woman have been telling the truth? Was she really Freya Val'mere, Queen of Skal? Grunting, he pulled himself up to his knees and looked at the trail winding upward. He could only hope she made it out alive.
Thanks for reading my list. If you're interested in any of my story ideas, please PM me! All ideas are open to discussion about changes!
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