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What the heck, I'll join.
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Oct 18, 2012 01:40
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| # ¿ Apr 25, 2024 09:50 |
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sebmojo posted:
Sitting Here posted:(it does not need to be specifically based on any of his pieces, just inspired by his visions of endless vistas and cyclopian fortresses)  So uh would a screencap of a GIS page count? 
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Oct 18, 2012 20:21
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Judge Diktat
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I'll have to write more stuff based on this art, it's given me too many ideas. The King's Price (748 words)  The world had been green once. The rider remembered playing in the grass and watching white clouds float in a sapphire sky, listening to birdsong other than the harsh cry of crows. Now he was as skeletal as his horse when he dismounted before the king's fortress. This, too, had once been brilliant, shining white and blue and gold in a sea of green grass and scattered gems of gardens. Now he trod a path of flagstone to the great doors, all the monochrome color of dust and worn bone, unchanged in the months he'd been away. Vor was tired of that color, tired of this dry, monochrome world. Skin hung off his bones. His fingers curled like claws. Still he entered those dust-pale doors, ushered into the throne room by servants whose bones didn't show through their skin. He inclined his head, but didn't kneel. His knees already hurt. "I have returned." King Aldman sat his throne with no company other than his guards. He was still hale, still whole after all this time. "And what have you brought me?" "The head of the traitor, my lord." Vor opened the sack at his hip and lifted out a skull, a head still with black hair, skin desiccated. The king squinted as it landed on the floor at Vor's feet, until realization struck him like a bolt. He slammed to his feet. "What is the meaning of this?" he cried, in horror and rage. "What have you done?" "I have served you, my lord." Vor's smile cracked his face. "You tasked me to bring back the traitor, no matter who he was. Even kin. Did you not?" Aldman stared into his son's lifeless eyes. Remembered the strength they’d once held. He sank onto his throne. "That's impossible. Impossible. Naman would never-" He choked, covered his eyes. "Guards, take it away. Take it all away. I can't bear to see it." "Oh, but you must." Vor raised his hand, and the guards fell dead where they stood. The king snapped his head up and found Vor smiling. Blood tinged the cracks of his skin. His voice rasped like the dry wind over the wasteland outside the fortress's walls. "You must see what you have wrought, what your rule has led to." "What are you saying?" Trembling, Aldman rose, hands tight on his scepter. "You were loyal to me! Naman was loyal to me!" His voice rose, a building tempest. "What is the meaning of this, Vor? Answer me!" Vor kept smiling. The dead guards rose on ungainly legs, puppets controlled by broken strings. They formed lines as Vor walked toward the throne, dragging each step with care. He was so very weary. "This is your doing, my lord, all of it. Do you not see the desert? The corpses that rise on their own where they fall, yet continue to carry your bidding?" The smile widened into something manic. Aldman backed away until his legs pressed against the edge of his throne. "My sister was among them. Your son pulled her strings. He made her dance like a puppet until he grew tired, and threw her away. She was a broken toy to him. As your subjects are to you." He stopped at the foot and leered up the steps, the guards flanking the throne. "I found the traitors, my great, noble king. They all started with you." Sweat ran down Aldman's forehead. "No," he said weakly. "You're wrong. If I-" He swallowed, straightened his back. "If you put the blame on me, then who is controlling them now?" Vor glanced toward the guards. "I am, of course." His eyes danced. "Your kin are no longer the only necromancers in this land, lord." Aldman paled. "No-" "Monster." "No, I-" "Demon." Vor stretched out his bony hand. Runes flared. The king felt the death spell that had taken his guards tighten around him; he shattered it with a cry and a burst of the same power. But he could not take his guards back, and he was no longer their master. "Ah," Vor whispered. "There it is. My lord." He smiled. He knelt with creaking bones at his liege's feet. He prostrated himself, as the guards moved in on their quarry, trapped as helplessly as Vor's sweet sister had been, and laughed into the yellow dust like a dry wind through screaming gale. Two heads lay on the floor. Vor sat in Aldman's throne and made the king dance. 
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Oct 20, 2012 00:14
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The second picture in mine has a cross in the top left but it wasn't really relevant.  And now I want to write something else to make it so. Art prompts are cool.
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Oct 20, 2012 17:16
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Oh good I'd be a terrible judge anyway. Congrats, Jeza.sebmojo posted:Competent, but a little too reminiscent of JRPG backstory, needs more meat in the metaphor. How so? This could be valuable information if I ever write a JRPG. And I...didn't know I was writing a metaphor. 
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Oct 23, 2012 01:52
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| # ¿ Apr 25, 2024 09:50 |
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I'm in.
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Nov 28, 2012 03:59
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