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Mage story.

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Mage story.

Postby Kitten Lord » Sun Mar 24, 2013 9:09 am

Heya guys, I take it this is the area to type out some stories youve been writing based on a few other threads so heres one I was messing about with for a few weeks late last year, sort of stopped due to work since then but heres a story I have been typing, I have a vague idea of where I want to go with it but I am not sure on a title yet, so I have just labeled it mage story for now;

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Mage story by Kitten lord

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A Blast of fire filled the stone corridor, incinerating the flesh of the beasts as they attempted a dash towards its source, the fetid stench of burnt fur and meat overcoming the smell of rotting death on the tongues of the creatures or what was left of them. With ashes quickly settling across the blood stained marble walls of the Magi Sanctuary, Maleron's arched fingers receded into the sleeves of his robes as he lowered his hand to admire his handiwork, merely an apprentice and already sending forth magic's the common folk would freeze at the sight of. The thought amused him as he considered the likeliness of anyone freezing in an inferno but his feelings turned to unease, he had nothing to fear from these feral animals, they were nothing but slaves of the masters who besieged his place of learning and he had to listen for movements. The heavy armour worn by the Vestartum resounded across the white stone and Maleron winced but quickly steadied himself, sweeping his long robes close he clutched a small rock, smoothly chiselled and rounded like a stream worn pebble and whispered an incantation. The object glowed gently and almost too fast to notice a shimmering transparent bubble flashed into existence around its summoner before disappearing shortly after, placing both small stones into a light silk pouch the apprentice brought his hand up clutching yet again another stone, different than the last two to a degree that would not be noticed without a closer inspection. The young mage stifled a cough, the brimstone caught in his nostrils almost making him choke and he passed a hand across his short beard, rubbing it for comfort as the metal sent echoes down the walls, making a sound that bespoke of the weight of the approaching threat but Maleron was ready and all sounds seemed to fade in his mind as he concentrated, the fear leaving him as one of the invaders entered his view.

The metal clad giant stood almost twice the height of a man, its barely visible neck supporting an armour clad form with piercing cold eyes that seemed to pass over the boy before him with mockery, the only visible portions of the creatures face supported the assessment as the black saliva covered lips sneered. Maleron almost faltered, overwhelmed to flee back down the corridor not out of fear but out of instinct, the beast may have well been made entirely of steel as the filth smothered dark plates covered it from head to toe with only portions of its ridiculously muscular form visible between the joints. The fleeting moment that passed as the pair measured each other ended as the apprentice forced himself into action, the monster before him looked as if it was about to call upon more slaves as if the boy before him was not even worth wasting any measure of strength until its eyes reached the tiny rune the youth rose into the air, the face of which was adorned with small etchings that glowed with a white light. It was freezing in the corridors since the magic used to warm them was being used else ware but things were about to get much colder indeed. The thick piston-like legs of the Vestartum went swiftly into action, sending the enormous form sprinting meters within the blink of an eye and launching it forwards as a trio of razor edged blades slid forth from the confines of the armoured gauntlets it wore. Maleron however had already spoke the incantation and a great jet of freezing vapour sprayed across the hulk, giving out a hollow scream as the cold entered its bones like pins in its flesh, its limbs slowing until finally seizing up completely. Frozen solid with a layer of ice forming across its armour the creature looked like a statue but the young wizard had to work fast, the spell he had cast he had learnt would only last for a short time, certainly on such a large entity and it would likely survive the crippling cold and the numbness of limb as the Vestartum were used to savage climates. Maleron slipped yet another engraved pebble out of his pouch and concentrated all his mystic strength through, the effort was met with a ear pounding blast that came from before him, the ice clad behemoth was reduced to raining blocks of frozen limbs, the force of which smashed into the shield of shimmering light which protected he who had cast it although its power waned. Satisfied Maleron stood up and removed his hands from his ears, the blast had drained him as did the last couple of spells and his magic power was reduced to a degree that made it difficult to keep up the shield which had saved his life, he took a breath and kneeled while holding one finger to his forehead, the position was a common one amongst the younger magi when a place to sit was not present, it allowed him to gather his thoughts, sharpen his mind which now had a sharp beat of pain from his mental exhaustion.

Although he had a lot to learn, Maleron was one of the more successful apprentices of the school of magi, the sanctum he had called his home for many years was under an assault from the monstrous Vestartum who were a warlike tribal culture who worshiped forest gods and spirits, the Earth as well as the metals from within. The armour and equipment the giants wore were all master pieces fashioned by their hands which were so skilled that each suit of armour could be fashioned to defend the user while allowing it to manoeuvre the honed physical strength built up in its harsh upbringing. Indeed metal working, crafting as well as war were all almost holy principles that the creatures lived by and so they chose every so often to war with other nations nearby as if the very spirits they worshiped blessed them with every kill they made. This is the conclusion Maleron had arrived at to determine the reason for this recent assault on the Magi, this had apparently happened before or so he had learned from the other wizards and so he was confident that the sanctum would survive the attack, his skills were invaluable and were perhaps the reason for his survival. He thought back on the recent trials, this is the first master he had slain and in such a dramatic fashion and a little arrogance entered his mind as well as some pride, he surveyed his surroundings as he stood once again, pulling his robes in close to keep out the cold, the light blue silk soft to the touch but seemingly too thin to protect him. He thought to himself of how the other apprentices spoke of how these robes were enchanted and that the symbols found in books of the arcane arts which were embroidered into the cloth empowered the wearer, he thought little of these tales but as warmth entered his body he wondered to himself if they were indeed true. A sound, a beastlike call made him flinch and pulled him from his reminiscence, he knew he could not cast magic lest his shield fail as all it would take would be a quick strike from a Vestartum or a slash from the claws of one of their slaves to slay him, it would seem as he found out earlier the robes certainly did not shield their wearers from harm. Gripping a small satchel to left side of his belt he took it loose, opening it up he pushed aside a small cake that was designed to mystically remove hunger or thirst with simply a few bites, sure he had to eat full meals to actually survive but in past situations and tests of stamina he was thankful of their power to allow him to concentrate on spell casting, yet of course they have been known to become dangerous if used too often in the place of actually sating this hunger by normal means. His fingers touched a metal box and he brought it out, placing the small item in the palm of his hand he unscrewed the lid gently, taking one of his fingers he took a fair helping of the ointment and slowly administered it to his wounds. A clawed beast had slashed open a gash in his chest earlier as he negotiated the corridors with too much haste without making sure of the way ahead, the slave was savage and brutal and he dispatched it with a paralyzing touch, a special technique surprising based on physical finger movements to the creatures neck rather than magic.

The balm soothed the wound which seemed to slowly re-knit itself, the flesh closing up the gap and the pain receding. Maleron placed the small balm where he had taken it and then did the same with the satchel. The calls of the slaves were getting closer, he knew he had little time before yet another group of monsters leapt around the corner of the corridor and despite not knowing when they would stop coming he was loyal to the request of his seniors. Despite being an apprentice he was still seen as a defender of the sanctuary and was tasked by Senior magi Larana to hold that corridor, he could hear the screams of beasts rarely spaced apart by the yell of a man and he knew some of his people were being killed, he was saddened by the idea as almost everyone in the sanctuary was close. The Mage Sanctum was one of the few enormous mystic edifices in the world , yet despite its size everyone who lived and studied within knew each other like family, yet more friends were certainly dead or dying but he would not fail in his task and he would stand firm. Magic spent, Maleron pulled back the right side of his robes and his hand shot down, gripping tightly the hilt of a spell blade, a sword enchanted with magic from a certain rune, in this case lightning, its wielder whispered a word and the sword flared into life and relying on its own source of magic rather than its users. The very blade coursed with energy, crackling depictions of thunder scything across the blade itself, every so often a spark flashed forth as Maleron took a stance. He was a skilled swordsmen, the school of Magi teach the use of special spell blades, either those that have their own innate enchantments or more advanced swords that could be channelled with energy depending on the mental and magical prowess of its user, Maleron's sword was of the enchanted variety, useful he thought if he ever required a weapon in the place of magic and it would seem, he thought to himself that he was indeed correct to prepare in such a way. Laying his blade flat against his hand, his previous incantation leaving him immune to the swords magical properties he stood straight ,looking towards the entrance to the corridor and prepared to pass through several phases of his combat style as soon as the slave beasts came for him.

Maleron tensed, his body was of a strong build, moderate muscle strength combined with slender limbs that he had trained to move quickly to gain the most momentum as well as force as possible, his body was honed to give him the greatest advantages in his combat style as too much muscle could lessen speed and too little would lessen force. The raging monsters tore around the corner, their bodies were coated in extremely thick fur, crouching as they ran almost on all fours the bestial face opened its jaws only to find the cold steel of the apprentices sword, slicing cleanly through its throat and out of the back of its head, little blood sprayed forth as the burning lightning spread through its body which convulsed until it fell in a heap. In an expert spinning leap the apprentice dodged lunging claws then countered while in mid air, the lightning sheathed edge crackling and setting the flesh and fur of the creature aflame, howling it simply shook uncontrollably and lay still a moment later. Another rushing lunge later and Maleron impaled one of the beasts, turning its stomach into ash as he followed the impalement with a flip over the now falling body, spinning to behead another foe in a similar fashion to the first. He took a breath before more came around the corner, his muscles were pushed further, his adrenaline fuelling his constant movements and concentration as he followed combat steps in his training with ease. Throwing his sword forwards, the weapon had barely gone through and out the other side of its target before the young mage felt his grip on the hilt once more, turning his capture into an uppercut which cleaved the next monster almost cleanly in two, the lightning frying the flaps of broken skin melting the fat. The spell blade shone as Maleron uttered the word of activation once again and it suddenly looked like an ordinary sword, strangely clean despite the carnage it had just wrought as he placed it back into its sheathe. The apprentice rested for a while after that, tiredness slowly moving in on him, he was certainly pleased with himself, showing proficiency in magic and his spell blade skills and once again he took out his satchel, eating a small piece from one of the cakes in his satchel to stave off the requests from his stomach, the small round cake was made from a light sponge and had a mild lemon taste to it, a curious feeling however is feeling your thirst recede after eating a typically dry sponge cake. Maleron felt as if he had drank some fine wine after swallowing the morsel and he thought that he deserved it after his recent defence of the corridor. Imagining himself battling countless thousands of Vestartum using sorceries of times long past, felling hundreds with every swipe of his diamond adorned mages staff the young pupil of the mages tilted his head back against the wall which he sat against only to brought back to reality by the sound of armoured feet, many armoured feet.
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Re: Mage story.

Postby Commander Cross » Sun Mar 24, 2013 4:13 pm

Its not the finest prologue I ever had the honors to read*, but I did enjoy the parts of it I know I did read.
Who knows?
Keep it up and perhaps the Spell Swords among the ranks of the Mages in here might be able to provide a decent-enough fight for any Mauve Shirt White Council Warden from the Dresden Files in 5-vs-5.
Not to say 25-vs-5 with the WC Wardens being the 5 would be lacklustre either, but still...


1.) (That belongs to the Admiral's own Pantheon Wars, there)
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Re: Mage story.

Postby Kitten Lord » Mon Mar 25, 2013 4:00 pm

What would you say the pros/cons are, how could I improve?
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Re: Mage story.

Postby GluttonousBehemoth » Sun Mar 31, 2013 9:04 pm

Sorry, depth critique aren't exactly Cross' forte.

It is an interesting premise, not shining new or anything like that, but interesting enough.

The main problem I think is that you wrote it a bit wordy. I love detail to death, but as I have been chastened myself, Brevity is the Soul of Wit, or so I'm told. Finding ways to compress and compact will make it flow a trifle smoother, and that can make all the difference for some folks. But apart from that and paragraphs, I'd be perfectly happy to read more.
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Re: Mage story.

Postby Commander Cross » Mon Apr 01, 2013 10:50 am

GluttonousBehemoth wrote:Sorry, depth critique aren't exactly Cross' forte.


A fact that I despise so much, and I'm an admitted perfectionalist, it makes me want to strangle myself for the sake of near-death experiences. :x

I also intend to re-read more of the debut more one of these days so I can be taught how to better myself and fix this issue.
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