- This topic has 106 replies, 20 voices, and was last updated 1 year ago by
.
-
Posts
-
@rae Also, I guess my favorite color is blue. Haha. Yeah.
Lately, it's been on my brain
Would you mind letting me know
If hours don't turn into daysHonestly (IF you want my opinion) I like your originally title. Though it’s your choice.
Ooh! A button I can push!
"You need French Toast."
Woops! It might be tomorrow before I can look at your website. Eh! Tech, so many problems!
"You need French Toast."
@rae Lol, no worries!
Lately, it's been on my brain
Would you mind letting me know
If hours don't turn into daysme realizing the last time i was on here was when i was twelve
staring at the fields
if nothing's really real
i'll make the winter now my homebut please nobody expect me to make a return i am far too busy with life ðŸ˜
staring at the fields
if nothing's really real
i'll make the winter now my homethus i will not be updating my account with my new interests and life things and whatnot. you all will simply have to deal with the fact that this account is a travesty to who i really am 😎ðŸ¤
staring at the fields
if nothing's really real
i'll make the winter now my home@scripter-of-kingdoms 🙄 Oh, come on. You joined KP only like 6 months before I did, and I’m still active*. If I could get an college degree in the time I’ve been here, and still pop in occasionally, you can too. 😎😛
* I stalk the halls of KP and post a random rant here and there. It’s enough.
You will love what you spend time with.
Maybe.
Perchance.
I will consider it.
Maybe.
staring at the fields
if nothing's really real
i'll make the winter now my home@rae thank youuuu
Lately, it's been on my brain
Would you mind letting me know
If hours don't turn into days@devasate-lasting
Your Welcome.
Just out of curiosity, what do you think of my WIP?
Title:Â Guardian Angels, a space story
Genre: sci-fi
MC: Nahim (pronounced nay-him, never nah-him) A. Nayhelm
Chapter One:
CHAPTER 1 LAXAN
Billowing smoke filled the air. Lava drooled red into the city streets. Rock soared into the air to land on crawling Nanian bugs.Ash was mixed in with every shaking breath that Nahim took into his nostrils. The Nayhelm had failed. Laxan was overtaken and leveled to no more than a ruin, their reward for protecting refugees. Now the refugees screamed and cried as they were killed.
Mothers called after children’s souls, fathers tried to comfort them. Children tried to make parents rise again to no avail. Tears rolled slowly down the stained cheeks of Nahim. Back there lay the bodies of his family. His face stung and his eyes burned, his throat and mouth were dry from being full of ash.
The ground shook with earthquakes. The last of the brave ships trying to get refugees out of the city exploded with a great boom as if it had broken the barrier of sound.
Here he stood, upon the high ground along Laxan, watching people die from bug aliens and from lava, suffocation and crushing. No weapon was grasped in his hand. No helmet was shielding his head. His armor was scratched and covered with the blood of Nanians and refugees. He had done all he could to save them, but he couldn’t even save his little brother. Laxan was doomed and he knew even a dozen berserker warriors could not save his beloved home now. The impulse that coursed through his veins was that of suicide in battle, for there was no hope of victory. The heart was broken, the mind was saddened, but still it yelled at him to leave the place of defeat, there was something more beyond this for him. For the first time in his life, he was helpless and alone, without any member of his family left to turn to.
All was too much. With his heart aching unbearably, Nahim turned away from his viewpoint and wiped his ash and tear stained cheeks. His hands balled into fists tightened with rage and sorrow.
‘How? How could the Nanians get so far?’ One answer was the only one that could have made this great city with her close-guarded secrets fall. ‘A traitor!’ Nahim turned back to the ghastly scene he could do nothing to change. ‘By my Honor, I will avenge you and find this traitor.’
One last look.
The high-pitched warning call of a leavar rang in his almost deafened ears. It seemed to be a last wailing cry of anguish issuing from those salamander dragons over the people they once were friends with. Now it was Nahim’s turn to give a sorrowful good-bye.
‘Farewell, my home.’
He ran into the tall grasslands, but he could not smell their sweetness, nor care about the tall blades cutting his face. His back was to Laxan, to his home, to his now-dead family, and to his happy past. Everything he knew was dead and gone. He could feel it even in the way he moved; his life was changed forever.
*****
He ran until he finally came to a staggering stop and glanced behind him. The air over his home was black with smoke. The horrible memories flashed through his mind. His dead brothers and parents. Vorgan. The duel. The hopelessness. The rescue. All was too vivid.
His young features contorted. Nahim’s hand strayed to his throat. Pain. He looked at his fingers. Blood. He tried to talk. Nothing but pain. He let his hand fall and stood with mouth open slightly, eyes staring off towards his old home. How long he remained here, he could never guess; all he knew was that he was wounded, but his family would not be at his side; his mother would not talk to him and comfort him as she tended it. His father would not ask how he had managed to hurt himself this time. No little brother to ask him to spin it into some brave act of monster-slaying. No older one to chuckle at the mess he had gotten into. Tears rolled more freely. What would he do now? Home was where he belonged.
A low, throaty growl resounded from behind him. He turned. A tigros tail bounced above the grasses, its two colors of orange and black mingled in a cloud or swirling water pattern. Usually a tigros wouldn’t dare attack a Realn, especially fully trained and almost fully armored ones. But Nahim was different; he was weary, wounded, dehydrated, and starving. And a Realn with no helmet. The orange and black roughly striped predator leaped to come down on Nahim’s chest plate, sending him smashing to the ground. One large, out stretched paw holding claws of almost one hand in length tried to swipe Nahim’s face, only to be thwarted by Nahims’ sea blue and forest green gauntlet. He gave a hard blow to the beast’s jaw, and it leapt away with a stiff feline agility, the young creature realizing it should not mess with a Realn.
But Nahim did not rise. There was no hope for him. If the Nanians found him, he would die. And if he tried to keep going, even if no other young impulsive tigros thought he would be an easy kill, he would die of dehydration. If somehow he found flowing water out here, then he would die from the probable infection in his wound. And no one ever went into the vast grasslands. And the Leavar? Suddenly his eyebrows lifted; he readied his muscles to rise. He could almost feel Knight’s breath like that of summer’s hottest air, blowing out of his black nostrils. Those almost invisible scales rubbing lovingly against him, those pupiless red eyes staring into his own. He could feel the red flaps of skin down the creature’s body, he could almost feel himself riding Knight back to his volcanic domain, the pace set by those long black legs veined in red. His wound would be no problem then, for it is said that the saliva of the Laxorian Leavar has healing abilities. Hope sparked, but then the wind of reality and realization blew it out. Nahim let his muscles relax again. The Leavar would not come. They were now probably in their volcanic caverns swimming in the lava, out of reach of those murderous Nanians. He wished he could lift his voice up in a call Knight always had a tuned ear for, the call of his master and friend.
What had he been thinking? Here he was, no matter what way he turned, going to die and never fulfill his vow. He would die with no honor. He was stuck with death. After 15 years of his life it had finally come.
His hands fisted into the very roots of the sharp grass. He could barely breathe. He could not tell if he was afraid of death, or just afraid that he would have an honorless death. Nahim let his eyelashes touch the tops of his cheeks as one last tear drifted down his already wet skin.
‘This is the end.’
Note: I’m really really bad at summaries.
Summary: Nahim Nayhelm is the last of his family-clan, all of his relatives having died in the Nanian War that still rages in the Wond Galaxy. It is a war on the outside, with Nahim vowing to avenge the blood of the lives lost in the destruction of his Home. And a war on the inside…How shall I continue? I finish this later, sorry, My mind is very much blank.
"You need French Toast."
So this is a mix mash of stuff I wrote around last Christmas that summary-ish.
HE WAS THE LAST NAYHELM. He was the last of that small, but strong Realn family-clan. He was the only survivor of the Laxan invasion. Looking at him with his traditional Nayhelm style Realn armor he looked normal, not strange or speical. But if he lifted his helmet, you saw he was more than an average Realn.
WAR WAGES IN THE WOND GALAXY. Nahim Nayhelm has lost his family, his home, his faith and his trust to this war. With his mind full of one word towards his God, “Why?” and his body full of another, “War” he must fight two battles.
“They killed my family…”
A war on the outside.
“You don’t know what it’s like!…”
A war on the inside.
“Alin told me He would always be there. But where is He?”
A friend with doubts.
“Maybe He’s right in front of you. Just you refuse to see.”
A friend to help.
“Terror weapons block us. No uniting Emperor…”
War lost?
“…It’s as if He’s just gone, forsaken my life…”
Soul lost?
“Their developing a new weapon to destroy the Nanians.”
War won?
“I get what your saying…”
Soul saved?
“…but…”Nahim Nayhelm has lost all to war. Even Ehyeh (God) seems far away. When war wages, he fights, from the enemy’s king himself to on Nahim’s own belovéd home planet. Wherever he goes, he must realize the life he lives needs Ehyeh.
After writing this, I decided to change it from a salvation story to a “coming back” story. Otherwise, it’s up to date.
"You need French Toast."
Look at me, i’m such a hypocrite. i redid my profile and made a new intro post and everything.
i guess i’m back now
staring at the fields
if nothing's really real
i'll make the winter now my home@rae Interesting, is this like a sci-fi?
Lately, it's been on my brain
Would you mind letting me know
If hours don't turn into days
- You must be logged in to reply to this topic.