Here's something I've been working on for a little while. Feel free to comment or complain. Thanks to BiBi for moving this to fanfic.
Without further fanfare:
Arc of Judgment
A novel by Fred Gurtz
No part of this novel may be reproduced or displayed without permission of the author.
If you do, you can be held legally responsible, and sued. No kidding, I'll find you.
The Code of Chivalry was 'borrowed' from Wikipedia.
Chapter One: Brushes With Death
They were gone. Good thing, too, as one of the townspeople was an accomplished archer - one of the arrows had caught him in the leg, and he wouldn't have been able to run much longer. Death was waiting for him around every corner, and the only option he had was to stare it in the face. His name was Ravier, and he was hated by citizens everywhere for no apparent reason. He pulled the arrow out of his leg. "Ouch" he mumbled as he looked at the bit of flesh dislodged by the arrow. It needed medical attention, at a level he could not provide. Time was running out. He needed to get it healed, and fast.
He left the forest and snuck up to the wooden storehouse. It was starting to fall apart, but was still in use. There were guards posted outside, so he would have to wait until they changed shift. During the shift change, he would swoop in to get into the storage. Then he would treat the wound, and wait for the next shift change to escape. He noticed he was starting to feel a little light-headed. He needed to move soon, before he succumbed to blood loss. If all went well, no one would be hurt. If all didn't, he could end up dead.
He snuck in without a problem. He quickly found a crate of freshly picked herbs. He recognized them from when he was young, watching his mother garden. “These ones sting, but they’ll prevent infection. We wouldn’t want that!” That’s what she used to say. He applied the herbs carefully, not using more than he needed to. He was a fugitive, not a thief. Content that he had done as much as he could; he waited for the guards to look the other way. He was sneaking out, when a shout erupted. “There he is!” The guards spotted him. He ran, but his leg was still in pain, and he couldn’t keep this up for much longer. He glanced behind him, but the guards were nowhere to be found. But that was quickly forgotten, after he saw the scorpion.
It was the largest scorpion he had ever seen. This thing was easily 5 times his size, and it was headed right at him. The scorpion’s tail oozed venom, which it was apparently immune to. It struck, but he dived out of the way just in time. Unfortunately, the scorpion was faster, and had more limbs. It grabbed him with its pincer, and he couldn’t squeeze free. He braced for impact. The stinger came down… and then a terrible roar. He opened his eyes, and there was an arrow in the beast’s head. Its limbs went limp, it was dead, and he was alive. He looked around, looking for the arrow’s source, but saw no one. He glanced at the arrow, and noticed the wood was peeling. Wait… it wasn’t wood, it was a note! He unrolled the piece of parchment, and on the paper was a single word: INDIGO. But that was a riddle for another day; he was tired, and had come close to death twice in one day.
Once again, comments are appreciated. Not only do I thank you, but so does the main character.
Without further fanfare:
Arc of Judgment
A novel by Fred Gurtz
No part of this novel may be reproduced or displayed without permission of the author.
If you do, you can be held legally responsible, and sued. No kidding, I'll find you.
The Code of Chivalry was 'borrowed' from Wikipedia.
Chapter One: Brushes With Death
They were gone. Good thing, too, as one of the townspeople was an accomplished archer - one of the arrows had caught him in the leg, and he wouldn't have been able to run much longer. Death was waiting for him around every corner, and the only option he had was to stare it in the face. His name was Ravier, and he was hated by citizens everywhere for no apparent reason. He pulled the arrow out of his leg. "Ouch" he mumbled as he looked at the bit of flesh dislodged by the arrow. It needed medical attention, at a level he could not provide. Time was running out. He needed to get it healed, and fast.
He left the forest and snuck up to the wooden storehouse. It was starting to fall apart, but was still in use. There were guards posted outside, so he would have to wait until they changed shift. During the shift change, he would swoop in to get into the storage. Then he would treat the wound, and wait for the next shift change to escape. He noticed he was starting to feel a little light-headed. He needed to move soon, before he succumbed to blood loss. If all went well, no one would be hurt. If all didn't, he could end up dead.
He snuck in without a problem. He quickly found a crate of freshly picked herbs. He recognized them from when he was young, watching his mother garden. “These ones sting, but they’ll prevent infection. We wouldn’t want that!” That’s what she used to say. He applied the herbs carefully, not using more than he needed to. He was a fugitive, not a thief. Content that he had done as much as he could; he waited for the guards to look the other way. He was sneaking out, when a shout erupted. “There he is!” The guards spotted him. He ran, but his leg was still in pain, and he couldn’t keep this up for much longer. He glanced behind him, but the guards were nowhere to be found. But that was quickly forgotten, after he saw the scorpion.
It was the largest scorpion he had ever seen. This thing was easily 5 times his size, and it was headed right at him. The scorpion’s tail oozed venom, which it was apparently immune to. It struck, but he dived out of the way just in time. Unfortunately, the scorpion was faster, and had more limbs. It grabbed him with its pincer, and he couldn’t squeeze free. He braced for impact. The stinger came down… and then a terrible roar. He opened his eyes, and there was an arrow in the beast’s head. Its limbs went limp, it was dead, and he was alive. He looked around, looking for the arrow’s source, but saw no one. He glanced at the arrow, and noticed the wood was peeling. Wait… it wasn’t wood, it was a note! He unrolled the piece of parchment, and on the paper was a single word: INDIGO. But that was a riddle for another day; he was tired, and had come close to death twice in one day.
Once again, comments are appreciated. Not only do I thank you, but so does the main character.
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