fighting – steelstashwriting

Flash Fiction Friday 019 – Fire and Fur

Earth has gone to hell, a world of fire and fur. Ten years ago, the gnomes completed a ritual to Glittergold. Such things were not unusual. What was unusual was the power of this ritual.

Over the next several months, communities were surprised by sudden explosions. Chaos reigned and the great powers were on the brink of war. Noone could find the wizard or sorcerer responsible. Druids were targeted by mobs after a rabbit would be seen hopping away from one of the attacks.

The truth wasn’t discovered until one of the royal Rangers responded to the king’s request for rabbit stew. To kill a rabbit was to cause an explosion and the rabbit’s rebirth.

The next several years were a nightmare. Any rabbit death resulted in explosive rebirth. Normal births did no slow, however. The farming communities were being overrun with no protection. War broke out with the gnomes when their ritual was discovered.

The kobalds were all too happy to join in the fight against their hated enemies, but few of them brought the dragon aid we had hoped for while too many of them continued to try and eat the rabbits.

At last, eight years into the devastation, a breakthrough occurred. The rabbits were made sterile. In a final attempt for peace, the dwindling gnomish population succeeded in stopping the spread of the cursed creatures.

Now we do what we can to prevent further death. Conservation have been built for rabbit relocation. The brave and the bold track down and move the creatures or to trigger their explosions before they reach populations.

It is with one of these groups that I sit, bow at the ready. My watch has less then two hours remaining, but I am anxious and alert. Claxus, our leader, stares idly into the fire as the light flickers and dances over the burned left side of his face. If I do well, he will sponsor me into the ranks of the Bunny Ears. I look forward to the honor and prestige.

There is movement in the dark and my arrow flies from the bow. A sharp twang is followed by a dull thud. There is a bright flash, a roar of thunder, and heat washes over us all. Claxus nods over at me. I know I am ready for the trials. I will be a Bunny Ear.

Flash Fiction Friday 012 – The Persian Sand Wyrm

The Persian Sand Wyrm lifted it’s mighty head and spit forth it’s venom at the crimson clad combatants. Heinrich ducked, Rich dodged, and Tim dove, but Ulrich did not move fast enough. He screamed as the venom struck his left arm.

It quickly ate through his armor, burning into his flesh. The pain was intense, almost unbearable. Tim rolled to a crouch a few feet from Ulrich and dove back towards his injured battle buddy. He scooped Ulrich up in his arms and tackled the fellow Crusader to the ground as another burst of venom shot overhead.

“Crusader Main, Crusader Main. This is Crusader Bravo. Request immediate medevac at LZ Hawk. Elaine. I say again Elaine.”

Ulrich was faintly aware of the report Tim was sending up. Through the haze of pain, he recognized the code word for confirmation of the sand wyrm. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Heinrich and Rich engaging the creature, saw it slither and writhe under the hail of gunfire from the other two Crusaders.

Ulrich was pulled back to the reality of his situation as he felt something tightening on his arm near the shoulder. Tim was applying a turniquet to his injured limb. Reaching into his aid pack, Ulrich popped one of the pain potions that had been issued him and waved Tim away. “I’m good. Help them.”

Tim nodded and took off towards the wyrm while Ulrich finished applying the turniquet. A wave of euphoria washed over him as the potion took effect. After several moments, Ulrich was done treating himself. He couldn’t move his arm, but he was ok for now.

Ulrich reached for his weapon, the crossbow just a few feet from him. The bolts were specially designed and enchanted for desert dragons. Luckily, it was undamaged from the wyrm’s venom, but he only had one shot.

The other three had the wyrm’s attention. It was now or never. He lifted the crossbow, aimed, and loosed the bolt. It struck the wyrm in its venom sack, sinking deep into its neck. With a terrible cry, the creature reared its head before collapsing to the ground.

The medevac arrived a few minutes later and the team loaded up on the helicopters. Ulrich didn’t remember much after that. The medics had given him some of the good stuff, and he faded into a drug induced sleep.

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Flash Fiction Friday 005 – The Golden Horde

As the day of battle was reached, the Golden Horde stood ready to meet their foe. #flashfictionfriday #fantasy #battle

The sound of a thousand breaths echoing in a thousand helmets filled the first few ranks. Behind, standards fluttered in the breeze, undulating with the same determined beat of the warriors. The sun rose behind them, casting the field in a glorious, golden light. It was a good omen.

The heavens were smiling on the Golden Horde. Though chaos still loomed ahead, order would soon be brought to bear as sure as the dawn was ending the night. It was a certainty, as sure as the dawn.

A horn sounded in the distance and a cloud of smoke rose on the horizon. The earth shook as the wild ones marched forth. Their army outnumbered the Golden Horde three to one, but that did not cause a stir among the ranks.

General Gradicus observed how the wild ones marched forward. Their steps were out of time with each other and their ranks bent like a reed in the wind. This was not a professional army, merely a mob meant to scare and intimidate.

Gradicus allowed himself a small smile as he wrote several orders on scraps of parchment. These orders were handed to nearby runners who sped off towards the designated officer. This army was not easily scared and would show this rabble what true military force can do.

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Flash Fiction Friday 002 – Knowledge is Strength

This week’s flash fiction looks at a world where knowledge and strength go hand in hand.

Master Rotenaphon sat atop his pillar, his large forearms resting on crossed legs. Six shelves were cut into the side of the pillar, and each shelf was filled with scrolls of various thickness. Those scrolls alone were proof of Rotenaphon’s prowess. Years of study and work went into gathering all that knowledge displayed within the pillar.

A potential student was brought within the room to stand before the pillar. The student’s jaw clenched and his shoulders shook slightly at the sight of the pillar. There was nothing else within the room to compete for his gaze. All the young man could do was let his eyes travel up the pillar, past each shelf, with growing apprehension before finally setting on the master himself.

“So,” Rotenaphon began. “You wish to learn of the philosophy of nothingness?” The master punctuated his question by flexing biceps the size of melons. “Well then, I hope you are properly prepared, otherwise you shall only learn the philosophy of pain!”

The fight was over quickly. Rotenaphon sprung from his pillar with lightning speed. Before the potential student was aware of what was going on, he was balled up on the ground and staring at the ceiling. Within minutes, the student was on his way out the door.

At this rate, he was never going to be able to learn anything beyond the basic education. Maybe he should just try an easier teacher, at least until he learned how to fight. Until then, he was never going to be able to win any lessons.

Remember to follow this blog for more stories and musings on storytelling. Like us on Facebook or follow us on Twitter. We also have our quarterly newsletter you can sign up for with the link on the sidebar. Sign up for exclusive short stories and news about our projects. And remember, I mustache you to stay fantastical.