Writing Help-Group For Everyone discussion

Okay, so we each add a short paragraph or a couple sentences to what the person before you has said. :)(Julius came up with this thread idea, so if you like it, please thank him. :) ) Put your character info on the Character page, and then let's start writing a story together as a group!! ^.^ (everyone's invited!)

I'll start by just suggesting there's more than one character:
They walked through the silence.

No longer held captive by the fearful clutch of his unwanted, though still fellow, companion, Hadoram felt that coping with the dense quiet of the ruins would be far easier.

Brightstone was wandering about near the long-forgotten crumbling ruins of a deserted ghost village. What could have happened here? she wondered. She sensed something that was familiar, but couldn't quite place her finger on it.

Was it a scent? A sight? Ever since this village had been declared 'haunted' some fifty years before, Brightstone had made great toil to avoid it. Now here she was sneaking about it's borders. But it had fallen to an even worse state since the last time she'd visited. And yet she had had little choice but to return. He was here. She felt the tug of his presence like a shadow moving in the dark.

Brightstone glanced behind her. She sensed him behind her, but didn't turn. She didn't need to. She already knew he was watching her, wondering what she was doing. She gave a little smug smile. He could never guess. She continued sneaking around the ruins, then spotted what she was looking for. The half-broken sword, the top half of the blade snapped into a hundred pieces. She picked up all the pieces, one by one, and placed them all in the little pouch hanging off her belt.

Hadoram paused near the remains of the town's northern wall. Here it had fallen, or a great deal of it at any rate, this once proud structure that had been the protection of the village. Its destruction had come so suddenly, so unexpectedly, that it begged the sympathy of any that had known it as it had once been. Built by none other than Toren Silverhands, I believe, Hadoram thought to himself. Yet for all the history or skilled craftmanship of the wall, it was not the reason he had paused. Had he heard something just now? Yea, he had; a soft rustle, heard just below the footfalls of his fellow traveler and himself. "I could be mistaken," he whispered to his mute companion, "but I think there's somebody else nearby. Not that you would care." There were many outjuttings of stone from the small rise of wall that remained. These Hadoram climbed, quickly and quietly, taking care not to jostle loose any of the weakened rock. Once at the top he peered over the edge carefully, straining his eyes in the dark. He frowned. He could just make out, only a short distance from the wall on which he stood, a shaded form hunched close to the ground. Too shapely for some gaunt creature of the night. No. Indeed it bore the liking to a man bent over on his hands and knees. Then again it was rather slender. A woman perhaps?

It seems we have company, Brightstone thought. She, too, had noticed the person. But who else, other than them, could be out at this time of night? She crept closer, as silently as a mouse. Drawing her sparkly dagger in case the stranger wasn't in a friendly mood, she slowly aproached.

Nearing her target she halted carefully, shrinking down so as to make as much use of the shadows as possible. Suddenly, she sprang, dagger outstretched. She met the black figure heavily, and the two of them rolled over in a heap.

Hadoram, from where he crouched on the wall, started in surprise as the two fell in a tangle. "Who on earth..?" he began. But very quickly he resolved to investigate the matter nonetheless. Leaping to the ground without the village he dashed over to where the two forms were engaged with one another.

Shailene jumped back as she saw the tousle that was taking place nearby "guess I better wait and see what happens" she thought crouching down in the shadows and drawing a pouch from the belt at her waist.

The person aimed a punch at her face. Now that she was close enough, she could tell it was a man. She dogged, scraping her blade across his still-clenched fist. He cried out, pulling back and kicking her in the stomache, knocking all the air out of her lungs. She clapsed to the ground,struggling for breath. She had dropped her dagger in the process, and he kicked it away from her reach.

He towered over her, blood dripping from the wound he'd been dealt. With a growl he lunged again, striking Brightstone with his foot once more. This blow sent her tumbling, groaning in agony as she felt two of her ribs give way. The thrashing might have continued for a very painful while longer, but Brightstone's tormentor was roughly interrupted.

She tried to speak, but he numbed her face with a fierce punch. She spotted he also had a dagger, but his had not been drawn. It was the kind of dagger only rich people possessed. Or theives. Suddenly, and quite unexpectedly, he stopped attacking her. She waited for the next blow, but it never came.

Hadoram had not waisted time in trying to conceal his advance. He rushed across the open ground that lay between him and his quarry, drawing his own weapons as he did so. He bore neither sword nor knife, for such were not his forte. Rather he pulled from his attire two small blades, both carved in the intricate shape of a half moon. Instead of a hilt, at the bottom of each were four small holes. In these
holes he placed his fingers, and the two blades rested face up on his knuckles. By this time Brightstone's tormentor had seen him and was now turning to face this new threat. Beside him the unfortunate Brightstone crumpled writhing to the earth.

He'll pay for that, she thought icily. Struggling onto her hands and knees, she crawled over to her dagger. Nothing would stop her from having revenge. Not even death.

"Hold, stranger!" the figure shouted before Hadoram reached him. "My quarrel is not with you!"
Hadoram slowed, but did not come to a full halt. The voice of the man was cold and sharp, slithering in the ears more like unto a hiss. The hairs on the back of Hadoram's kneck stood on end at the sound of it, and he kept his weapons raised.
"If not," he said cooly, "then why are you here?"
He did not believe it pure chance for two strangers to be here, in this place, on the same night he had returned. A slight movement to his left caught his eye, and he half turned. His eyebrows shot up in amazment as he reconized the slim form crawling along the ground. "Brightstone!"

She looked up, startled. Her hand posed over her little dagger, she stared at them, her eyes shifting between them, as if she wanted to keep an eye on each one there.
"What?" she slowly growled.

MWAHAHHAHAHAHHA

The sudden, crazied laughter came out of the darkness, startling everyone.

Shailene stood as the creepy laugh continued and crept slowly towards the group of people, holding her hands up she shouted "Peace! What good is this fighting doing anyone?" she came to a stop by Brightstone and offered her a hand up.

Hadoram half glanced at Shailene, but kept his main attention on the dark form that had first caught it. He was a man most assuredly, a very tall and skinny man. He stood shrouded in a sable hooded cloak that looked quite weather stained. He spoke again, and when he did so Hadoram felt his skin crawl once more.

"Fighting? Fighting? I was defending myself. Is it wrong for a man to lash out when he is pounced upon in the dark?"

"Lash out, perhaps not," Hadoram said. "But what I just witnessed rose a little above that.

The stranger bowed mockingly.

Brightstone looked at Shailene suspisciously, as if she held a knife in her hand. Finally, she accepted the help up, and leaned against a nearby tree.
"Well, aren't we an odd group of friends?" Brightstone said, mockingly. Sarcasm was ripe in her tone. She was still unnerved about the eerie laughter.

"Brightstone, please," Hadoram said, raising his hand. And then addressing the dark man once more he said:"You never answered my question. What are you doing here?"

The stranger cocked his head to one side. "I won't lie to you, young master," he said. "If you would know, I am following someone."

Hadoram, still with blades raised, waited for him to continue. He did not wait long.

"If you are curious about the laughter," came the hissing words, "I will tell you that it is an associate of mine; one to help me in my hunt. Know, all of you, that I have no business with any of you at this time. I shall soon, but not yet. Take heed therefore, for if you seek to hinder me you become my foe, and that would not bode you well." As he said this he stood tall looking suddenly very grim; a red smolder kindled in his eyes. His very raiment seemed to writhe.

"What?" Brightstone said, ignoring what the stranger had said. "I haven't killed him yet, have I? If i had, he'd be laying in a pool of his own blood, drowning in it." She added with a small, maliscious smile. She sighed.
"Whatever, then. I'm gonna get some sleep." she said, staggering over to a half-destroyed ruin with heiyrogriphics on it. "Night, y'all!"

Hadoram sighed inwardly. That was Brightstone indeed.
"Pray excuse me, young master," the stranger was speaking again, "but I also must be on my way. As I said I have no business with you at this time. But if you are worried about losing track of me you needn't. We shall meet again." As his statement came to a close he raised high his left palm. A sudden shadow seemed to creep forth from all round. It drifted in like mist, but very swiftly. Next moment the whole party found themselves enveloped within clinging shrouds. There was no time to grope about one for another or shout, or even to be fully afraid. As swiftly as it had come the shadow vanished.

Hadoram blinked quickly and looked round, but the stranger had disappeared. Slowly, he sheathed his Scythes and went over to Brightstone.
"Let's have a look at you," he said. "And after I've seen to your injuries you mightn't mind telling me what you are doing here yourself."

Shailene slowly backed away as the other two talked, she had no wish to interupt them and as it had been a long time since she had ate she decided to walk towards the river she had crossed on her way to the village and break her fast on it's bank.

"My business is none of your concern, nor do I need help,"Brightstone smiled. "Besides, you'd be surprised at how well I can cope with injuries without help."

Dirk Silverhand was master of the ghost village. His word was law for every stone, every leaf and every creature within its bounds. It was with interest that he had watched the previous scuffle and it was with distaste that he had observed the dark stranger. If any had been there to observe him they might have even considered the expression written on his face to be that of familiarity. Yet perhaps no one would have been able to read the expressions evident on Dirk's face. For he was not bound by natural human emotions.

With a cold, mechanical action he raised his left arm toward Hadoram and Brightstone. The silver gauntlet which covered his hand shone faintly in the moonlight with this motion. Yet it was a shine that transformed into a pale green glow as a mysterious aura began to form around the extended hand. The soft whispering voice of Dirk Silverhand sounded once in some mysterious tongue and then a flash lit up the space between him and the two outsiders.

Hadoram leapt to his feet, Scythes flashing from their holds once more. His body whipped round this way and that as the sudden light closed him and Brightstone in. He frowned deeply. More magic he was sure. He felt that he had seen quite enough of it for one night. Not being a magician or any other such thing himself he understood little of it, but he had never forgotten the warnings given him concerning it by his uncle. It was imprecise, it was unnatural, and above all uncontrollably hazardous. 'Twas a cursed thing.

"Who detains us?" he shouted in challenge. "Show yourself!"

"Well, looks like the magic show is starting once again." Brightstone remarked with a laugh, but all scorn was gone from it, replaced with a slight tremble. "Anyway, can we just find the nearest village and get outta 'ere, Hadoram?" Brightstone suggested. She was only just barely suppressing her panic and terror of magic.

The magical light embraced the two travellers with glee. Hadoram growled and swung his arms as if to brush it away with mere physical movements. Brightstone, however, shrunk back in terror as the magic touched her skin. But it did not merely touch her but rather, with a slight tingling sensation, sunk into her very body. She thrashed her head as a sudden sensation of drowning enveloped her. An unusual situation, to be drowning while one solid land. Hadoram, she saw was likewise thrashing inside the magical field in panic. That was her last conscious thought as the magic lulled her to sleep.

The ancient spirit that called himself Dirk Silverhand watched the effects of his power take hold. An expression that was no expression known to man passed across his face. He was old and he had seen many things but these people fascinated him and he wished to examine them. He desired to find out who they were and whether they were the ones he had sought throughout the centuries.

Shailene closed her eyes in disbelief as she watched the stranger from behind some trees, magic was a dangerous pastime but she had studied it faithfully for many years and not only did she know exactly what he had done but she also knew just how powerful he would have to be to do it. She stepped out of the trees "Honored spirit" she said bowing to him.

Dirk turned slowly, or rather it was as if the world turned around him, so that he could see the speaker. His extreme, purple eyes pierced through Shailene as if her body were formed of parchment. The very beat of her heart pulsated with an energy that he could observe while the heat of her blood was as visible to his eyes as the tone of her skin.

"What do you wish to know child?" the spirit spoke in a chill whisper that danced through the air and made Shailene feel alive at the sound. And at the same time the voice was dismissive, curious and expecting. A question which was also a silent command: tell me why you are here!

Shailene spoke softly "I came here to find truth" she said it as though she was afraid of what she might find but her face belied her words as a determined look flashed across it "I came to help where I thought I was needed"

Dirk turned his head on an angle and looked with what some might suppose to be curiosity at the girl.

"And what are these individuals to you then? I myself claim mastery of them for I have need of their services. Would you perhaps consider aiding me? Would you help vanquish the evil fires of the dark city in the north? Would you release this ghost town from its torment?" Dirk studied Shailene, observing the shifting beat of her heart as an emotional outbreak of both fear and wonder fell upon her at his words.

"No girl," he said as if reading her thoughts, "I am no evil shadowman out of your mythologies. I am something older and more powerful."

"I wonder... but what you are makes no difference to me now, something about this feels... right, so I will aid you in whatever way you need" her heart was pounding so hard from both fear, duty and what felt strangely like delight that she feared it would burst as she nodded gravely to him.

Hadoram felt as though he were falling, falling, but to what end he knew not. All was dark and still; no wind whistled in his ears. Presently, he caught sight of a faint light below him, a clear, inviting kind of light. Or perhaps not so inviting, he thought, for if there was a light that meant that his fall must be coming to an end, and as far as he could tell quite a dreadful one. But the next moment he found that instead of being smashed to peices against some unknown land or burned away by a magical flame, he was sitting quite comfortably upon a rather low wooden chair beneath a great, out-reaching oak. It was dark all round once more.

"Nothing is ever easy for me," he muttered. "If I hadn't been so inquisitive in the first place..." he trailed off angrily. Another thought abrubtly struck him, and he called out, "Brightstone!"

Dirk stared at Hadoram's still body as his mouth opened and the single cry ventured forth "Brightstone." There was something special about the boy if his words could pierce the magical veil. Hadoram should be experiencing a magical vision within his dream. Then without warning Hadoram's eyes snapped open. And with that the spell slipped away from Dirk's control. Brightstone's eyes likewise flickering open.

"Ha-Hadoram? Is-is that you?" Brightstone vetured uncertainly, her voice barely above a whisper. She was not pretending to be brave now. She was scared. She couldn't remember the last time she had felt as scared as this.

With head heavy and limbs trembling, Hadoram rose slowly to his feet. The fantasy had lost its hold on him, but a faint vision still danced before his eyes.

A great grey tower he saw, thronged about by smaller buildings of darker shade. At the foot of the tower was a great flame, black as the plumage of a raven. As Hadoram watched, the fire began to spread. Without warning it leapt from roof to roof of the more diminutive structures, until the whole of that place was masked with black flame. A form was rising slowy from the smoke, a dark shape with huge wings. Into the air it climbed. Twice it reeled, and then, with a hoarse cry, flew straight for Hadoram.

Hadoram threw up his hands shouting, "No! No!" And as he did so the vision departed. He found himself standing in the dark as he had been, the deserted village before him, and a staring Brightstone beside him.

But Brightstone was not staring at him but rather at a menacing stranger cloaked all in black. A stranger who bore a silver gauntlet tightly around his left hand. A gauntlet which glowed with a mystic energy. Instinctively Hadoram clutched at his weapon intending to destroy the sorcerer who was obviously responsible for the vision he had succumbed to.

"I-I don't think you should do that, Hadoram." Brigthstone said. It was as if she had read his mind. "I don't think he's human." she said, staring at the man. He reminded her of something, but she couldn't quite place her finger on it. It was a nagging sensation that annoyed her. She slowly got to her feet. She felt drained of energy for some reason. She didn't know why, but she suddenly had the unharacteristic feeling to bolt. She was unnused to the feeling, and it unnerved her more than the strange man. She was confused, and she wanted answers as to why magic was suddenly happening all around her.
What am i still doing here, anyway? she thought to herself. I got what i came for, didn't I? She felt the bag at her hip.

"Who are you?" Hadoram demanded of the black form. "What have we to do with your enmity?"

Dirk did not answer, but gazed perceptively into the eyes of his questioner. The two stood silently for a space, while beside them Brightstone struggled to make up her mind whether to flee or stay put. Shailene also, who stood a little way behind Dirk, said nothing.

At length Hadoram spoke again. "By all rights I should be more than a little disturbed by your presence, and yet... and yet somehow I feel as though there's a terribly important reason for this meeting." He paused, and then went on in a low voice. "The city I saw in my vision, it was Sarn-haliah, the Dark City of the North, was it not? Why did you show me that?"

"You saw what you needed to see," Dirk's words were as enigmatic as his presence. "To be true I had intended to take you and the girl away with me. Yet I was suddenly interrupted by another mortal." Dirk looked around for Shailene and saw suddenly that she had vanished as if by magic herself. He turned again to face Hadoram, "You saw the dark city because it is your destiny. You will travel there and you will rid the land of darkness by purifying the source of evil. Few mortals remember how the putrid darkness arose there and few alive can rid our land of it. Yet..." His gaze penetrated Hadoram deeply, "somehow you are capable. Do not ask how I know this. Just understand that I do not dwell within the constructs or constraints of time and I can see much of what lies ahead."

"Okay, spooky confrontation with the random creepy unnerving guy, Hadoram. I'll see ya later.." Brightstone said, turning and walking away. "I, for one, have seen enough of his magic tricks."

Hadoram's face contorted as a muddle of emotions fought for mastery within him. "Rid the land of darkness?" he repeated quietly, as though to himself. Suddenly he laughed, but no mirth was therein. He spoke again. "My destiny? What would you know of my destiny? Have you walked the paths of my life? Have you gazed upon the turmoils of my strifes? The only reason I'm even here to begin with, in this thrice forsaken place, is because I seek a man; Barlin, the brother of my uncle. It is on his behalf and his only that I have embarked on any sort of journey at all. Yet now, meeting you-" He stopped. Why all of a sudden, did he find himself pouring out the reason for his journey to this shrouded stranger? He shook his head.

"No. That vision... it was not meant for me. It was simply a spill over of your magic." With an effort, he turned from the hooded form of Dirk Silverhand. "Brightstone, wait!" he called, raising his voice. "I would like to speak with you a moment." But though he had turned his face from Dirk, he found that he could not bring himself to simply walk away.

"Oh?" Brightstone stopped walking but didn't turn around. She was curious as to why he wanted to talk to her, after she had just practically mocked him.
"And why would you wanna speak to me?" she said, half-turning around. She didn't like this place, and it didn't like her. She sensed an evil wrong-doing here.

"My road," Hadoram said, still standing near to the wraith-like figure of Dirk, "from here leads north; it had since the night I arrived here. Where does yours lead?"

Brightstone paused, unsure if he was talking to the shadowy form just a couple of paces behind him, or her. Has he noticed the little metal scorpion behind the wall? she wondered, a slight smile on her face. She assumed he was talking to the stranger.

"Brightstone's path leads many miles away from here. And I can see that yours and hers are often joined yet never crossing. Your destiny lies together. It is not coincidence that I find you two out in a haunted village late at night. Few are so bold as to seek the grieving spirits of the dead. And none but such as I understand their cries," Dirk's words were again soft as if composed of the moonlight which shone from above.

Hadoram clenched his fists tightly, the ends of his fingers turning white under his raiment. He heard a voice in the back of his mind, the deep, heavy voice of his uncle, speaking words he had commanded his nephew long ago: "Always do what is right- when it is the right thing to do. Just because something appears wrong does not make it so, and few things that appear right are ever truly thus. But when one knows in one's self that something is right or something is wrong, it becomes a person of any honor, or even heart, to act accordingly. Never fail to do this, Hadoram."

Hadoram remembered the words as clearly as though he had heard them only yesterday. They had been the words that had directed him for the greater part of his life, the speaking memory of his conscience. It was because of the fire of these words in him that he had departed on his quest from the home of his beloved uncle in secret on a rain cloaked day nigh two months ago, leaving no better farewell than a brief note scribbled on a roll of parchment. And it was because of these words that he now turned round and faced Dirk once more.

"Aid me to find the man I seek," he said grimly, "and I will play my part in this destiny you speak of."