Creative Discussions > Fan Fiction & Writing

The Fallen King

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Frenchfry:
[Insert introductory speech here]

I am fear. I am chaos. I am war. My name is Stefan. I sit on the dark throne of a forgotten empire, biding my time, observing the war-torn civilization beneath me, waiting for a time when the men of war have all passed on, and I may once again take hold of the reigns and restore my empire to its former glory. With me is an army of undead, risen by the Scythe of Death himself, and ready to crush any of the feeble resistance that may remain when the time comes. Recently, however, men have been venturing to my ruined city. They are pinning some idiotic insurrection on me. A small village torn apart by bandits, one of them identified as a knight in Onyx armor. They have somehow blamed this on me. I have done nothing, but it matters very little. All those who attempt to destroy me shall meet a swift and untimely end.

Stefan was a truly frightening man- if he could be called that anymore. His jet black hair and blood red eyes made him seem ruthlessly evil. He was well over five hundred years old, though his face maintained a youthful appearance, and while not particularly tall, he was still tall enough where he could literally look down on most men. His Onyx armor was ancient, but still far more useful than anything produced in modern days, and the shoulder spikes made it nearly impossible for someone to take a slice at his neck.
Today, Stefan sat on his throne, pondering what he would do with a recently captured prisoner. A small boy, by the name of Zeith. He had charged into the ruins of Stefan’s old empire armed with nothing but a small combat knife. Even so, he had taken apart quite a few of the undead before Stefan arrived and took him down.
Sometime after high noon, a member of the Shadow Clan – His elite guard – slipped into the throne room through a small hole in the wall. “Massssster…”
Stefan, irritated by the interruption, said slowly, “Shadow, I believe I gave you very specific instructions on when you were permitted to disrupt my train of thought.”
“Yesssss, master. Only if the prissssssoner was becoming a problem, and…”
“Shadow, your troupe is supposed to be the best of the best, is it not? How much trouble can you have with unarmed boy that still isn’t old enough to drink?”
“…We will tend to the problem, masssster.”
“No, you won’t. Empty the cell, I’ll be there in a moment.”
In the cell, the prisoner, a boy aged about fourteen, was still chained to the wall, as before, though he held the skull of an undead between his teeth. As Stefan entered, the boy’s eyes erupted into pure hate, almost bursting with distain.
Ripping the skull from the boy’s mouth, Stefan asked, “What is your name, boy?”
The reply was, unsurprisingly, hostile. “You monster! I’ll kill you!”
He may very well have continued, but Stefan clamped his mouth shut. “I asked for your name, kid. Tell me who you are, or I will kill you in the most painful manner possible.”
The boy paused, clearly having an internal struggle with his own pride. “…My name is Zeith,” he said eventually.
“Ah, I knew a man named Zeith when I was your age. Very quiet as a person, and very frightening on the battlefield. That was centuries ago, though. Tell me, Zeith; Why have you come here?”
“You destroyed my village, you bastard! You killed everyone!”
“…Zeith. I haven’t left these ruins in five hundred years. What could I have done to your village?
“Liar! I saw you! You and your soldiers killed every last one of them!”
Stefan, losing patience, planted his fist deep in the stomach of Zeith. Looking past him, into the wall, Stefan continued. “I am not a nice person, Zeith, but I am not a monster. I have nothing to gain from attacking helpless civilians, and nothing to prove by burning the innocent. What happened to your village is unfortunate, but it had nothing to do with me.”
“…”
“Think about it. If I were so ruthless that I would attack a village without provocation, then why would I be allowing you to live right now?”
Zeith looked away.
“Listen to me. I am going to let you go now. What you do next will decide your future. If you raise a hand against me, I will kill you.”
Stefan cut the bonds that held Zeith to the wall, who dropped to the ground and fell to his knees for a moment, before righting himself and moving slowly towards the door.
As he opened the door, Zeith turned back and said, slowly, “The man you knew… Zeith… He is my ancestor. He was the father of modern ninjas, and the namesake for every man in my family.”
Not leaving time for Stefan to reply, Zeith hurried out the door and away from the ruins.
Staring off into oblivion, Stefan wondered. Would this be the last he sees of Zeith? He shook his head. Something had compelled him to allow that boy to live. Something in him. Something… different. Whatever his future held, Zeith was going to have a large role in shaping the world to the future.

BAM! I have to end this here, because it’s getting just a little too long for a single post. I will be including pokemon later if I feel like continuing the story, though this isn’t a story about saving the world from team fag-ma and team cock-wa, this is about Stefan, and his journy to regain his place as the ruler of the world, so don’t expect pokemon to be that important to the story.

LeoReborn:
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Amazing.....Im speechless....

Frenchfry:

--- Quote from: Unbreakable on September 08, 2010, 03:01:19 AM ---    *
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Amazing.....Im speechless....

--- End quote ---
Oh snap.
T.T what did you do to get like fifteen billion replies in like thirty seconds? Do you have psychic powers? O.o

Jerry:
It's good. :)

That's what I'd call descriptive and narrative combined :)

Declan_23:
I love it :D
I get the impression that you spent a while on this, rather than rushing it like most others on this forum (Myself included)
It comes off as a finely polished thing. (Not in a metaphorical mood)
If you want my advice (And I doubt you do) I feel that introducing pokemon into the story would ruin it. But meh, go for what you want.

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