Scumbase

I promised Ghettoforce I would start writing again. So what I am going to do is take an old story I started in NanoWritMo, and complete it. Feel free to comment, edit, make fun or help guide the story along with ideas and input. It makes the writing more fun when I get this feedback. We will see if I can complete this story that I once started.

War Dreams, Chapter 1

The sounds of war were fading into the setting sun. The settling dust coating the blood soaked bodies of the dead, their glazed eyes left ever staring into the heavens. Moans, a sad wail, pleas to a far-off lover broke the silence, but eventually all was quiet.

Fog seeped through the bloody grasses to envelop the bodies in a damp shroud. The flit of many wings grew louder as the ravens came to perform their duties to their Gods, to carry the deeds of these warriors to the heavens. As the flock landed amongst the dead and dying, a figure stepped out from her hiding spot. Barely larger than a man’s hand, her clothing was made of soft spider webs that clung to her slender body. The sharp contrast of her raven-black hair made her skin all the paler in the shadows of the evening. In her hand, she carried a spear fashioned from a silver fork, stolen from the world of man many months ago.

Perched upon the hilt of a sword thrust into the ground, the largest of the ravens sat, not partaking with his brethren in the feast offered by the carnage. Grey feathers marked his crown and though his once bright eyes clouded with age, his mind was sharp as ever.

“Again you prowl through the dead Siarah?” the raven cawed, “You will never find that what you seek! It was a dream! Go home and be away from these sights! Be away from that which is our due!”

The woman stood firm, her chin jutting out in a silent show of anger, her green eyes snapping in ire at the bird. “Tease me as you will, but I know in my heart that I have to find the man. He is critical to the future of all our worlds”.

Wings spread wide as he took to the air, the Raven King laughed, his words fading as he flew to oversee his flock “Critical? Men only destroy young one. Even when they create, they destroy. Look upon the ruin they have brought to themselves, you will fare no better if you persist in this fool’s errand… leave this place like the rest of your kind”.

In spite of the old raven’s warning, Siarah searched among the fallen, careful not to disturb any that might be feasting. As the bird had said, it had been a dream, but it was a dream that had occurred every night since the human war claimed the lands of her home. Such a dream must have meaning, must be prophetic and so it was her duty to see it through.

The memory of the dream she had come to know so well over the course of the last three years night’s was clear: a powerfully built man with bright blond hair and freckled skin, he would fall in battle and she would find him. She would know him by the mighty sword that he wields – A sword so large that two hands strained to swing it. Three red rubies were nestled into the pommel of the hilt with a gold inlay of three birds twisting their flight around the gems. Somehow, she knew that in this, there was hope for her homeland.

Silently, she moved from body to body between the pools of blood already congealing in the open air. The ravens were efficient though, and all too often eyeless faces stared soullessly into the night. Long after the birds were gone, she searched until every one of the dead was examined.

Frustrated, the tiny fae moved to rest on a mushroom peeking from the edge of the forest; another battle whose end she had witnessed, and yet still the prophecy remained unfulfilled. Doubt filled her, “Perhaps it was as the raven king stated - only a dream?”