01-18-2002, 03:16 AM
Journals of Destiny-Prelude.
A new Disciple Born
One by one, the kingdoms would rise, and then fall. this was the fate of all within the world of Marthin. One scholar had come to realize this deep-rooted secrete of the gods, and thus was put within the realm of the damned by the gods themselves. this is the story of his son, Zamkel of the Ebony Fist.
The teenage boy awoke within a dark room, his screams, which escaped his pale lips during his sleep, still echoed through the old house which he lived in his entire life. He had experienced the horror of his fathers abduction over again in his dreams, nearly ten years after it had happened.
After what seemed to be hours the boy's door flung open and he fell from his bed as his friend's voice filled the room. "Zamkel! What is wrong!?" yelled out Borkaz, Zamkel's sorcerer companion.
"Nothing, calm down my old friend," assured Zamkel.
"All right, you worried me though."
Zamkel chuckled, " 'Was just a dream." The man stood and began walking to his dresser and began to dress himself.
The time was now noon as Zamkel and Borkaz stood together in the town square. Many people were gathering to witness the sacrifice of Rasain, a ritual to bestow godlike accuracy with the ancient shurakins and incredible speed with one's limbs. The one chosen for this ritual was none other than Zamkel.
Our hero now stepped on the ancient platform, preparing to sacrifice memories. The priest performing the ritual began to chant and the platform would come to glow. After hours of chanting the platform shook violently, and a beam of blinding light struck down upon the man, encompassing Zamkel.
After the light faded, Zamkel stood there dressed in baggy black clothing. This clothing was touched into straps at the waits, studded leather bracers, and black combat boots. Imbedded within his waist straps were the ancient shurakins, and upon his fists were metal gloves with three short claws on each that came out from the backs of his fists.
"Father!? Father!? Arghh!! Father, where are you!?" and the ran off. This, my friends, is where the story begins.
Well, that is the prelude.
Next to come:
Journals of Destiny-Part 1
The enemy is revealed-The Quest Begins.
Well, should I continue this series? Start on another? Just give up on writing?
Give me your feedback, I don't wanna go set up an account with angelfire for this if I don't have to..
Okay, just found the Spell Check button. Now spellchecked.
</p>Edited by: <A HREF=http://pub38.ezboard.com/bmonklybusiness43508.showLocalUserPublicProfile?lo gin=raginfistthesagely>Raginfist the Sagely</A> at: 1/18/02 12:38:42 am
A new Disciple Born
One by one, the kingdoms would rise, and then fall. this was the fate of all within the world of Marthin. One scholar had come to realize this deep-rooted secrete of the gods, and thus was put within the realm of the damned by the gods themselves. this is the story of his son, Zamkel of the Ebony Fist.
The teenage boy awoke within a dark room, his screams, which escaped his pale lips during his sleep, still echoed through the old house which he lived in his entire life. He had experienced the horror of his fathers abduction over again in his dreams, nearly ten years after it had happened.
After what seemed to be hours the boy's door flung open and he fell from his bed as his friend's voice filled the room. "Zamkel! What is wrong!?" yelled out Borkaz, Zamkel's sorcerer companion.
"Nothing, calm down my old friend," assured Zamkel.
"All right, you worried me though."
Zamkel chuckled, " 'Was just a dream." The man stood and began walking to his dresser and began to dress himself.
The time was now noon as Zamkel and Borkaz stood together in the town square. Many people were gathering to witness the sacrifice of Rasain, a ritual to bestow godlike accuracy with the ancient shurakins and incredible speed with one's limbs. The one chosen for this ritual was none other than Zamkel.
Our hero now stepped on the ancient platform, preparing to sacrifice memories. The priest performing the ritual began to chant and the platform would come to glow. After hours of chanting the platform shook violently, and a beam of blinding light struck down upon the man, encompassing Zamkel.
After the light faded, Zamkel stood there dressed in baggy black clothing. This clothing was touched into straps at the waits, studded leather bracers, and black combat boots. Imbedded within his waist straps were the ancient shurakins, and upon his fists were metal gloves with three short claws on each that came out from the backs of his fists.
"Father!? Father!? Arghh!! Father, where are you!?" and the ran off. This, my friends, is where the story begins.
Well, that is the prelude.
Next to come:
Journals of Destiny-Part 1
The enemy is revealed-The Quest Begins.
Well, should I continue this series? Start on another? Just give up on writing?
Give me your feedback, I don't wanna go set up an account with angelfire for this if I don't have to..
Okay, just found the Spell Check button. Now spellchecked.
</p>Edited by: <A HREF=http://pub38.ezboard.com/bmonklybusiness43508.showLocalUserPublicProfile?lo gin=raginfistthesagely>Raginfist the Sagely</A> at: 1/18/02 12:38:42 am