Narric's "Creative" Writing

[Narric]

Joined a small creative writing class at college, and wanting to share the small things I've written for it, as well as maybe the odd story I actually get written down. Likely what will be posted here will have little to no contuity with eachother.

Not sure how often I'll pdate this. possible once or twice a month, depending on coursework and creativity.


Baby Gloves - Flash Fiction
It was five minutes of motionless silence after she was born.
Five delicate digits, sitting like dainty statues that surrounded a silk soft and open palm. She flexed her arms, now free in the open air. Pulling back in towards herself, the backs of her hands resting on her belly, just above her narrow hips, where the small new born’s arms began.
I stepped away, eyes transfixed onto the newborn. As I turned my heel, the faintest apology left my lips. “I have to go!” and through the double doors I disappeared.
I lost track of time. A day or two of hiding from work later, reading the classifieds I find: “For Sale: Baby Shoes, Never Worn.”


Jam & Thunder - Poetry
Couple Simile/Metaphor poems I made in creative writing class.

Jam
Sweet, juicy & preserved
Golden and red like an autumn sunrise
Nectar thickened and set
A treat for breaking fast, like a drink when life is slow
Jam
I must go check the cupboards.

Thunder
The everpresent brother to lightning
Booming, reverberating & unique
a roar of the weather
Like an ethereal monster inconvenienced and awakened
I feel its discordant rhythm buffet my ears
Thunder
To me, its just a growl.

[Narric]

This was inspired by the idea of combining RPG with Magic. It worked for a time when I first started writing this, but I've had to put it to the backburner for too long it seems, and now I can't remember critical info for it to work.

The characters were created thanks to [member=66]The Man They Call Jayne[/member] and [member=4]Ravager Zero[/member] who gave me a Race, a personality, and a selection of spells. Everything else was me trying to create an actual narrative.

[spoiler=The Bolas Games]The arena was filled with thick inky fog and lit weakly from above by deathly pale balls of incandescent magic. Silhouettes of people stood high on parapets, but a single shadowy figure dominated the highest reaches of a visible pantheon. Two curved horns crowned its head, with an object of some kind levitate between them, and immense wings stretch back into obscurity.
The horned figured raised its hand and began to swirl it within the fog, tendrils of light nebulously branching from crawled fingertips. With this gesture, the fog on the arena floor as whipped by vicious wind, coalescing into two balls of impenetrable blackness. In an instant, the fog dispersed, leaving two figures standing, and swaying. The blue skinned one dropped to a knee, seemingly winded. The other, a tall and wiry pale grey being, stretched, and hissed into the air.
“Aaah, its been so long since I have been called” sighed the tall grey one, looking towards the dragon looking down on him. Looking down upon the other before him, he snorted. “A Vedalken is why I’ve been summoned?” The Vedalken jumped back up to his feet, and looked to the one who had spoken.
“I can say with certainty that I’m no happier to be standing before a vampire.” The vedalken looked about his surroundings, seeing the audience above, as well as the dragon. “Why am I here?”
“You are both here…” Growled the dragon. “…For my entertainment. Nicorux has been untested of late, and you, Sanphi, have been a nuisance to my agents on your home plane. You are to, have a duel of sorts. This arena has many enchantments upon it to ensure some semblance of fairness, but really I just want to see who will come out on top.”
Using his vampiric powrs, Nicorux drifted quickly into the air towards the dragon. “Bolas, you kno…” He was cut short as an invisible field prevented him from ascending further. Nicorux reached up put felt nothing solid. “You should know that I am loyal, so why am I to be tested?” Bolas’ did not respond immediately, after a brief moment, he simple raised a clawed hand, and swiftly flashed it downwards, catapulting Nicorux downwards forcibly.
“You are to be tested because you forget you place.” Bolas snarled. “If you can defeat Sanphi, then maybe I will not punish you for your demonstrated insolence!”
Nicorux picked himself up from the ground, as slight depression formed beneath him where the force of his fall has marked the ground, but not him. He scowled at the Elder Dragon, but quickly changed his attitude when he remembered who he was defying.
“And what incentive would you give someone who apparently opposes you?” Sanphi called out, hoping it was a reasonable question, at his sides, he discreetly channeled a small portion of mana to himself, hoping it would be of use .
“If you defeat Nicorux, then my Consortium has an opening for a skilled individual.” Bolas smiled, knowing this would incense Nicorux more than Sanphi. “We will certainly open many avenues for your research.” A smile curled the corners of Bolas’ mouth, and disconcerting sight for many of his longer standing followers.
“Over my corpse” Nicorux snarled as he braced himself, breathing deeply, he followed through with a piercing screech imbued with black magic , striking like lightning into Sanphi’s ears. He screamed, feeling his prescious knowledge being invaded picked through and thrown from his mind into oblivion , but through his determination, his handed snaked into his pocket to take old of a prism he kept.  Nicorux’s attack ended, Sanphi drew out the stored energy, channeling it through his body to his other hand, he swiftly performed a series of motions. He spell finished, a second Vedalken stood in the arena, dressed similarly, but not so lavishly. The Vedalken construct had blank white eyes, but stood resolute towards Nicorux.  Sanphi panted softly despite how quickly it all happened.
“This hardly seems fair.” Nicorux snarled, levitating himself slightly and drawing mana about himself.  Pulling his hands up, a black pillar arose from the ground, dispersing to reveal another vampire.  “I don’t allow my subjects to play with their food, but instead encourage more creative use of their blood.” Sanphi scowled at the imperious vampire, snarling maniacally at him.
Feet set firm, Sanphi swirled the blue mana about himself again , mentally commanding the vedalken construct to grant him more power.  Almost satirically miming the vampire, Sanphi raised his hands aswell, but this was to ensure his next contruct didn’t materialize in the ground. Blue tinged fog swirled behind him, and a massive metallic construct emerged from the dispersing obstruction.  Sanphi could feel he had mana to spare, and so pushed himself to summon another construct.  Sweat beginning to form on his skin, he stopped when he realized his effort was in vain. Opening his eyes, he looked up at the vampire, who still had an overconfident grim smeared across his features.
“Mana flows easily here, but not that easily you fool” Nicorux taunted the artificer, drawing more mana to himself . With a sharp thrust of the power he wielded, Nicorux summoned another vampire, scanitlly clad in leather and wire thin, a waterfall of blood staining his chin and neck.  “Maybe you should surrender now, old bookworm.”
Sanphi grinned at the vampires’ remark. “You’ll soon learn that not the kind of person I am” With more graceful hand movements , Sanphi summoned a couple of strange constructs with large beaked heads, seemingly made of a bronze metal.  With a mental command, the large engine behind him begam to hum, and the vedalken construct bowed down on one knee.
“Ha!, even your own constructs know who they should bow to” Nicorux laughed, not realizing the purpose for the engineer construct, that was until a small spider-like creature popped out of it , crawling forward to join the two copper myr. “such weak constructs will be the death of you.” Nicorux continued to smile.
Without hesitating, Nicorux commanded the blood covered vampire forward, straight for Sanphi, who barely had time to send the Myr and the spider in the vampires path.  Both constructs were destroyed, a moment that seemed to awaken the the first vampire construct. Oils and lubricants, blood to a mechanical creature, sprayed out of the constructs, forming sharp shards in the air, hurtling towards Sanphi. He managed to avoid most of the sharps, but still many bit deep into his leg.  A small portion of the fluids that didn’t strike Sanphi, curved around towards Nicorux. Sanphi looked on, thinking the shards dangerous to his foe, but was dismayed to see the shards disperse around Nicorux like a mist.
“Aah, even those things have a semblance of lifeforce.” Nicorux breathed the aired deeply. He waved his hands passively  “Oh, what to do?” One hand raised up, summoning another Blood Artist, and the other hand thrusted towards Sanphi.  Invisible forces whipped across Sanphi’s body, drawing pinpricks of blood, but somehow the pain made his mind clearer.
[/spoiler]

In my mind, Sanphi has no chance to regain any footing in this fit, and is mercilessly torn apart by Nicorux's Black Magic (using Exquisite Blood and Sanguine Bond). Niocrux however doesn't spark Bolas's trust, and so must prove himself further. I was 50/50 on whether Nicorux is killed or actually survives and is reinstated into the Consortium, so I'll guess I'll leave his fate up to Jayne

[The Man They Call Jayne]

He would become an agent of Bolas, sent on those suicide mission that shouldn't be winnable. Each time he survives, he gains more and more power, until one day he amasses the power to take on Bolas himself, and maybe come out on top.

[Narric]

An old story I started back in 2014. If I remember correctly, it was inspired by gifs of butterflies with lightsabers edited in.

Looking back on it now, it seems so weird.

[spoiler=Nerilim]Nerilim stirred within her chrysalis. Her hibernation during her transformation had been restful, and she flexed her new arms and legs. She could hear soft voices coming from beyond her small world. Too muffled to have been in the same room, a fact she could tell because her mother had sang to her in her sleep. She pushed forward against the soft chitin, poking and proding to find the weakest point. She soon found it, right above her head.
The young Lieros rolled out of her chrysalis, breathing in new air, taking in the sounds and smells. Slowly she opened her eyes. She was greeted with a warm green of the walls of her room. It felt good to be free again. She gulped down air, and began to test her voice.
“Muh….mmmh…” her lips were numb, so the words didn’t form so well. She whispered at first, but slowly found her voice. “Mmmh….. Muhh…. Mum!”
The door opened, showing two tall and slender Lieros. The male, Nerilims father, was Green all over his body and wings with flecks of orange and red. The female, her mother, was a cool deep purple, and silvery streaks dancing across her wings. The pair came into the room slowly, the mother kneeling down to her daughter.
“My sweet little Nerilim, it is good to see you are well.” She spoke in a voice as silky smooth as her soft carapace, gently bringing her daughter into embrace. The father knealt down now, covering Nerilim with a spider silk blanket.
“Warm yourself youngling” He spoke in a stern but caring tone. “The first few days will leave you with quite a chill if you don’t.” He wrapped his arms around them both, and Nerilim was happy.

Now, dear reader, it is time for you to learn of where this is happening. In the far off lands at the corner of the world, sits the forest of Reyanear, A forest brimming with all the magic of the world, and the creatures that have been all but forgotten. The Lieros, that’s Le-air-rose by the way, are a race of people no taller than then your foot is long, a naturally beautiful people, sharing their appearance with the butterflies of our world. They’re slender but strong, with wings that are all unique wonders of art. They’re for the most part peaceful, but make no mistake you’ll soon be in trouble if you cause them grief.
[/spoiler]

Combing through my mind, I can sorta remember how the story goes.

[Narric]

Recently gotten into Dungeons and Dragons, and after playing my Aasimar Warlock for a few sessions, I figured out her story.

Herish Alderna is a Aasimar Warlock with a Celestial Patron, who has a minor acclaim as a folk hero. This is her story.

Comments and Critique welcome :3


Herish awake at the crack of dawn on her 14th birthday. Her mother would finally allow her to start working in the Tannery, and she had spent the previous night with a collection of scraps practicing with the dagger that also served as her only connection to her father.

"If you don't come get ready for breakfast now, you're doing your first day or work hungry." Her mother called from the small cooking fire of the home. Herish needed no further prompting, scrabbling to her feet and changing into the roughly made work clothes her mother had spent months measuring her for, and nights stitching together.

[----]

The excitement of working lasted most of the day, but after what felt like lunchtime, the novelty had worn off somewhat. She was nudged from her concentration when the bell for the shop door rang softly, with her looking over to see three fairly grizzled men walking in from the street. seeing them, she quickly put her head back down to work, as her mother walked up to the customers. Words were spoken in hushed tones from what would assumed to be the leader, her mother starting to sound worried, and firmly telling the men no to what it was they were demanding.

That is when the first strike sent her mother to the floor of the small shop. Herish called out and immediately tried going to her mothers' aid, by one of the underlings and stepped forward and grabbed her by the scruff of her work clothes. She was held against one of the support beams with her feet a couple foot of the ground. The leader stepped over her mother, heading towards the back where the coin was stored. The other underling made moves to roughly pick up her mother, causing her to reach out to her only family.

She felt something within her soul, guiding her motions and putting words to her lips. The underling suddenly found himself suddenly wrapped in flames, his lunges evacuating as he yelled in fear and pain. Herish was hastily dropped to the floor, her feet numb briefly as air returned to her own body, the smell of burnt flesh quickly filling the small space. The underling that had held her was trying to pat out the flames left on his comrade, to distracted to see the young girl plant her feat for a repeat performance.

The second went down, but not as spectacularly, Herish darting forward to pull her mother away from the burning bodies. The leader had returned, clearly in shock that his two compatriots had been taken out so quickly. This man was clearly much older or at least more experienced. He cut his loses as the bodies lay still, but strode forward upon the child, withdrawing a dagger from the multitude of small scabbards that covered his torso.

Herish only thought to protect her mother, the blade connecting and biting into her skin. She screamed in pain briefly, but locked eyes with the leader. With her one free hand, she swept it towards the man standing above her, the sensation she recognized as magic flowing through her again, but far more potent. New words crossed her lips. The proximity made it near impossible to miss.

The flames that wrapped the leader were not the comforting hues of red and orange that would help feed a family in the death of winter. This magical fire with blue and white in hue, is spread across the leader in waves, somehow seeping into every crack of the armour he wore. He had no time to scream, but his features were a solid effigy of terror.

[----]

Herish cradled her mothers head for what felt like an eternity, who was thankfully just unconscious for the whole ordeal even if a little hurt from the leader's strike. The door burst open, a guard and their blacksmith neighbour charging in only to stop in surprise when they saw the scene before them.

Three men lay dead, clearly burnt where they stood. A woman lying on the floor who had clearly been struck. What gave them pause was the child. The blacksmith had known her before this day to have had auburn hair and eyes, but cradling the Tanner shop owner was a child with hair and eyes of near radiant gold, and a subtle halo of light that was clearly not there but could still be perceived.