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Sunday, December 7, 2014

Gloss, Chapter 1

I just felt inspired to begin writing something random, what do you think?


On the planet Frisklon, home of the warrior Clowns, Gloss's clan is destroyed by the Golem of Mareeawn. Left with nothing but his rage, he embarks upon a journey of revenge...

Gloss opened his eyes, and saw nothing. He only felt the viscous blood that filled them. He painfully shut them again. Then he heard a vocalized gasp, which he realized was his own by the vibrations of his throat.

He dare not move. He kept his breath extremely shallow, so as not to alert any possible Golem around that he may be alive. He knew bodies must be around him--blending in was his best chance of survival.

Simultaneously, he listened for the voices of his enemy, or any friends, scout the territory. Nothing but the din of distant explosions and fire crackling from dying torches.

He heard soft moans of the approach of death scattered about him; he recognized some of the voices, as muffled as they were--his kin. His brothers, dying.

Gloss reasoned it would do him no good to remain fastened to the dirt. Moving as slowly as possible, Gloss started to shift his body across the ground to make for an ideal position to rise to standing. He heard no one approach while he was doing this, but still only made a few inches movement every few minutes or so to his final position, which took nearly an hour.

After using his dusty,blood-matted orange hair to wipe the now drying blood from his eyes, Gloss listened again for voices or any approach. Nothing. Gloss got into a squatting position and began crouch-walking. He didn't know where he was going, and his eyes darted around to look for any landmarks or places to hide.

The field was open and wide, naked; Gloss movement was entirely obvious. Fortunately, the gods were on his side, for no Golem saw him or discharged a weapon at him. They must have moved on to the South, which was where the explosions still sounded, kilometers behind him.

Everything in his brothertown was destroyed. The homes, the shops--the temple on the mount, which he could see nearly a kilometer to the Northwest. There had to be someplace he could hide and recover.

Gloss made it to the end of the field, and the edge of the Mim Forest, where his emotions were soothed by ambient sounds of wind through trees and bird sounds. Voices several hundred feet away tensed him again. He found a giant collection of bushes and quickly hid himself amongst its branches and thorns, pricking himself several times but fairly sure he was well hidden.

Damn, if only he had a weapon. In his contorted position in the bushes he patted his body, feeling for any concealed arms. Only a small blade in the pocket of his torn breastplate. Enough for now; enough to grab a larger weapon--he pulled it out and clutched it tightly. Shallowing his breath again, he watched two Golem carrying large staffs emerge from the brush tens of meters away.

Gloss suffocated the hilt of the blade in silent anticipation, partially hoping the two beings would pass him unawares, partially hoping they would come closer to his position so he could exactly his revenge. They passed. Gloss waited there for several minutes, simmering from the intense rage he felt at merely seeing the two Golem. They had--he groaned--a sharp pain in his side! He felt it--a deep wound, he hadn't noticed it before. Suddenly the warrior felt tired, and fell asleep.


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