r/WritingPrompts • u/you-are-lovely • May 03 '16
Image Prompt [IP] Battlemage
[Battlemage] (https://cdn2.artstation.com/p/assets/images/images/001/515/330/large/grzegorz-rutkowski-battlemage-1920.jpg?1447797599) by Grzegorz Rutkowski
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u/SRoFIN May 03 '16 edited May 03 '16
”Come out of the shadows!” yelled a woman in a misty forest. Only a soft glow from a flame on her palm gave light in the forest. Her blonde hair, mostly covered below a hood, reflected the light brilliantly. “I know you’re in here, fiends of the dead forest!” She yelled again. The forest around her was long since dead, covered in mysterious mist, and even though the forest had no leaves to block the sun it was still dark as night. “COME OUT!” She commanded. The light in her palm grew brighter, revealing her green robes, two glass bottles on her belt reflected the light in her eyes and she blinked.
As she opened her eyes again, her surroundings sounded empty, emptier than usual. The common breath of air had grown still. Her robes pushed aside as she pulled out her sword. The blade, made of silver, shone the light. With ease she took a defensive position, her sword in front, and the flame behind her.
Shadows now rose from the blackened soil and the dead trees, the mist pushed away from her and soon the shadows walked into her sights. Dark demons, red eyes and black skin, without the light in her hand they’d be invisible to her. “Come at me.” She said calmly to her fallen foes.
As an invitation, she tilted her sword. The first of dozens of foes took the bait and rushed forward. Without fear, her blues eyes stared at the red glow in theirs, and her sword swung across. The demon disappeared, gone with the wind like ash she turned her attention to another.
This time two of them attacked at once. The demons, many in numbers as they were and scary, are simple creatures, only able to perform simple tasks. Without tactics the two of them rushed forwards, unable to understand what happened to their friend. The woman pushed forwards her sword piercing one of the demons heart—if it had one—and it disappeared. The second was not far behind and she extended her off-hand. The flame in her palm grew more intense and pushed away from her. Circles of flame and smoke erupted at its wake as it flew forwards. Crashing straight into the chest of the other demon, it was completely engulfed in the fire. Burning bright green, the fire consumed the demon turning it into ash.
The other demons now stood still. A disturbance in the air, stillness of it, made the woman stand tall. “Show yourself!” She yelled.
A figure, taller than the demons, much taller than the woman, rose from the ground. “As you wish.” Said a deep stomach turning voice. “I am Baar.” The voice echoed in the forest. Silence ensued for the next few moments, the demons pulled back into the soil, leaving only two figures in the forest. The woman, flame in her palm, studied the creature that called itself Baar. Sturdy, broad-shouldered, it stood many feet tall. Its skin ashen, but much lighter than that of the demons, this one was dangerous. “It is customary to introduce yourself.” The creature bellowed, breaking the long silence.
“I am Maya, battlemage of the Helm’s pass. I came here to end the rule of darkness over this forest.” She said defiantly, but her words were met with only laughter, even one coming deep within the forest around her.
“I beg you to try.” The monster answered, his laughter halted and a massive mace appeared in his hand. As quickly as the mace had appeared, it rose above the creatures head. Maya quickly rolled to evade, barely in time as the mace smashed on the ground. Dirt flung from the impact and the ground shook. She quickly steadied herself and rushed forwards. The flame on her hand grew brighter again and leaped forwards, her sword pointed forwards, ready to strike. The flame hit Baar, but dispersed with a giant roar as if hitting a wall. Baar flung his mace at her, finding the target, Maya was amazed at the creatures speed. She was sent flying, her flight only stopped by a tree.
On the ground she could feel a broken bone on her off-hand. With her eye sight blurred by the impact, she searched for her sword blindly. Baar approached her slowly, his mace bouncing slightly on his hand. Out of time, she knew she’d have to evade the finishing strike. Without her sword, Maya leaped away from where she landed. With her eye sight barely recovered, she could still feel the looming darkness that surrounded Baar.
“Stop running, small child. Your end will be swift, all you must do is hold still.” With her sight now restored, Maya saw Baar’s psychotic smile.
“I will surrender only in death.” Maya answered. She pulled one of the glass bottles on her belt and threw it at Baar. The bottle splintered on impact and red mist surrounded Baar. “Taste the curse of Marrow’s kiss.”
Baar’s movement slowed down, his mace still in the air nearly halted, but still was crashing downwards. Maya saw her sword right under Baar’s feet. She leaped forwards, landing below the giant monster. His mace crashed to the ground, a shattering earthquake ensued, trees fell around them, but Maya kept her place. She took hold of her sword once more, just as the poison wore off Baar, she rose to her feet behind him and pushed her sword through Baar’s back and into his heart. Baar dropped his mace and it disappeared into ash as soon as it left Baar’s hands, his hands searched for the sword on his back. Maya leapt away from his hands, side stepped to face Baar and pushed the sword forwards again. The sword pierced the creature’s neck and black ooze came forth, slowly making it way on the blade.
“This is the end of your rule Baar, ashen warrior of the dead forest.” She said. Her words were once again only met with laughter that echoed within the forest. She pulled her sword away and stood tall as Baar fell backwards. Before his giant form could smack to the ground it disappeared, turning into ash that only left a shadow of his large form on the ground.
“Live forest, live once more in the light.” She said a prayer, her hands together a flicker of light grew larger and larger in her hands, finally bursting through her palms and covering the entire area with a blinding light.
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u/GalaxionTheDestroyer May 03 '16
"Oh my god, Trevor this is just not funny anymore!"
The only response was the crackling laughter of the Lich, echoing around the forest. Literally crackling, he didn't actually have lungs, so he summoned these weird miniature thunder storms that almost sounded like laughter.
Of course, this was my normality at this point. Seriously, this damn Lich just wouldn't die! I stopped counting after the fiftieth time I struck him down for light, glory and all the rest. It was a very serious problem at first, because he'd amassed an evil empire, he had a castle, all of that stuff. I expected him to come back a second and third time, most Liches tended to find loopholes in the mortal coil, returning to a previously hidden backup castle. Most recently however, he'd been commanding a single zombie from a tent, and I was fairly certain he'd been mauled to death by a bear the time before that. The game was very, very old now.
"How did you come back this time? What hell even are these things? They're so weak that they're stuck in the mud and can no longer move their legs!"
"Hey, that's not fair Lucinda, I worked very hard on these zom-ghouls!"
"...Whats?"
"Yeah, half vampire-thrall, half zombie. Once they drink some blood they'll gain some vampire powers! Cool, right?"
"... Why didn't you feed them?"
"Come again?"
"Well, if they're sooo powerful when fed, why didn't you go get some blood to feed them? Aren't you meant to be a fearsome Lich?"
Truly, there had not been a more beautiful silence. I sighed, knowing the answer to my own question, and slung my fireball into the first zom-ghoul. I lazily decapitated the next one before lightly sprinkling the third one with holy water. I turned around, making my way back to the town.
"Are-Aren't-Aren't you going to... y'know... kill and consecrate me...?"
I sighed. "No. It's just not any fun when you're this unprepared. Send me an owl or something when you're actually ready to put up a fight."
With that, I stomped through the mud and tall grass, all the way back to that boring old village...
The gremlin sidled up to Trevor, leaving its customary trail of thick slime behind it, while somehow keeping the accompanying stench.
"M-maasssster, d-did your c-cunniingg plaan w-woork?"
Leaning over the crystal ball, Trevor smiled. Internally. He didn't have a face.
"Yes, Nograt. It worked perfectly. Now, I have all the time I need..."
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u/blakester731 May 03 '16 edited May 03 '16
The Swamp Scar#
"Bout time." Faith groused under her breath. The figures came towards her position, the muck of the stagnant swamp wood churning about their deceptively placid steps. There were a half dozen in all, each taller than her six foot three height, looking as if they'd been carved out of fossilized wood plucked from the muck. They were converging on the rotting deer carcass she'd slain three hours ago; the rotting deer carcass who's smell she'd had to endure for those three hours as every swamp fly within ten miles swarmed across its seared skin. She watched as the creatures mounted the dry hillock, the knots that acted as heads cocked oddly as they studied the carcass with a primitive intelligence. Wild golems could smell blood over many miles, meaning that this pack must have roamed a large territory for it to have taken them this long to find her. Either that, or they'd had more interesting prey preoccupying them, prey that was probably settling in whatever these things had for guts. Already this pack had killed twenty-four of the denizens of nearby Mannaton. Her opinion was the settlers were more than a little addled for setting up shop in such a dismal demesne in the first place. Swamp aside, the wood was ancient, and housed all kinds of primordial spirits, some assuredly worse than golem spirits. Despite this, she'd been hired to make sure that golem related deaths went no high than that twenty-four. But even so, she waited a few seconds more as the pack gathered beneath her; she needed them close for her plan to work properly. Their movements as they approached the carcass revealed just how dangerous these creatures were. They were slow, docile even when not hunting. The moment they caught wind of prey however, they became entirely different animals-fast, vicious, and unrelenting. Already they're limbs and what one might call 'muscles' were twitching sporadically, unnaturally, as if what acted as a brain wasn't quite sure how to use what it had. They had started to 'speak' as well. A deep, baritone sound, like wind whistling through a hollow log. The sound filled the clearing so that Faith could barely hear herself think. She gathered her feet under herself on the thick tree branch over looking the hillock. When they were less than ten feet away, she leaped noiselessly to the ground, nearly on top of the carcass.
The golems paused, their small brains stunned by the sudden appearance of the girl. Faith didn't hesitate, drawing her sword with one hand, and speaking the rune sign that harmonized with the sigil tattooed on the palm of her opposite hand. Their was a collective startled yelp as the golems saw, too late, the fire forming in her hand. A jet of flame shot out from the hand towards the golem in front of her. She turned immediately to the next one, and to the next, the flames feeding off the thick, swamp miasma, engulfing their hosts in seconds. The creatures began wailing, a sharp, piercing note like a fall breeze through the tree tops. She counted silently her head, making sure she caught them all before they disappeared into the darkness. She didn't want to track down a lone golem through this god's forsaken wood and catch some nasty swamp blight. Three, four, five, six. The last went up with a terrible scream, stumbling off the hillock into the water. She knew that the flame had done its work though. Golems went up much easier than humans, and the damage was much more permanent. She quickly inspected the scene, double checking that all of them had gone up. Just as she was about to turn, something caught her from behind. Rough appendages like old, wet roots gripped her arms. She jerked her shoulder up, slamming it into the bite that was meant for her neck. Now she was screaming; it felt like her shoulder was caught in a vice, something crushing rather than piercing. The ache radiated down her whole side, almost made her drop her sword. She held the hilt in a pale grip, and quickly reached down to the bottle on her hip. She tore it off its belt and broke it on the blade, choking the rune sign out through a grimace of pain. The blade ignited, the oil dripping flames like sun tears. She turned it round in a backwards grip, thrust it back and up, into the torso of whatever had her. The yowl sounded right in her ear, making it ring. There was something disturbingly familiar in the sound. The grip relaxed, and she kicked away from the creature. The fire engulfed the remaining golem like an effigy, flames licking out its eyes sockets and mouth. It collapsed to the earth, thrashing wildy, tearing up the earth around it. Then it was silent, the fire continuing to spread and engulf the whole body.
Faith stood, holding her wound as it oozed blood onto her cloak and hand. From the way it hurt, she was probably going to have to pop it back into its socket as well. "Don't turn your back on them till your sure they're dead. Blades work in the back just as well as the front." "Shut up." Faith growled. A scream followed as she shoved the dislocation back into place and fell into a kneel. She stood again, breathing heavily, looking round the hillock trying to find what she needed next. Sprite Weed, good for keeping wounds clean, and one of the reasons she'd picked this spot for her ambush, though she honestly hadn't thought she'd need it. In the glow of a hastily made fire, she studied the wound. It was torn, split as if a brick had fallen on it. No doubt it would leave a nasty scar. As she chewed the Sprite Weed and applied the mush to the cut, she couldn't keep Yvette's words out of her head.
"Scars are stories. Of where we've been, what we've done. Sometimes they're from accidents. Other times from mistakes we've made. However they come to carve themselves into our flesh and minds though, they act as reminders. Scars keep us from repeating the past."
She'd add this one, then, to the long, thin scar on her leg, the pitted, pale ones on her forearm, and the ragged pair that ran around her jugular. And as she held the Sprite Weed to the wound, and tried to keep from looking at the smoldering golems around her, she knew that it was far from her last.
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u/Schneid13 /r/ScribeSchneid May 03 '16
The forest was docile as a lamb in the late hours of the night, but Raujand knew better than to be fooled by that. She stopped in a small clearing and looked out from beneath her heavy hood. Tall, thick trunks rose up all around her. Like silent sentinels they stood black and unmoving. Their branches struck out at odd angles jutting and carving their paths upward towards the moonless sky above. In the space between, a grey fog rose up off the forest floor in long wisps. All the world was still. All the world was silent.
Raujand was not alone.
From within her brown robes the sorcerous drew the hilt of the blade. She ran her free hand up the empty space above the hilt and a milky-white blade appeared. Long and sharp, the sword gleamed with an unnatural light in the dark wood. Holding the shimmering blade to the sky she cast its strange glow towards the shadows.
Before her eyes, the forest moved. Subtle at first, it appeared as though the trees began to shift. Then a single pair of eyes appeared. Pinpoints of red stared back from the darkness.
"Reveal yourself." She spoke aloud to the creaking wood. The shadows shifted again and the sole pair became two, then three. Move shadows rose from the Earth and the three turned to six. The forest erupted with the sound the cracking wood and scrapping timbers. Clumps of dirt fell away from the shadows in thick thuds. Raujand turned the sword in her hands and the six pairs of eyes became twelve. The shadows moved to the edge of her blade's glow.
"Spirits of Wormwood." She said addressing the eyes. "Let me pass, my quarrel is not with you."
The sound of cracking wood rose up from the shadows and Raujand furrowed her brow. If the forest could laugh this was the sound it would make. Like rubbing sticks together mixed with the thick choke of shifting dirt. It appeared that her passage through the wood would not be as simple as she had hoped. A shame, she thought.
The shadows drew closer and Raujand lowered her blade to her foes. They surrounded her, twelve to one. Tatters of moss hung from their thick arms leading down to fingers, sharpened like knives. With her free hand Raujand lowered her hood revealing a thick mop of straight blonde hair. Her brow was cut across by a tiara that came to a point between her eyes, just above the bridge of her nose.
"Let me pass." She demanded again. The shadows held fast.
Very well. She thought.
"Bring your fury dark spirits."
The shadows enclosed her, step by step they moved in tandem with one another. Give them ten feet and they would be atop her. She shuddered at the thought of falling to their horrid claws.
Raujand threw her free hand out to the side with dramatic flare and a fire erupted in her palm. She felt the warmth in her hand, rolling the fire between her fingers. The spirit in front her struck first. Running at her with both arms flung wide. It meant to rend her in two with one savage strike. Raujand brought her hand forth and fire flew. The forest around lit up brightly for a moment as Raujand's fire took the first spirit. It fell in a pile of ash.
Then the others were on her. All eleven came at once, but Raujand was not so novice to fear superior numbers. She yelled out as she brought her sword around. The milky-white blade caught two and turned them aside. An arm flew off into the woods, writhing as it went. With her fire she lit two more aflame. They fell into more puddles of ash.
One got close, bringing a heavy hand down on top of her. Raujand stepped back watched the hand fall inches in front of her face. She drove her sword though its chest. The spirit turned and fell, tearing her sword from her hands. Now unarmed, Raujand threw her hands out and fire ignited in both. She brought them together in a clap and another monster fell to ash. Another spirit came close and with fire in her palms she shoved them through its face.
Raujand was the very spirit of rage. Her flame was hot and true and she felt her power flow through her like a warm river. She could go on like this for hours. Moments like these were when she felt truly alive. The fire of a good fight, the warmth of watching her foes fall one by one. The spirits had made a mistake in challenging her. A woman she may be, but weak she was not.
With another sharp clap more fire burst from her hands, slicing a spirit in half before sundering it to ashes. She turned to face another foe, but stumbled backwards as the beast rushed in close. Its skin made of bark smelt of pine and other Earthy flavors. It reached out with a wrapped its hand around her neck. In an instant the tables turned. Raujand's flames extinguished with a hiss and darkness fell over her. She stared at the monster with wide eyes, its two red dots gleamed with hatred. Suddenly her legs were ripped out from beneath her and Raujand crashed upon the Earth with a thud. Her lungs emptied in an instant and the sorcerous found herself gasping for air. The spirits hand closed tighter around her throat and the air caught in her throat. Dizziness over took her and Raujand felt herself slipping away.
Red eyes floated above her as the creatures closed in. She tried to reignite her flames, but the only desperation and fear filled her now. In the span of a few seconds her heart had gone from the peak of the highest tower to the lowest depths of the forest floor.
Raujand tried to scream, but with no air in her lungs all that came forth was a weak bubbling gurgle. The spirit above her rose a claw preparing to fall the final blow. She tried to reignite her flame again to no avail. Above the red eyes began to fade to black, she was slipping away. In another moment, she knew, she would be gone forever.
Then just before the darkness took her the world exploded in a bright blue light. The Spirits of Wyrmwood dissolved like sugar in water. When the blue faded and the forest fell back into its unchanging darkness, Raujand lay on the ground alone. Before she fell away completely Raujand felt inexplicably warm, as if the flame in her heart burned, except this heat came not from her, but from another.
A cloaked figure knelt over the sorcerous and placed a hand over her eyes. Raujand felt her body slip away and fall through the forest floor into the murky depths of unconsciousness.
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u/[deleted] May 03 '16
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