Jetter
Type to myself in silence
- Joined
- Nov 8, 2009
- Location
- Washington, USA
This is my first story on ZD, so I am experimenting in these terms. The basic premise of this story can be found in the Sign-Ups thread, but I think the title can pretty much hint to what it's about. If you would like to sign please do in the Sign-Ups thread.
As of right now I do not have an official map, but the whole world takes place in the overworld of Adventure of Link. I'm just posting the first part of Chapter 1 right now. Anyway, thank you for reading.
The beaches whispered as the rocky cliffs lent a view into an open scene. It was about dawn. A troop was set upon the overhang to guard what remained of their futile ambush of a desert-residing rebel encampment.
The officer took his spy glass as he left the alluring breakfast fire. He headed towards the field behind their makeshift base and stood. Weaving from left to right and then to the left again, he saw nothing. Feeling slightly concerned for the silence he headed back to his soldiers. He knew he would be wrong to ask for a few scouts, but he had to if they were ever going to get down to the shore.
“Gentlemen,” he said with a soft voice. It seemed to have only broken the silence. “If we are to get off this… this damn cliff, I am going to need a few men to head into the grass and survey our options of escape. I am afraid to say it is our only choice. A few boats remain.”
One man stood up, his face stoic, knowing the early howls of wind that morning simply marked death’s arrival. A few seconds after, the rest of his unit stood up as well, the same fatalist stoicism, fleshed out in their face. The officer stared into their eyes with regret, but he knew it must be done.
“Thank you… Brothers,” he whispered as he shook each of their hands firmly. The officer noticed their muskets had been left behind. He knew everyone on that ridge abandoned hope after the skirmish the previous night.
And so the officer looked to the beach and mounted his horse. He took out his spyglass once again and trotted towards the field. His men immediately began to create their lines behind him. He looked into the grass and saw nothing. He viewed his map from time to time.
Shots were heard! The officer decided that he must and immediately road into the direction where an explosion was heard. Bombflowers lay around the encampment, growing in the grass. The officer slipped into the unconscious.
His horse lay upon a broken field of dry grass with bits of it strewn across round divots. Staggering from and helpless he let no sound out as there was no need for it. No one was there. Even in his dazed state, the young cavalryman could hear a certain breeze that told him just to lie down and forget everything.
Looking around, you could see a battered troop, all gone. Blood was almost irrelevant in the dirt-powdered and smoking gore. The cavalier died and the next day, when the sun looked down upon the field with desiccation, the larger company had arrived on the beaches to come out and collect the troops’ remains. They came to pick out what they could, almost like fruit from a tree. The young horseman had been lucky, being that his body hadn’t been disturbed from the bombardment. His name was Ludo and his brother would never forget him.
As of right now I do not have an official map, but the whole world takes place in the overworld of Adventure of Link. I'm just posting the first part of Chapter 1 right now. Anyway, thank you for reading.
Imperial Hyrule
South Shore, Death Valley
Chapter One
Veils
Veils
South Shore, Death Valley
The beaches whispered as the rocky cliffs lent a view into an open scene. It was about dawn. A troop was set upon the overhang to guard what remained of their futile ambush of a desert-residing rebel encampment.
The officer took his spy glass as he left the alluring breakfast fire. He headed towards the field behind their makeshift base and stood. Weaving from left to right and then to the left again, he saw nothing. Feeling slightly concerned for the silence he headed back to his soldiers. He knew he would be wrong to ask for a few scouts, but he had to if they were ever going to get down to the shore.
“Gentlemen,” he said with a soft voice. It seemed to have only broken the silence. “If we are to get off this… this damn cliff, I am going to need a few men to head into the grass and survey our options of escape. I am afraid to say it is our only choice. A few boats remain.”
One man stood up, his face stoic, knowing the early howls of wind that morning simply marked death’s arrival. A few seconds after, the rest of his unit stood up as well, the same fatalist stoicism, fleshed out in their face. The officer stared into their eyes with regret, but he knew it must be done.
“Thank you… Brothers,” he whispered as he shook each of their hands firmly. The officer noticed their muskets had been left behind. He knew everyone on that ridge abandoned hope after the skirmish the previous night.
And so the officer looked to the beach and mounted his horse. He took out his spyglass once again and trotted towards the field. His men immediately began to create their lines behind him. He looked into the grass and saw nothing. He viewed his map from time to time.
Shots were heard! The officer decided that he must and immediately road into the direction where an explosion was heard. Bombflowers lay around the encampment, growing in the grass. The officer slipped into the unconscious.
His horse lay upon a broken field of dry grass with bits of it strewn across round divots. Staggering from and helpless he let no sound out as there was no need for it. No one was there. Even in his dazed state, the young cavalryman could hear a certain breeze that told him just to lie down and forget everything.
Looking around, you could see a battered troop, all gone. Blood was almost irrelevant in the dirt-powdered and smoking gore. The cavalier died and the next day, when the sun looked down upon the field with desiccation, the larger company had arrived on the beaches to come out and collect the troops’ remains. They came to pick out what they could, almost like fruit from a tree. The young horseman had been lucky, being that his body hadn’t been disturbed from the bombardment. His name was Ludo and his brother would never forget him.
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