Story
Spirit of the Sword
By Eric Crawford
Everyone has power even in small amounts even you and I. We may not see it but at some point in our lives we have definitely felt it. The small feeling inside us that drives us to do unthinkable and dominant things; this power fuels us and we fuel it. Many years ago this power was felt throughout the lands of the earth and people cherished and harnessed this power to their will. Over the ages we have suppressed this empowerment as rage or we have just become deaf to its roaring call. Now is the time of power, of rage, revenge and mercy. Empires are formed and destroyed by the sword and people live their lives by it.
Ch. 1 Cold Fury
The sword glistened in my hand with the sun's rays reflecting off of it in the blistering heat of the Samori desert. I felt the power within it start to become vibrantly alive as I sent my own power dwelling within me into the sword. It gleamed a crimson red as it began to absorb and use the newfound power. As suddenly as it had turned red the sword quickly be came a shining shade of blue so deep and clear that comparing it with the sky would be destroying the beauty that shined within the sword. As the blue be came more and more vibrant in my hand I raised it to my face to examine the ancient runes inscribed within the very blade itself. The runes became clearer as the blue brightened, showing the runes in their crimson color as they had appeared before. Then suddenly the power that was being emitted by the sword changed and charged into me, filling me to a bursting point and flowing through me. The sword and I became one in each other as a great weapon. All this had happened in the blink of an eye. If I hadn’t seen and experienced it I would have never know what had happened. I looked and saw Ryle Moku just behind my sword. His face changed and he whipped into a frenzy of screams that echoed into my soul. His attack was quick and dead on- he flipped the blade that he had been hiding in a quick twist of his thumb. The katana, five feet in length, was a polished Japanese sword made with a bamboo (pole?) wrapped in the skin of a yak. It was said that the sword could pass through anything and that the blade could not be broken. Ryle had received it from a Buddhist monk in the highest reaches of the world on one of the tallest mountains in world. He named it Finishtera and had carried it for many years.
I had run into Ryle before on the mountain peaks of Wiakiki, where I barely escaped with my life, having created an avalanche on which I escaped. The blade turned so that it faced in a downward motion as he swung upward trying to slice me in half. Even in the hot sand I still was able to evade this amateur attack. Seeing his motion I summoned myself to flip backward and just missed the tip of his blade. A cool grin crossed my face as I positioned myself for my attack. I landed gently and the burning sand scalded my bare feet. I barely noticed as I bent and started to spring forward, sword at my side pointed at my target. I pushed off and saw the look in Ryle’s eye as he slowly realized that he was about to die. There was nothing he could do. With his sword across his body from the first attack it wouldn’t be able to save him. There was no escape. As the sand ground between my toes and I realized that I had misjudged, the sand faltered and my legs only pushed the sand, not my body. Seeing his brief moment of opportunity he moved into a stabbing position with his hands holding his sword right next to his head. I was done for-there was no way I could avoid this attack.
As he thrusted forward he screamed at me “It seems your newly found power just wasn’t enough,” with a smirk. As the sword shot toward me I realized that that was it I was faster than he thought I was. Pushing all my hope and power into the sword in my hand I rolled to the right just as the sword slashed through my left cheek so smoothly that I didn’t notice it till is saw the blood fly from the open wound. As I rolled I slammed my feet into the ground and lunged at Ryle with all the strength I had, with him still in his stabbing motion I sliced cleanly through his robe and into his heart through his left ribcage. Holding the sword there for a moment I felt the runes light with power as Ryle slowly turned and looked at me dropping Finishtera into the sand. His eyes glowed red with fury and the power of the runes as the sword absorbed his power and soul into its deepest dwellings. As a second passed the fire slowly withdrew from within him and his eyes shown a deep dark black. I pulled the sword from him and laid his body down in the sand. Blood began to pool in his dark blue robe as well as the sand. I wiped the blade of my sword across his body as a sign of respect and returned it to its sheath.
Slowly I rose and grabbed the hilt of Finishtera and raised it up from the sand. I felt the power in it slowly come to life as I strapped it to my back and stared off into the distance at the setting sun. The wind blew and sand rippled across my face and red robe that flapped in the wind along with my baggy pants that rustled against my legs. (you know you switch tenses at this point right? You go from what is in Latin pluperfect tense to normal present tense) My hair long enough to reach my chin whirls around my face, I unsheathe my sword and raise it above my head. It reaches only four and a half feet but it is slender and curved like a knife. (and now we’re back to just regular perfect tense) I have called it Ishizu since the moment I acquired it. (switiching to present again…) I raise my other hand and strongly grip the hilt, made of oak from the sacred tree in Tariken forest, and slam Ishizu into the ground. This causes a large amount of sand to shower upward, the sand flies twenty feet up ward and slowly begins to fall as I throw my cape over my head and settle down to sleep the coming night.
By Eric Crawford
Everyone has power even in small amounts even you and I. We may not see it but at some point in our lives we have definitely felt it. The small feeling inside us that drives us to do unthinkable and dominant things; this power fuels us and we fuel it. Many years ago this power was felt throughout the lands of the earth and people cherished and harnessed this power to their will. Over the ages we have suppressed this empowerment as rage or we have just become deaf to its roaring call. Now is the time of power, of rage, revenge and mercy. Empires are formed and destroyed by the sword and people live their lives by it.
Ch. 1 Cold Fury
The sword glistened in my hand with the sun's rays reflecting off of it in the blistering heat of the Samori desert. I felt the power within it start to become vibrantly alive as I sent my own power dwelling within me into the sword. It gleamed a crimson red as it began to absorb and use the newfound power. As suddenly as it had turned red the sword quickly be came a shining shade of blue so deep and clear that comparing it with the sky would be destroying the beauty that shined within the sword. As the blue be came more and more vibrant in my hand I raised it to my face to examine the ancient runes inscribed within the very blade itself. The runes became clearer as the blue brightened, showing the runes in their crimson color as they had appeared before. Then suddenly the power that was being emitted by the sword changed and charged into me, filling me to a bursting point and flowing through me. The sword and I became one in each other as a great weapon. All this had happened in the blink of an eye. If I hadn’t seen and experienced it I would have never know what had happened. I looked and saw Ryle Moku just behind my sword. His face changed and he whipped into a frenzy of screams that echoed into my soul. His attack was quick and dead on- he flipped the blade that he had been hiding in a quick twist of his thumb. The katana, five feet in length, was a polished Japanese sword made with a bamboo (pole?) wrapped in the skin of a yak. It was said that the sword could pass through anything and that the blade could not be broken. Ryle had received it from a Buddhist monk in the highest reaches of the world on one of the tallest mountains in world. He named it Finishtera and had carried it for many years.
I had run into Ryle before on the mountain peaks of Wiakiki, where I barely escaped with my life, having created an avalanche on which I escaped. The blade turned so that it faced in a downward motion as he swung upward trying to slice me in half. Even in the hot sand I still was able to evade this amateur attack. Seeing his motion I summoned myself to flip backward and just missed the tip of his blade. A cool grin crossed my face as I positioned myself for my attack. I landed gently and the burning sand scalded my bare feet. I barely noticed as I bent and started to spring forward, sword at my side pointed at my target. I pushed off and saw the look in Ryle’s eye as he slowly realized that he was about to die. There was nothing he could do. With his sword across his body from the first attack it wouldn’t be able to save him. There was no escape. As the sand ground between my toes and I realized that I had misjudged, the sand faltered and my legs only pushed the sand, not my body. Seeing his brief moment of opportunity he moved into a stabbing position with his hands holding his sword right next to his head. I was done for-there was no way I could avoid this attack.
As he thrusted forward he screamed at me “It seems your newly found power just wasn’t enough,” with a smirk. As the sword shot toward me I realized that that was it I was faster than he thought I was. Pushing all my hope and power into the sword in my hand I rolled to the right just as the sword slashed through my left cheek so smoothly that I didn’t notice it till is saw the blood fly from the open wound. As I rolled I slammed my feet into the ground and lunged at Ryle with all the strength I had, with him still in his stabbing motion I sliced cleanly through his robe and into his heart through his left ribcage. Holding the sword there for a moment I felt the runes light with power as Ryle slowly turned and looked at me dropping Finishtera into the sand. His eyes glowed red with fury and the power of the runes as the sword absorbed his power and soul into its deepest dwellings. As a second passed the fire slowly withdrew from within him and his eyes shown a deep dark black. I pulled the sword from him and laid his body down in the sand. Blood began to pool in his dark blue robe as well as the sand. I wiped the blade of my sword across his body as a sign of respect and returned it to its sheath.
Slowly I rose and grabbed the hilt of Finishtera and raised it up from the sand. I felt the power in it slowly come to life as I strapped it to my back and stared off into the distance at the setting sun. The wind blew and sand rippled across my face and red robe that flapped in the wind along with my baggy pants that rustled against my legs. (you know you switch tenses at this point right? You go from what is in Latin pluperfect tense to normal present tense) My hair long enough to reach my chin whirls around my face, I unsheathe my sword and raise it above my head. It reaches only four and a half feet but it is slender and curved like a knife. (and now we’re back to just regular perfect tense) I have called it Ishizu since the moment I acquired it. (switiching to present again…) I raise my other hand and strongly grip the hilt, made of oak from the sacred tree in Tariken forest, and slam Ishizu into the ground. This causes a large amount of sand to shower upward, the sand flies twenty feet up ward and slowly begins to fall as I throw my cape over my head and settle down to sleep the coming night.