Writing Ideas - The Other Side (Title pending) Vrs. 1
Malorn’s life was dull in the vast fields north of Dardeep. For nineteen falls he harvested and sold, tending to his elderly grandmother in the tranquil village of Vanor. Every harvest there would be a feast, in which every farm-tender would bring his most promising crops to share with the villagers. This Harvest Festival’s happiness was tainted by ominous news.
“The White Hammer has fallen,” Farmer Dulrok announced grimly. “The Northmen encroach on Morjack’s kingdom after they were felled by our armies’ decades ago. The future is bleak.”
“Dulrok, do not taint the festival’s cheer,” Malorn scorned the old man, before turning to the masses. “Our Capital City is only a day’s stride from here; Mount Cathalon is bare to our eyes. We need not fear the scattered forces of the Northmen.”
The villagers nodded wearily, before time saw to their fears. Malorn smiled, Mount Cathalon towered over their village, and the Capital City stood between the Mountain’s two peaks, protected by rock and winds.
“Malorn?” He heard the call, and turned to the soft voice, slightly intoxicated as he said happily, “Katharina! You came!”
She nodded, before he lifted his hands to his mouth and called loudly, “People of Vanor! Our guest of honor has arrived!”
“Enough,” she said tiredly.
“I do not mock you,” he replied, turning to her and putting his hands on his hips. “I arranged a small event to celebrate this fruitful festival, and it is dedicated to your honor.”
She lifted her thin brown eyebrows, confused.
“Jack, you idiot! I’ve already called for the show to start!” He shouted suddenly, before hurrying to a large stage and hid behind it.
She scratched her bushy hair, before a white cotton doll with hair of hay appeared on the stage, and yelled, “People of Vanor! We, the harvest puppets have plucked the courage to appear to you this year!”
The villagers laughed as another puppet, clad in black with horse hair on its head appeared, before crumpling on the stage.
“Jack, you idiot!” The villagers laughed at Malorn’s cry of anger as the white puppet began cringing. “I told you to practice this before!”
“It’s not my fault!” The black puppet fell out of view as the white puppet punched it.
“By the Light-” Malorn said, before his puppet appeared on the stage again. Light from an overhead lamp fell on the doll, which said loudly, “Excuse our eccentric behavior, we are not used to such big groups.”
“We come this year with the scent of fruits. This night shall see a recall of the past-” The black puppet said.
“So it will never fade, and it shall forever last,” the white puppet continued. “We recite this tale of sorcery and wickedness.”
“That wanders the nights, fueled with maliciousness and evilness,” The black puppet gasped. “So children, huddle to your elderly, and brave village men, prepare your pitchforks and horses.”
“The black witch Harsha’tha stalks the skies, and swoops down on the unfortunate,” The black puppet said, before laughing fanatically, shaking wildly.
“That’s not what we agreed on, Jack!” Malorn shrieked. “Her wickedness is only exceeded by your own!”
A deep punch sounded behind the stage, before the black puppet disappeared, and the white gained dominance, before bowing. “I apologize, good people of Vanor, my brother has little mind…that horse hair was plucked this night only.”
The people laughed, before the puppet bowed again, and lifted his small hands, and said, “We have all heard of the legend of the Valley of Kings, good people, but we have not heard what happens to those black of heart who dare enter it.”
The people on the ground huddled closer to the stage, before the black puppet appeared again, riding on a small cotton horse, and wielding a long lance, as the white puppet said, “The Black Armies have tried to break through the statues of the Valley, seeking to taint the noble souls that dwell the final resting of the kings of Atarnor, but none prevailed.”
The black puppet fell to the ground, as its horse disappeared suddenly in a cloud of golden dust. The crowd gasped; Jack, Malorn’s friend was an apprentice mage.
“Sentinels, nor living nor dead watch over the valley,” the white puppet continued, before the black puppet stood up, turning wildly for its attacker. “They do not die…they do not sleep… They are ever vigilant to the demons that corrupt the souls of the noble and promising.”
A long, pin-sized arrow impaled the black puppet, which fell to its knees, as the white puppet continued, “The Paladins of Ananor know these sentinels, and their power come from the same well. These sentinels have no duty but to protect…and slay the intruders.”
Another arrow impaled the black puppet, which gasped.
“Once the deed is done, the Sentinels disappear again,” the puppet ended, before the black puppet disappeared in a cloud of dust, and the dust flew upwards.
“But there is more to the Valley then the resting place of the kings of men,” the white puppet said ominously. “There is an evil there…chained…Bound by the will and strength of every man and woman of Atarnor! That evil is the Enemy… The enemy…the ever-awake, the stalker of the nights, the corrupter of man… It is he who broke the First Kingdom of men and slain the first King with his black magic. It is he who awoke the elusive Ar’Sorai from their slumber. He is known as the Cursed Brother.”
Silence fell, and silence that vibrates the ears it was. The white puppet lifted its head, before continuing, “But he is not alone. The Chained One has brethren in the Shadow. Shadows not of the absence of the sun, but in the absence of mankind’s Faith. It is a realm of desperation; of malicious intent…it is the realm of Darkness,” The white puppet continued, before it bowed, and said. “Heroes of man rose, and continue to rise, binding the Chained one by their will by the day. Even your children, farmers of Vanor, chain the Enemy with their own faith, with their love for you…with their humanity, and with their bare souls.”
The farmers smiled, even their children stopped shaking, and sat with wide eyes.
“Mankind is not the only ruler of Atarnor, that is for sure…but there is no bane for that evil but us-I mean you,” The puppet realized suddenly, before pointing at the north, south, east and west, and said, “The four kingdoms of men stand defiant against the Enemy, and the Sentinels are ever-watchful. The servants of the Chained One still walk these lands, but they are hunted, weakened and divided. As a hero rises with Ar’Surad, the chains on him grow ever stronger.”
The puppet fell silent, before bowing, and saying, “The magics of the Enemy’s servants still taint some of us, but they shall be unraveled, and dispelled by our will and the Light’s strength. I see promise in this generation of man, good people of Vanor. Rise to the challenge and protect your loved ones….and live.”
The puppet lifted its hands, before it hid from view, and Malorn stood up, as well as Jack, and bowed to the audience. The crowd cheered and whistled, before Malorn smiled widely.
“We shall unravel the wicked, and dispel the magics that harm our people. I dedicate this in honor of Katharina, who was touched by the wicked sorceress, and lives to tell the tale! I salute her strength, and pray for her future to be touched by the Light,” He ended, before bowing. “I also salute her beauty and charm!” He added, with a strange smirk on his face.
The farmers followed suit, bowing to Katharina. She blushed, looking at the ground.
“Now, enjoy the rest of the festival, good men!” Jack shouted, before getting a drink, and shouting, “To mankind!”
“To mankind!”
“That was awfully thoughtful of you,” Katharina said to Malorn as the festival ended, as he cleaned up the ground. Dawn’s light painted the skies…the people would not wake up until dusk. Malorn turned to her, before smiling, “It’s the least I can do.”
She smiled, before getting herself a broom, and sweeping off the remains of the harvest festival’s feast from the town square.
“You need not assist me, Katharina,” He said, turning to her. “You should rest. You’ve been up all night.”
“So have you, dear,” She smirked.
He blushed slightly, before he turned his eyes away. They swept the town square until it clean anew, before he slumped on a chair, and said, “What of old grandmother?”
“She gives you her greetings,” she replied, before she added. “What of yours?”
“She insists on arranging my marriage,” Malorn smirked. “She hasn’t chosen who to wed me to, but she has the rest laid out before her.”
“Intriguing,” Katharina commented, before Malorn stood up, and said, “I’ll let her rest from planning.”
“How are you doing that?” She asked, her voice wavering.
“I already chose my wife…I hope she accepts me,” He said softly.
She slowed down, and didn’t dare turn to face him. Her movements became ridged and awkward, as she held her breath.
Time passed like an eternity, before she felt his hands on her shoulders, as he asked, “Would you return my heart to me?”
Tears streamed down her face, before she turned, unable to hide her smile, as she whispered, “If only you return mine.”
He embraced her, as she laid her head on his shoulders. They stood there for an eternity, before they heard an obscure voice shout playfully, “HAHA!”
“I thought you were asleep, Jack,” Malorn said. Katharina felt hot in the face, but she didn’t let go.
“I was!” He shouted, tongue looped by drink. “But is-I felt-AHAHA!”
He then fell to the ground with a thud.
“The White Hammer has fallen,” Farmer Dulrok announced grimly. “The Northmen encroach on Morjack’s kingdom after they were felled by our armies’ decades ago. The future is bleak.”
“Dulrok, do not taint the festival’s cheer,” Malorn scorned the old man, before turning to the masses. “Our Capital City is only a day’s stride from here; Mount Cathalon is bare to our eyes. We need not fear the scattered forces of the Northmen.”
The villagers nodded wearily, before time saw to their fears. Malorn smiled, Mount Cathalon towered over their village, and the Capital City stood between the Mountain’s two peaks, protected by rock and winds.
“Malorn?” He heard the call, and turned to the soft voice, slightly intoxicated as he said happily, “Katharina! You came!”
She nodded, before he lifted his hands to his mouth and called loudly, “People of Vanor! Our guest of honor has arrived!”
“Enough,” she said tiredly.
“I do not mock you,” he replied, turning to her and putting his hands on his hips. “I arranged a small event to celebrate this fruitful festival, and it is dedicated to your honor.”
She lifted her thin brown eyebrows, confused.
“Jack, you idiot! I’ve already called for the show to start!” He shouted suddenly, before hurrying to a large stage and hid behind it.
She scratched her bushy hair, before a white cotton doll with hair of hay appeared on the stage, and yelled, “People of Vanor! We, the harvest puppets have plucked the courage to appear to you this year!”
The villagers laughed as another puppet, clad in black with horse hair on its head appeared, before crumpling on the stage.
“Jack, you idiot!” The villagers laughed at Malorn’s cry of anger as the white puppet began cringing. “I told you to practice this before!”
“It’s not my fault!” The black puppet fell out of view as the white puppet punched it.
“By the Light-” Malorn said, before his puppet appeared on the stage again. Light from an overhead lamp fell on the doll, which said loudly, “Excuse our eccentric behavior, we are not used to such big groups.”
“We come this year with the scent of fruits. This night shall see a recall of the past-” The black puppet said.
“So it will never fade, and it shall forever last,” the white puppet continued. “We recite this tale of sorcery and wickedness.”
“That wanders the nights, fueled with maliciousness and evilness,” The black puppet gasped. “So children, huddle to your elderly, and brave village men, prepare your pitchforks and horses.”
“The black witch Harsha’tha stalks the skies, and swoops down on the unfortunate,” The black puppet said, before laughing fanatically, shaking wildly.
“That’s not what we agreed on, Jack!” Malorn shrieked. “Her wickedness is only exceeded by your own!”
A deep punch sounded behind the stage, before the black puppet disappeared, and the white gained dominance, before bowing. “I apologize, good people of Vanor, my brother has little mind…that horse hair was plucked this night only.”
The people laughed, before the puppet bowed again, and lifted his small hands, and said, “We have all heard of the legend of the Valley of Kings, good people, but we have not heard what happens to those black of heart who dare enter it.”
The people on the ground huddled closer to the stage, before the black puppet appeared again, riding on a small cotton horse, and wielding a long lance, as the white puppet said, “The Black Armies have tried to break through the statues of the Valley, seeking to taint the noble souls that dwell the final resting of the kings of Atarnor, but none prevailed.”
The black puppet fell to the ground, as its horse disappeared suddenly in a cloud of golden dust. The crowd gasped; Jack, Malorn’s friend was an apprentice mage.
“Sentinels, nor living nor dead watch over the valley,” the white puppet continued, before the black puppet stood up, turning wildly for its attacker. “They do not die…they do not sleep… They are ever vigilant to the demons that corrupt the souls of the noble and promising.”
A long, pin-sized arrow impaled the black puppet, which fell to its knees, as the white puppet continued, “The Paladins of Ananor know these sentinels, and their power come from the same well. These sentinels have no duty but to protect…and slay the intruders.”
Another arrow impaled the black puppet, which gasped.
“Once the deed is done, the Sentinels disappear again,” the puppet ended, before the black puppet disappeared in a cloud of dust, and the dust flew upwards.
“But there is more to the Valley then the resting place of the kings of men,” the white puppet said ominously. “There is an evil there…chained…Bound by the will and strength of every man and woman of Atarnor! That evil is the Enemy… The enemy…the ever-awake, the stalker of the nights, the corrupter of man… It is he who broke the First Kingdom of men and slain the first King with his black magic. It is he who awoke the elusive Ar’Sorai from their slumber. He is known as the Cursed Brother.”
Silence fell, and silence that vibrates the ears it was. The white puppet lifted its head, before continuing, “But he is not alone. The Chained One has brethren in the Shadow. Shadows not of the absence of the sun, but in the absence of mankind’s Faith. It is a realm of desperation; of malicious intent…it is the realm of Darkness,” The white puppet continued, before it bowed, and said. “Heroes of man rose, and continue to rise, binding the Chained one by their will by the day. Even your children, farmers of Vanor, chain the Enemy with their own faith, with their love for you…with their humanity, and with their bare souls.”
The farmers smiled, even their children stopped shaking, and sat with wide eyes.
“Mankind is not the only ruler of Atarnor, that is for sure…but there is no bane for that evil but us-I mean you,” The puppet realized suddenly, before pointing at the north, south, east and west, and said, “The four kingdoms of men stand defiant against the Enemy, and the Sentinels are ever-watchful. The servants of the Chained One still walk these lands, but they are hunted, weakened and divided. As a hero rises with Ar’Surad, the chains on him grow ever stronger.”
The puppet fell silent, before bowing, and saying, “The magics of the Enemy’s servants still taint some of us, but they shall be unraveled, and dispelled by our will and the Light’s strength. I see promise in this generation of man, good people of Vanor. Rise to the challenge and protect your loved ones….and live.”
The puppet lifted its hands, before it hid from view, and Malorn stood up, as well as Jack, and bowed to the audience. The crowd cheered and whistled, before Malorn smiled widely.
“We shall unravel the wicked, and dispel the magics that harm our people. I dedicate this in honor of Katharina, who was touched by the wicked sorceress, and lives to tell the tale! I salute her strength, and pray for her future to be touched by the Light,” He ended, before bowing. “I also salute her beauty and charm!” He added, with a strange smirk on his face.
The farmers followed suit, bowing to Katharina. She blushed, looking at the ground.
“Now, enjoy the rest of the festival, good men!” Jack shouted, before getting a drink, and shouting, “To mankind!”
“To mankind!”
“That was awfully thoughtful of you,” Katharina said to Malorn as the festival ended, as he cleaned up the ground. Dawn’s light painted the skies…the people would not wake up until dusk. Malorn turned to her, before smiling, “It’s the least I can do.”
She smiled, before getting herself a broom, and sweeping off the remains of the harvest festival’s feast from the town square.
“You need not assist me, Katharina,” He said, turning to her. “You should rest. You’ve been up all night.”
“So have you, dear,” She smirked.
He blushed slightly, before he turned his eyes away. They swept the town square until it clean anew, before he slumped on a chair, and said, “What of old grandmother?”
“She gives you her greetings,” she replied, before she added. “What of yours?”
“She insists on arranging my marriage,” Malorn smirked. “She hasn’t chosen who to wed me to, but she has the rest laid out before her.”
“Intriguing,” Katharina commented, before Malorn stood up, and said, “I’ll let her rest from planning.”
“How are you doing that?” She asked, her voice wavering.
“I already chose my wife…I hope she accepts me,” He said softly.
She slowed down, and didn’t dare turn to face him. Her movements became ridged and awkward, as she held her breath.
Time passed like an eternity, before she felt his hands on her shoulders, as he asked, “Would you return my heart to me?”
Tears streamed down her face, before she turned, unable to hide her smile, as she whispered, “If only you return mine.”
He embraced her, as she laid her head on his shoulders. They stood there for an eternity, before they heard an obscure voice shout playfully, “HAHA!”
“I thought you were asleep, Jack,” Malorn said. Katharina felt hot in the face, but she didn’t let go.
“I was!” He shouted, tongue looped by drink. “But is-I felt-AHAHA!”
He then fell to the ground with a thud.