News: My thoughts are clouds I cannot fathom into pastries.

--1 June 2018--

Quote: Words are pale shadows of forgotten names. As names have power, words have power. Words can light fires in the minds of men. Words can wring tears from the hardest of hearts. --Patrick Rothfuss, The Name of the Wind

The Fellowship

July 14, 2012

The Scourge & Half General Cletus (A Command Scene)

I've been listening to a lot of Thomas Bergersen's music lately (he does trailer music and is also part of Two Steps from Hell with Nick Phoenix, so it's mainly "epic" orchestral pieces that really set you on the edge of your seat). Anyhow, after meandering through a few thoughts while gardening I came upon three prominent options for writing:

  1. Write a romance-type short, because Promise by Bergersen is PERFECT for the walk-down-the-aisle sort of scene (I really fell in love with that piece). 
  2. Write a short on mosquitoes and their kamikaze battle against humans...because I was literally getting my blood sucked dry out there :/
  3. Write a battle scene short, because Rada by Bergersen is the perfect creepy-battle kind of piece. 
So I opted for number 3, because the first two didn't appeal to my imagination at the time. However, my desire to write an adventure-packed battle scene didn't exactly come out the way I wanted it to -- it turned into a small clip about a messenger carrying word from another contigent :| thanks mind...I really appreciate how you work (not). 

I still kinda like what I wrote. I'll tell you though, I'm really wanting to add more scenery into the first half, because I feel as though I haven't quite captured the grief of the land as much as I wanted. I mean...the sensation I feel is this soul-rending, mother-crying-for-her-baby sort of feeling, and I definitely don't think that came across with my meagre imagery. Ah well, that's what I get for having scattered thoughts :P 

I was also thinking of adding perspective from a hawk, but it made me think too much of the first book in Stephen Lawhead's Dragon King Trilogy (or whatever it's called). Still, using birds of doom can add flavour :P just not the kind I really want. Hmm, but maybe a dragon's perspective? Now that would bring some intriguing flare to the scene *grin* but I won't. For now, enjoy my rough draft! I've included the music I used to write it :D

[[yes yes, influenced by Dekker, Lawhead, and L.B. Graham (BOTB :P, particularly the command scenes with Malek)]]


The Scourge had come.
The land was rent in half; no, not in half. It was shattered into a million tiny shards. The rebellion that once burned within the small towns was now extinguished by the masterful hand of the Half General, Cletus. Blackened smoke drifted greedily between crushed corn rows, smoldering amidst decaying corpses that littered the once virgin land, now sodden with the blood of innocents.
A pale dusk had begun to set – the remaining sun cast its angry glare over the battle grounds as though it would soak up the destruction caused by war. The globe energized itself on burned flesh as its bloated face sunk behind the snow-capped mountains in the west. The last flicker of light was choked away by smoke and ash.
 The clink of chain-mail and the jangling of metal and leather increased in volume as a great army appeared across the landscape. Ten thousand warriors, callused and heartless, waited on the eastern plains, covered by the thickening darkness, revealed by the fires they stood around to warm their skin.
“Move! Aside!” came the cry of a messenger as he urged his sweaty horse as fast as he could along the outskirts of the camp. His steed snorted, its nostrils flared wildly displaying the sensitive pink flesh within. White lather sprayed off its flanks as it masterfully dodged those foolish enough to step into its path.
The rider came to a halt outside the large grey tent. He vaulted from the back of his horse; guards at the front paused only to narrow their eyes before swiftly granting him entrance.
“Sir! General sir.” The messenger panted, his legs wobbling beneath his lanky frame.
A towering, muscular figure stood with his back to the door. His lengthy black cape brushed the ground; the scarlet embroidery of two snakes intertwined and engulfing each other’s tails seemed to glisten like blood in the candle light. The General raised his hand and, without bothering to look up, motioned the messenger closer.
“Speak.” commanded a deep voice.
“Sir, Commander Grevus has eliminated the rebellion to the north-west, just east of the Seventh Sea. However there were many that escaped to the Northern Keep. He is concerned they seek Avaedis and the Chamber of Secrets. I know it is only legend, but the men have become fearful and some turn away from their station. He wishes you to send reinforcements or join him for he will not pass the Northern Reach without his General.”
General Cletus stood in silence, staring at the map in front of him through slitted eyes. The flames danced upon his battle-worn face, glistening off his beard and prominent cheek bones.
“Is the Commander fearful of a handful of rebels and a child’s tale?” he scoffed. His hands, covered with black leather gauntlets gripped the side of the table lightly.
“I cannot say, sir.” answered the messenger. He eyed the silver spikes upon his master’s hand, many of which were still stained from a recent onslaught.
Cletus moistened his lips and then straightened up, “Guards. Bring food and water for this man.”
The corners of the tent rustled as hidden ears obeyed the command silently. The General turned towards the stalwart messenger, his hands disappearing into the folds of his cloak, which rustled against his form-fitting battle gear.
“How long has it been since this message was sent?”
The messenger blinked, “Not quite a fortnight sir. I rode as soon as it was deployed to my keeping.”
“And you have switched your mount?”
“No sir, my horse alone carries the commands I receive for I trust none other to be as sure-footed as he.”
Cletus nodded, “A fine beast. One whose breed I should prefer.”
The messenger swallowed, his throat bobbed up and down, “Sir?”
“Silence.” Cletus withdrew a hand from his cloak; it now grasped an envelope sealed with a thick, sickly smelling wax. The gauntlet chinked as the General extended the letter towards the messenger.
 “You will set out at first light to return this message to the Commander. Do not stop until you have reached him.”
“Yes sir.” 


That is all! God bless folks :) 

Signed with pollen from a sunflower, 


1 comment:

  1. Meh. Rereading it a seventh time has made me become even more unsatisfied :| Besides, the music fits more of a sweeping pan of the landscape rather than a close-up interchange between a commander and a subservient individual :/ Oh well, I'll have to try a different angle :P practice makes perfect (or at least, a little bit closer to perfect than you were before).


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