The Deserter.

[RevolutionChild]

I’ve just become aware of Dawn of fantasy and when I saw there was a fan fiction section I was hit by a bit of inspiration to go with the homeland I hope to create in the game at some point. So here is the flash fiction product of that inspiration, which I may add to at some point.

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The deserter was flanked on either side by cavaliers who clasped him tightly by the arms. The overcast sky made his face seem grey and lifeless, his barren features matched only by the emptiness in his eyes.

‘I’m sure you’re aware the punishment for desertion is death?’

The deserter nodded mutely in reply to Altair’s question. The air was damp and a light rain was landing on the deserters face, causing rivulets of water to run down his cheeks.

Altair frowned at the man before he continued. ‘Why do it then? Why survive all that and then just drop your weapon and walk away?’

The man sighed and looked away before he spoke. ‘When the fighting was over I looked around at all the bodies,’ he paused for a moment. ‘The men, the women, the children. Even the orcs,’ the man’s gaze turned to the ground as he shook his head slowly. ‘I just couldn’t do it any more, I had to go somewhere else, anywhere that wasn’t there. So I just started walking.’

Altair wasn’t sure what to say and the only sound that could be heard was the tapping of rain hitting the armour of him and his fellow cavaliers.

‘You know the other survivors see you as a hero? Their saviour?’

The deserter just shrugged.

Altair looked away to stare at the drizzle on the horizon. He noted how the gentle wind caused the grass to wave back and forth slowly like the waves on a sea. He then turned his attention back to the man.

Altair nodded to the two cavaliers and they forced the deserter to his knees. Altair slowly walked around, his boots squelching on the water logged grass, until he was staring at the back of the man’s head. He drew his sword and raised it in two hands until the pommel was level with his forehead. ‘I’m sorry it came to this, but I have a duty to keep.’

‘Thank you for giving me an honourable death. Not a deserter’s death.’ These were the man’s last words before his body hit the grass with a wet thud. Altair stared thoughtfully at the prone body beneath him as he slowly wiped his sword clean.

He sheathed his weapon and looked to the two cavaliers. ‘Mount up,’ he then turned his eyes to the rest of his cavaliers. ‘We still have some orcs to hunt down.’

[deamonkinge]

that was great. more please :)

[RevolutionChild]

The gloomy weather continued to sap energy from Altair’s cavaliers. Even the heads of their horses were hanging slightly lower than usual. The mounts looked as though their manes, which were heavy and lank with rain, were weighing them down.

Then suddenly all their heads shot up, their ears pricking as they began to whinny and pull against their riders reins. The men were shocked in to action as they all fought to keep their mounts under control.

Every man except Altair, who scanned the horizon as his mount stood calmly beneath him. He scrutinized the flat lands of the Rollingplain stretching out before him. He kept searching as far as his eyes and the rain would allow until eventually, he found what he was looking for. Coming towards them were a line of dark shapes which were growing slightly larger with every passing moment.

‘Looks like we’ve found our orcs,’ Altair pointed to the shapes coming at them and then turned to his cavaliers. ‘Form a line,’ he didn’t shout the words, but he didn’t have to because the men acted without hesitation and wrestled their horses in to a line with Altair at the centre.

When they were formed up Altair nudged his mount in to a walk and his cavaliers followed alongside him. Once he could distinguish the shapes as orcs riding on the back of wargs he increased his speed up to a trot.

‘Hey Ryce, I think I see your sister riding your mother up ahead,’ one of the men shouted causing a ripple of chuckles.

The man to Altair’s left turned towards the speaker and shouted back, ‘interesting you should say that because I’ve been seen riding both your mother and your sister.’ This caused a louder burst of laughing, although it was hard to tell if the laughter was out of humour or nervousness.

Ryce turned towards Altair and winked, causing a slight smile to form on Altair’s face. Ryce was a large man with a beetled brow, short hair and an ugly scar running down the right side of his face. The scar wrinkled up as he winked before smoothing out slightly as Ryce turned his attention back to the orcs, who were rapidly approaching.

Altair could almost make out the details of each monster before him and so brought his horse up to a gallop as he levelled his lance towards the enemy. ‘Aim your lances at the wargs,’ he shouted to Ryce, who then repeated the order at a roar.

Time seemed to slow for Altair as he approached his target, his lance dipping slightly ready to impale the warg, while he stared in to the vicious eyes of the grey skinned orc charging towards him.

[krgwynne]

nice story

[Alex Walz]

Very interesting! Great characterization! :)

[Mrmekz]

Continue the great work!