Results 1 to 10 of 10

Thread: Let your creativity flow - Tale of the Week 29

  1. #1
    molls's Avatar Campidoctor
    Join Date
    May 2008
    Location
    Germany
    Posts
    1,689

    Default Let your creativity flow - Tale of the Week 29


    New Lands lie before us, new challenges await us, new stories are to be told!


    B.Ward's Sunset Charge





    Rules:




    1. Post a short text about this picture, with min. 200 max. 400 words, in a spoiler.


    2. If you are a contestant you are honour bound to not read other contestants' writings until you have submitted yours.


    3. The winner gets 1 point on the Leaderboard, if there are at least 4 contestants.

    4. Deadline: last day of each week (Sunday).

  2. #2
    Nazgűl Killer's Avatar ✡At Your Service✡
    Join Date
    Jan 2009
    Location
    The Holy Land - Israel
    Posts
    10,976

    Default Re: Let your creativity flow - Tale of the Week 30

    Just Another Ordinary Day


    Throwing his spear, Johanas saw that he hit a Hungarian cavalier in the head, killing him, with a smile he drew his sword and returned to the lines of the Polish soldiers, taking the shield off his back and supporting the main line against the incoming Hungarians.
    A volley of arrows flew above his head with an annoying buzzing sound, and several Hungarians fell to the ground, a few more arrows were shot, and the enemy suffered some more casualties, several troops of the militia battalion charged towards the enemy line, but it wasn't long until they were cut down, Johanas ordered his cavalry to move to the flanks of the enemy and wait, and with a click of a button ordered his archers to stop firing, and the infantry to charge, the battle was messy, Johanas' Captain was fighting furiously and the infantry were winning the fight, sending in the final blow, Johanas clicked on the enemy troops and his cavalry charged to assist, his archers also broke skirmish and attacked! The battle was almost won! Victory was in his--- "Johanas! Wake up! Time for breakfast!"
    His mom yelled, and he fell out of his chair, looking up his saw that he fell asleep on his keyboard, playing Medieval 2: Total War.


    I just read what Wizard wrote, and I am sorry, I think our stories are a bit alike, I admit he wrote his before I wrote mine, however I didn't look at his post, honestly, I came up with this on my own.
    Last edited by molls; March 03, 2009 at 05:14 AM.
    Nazgul Killer's M2TW Guide
    Personal Help & Advice forum
    My view on the "Friend Zone"
    Good things come to those who wait... But better things come to those who never hesitate.

  3. #3
    Kátz's Avatar Senator
    Join Date
    Aug 2008
    Location
    Jakarta, Indonesia
    Posts
    1,249

    Default Re: Let your creativity flow - Tale of the Week 30

    Tom and Jerry

    Tom and Jerry always sit in the same bench, stuck on the same boat since they are 6 years old. They have features distinctly unique to others, they are always together, but are always quarreling. People are confused at them, even their tutor, Roger does not know what are they doing always. Tom is a cat lover, and Jerry is a mouse lover. Perhaps it's the reason Tom is always together with Jerry, he's chasing him like cats and mouses!

    Then...... 17 years old, both of them joined the military. Tom is just following suit to Jerry so he can chase him all day with his lifetime hobby of the anti-mouse guild. All day, Jerry must tire his legs running away from Tom. It's really getting on his nerves. Tom is just obsessed with him.

    Their first battle.... The battle of Strato, is a place where love is on it's heights, at least in the rumours of lovers. Now is the time, is Tom really hating Jerry? Or instead, he loves him? Let's find out guys.

    After the general finished his battle speech, Jerry let's out his charging words, the sound is as startling as a squeaking mouse. Tom, soon follows suit. Blurting out the words openly, with a loose shout, terrors down the enemy : "JERRY, I LOVE YOU!!!!!"

    Heck! He sounds like a gay in front of other people. Meowing up like a cat... Shame on you Tom, SHAME ON YOU. But hey, you are in front of other people! And IN FRONT OF SPEARS!!!!

  4. #4

    Icon1 Re: Let your creativity flow - Tale of the Week 36529

    Partially based on a "true" story, and inspired by this thread.

    A WEIRD DREAM

    - Hon, wake up... Honey, come on, wake up.
    - What... What time is it? - I said rubbing my eyes, feeling awful and splendid at the same time.
    - It's 6:30. And it's snowing. There's going to be heavy traffic. You need to wake up or you'll be late from work.
    - Oh funk. I'm tired. Let me sleep a little more...
    - You were foruming all night AGAIN, weren't you? - she asked frowningly, rolled up the shatters and stared at the curtains over the window. I looked at her gorgeous hair, as if I wasn't sure if I could see her tonight. - Come, I'll make breakfast for you.

    I walked out to the bath to shave myself, and heard the morning news blabber about the US recession. I started to remember what a weird dream I had...

    "My dear friends, we have come here for one reason. To fight those who have put our nose to the grindstone and win back our freedom again.

    Some of you are thinking you won't fight or you can't fight. But keep in mind, that even if we fail, our story will be told by the good men all over the world. We shall resettle our community at a new place and start it from the scratch. In any case, this day will be remembered in the history of total war..."

    - Honey, come! Your coffee almost got cold.
    - I'm coming! - I said, sat down at the table and started to chew my musli almost insensately.
    - You were talking in your sleep again. This is the third night you are doing that.
    - Sorry about that - I laughed - What was I saying?

    "As you all know we are going to war against Creative Assembly. CA decided to purchase the site after the February Ambush in which infuriated TWC members - pissed off by the bugs and poor performance of the demo - attacked the heaquarters of the new owner followed by the March Revolution where several thousand total war fans conspired to boycott the game worldwide. After The Purchase CA started to delete whole ETW mod forums that were distributing files downloadable only from Steam. The Curia became alive again, citizens protesting, moderators, even admins resigning... CA responded by appointing banned members for moderators and giving mass citizenship for everyone with 50 posts, unwittingly mobilizing the forces of the Consilium Plebis. Martial law, then chaos took over the site. Most of us took refuge here, at the Org, but now our presence is becoming uncomfortable due to our massive spamming...

    You got your shields and spears at General Sun's tent. Halie Satanus designed them carefully to give you a massive bonus against AI stupidity...

    Today we fight by all that we held dear of our beloved site.
    Today we fight shouting our fearsome motto: MY SULTAN WISHES YOU DEAD!

    NOW CHAAAARGE!"
    Last edited by molls; March 03, 2009 at 05:15 AM.

  5. #5

    Default Re: Let your creativity flow - Tale of the Week 36529

    Aristeia

    The two armies, separated by the smallest gulf of open air, stood as opposing but at the same time attracting forces, both not wishing to fight but also wishing for blood. The Polish on the left cowered in fear, retreating slowly into the forest. The Hungarians to the right, praying for blood but exhausted from chasing the rout. The Poles had nowhere to go, nowhere to run now... thay had hoped to run into the forests but it proved more of a hinderence than a gift. They turned to face their attackers...
    It was then that the man, a Gustav Wladslaw, shook his head in disbelief. He had been sure to see his home in Krakow again, to hold his children in his arms again, to kiss his wife again, but, now the enemy was so close, he was sure of deaths misty embrace. He stepped out of the line, making his comrades shift together to hold the line. Gustav turned, lifted his helmet from his head, and they saw tears in his eyes and cleaning his bloodied face.
    "I have seen... seen too much this day. Seen my friends fold to the spears of the Huns, seen my brother cry for help just as the sword came down... so cleanly... came down into his shoulder and watched the life leave his eyes blank. I have no future now, and if i run, how long until i must fight them again? No... i cannot take this fight home..."
    Gustav slipped his helmet back over his sweaty brow, the chainmail to guard the neck burned from the heat of the day. Turning to face his enemy, he noticed another man, only one other, step out from the line an rotate his shoulders as if to attempt to rid the fear of death from him. Gustav smiled, but looked back upon his enemy.
    His mind cast back to the face of his beautiful, smiling wife, her face etched intoo the cloudline. The world seemed unreal now he was so close to death, as if painted to fit his imagination. The sun seemed so dim, perhaps to hide his fear, the trees were blurred at the tips and the hills on which they had previously fought seemed so far away. "Enough," Gustav snapped quietly to himself, heaved up his shield and looked at one of the Huns straight in the eyes. For the last time his wife appeared in his mind, but now she was sad, tears staining her perfect face, standing behind her children who also were were weeping sorrowfully... but before Gustav knew it, he was already running........
    Last edited by molls; March 03, 2009 at 05:15 AM. Reason: increasing size of font


  6. #6

    Default Re: Let your creativity flow - Tale of the Week 36529

    Father's Tear

    "Haven't they learned nothing so far..."
    "I've been watching them do the same thing over and over again...For thousands of years, and yet they keep at it."

    Sun sets in the west as the two armies approach each other for the imminent clash. It casts an eerie aura over the slaughter field to be...The gray-bluish clouds seem to soak up the bloodied gold of the dying light, as the blood is about to soak the meadow of butchery...

    "Why won't they learn...Has my lost child imbued himself so hard in the spirit of men that they will rather see their enemies blade than the plow in their fields..."
    "I cast the days last glance on You my children, as my eye is about to hide itself behind the eyelid you so innocently call horizon. For tonight, my lost son will feed on your souls, and I shall not have the sight of my creation once I cast my eye upon the world tomorrow."

    "Yet you call my name just now, I can hear you do it. Oh yes, I can.
    But I won't heed your words, I won't hear your cries, I won't watch you damn each other to eternal embrace of my lost son."

    And so He closes his golden eye, letting one last bloodied tear fill the sky with sorrowful gleam, an image of what He wishes not to see...
    Last edited by molls; March 03, 2009 at 05:16 AM.

  7. #7

    Default Re: Let your creativity flow - Tale of the Week 36529


    As the Setting of the Sun

    We met them outside town, the Crusader detachment encamped in a grove on the outskirts of the village. It mattered not they had entered our lands at the permission of our most Christian King Lazslo the First. Royal permission counts for naught when one's women have been ravished, when one's children fear to stir outside the cottage door, when one of their number lies dead in the street, beheaded by a drunken soldier.
    Permission? Bah!
    We were girt in our simple armor, a shield gripped tight in my hand, a helm upon my snow-white hair. I am old, and I have seen much of war. In my youth, I fought against the pagans of the north, driving them back into the steppes from which they came. I had fought and I had killed, their blood on the grass.
    That was behind me, or so I thought. I was content to take my rest on the land of my fathers. But now new pagans had come, pagans chanting Christ's name, holding His bloody cross high as though they wished to remember His death—only His death, ever renewed through their sacraments. A cult of death.
    Death they had now brought to our small village. Death they would now experience for themselves. I wondered how they would like it when it stared them in the face.
    We formed a line there by the grove, facing them. The sun was going down, a golden-red canopy over the heavens, casting strange shadows across the plain.
    Two men stepped from the Crusader line, tall, strong men. “Pick two of your men to fight our champions! Two men, against the two of us.”
    No one stirred. All of us had been affected by their deeds of darkness in the village. Either all of us would fight, or none.
    At length, the men began to march toward us. Insane. I watched them as they came steadily closer, the setting sun glinting off their weapons.
    They began to run, one of them screaming a challenge as he came toward me. I braced myself, catching his spear-tip in my shield as he jabbed violently toward my throat. I wrenched the shield, twisting the spear out of his grasp, thrusting into his side with my own.
    He fell, blood pouring from the hole in his side, staining the grass. His helm fell off and I saw his face. A boy, no older than my son, his eyes frightened, glazing with death, his life ending as the setting of the sun. I remembered the screams of the children and felt nothing. No pity. . .

    Last edited by molls; March 03, 2009 at 05:15 AM.
    Son of PW

  8. #8

    Default Re: Let your creativity flow - Tale of the Week 36529

    Nike?

    John strapped on his heavy, leather boots. He delicately scraped the mud off the toe and laced them up. The past few battles and seen them drenched in mud, drowned in a stream, and splattered with the vital fluids of other men. Still, they were a good pair and had served him faithfully.

    Opposite John sat a man of medium build and unremarkable characteristics. Steven was his name. His boots were not so well off. A hole in the left sole left his feet completely exposed on the bottom, and worse, his laces had torn. As he cursed his luck, he looked up and called out to heaven "Why, Oh Lord, do you subject me to these hardships?"

    Just then, a box dropped from the skies. A peculiar brown box. Opening the box revealed two strange looking foot wear with the inscription 'Air Jordan' written in white string on the side. They were shorter and less heavy than boots, but much more elaborate than sandals. The insides were soft and the entire thing was purely white.

    Hesitating, Steven pulled the shoes over his swollen feet, and they fit like a dream. He stood up and bounced on his heels, testing the new shoes. He noted their weightlessness and support for his knees. Just then the assembly drum began to roll. Steven grabbed his spear and shield and headed to formation.

    After several minutes of (blissful) walking, the troop made contact with the enemy. The horn to charge rang out, and the formation moved as one towards the enemy. Steven noticed something strange....he had passed his comrades....the shoes....they were making him accelerate at speeds he had not previously known. He crashed into his opponents at full speed and knocked the first five completely on their faces. Several seconds later his comrades reached the scene and the enemy was driven from the field.





    Last edited by molls; March 03, 2009 at 05:15 AM.

  9. #9
    Elendil of Númenor's Avatar Campidoctor
    Join Date
    Nov 2008
    Location
    Jászberény, Hungary
    Posts
    1,644

    Default Re: Let your creativity flow - Tale of the Week 29

    Finally, I was able to finish it.

    What Counts


    Jack fell to the ground laughing as John lay on the grass for the tenth time in a row.
    “I give up” John said, panting “you really are the best dueler in the Army, Ben.”
    “Care to have another one?” Ben said teasingly.
    “No way. I'll need some strength for the enemy...”
    “The enemy?” joined Jack. “I don't believe we'll fight them...”
    “Everyone knows our King's a coward” Ben said in a low voice.
    It was well past noon and the forest gave a cool shade against the last hot rays of the sun.


    Flocks of birds rose into the air, twittering madly, as a thunderous horn blast the silence.
    The enemy is here!” sounded the cry. The enemy line could be seen standing a few feet from the trees, their leader galloping forward. To meet him, stumbled the King. The King wasn't used to this life. He lived in castles, palaces, not forests. Ornaments decorated him and his horse, which he could barely ride.
    “Is there no way to avoid bloodshed?” asked the King.
    “You want a duel perhaps?” snarled the enemy leader.
    “Perhaps.” He turned to his army. “Anyone?” They started chanting Ben's name, so he stepped forward.
    “Fine then.” Spat the enemy. “Marcos, come and gut this weakling!”
    The King scuttled back, even dropping one of his bracelets in the hurried process.

    Thus the duel began. Sparks flared as the two blades clashed. Ben was easily defeating his opponent and soon knocked the sword out of his hand. Suddenly, intent on what was before him, he tripped on a silver bracelet in the grass. His opponent quickly grabbed for his sword and thrust it right through Ben's back. Scarlet blood spilled, and the enemy army cheered, whilst the King sighed,
    “Well... retreat, then.”
    Suddenly, two figures leaped out of the line, the setting sun reflecting a heavenly light on their helms as they charged into the enemy. The Army cried together and ran forward, after the heroes.

    “Beautiful victory, my Lord!” people said to the King after the battle. He was forever remembered as the saviour of his country.




    “But it was Jack and John who won the battle, wasn't it, Dad?” asked the son of a soldier.
    “Yes, son. But you see, it wasn't fame and glory what the three friends wanted. All they wanted, was to fight for their country. And that's what counts.”
    Last edited by molls; March 03, 2009 at 05:15 AM.

  10. #10
    Juvenal's Avatar love your noggin
    Patrician Content Emeritus

    Join Date
    Apr 2006
    Location
    The Home Counties
    Posts
    3,465

    Default Re: Let your creativity flow - Tale of the Week 29

    Hi, I'm back, no dark magic this time. I was inspired by the "Don't Drink and Drive" ad campaigns, hope you like it.


    Stopping Distance

    The Keel of Sven Sigaardsen was renowned as the rowdiest in the army, so experienced that every man had a hideous looking scar and an interminable battle story full of heroic charges, victory against the odds and the gratitude of the local women at their prodigious stamina and generously proportioned manhoods. The biggest braggarts and hardest drinkers of all were Anders and Henning.

    The current campaign had started well. Landing from their swift silent longships and descending on the poorly defended English town like locusts, destroying and consuming everything in their path.

    But a passing enemy flotilla burned the precious longships before the Danes could return to defend them. The cowardly English refused to come ashore and fight like men, being content to cast insults from the safety of their boats.

    After falling out amongst the chieftains, Sigaardsen's Keel found themselves taking a separate route, heading for a Danish enclave a few days march away. On the second day they came across a monastery, and stopped to pillage.

    But the following day, Sigaardson decided to cut short the celebrations and resume the march, the monks had been wine-makers, and the whole Keel was in serious danger of drinking itself to death.

    The men stumbled on through the late afternoon, hot sun on their backs, Anders and Henning trailing slightly behind the main body, doggedly drinking their way through the three skins of wine apiece they carried.

    Then there was a shout, a small group of English Thegns had been spotted ahead and the Keel came to a ragged halt. Henning took one bleary look at the enemy, let loose a skiirling war cry and charged straight at them with Anders running along in his wake.

    Oblivious to the fact that the rest of the Keel hadn't followed, the two friends converged on the frightened looking English. Then there was a strange rippling in the grass ahead and a hundred more Thegns rose up to face the astonished duo.

    Unable to stop their charge Anders and Henning pitched into the English mass. They were last seen with their spears broken, whirling their axes amidst dozens of enemy warriors, while the men of Sven Sigaardsen looked on amazed and admiring.

    It is little wonder that every boast the two heroes had ever made now went verbatim straight into the Sagas, carried by the unstoppable force of eye-witness testimony from fifty hung-over Vikings.
    Last edited by molls; March 03, 2009 at 05:16 AM.
    imb39 ...is my daddy!
    See AARtistry in action: Spite of Severus and Severus the God

    Support the MAARC!
    Tale of the Week Needs You!


Posting Permissions

  • You may not post new threads
  • You may not post replies
  • You may not post attachments
  • You may not edit your posts
  •