canis
|
|
The Darkknight (no not batman) Cronicles... (otherwise known as violence, without a spellchecker)
| 
Feb 27 05:30 UTC 1995 |
Okay here goes... very graphic, but constructive critism is asked for...
(and this isn't as bad as it will be when I'm done... <SIGH>)
Semilong, as well
Title: The Black Knight. (this title has been done to death, but then
again so has the story <G>)
He is pale, with deep blue eyes and coal black hair.
His black armor conceals him from the world.
Keeping him lost,
lost in memories.
Memories of when he was a knight.
A knight.
He was a knight... once.
He was a knight until, they came.
His brother knights, His commander
His king.
They came and killed.
Not one, or two, but all.
They came and complete destruction followed.
Killed his mother, father, sister, brother.
Raped his wife, beat his daughter,
killed his unborn child.
Led his son to a slaughter.
Burned his village to ashes.
Ashes.
Ashes and memories, they were all he had left.
Ashes, memories, and enemies, all he had left.
Exiled, and out cast, he rode onward.
Onward to exact his revenge,
To exact the debt that socity owed him
To exact the debt that could never be paid.
Onward to the village of his enemy.
He rode swiftly, and silently on his black horse,
through the black of night.
Killing all who stood in his way.
A little girl standing in the road.
A girl no more than 6 years old, alone, frightened,
helpless.
He rides down on her, just as they rode down his
daughter.
Her crys, giving him a grim pleasure,
a wicked pleasure.
His face breifly flashes a grin of wolfish evil,
and then returns to a look of solid
determination.
He rides still toward the village of his enemies
Killing who he wants, when he wants, where he wants.
Death was the edge of his sword,
for all who stood before him.
Powerful and unstoppable.
Freely, confined, in a wild, courtesy.
At last he reaches the village.
A single knight, is there waiting for him.
A knight bearing the mark of the wolf,
a knight of his order.
He laughs and closes his visor,
signaling to the other he is ready.
At once he charges the knight.
The knight who is as powerless as the little girl.
He charges, and with a clean swipe
he removes the head of the knight.
He turns and charges the knights body and that of his horse
trampling them.
Quickly he dismounts and removes his armor,
revealing a chainmail shirt and leather vest.
He then grabs a near by tourch and lights the nearest building.
A small dwelling, it catches fire at once,
and the heat and smoke comfort him.
At once the villagers rush out to see what has happened
Quickly they grab there crude weapons,
and rush him.
Instantly the age old training he has had comes to mind,
and with but a few swipes he slaughters them all.
Killing those who stood against him
and those who hid in the shadows.
No one esacped.
Houses burned and women and children came out,
killing the young boys, instantly.
Killing the young girls and raping the women as he killed them.
As they had killed and raped his wife and sister,
and all the women in his village.
Blood from the bodies of his enemies covered him.
Screams from the dead and dying met his ears,
bringing him the cruel pleasure,
that he alone could appreacite.
Quckly he found the ones still screaming and killed them
ruthlessly and systematicly.
Snarling and growling more of a beast then a man,
he howled.
Howled with a rage, as if seeing for the first time what he had done.
Then the madness returned and he called to his horse,
he rode down those still struggling in the black night
None survived.
By Graywolf
well tell me what you think.... thanks...
<Canis/Graywolf closes the door behind him silently...>
Alas the spelling is way off... but I think you've found that out.
It lies somewhere between a poem and a story...
Later.
|