New Installment of OG fan fiction, Sept.8

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kehaar
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New Installment of OG fan fiction, Sept.8

Post by kehaar » Tue Aug 18, 2009 7:25 am

SEPTEMBER 8TH BITS AT THE END, AS OF SEPT 8TH

EDIT: New, Improved, and revised according to the most excellent advice of Kestril, Ragdollmaster and Nuky(see posts below). Also, I changed some of the fight choreography 'cause of an OCD problem I have. Let me know what you think.

building on a prologue I wrote in the spf forum, but this is more OG fan fiction than a game-plot outline, so here it lands.


The Cat Princess.

In her youth, she had been very vain. Self involved and stubborn, she had a very high opinion of herself, and was supported in this by most people she met, for she was very intelligent and very beautiful.

Her father was a Patriarch, a powerful and wealthy man. She struggled from the time she was small against his scornful attitude and callous rule. She hated the way he treated her mother, as though her mother were a barely tolerated servant, and she grew to despise her mother for letting him do it.

Her rebellion against her father drove her to the taverns to drink and into the arms of a succession of lovers. Some of them treated her badly, sometimes they'd even beat her. She never stayed long. Some were more kind, but after awhile she'd lose interest anyway and find herself back in the taverns.

When she first met Turner she was drunk.

She had never seen him in the pub before. He sat quietly at the end of the bar in the shadows with his back to the wall. He was an ordinary rabbit, light brown, not quite her father's age. His clothes were patched and thin from wear, but they looked clean. There wasn't anything remarkable about him, except maybe the way he watched the room. Something about his eyes just made her look at him for a moment before she turned her attention back to her friends.

The local rowdies were a gang of burly cats, dogs, rabbits and rats who worked at the docks. They were already half lit, shouting above the din of the terrible band. Some of the drunkest attempted to dance. They staggered across the floor into the drinkers at the bar, and suddenly there were curses, then shoving, and blows.

Soon everyone in the bar was fighting or drunkenly trying to stay out of the way. The band scattered from the low stage, and the room filled with the sound of grunting, shouting and breaking crockery. The cat princess was just alert enough to be afraid. She skittered from the crowd to the back wall, crouching down to make herself smaller.

The quiet rabbit looked at her, but didn't get up. He sat on the edge of his stool and watched the tide of struggling men and women with interest. A bottle flew out of the crowd and the rabbit reached out and pushed the princess a foot's width away from him, holding her shoulder as she staggered. The bottle exploded on the wall between their heads, covering them both with beer and bits of clay.

"All right?" He leaned toward her and shouted over the noise. "I'm Turner."
She stared blearily at him, and he glanced at her and raised a momentary smiling eyebrow before turning his attention back to the room.

Something in the sound of the fight had changed. Half the crowd that had been drunkenly brawling had managed to escape the bar into the street, and those that were left seemed to be fighting in earnest.

A large black dog shot out of the scuffle toward the wall where the princess was cowering. She shrieked and ducked as he staggered in, flailing his arms and taking giant overbalanced steps. Turner stood and stepped forward, guiding the big dog a little to the side as if he were steering a boat. The dog just managed to get his paws up in time to take the shock as he collided with the wall beside the crouching princess.

The big dog reeled back from the wall and looked at Turner as if expecting a further attack, but Turner merely nodded a friendly greeting and waited. The dog looked at him and the cat for a confused moment, then nodded his own shaggy head and charged back into the crowd.

Now the fight was less a free-for-all and more like a serious battle between two gangs. A cat and the one remaining rat went down, and then it was one last gray cat and the black dog against four. A big brown rabbit in a silk shirt caught the grey cat in the ribs with a knee, and the cat went to the floor clutching her sides and retching a fine spray of blood. Another big rabbit got a fistful of the black dog's fur and pulled him off balance. An orange cat swiped a viscious overhand paw that cut across the dog's left eye and tore a great flap out of his ear.

The big dog screamed in pain and thrashed wildly, digging his elbow into the ribs of the rabbit who held him and smashing a fist into the side of the orange cat's head. The cat fell to the floor like a sack, and a white dog with bloodstained fur stepped in and stomped his foot into the black dog's stomach. The black dog folded and covered up, trying to protect his head from the fists that rained from all sides. Blinded by the blood in his eyes, he could only get his back to the bar, and now the two big rabbits started in with their feet.

The cat princess stared, sober now as the morning, and screamed as the rabbit in the silk shirt pinned the dog to the bar and pulled a long, thin bladed knife from his belt.

Turner was already moving. He trapped the knife hand before it could draw back for the blow and lashed his left foot into the back of the rabbit's knee. The back of big rabbit's head banged into the floor as if his feet were a hinge. Turner ducked as the white dog threw an arcing left fist. He stepped forward, parried a jabbing right and punched the dog in the eye with the butt of the captured knife.

The white dog staggered back and the remaining rabbit stepped in and kicked hard. Turner twisted and the powerful foot grazed past his ribs. Before the big rabbit could pull his leg back, Turner caught him by the ankle. He stepped forward and hooked his own foot behind the bigger rabbit's as he punched upward, the knife handle flat across the heel of his palm. The hardwood grip cracked into the big rabbit's nose, sending him back and down where his own head bounced off the blood soaked wood floor.

Moments before the tavern had been a surging mob and an uproar of sound. Now it was nearly empty, and hushed except for the panting of the injured dogs.

The white dog, his face wet with blood and tears, hunched a few paces away near the door to the street. Hands up to protect himself, he flinched and tried to keep his good eye on the knife in the Turner's hand. The cat princess crouched in the corner, eyes wide with fear. The black dog sat on the floor against the bar, wheezing and holding the cut on his eye, small bubbles of blood foaming his nostrils with each breath.

Turner stood still, looking over the long knife at the white dog. One of the rabbits on the floor groaned, and he glanced around. The floor was littered with sprawled bodies, broken jars and chairs, the blood in pools and spatters soaked into the splintery boards of the floor.

He looked back up at the white dog and nodded toward the open door. The dog didn't need to be told. He took a last look at his friends and left, vanishing into the crowd that was starting to gather in the street. Most of the drunken brawlers had gone, not wanting to be around when the constables arrived. Those that remained were asking each other what happened and trying to get a look inside the door without getting too near.

Turner dropped the knife into the trash bin behind the bar and looked closely at each of the groaning fighters. They all seemed to be still breathing well enough. He checked for signs of head injury, pulling back the eyelids of the two big rabbits and the orange cat. They'd recover. The rat was sitting up. The grey cat lay on her side, holding her ribs and squinting at him in pain.

The cat princess watched him from where she knelt by the black dog.

The dog looked at Turner with his good eye.

"You better take off before the constables get here," he wheezed.
"Don't you kill these fools after I go," Turner said.
"I won't."
"Better get out of here yourself. Can you walk?"
"I can walk."

Turner looked at the cat princess. She was standing now, the knees of her dress soaked with blood.
"I have to go."
"Alright," she said. "I'm here sometimes."
He nodded and walked toward the back of the tavern. When he looked back, she was still looking at him, and she was still looking after him as the door closed and he was gone.


...
Last edited by kehaar on Thu Sep 10, 2009 3:43 am, edited 6 times in total.

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Sandurz
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Re: New OG Fan Fiction

Post by Sandurz » Tue Aug 18, 2009 8:05 pm

Randy baby!

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kehaar
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Re: New OG Fan Fiction

Post by kehaar » Tue Aug 18, 2009 8:43 pm

um... huh?

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Kestril
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Re: New OG Fan Fiction

Post by Kestril » Wed Aug 19, 2009 1:11 am

Yay! Honest feedback time!

Before I turn into a Simon Cowl from American Idol, I'm just going to congratulate you for sitting down to write this out. It takes a lot of thought, and even more bravery to post it online.

Nitpick time:

You use linking verbs way too much. They make the writing bland and uninteresting. To fix this, slash as many linking verbs (was, is, has ext. . ) and try replacing them with something active. This active verb conveys more imagery to the scene, engaging us into your writing. Using a linking verb, however, forces you to fill the page with more words, often meaningless and clutter.

Examples:
Her rebellion against her father's wishes was the very thing that drove her to the taverns to drink and into the arms of a succession of lovers
Fixed:
Her rebellion against her father's wishes drove her to the taverns to drink and into the arms of a succession of lovers.
The band scattered from the low stage, and the room was filled with the sound of grunting, shouting, and breaking crockery
Fixed:
The band scattered from the low stage, and the room filled with the sound of grunting, shouting, and breaking crockery. (eliminating ONE three letter word deepens the sentence, as well as opening up opportunities for an adverb. i.e. quickly filled with the sound, or suddenly filled with the sound. Heck, you could strike 'the' from the sentence)
A large black dog was propelled from the scuffle toward the wall where the princess was cowering.
Fixed: A large black dog propelled from the scuffle toward the wall where the princess cowered.
(When fixing, 'propelled isn't the idea verb choice, more like 'shot out' or 'emerged')
Now the fight was looking less like a free-for-all and more like a serious battle between two gangs.
Fixed: The fight looked less like a free-for-you get it by now, right?

Problem No. 2:
Too many commas dangit! Periods are great too! use them! Too many commas drag the sentence on, and slow down the flow, causing problems in high-action sequences.
Example:
The dog, reeling back from the wall, looked at him as if expecting a further attack, but Turner merely nodded a friendly greeting and waited. Confused, the big dog just looked at him and the cat, then nodded his own head and charged back into the crowd.
Fixed:
The dog reeled back from the wall and looked at Turner as if expecting a further attack, but Turner merely nodded a friendly greeting and waited.
(By subordinating (offsetting with commas) the 'reeling back from the wall' you take it away from the focus of the sentence, adding a complex structure that is hard for the reader to follow.)

That brings me to my next point: Adding the 'ing' to a verb creates a noun-like phrase, and if it's not the main phrase of the sentence, it's not going to leave much of an effect than if it stood on it's own.
Example:
Turner was already moving, trapping the knife hand before it could draw back for the blow, lashing his left foot into the back of the rabbit's knee.
Fixed:
Turner was already moving. He trapped the knife hand before it could draw back for the blow. Then, he lashed his left foot into the back of the rabbit's knee.

I don't mean to discourage you at all, but if you don't see what you can't improve on: you can't improve.

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Re: New OG Fan Fiction

Post by Ragdollmaster » Wed Aug 19, 2009 9:44 am

^Yup

If you're writing in third-person, use past tense :)

I think if I do another fan fic I'll go outside the realm of anthropomorphic furries on Lugaru. I'm trying to think of an original idea/setting atm. [/offtopicegotisticannouncement]

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kehaar
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Re: New OG Fan Fiction

Post by kehaar » Wed Aug 19, 2009 12:29 pm

Wow! Kestril, you are really good at this!
Absolutely bang-on right.
I'll re-edit later, though. Gotta go to work.

And Ragdollmaster, also right. That is pretty distracting.

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Re: New OG Fan Fiction

Post by Nuky » Thu Aug 20, 2009 1:30 am

First of all,
Grats on posting this, Kehaar! It was a pretty fun read. =)
Pretty darn fun read, indeed. 8)


Oh, and ...
Kestril wrote:<...> as well as opening up opportunities for an adverb. i.e. quickly filled with the sound, or suddenly filled with the sound. Heck, you could strike 'the' from the sentence <...>
... which I advice against! ;D -ly-verbs are horrible storytellers. Alternative sentence structures are almost always a better choice than going all -ly on the poor thing. Almost. Shouldn't stop you from using some where necessary, though. =)

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agarrett
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Re: New OG Fan Fiction

Post by agarrett » Thu Aug 20, 2009 10:21 pm

The traveler

His name was Doshi. He was a simple cat with a simple life. That is until he stumbled across the city. He was attracted to it after he heard a fight had gone down in the taverns and some unknown rabbit had taken on multiple opponents and won. When he entered the city he asked where the tavern was and he was directed down the street. As he walked into the tavern he saw the place was still in shambles, like no one bothered to clean it up. As he walked around he saw dried blood on the floors and on the walls. Little pieces of clay cracked under his foot. He became bored with his surroundings and left. When he walked out the door he ran into a royally dressed cat and he knew this was the princess from the way she walked and how she was dressed. He bowed deeply as he passed and continued onward. He wondered why the princess would be attracted to such a place as that tavern...

The next day he decided to stay for a little while. The raiders were gone, but those who survived turned into to thieves, and he was tired of looking behind his shoulder all the time. But to stay he needed money, and to get money he had to get a job. He looked around but with no prevail, there were no jobs available. Once a large black dog overheard him asking someone if they knew where a job was. After the peasant said there was nothing he heard of, the dog approached him. "Are you looking to make some money." "Yes" He replied "Do you know of one?" The dog considered something for a moment and said, "A job is available with us. Are you interested?" "What type of job?" Doshi asked. "We are a gang." "I'm afraid that isn't exactly what I was looking for, but there seems to be no job around and I need money. I need a little while to decide." The dog answered, "I understand, I'll be here at the same time next sun." Doshi turned and left to his apartment.

Next sun he had made his choice, he would join the gang. He returned to the spot he had been last sun and came up to the black dog. "I agree to join your gang." The dog smiled and the left to a warehouse. As they came in several more came in out of no where and the dog explained that he would join the gang. A rat came forward that looked like the leader. "He must past a test. I think that killing the brown rabbit that interfered at the tavern would suffice." "NO!" The dog shouted in protest. "Silence him!" The leader shouted. Immediately two dogs jumped forward and dragged the dog into the darkness. "So, do you accept?" Doshi nodded and the rat continued. "You will find him at the docks, where he goes every night. Keep into the shadows." Doshi ran out the door and to the docks. He was excited that he would finally fight this "great champion". As he continued onward he saw a lone silhouette in the darkness.

He walked forward and the rabbit turned around. "Hello, what are you doing out this late at night?"
Doshi came closer and replied, "Your nothing special, it will be almost to easy to kill you." The rabbit turned his head and said, "Please don't do this to yourself, I'm tired of killing innocent lives." "Who are you? Why do you speak so boldly?" Doshi asked. "I'm Turner, and I've had my revenge on the raiders who killed my family, I just wish to be left alone." Something the rabbit had said made Doshi stop and say, "I don't know what to do... Should I risk my life? Or should I just walk away?" Turner replied, "Just walk away, find a more peaceful life then I have. Doshi hesitated, then nodded. He turned away and walked out of the city, he didn't know that the rabbit, the princess, and the gang, were more closely related then he thought.

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Kestril
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Re: New OG Fan Fiction

Post by Kestril » Fri Aug 21, 2009 9:51 pm

Nuky wrote:First of all,
Grats on posting this, Kehaar! It was a pretty fun read. =)
Pretty darn fun read, indeed. 8)


Oh, and ...
Kestril wrote:<...> as well as opening up opportunities for an adverb. i.e. quickly filled with the sound, or suddenly filled with the sound. Heck, you could strike 'the' from the sentence <...>
... which I advice against! ;D -ly-verbs are horrible storytellers. Alternative sentence structures are almost always a better choice than going all -ly on the poor thing. Almost. Shouldn't stop you from using some where necessary, though. =)
Hey, I said opened up opportunites not to stuff filler in there. Whatever structure, words, retoric and whatever, just keep in mind that the verbs bear the most weight when it comes to providing a sentence. Adverbs can definitally clutter, but it doesn't hurt to have a well-placed one here and there.

Just defending my point. I'm cranking out the schoolwork right now, and admit I have been negleting the fan fic. I'll, uh, get to it I suppose, eventually.

@agarrett:
I think you hijacked this thread, buddy. Keep in mind, this is a fan fiction, not a roleplay, so, erm, don't steal Kehaar's thunder. Fan fics: Get your own thread.

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Re: New OG Fan Fiction

Post by Pyrokwah » Fri Aug 21, 2009 11:37 pm

Yea, this isn't exactly your thread, but nice try. From a constructive criticism view, it for some reason, it didn't seem as attractive and pleasurable to read as the original piece. I think that you lacked adj.'s where appropriate and forced them where they didn't belong. Also, in the first paragraph, you used the word "like", where I feel that the correct term would have been "as if", as it sounds more simple and old timey, untouched by technology such as the computer I am writing this on haha.

Also, here :
The next day he decided to stay for a little while. The raiders were gone, but those who survived turned into to thieves, and he was tired of looking behind his shoulder all the time. But to stay he needed money, and to get money he had to get a job.
You only state that he want's to stay, and then state two reasons why this is a bad decision, without providing an overiding positive. Imo, it should have been writen,:

After staying a night in that very tavern, he decided he would settle in this town for a few weeks. It would require money, and raiders and thieves were a constant and deadly problem, but even all the raiders in the world would keep him from meeting that legendary rabbit.

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agarrett
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Re: New OG Fan Fiction

Post by agarrett » Fri Aug 21, 2009 11:45 pm

I'm sorry for hijacking this thread, I thought it was a public thing. Anyways, I'm in 7th grade and I didn't spend much time on this piece. Thanks for the advice though. :)

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Re: New OG Fan Fiction

Post by Pyrokwah » Fri Aug 21, 2009 11:58 pm

No problem, you didn't know, so it's okay (as far as I know haha).

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kehaar
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Re: New OG Fan Fiction

Post by kehaar » Tue Aug 25, 2009 1:21 am

agarrett wrote:I'm sorry for hijacking this thread, I thought it was a public thing. Anyways, I'm in 7th grade and I didn't spend much time on this piece. Thanks for the advice though. :)
Meh, don't worry about it. Glad you thought the story was worth adding to.

Keep writing!

Moar soon.
:D

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Re: New Installment of OG fan fission, Sept.8

Post by kehaar » Tue Sep 08, 2009 10:56 pm

warning: Some maiming and killing. :D let me know what you think!

He should have stayed on the road.

The tall grass whipped his face and caught at his legs as he ran.

Ishi kept out of sight below the ridge and sprinted for the rocks.

He could hear two of them crashing through the bracken below him, cutting him off from the valley and cover. One might still be on the road that paralleled the ridge on the other side, and one was right behind him, tracking him even at a run. He risked a look back but there was nothing. His breath was getting ragged. There was no way he was going to outrun them.

The rocks were close, just seconds away. Ishi's foot hooked on a bramble and he was down, rolling, back on his feet running again coughing out bits of grass and his heart crashing against his ribs.

He was in the rocks now, great slabs and lumps of granite jumbled on the ridge above the road. The dry wind from the valley to his right brought the sound of the chasers below him; Ishi could hear them coming up the slope. The rocks would not hide him, but they looked like an ambush, and that was all he was going to get.

Shouts behind him whipped his head around. Both of the following dogs were on his side of the ridge now. He couldn't see them, but the thrashing grass showed they were running straight toward him, maybe two minutes away.

Ishi swore and struggled out of his sweat-soaked shirt. He clamped his teeth against his panic and forced himself to search the boulders.

There. A gap at the base of two rocks the size of wagons, just big enough for his arm. Ishi jammed the shirt down into the crack as far as he could reach and pushed it a few inches deeper with a stick. He squinted into the hole; the shirt was out of sight.

"Parse that, you fleabags," he muttered as he scrambled over the rocks toward the road.

He looked back up the sandy track and saw no one. He could hear the dogs from the valley behind him and now he could smell them on the dusty breeze.

Ishi crouched on a house-high boulder above the road. The ground sloped away steeply on the far side, too steep to see any sort of landing. He glanced at the sun. In minutes it would be behind the ridge, throwing the canyons into shadow.

Ishi nodded toward the sun and murmured, "Please no rocks, Sun. Please grass, or bushes," and then he jumped as hard as he could.

He jumped straight out, keeping low and stretching out like a swimmer off a block. No point in height, he thought. It's not the drop that kills you, it's the sudden stop at the bottom.

He cleared the road and the ground dropped away, not a cliff but near enough.

A white panic seized him. He had chanced it and now he was going to die. Or break a lot of bones, which meant the same thing. He cursed the dogs through his teeth. The wind whistled in his ears and brought tears that he tried to blink away. Sparse clumps of grass and bushes flew beneath his feet as he fell, and the ground fell with him.

The slope was closer all of a sudden and Ishi braced. Don’t even try to stop, he thought. His feet glanced off the dirt, bouncing him back into the air. Another long drop, three houses high, four, another impact and jump.

Clump grass and manzanita raced below him. He could see the first trees coming right up and suddenly there were rocks, a pile of them, boulders and bushes. Ishi clamped his panic down and focused all his attention on his next jump.

“I choose the line!” he thought. He slapped his feet down at an angle to the slope, springing a little to the right, a lower arc that sent him toward the side of the biggest boulder in his way. Another glancing kick on the wall of the boulder’s side and he was over the first rocks, a quick light step on the top of another and he was back over grass and dirt.

He was moving much slower now, at an angle to the slope of the hill, and he hissed out a laugh of exhilaration. Made it!

His feet hit a tuft of thick grass and slipped from under him, slamming him onto his side and knocking the air out of his lungs. He bounced and tumbled, somersaulting in a shower of gravel.

Ishi slid to a stop another thirty paces down the hill. He was on his back, his head down the steep slope and his feet above. His mouth was full of dirt and blood and his shoulder was wedged against something sharp.

For a heartbeat or two he lay stunned, staring at the silhouettes of the tree tops against the empty sky. Then fresh panic slammed his heart: if they heard him crash they were already coming, and he was going to die.

He twisted and tried to get his feet below him. Every movement brought a new spike of pain, but he couldn’t do anything about it. He had to get up. Finally he struggled to his knees and froze to listen. He looked up the long slope toward the road but couldn’t see anything. He had come an unbelievable way down the canyon, maybe eight hundred, a thousand paces. Some kind of idiot record, Ishi thought. He shook his head and winced.

He could hear faint shouting from the road far above. They must still be searching the rocks, he thought. They expect an ambush from me, so they’re being careful. Stupid, too. If they’d shut their fat yaps they might have heard him land down in the canyon— their ears were probably even better than his, and he’d made a racket rolling down the hill.

He was down wind, though. The dry breeze that brought their yells to him would have carried his own noise away.

Ishi stood up carefully. He hurt everywhere. His fur was matted with dust and blood and bits of grass. He peered up the slope as he tested his arms and legs. No bones broken at least. His money was still in his pocket; his sling was still wrapped around his waist. His lip was torn, but no teeth were loose. His left foot hurt, it felt twisted, so that was going to be the end of any more running.

There was no one in sight up at the road, a good sign for the moment. Soon they’d figure out he wasn’t in the rocks and they’d fan out to hunt again. They would know he hadn’t gone toward the valley; it was the way they’d come up. They’d have to check the road in both directions, and they’d have to send someone down into his canyon. Time to move.

Ishi turned and padded down the hill toward the trees. His foot was really hurting. He concentrated on the ground; even limping he could move through the grass without noise.

More yelling from behind him. He stopped and looked up the slope. A dog was already starting to scramble down from the road! Ishi could see the dog craning his neck, peering down into the canyon. The sun had gone behind the ridge, throwing him into shadow, but Ishi froze where he stood.

The dog paused a few paces down the slope and turned to argue with someone above him on the road. Ishi couldn’t make out any words, but he could guess how the conversation was going by the pitch of the voices.

Don’t come down, don’t come down, Ishi thought. The dog turned and began to scramble down the slope again.

Ishi hissed between his teeth, hunching low and running back up the hill as fast and quiet as he could go.

There was no way he could fight a big dog, even uninjured. His only hope to gain time was some kind of ambush. Once the dog got down the slope to where he had fallen, that was it. His blood was all over the ground and grass; the dog would yell for his friends and Ishi wouldn’t have a chance. He untied his sling as he ran, and scanned the ground for good rocks.

Ishi kept a close eye on the dog’s progress as he climbed. The dog was having trouble on the steep upper slope. He was badly balanced, carrying a heavy stick in one hand and trying to use the other to help his descent. He slipped once and slid down the hill on his back, bouncing and cursing. Ishi ran, keeping low when the dog was picking his way, and then freezing in his tracks whenever the dog paused to sniff the air and squint down into the dim canyon.

Ishi crouched at the edge of the boulders. He clutched the leather straps of the sling and a good round stone the size of his fist and watched through the grass.

Now the dog was traversing the slope, angling away from his hiding place. From where he hid, Ishi could see the dog was headed for the site of his crash landing on the other side of the rocks. The dog kept a cautious eye on the rocks and angled farther away. He was about two hundred steps above Ishi now, and Ishi saw that the stick was actually a glaive, a heavy blade as long as a forearm lashed to a wood handle about twice that. The dog used the weapon as a cane, sticking it blade down into the slope to help him balance.

He was almost level with Ishi when Ishi recognized him. He was a farmer from the village. Ishi remembered him from market days as a large, dull witted man who resembled the potatoes he grew, a distant cousin of one of Ishi’s friends. Not a soldier, not even a hunter. Strong, though, and any noise he raised would bring the other three dogs down.

The big farmer paused and squinted around, sniffing and panting. Ishi clutched the cords of his sling and held still. The farmer pulled the glaive blade from the dirt and sidestepped down the slope. Ishi could hear him muttering as he went, complaining about being sent all the way down into the damned canyon for nothing. In another minute the farmer would smell the blood in the grass.

Ishi stood and loaded the rock into the sling’s pouch.

He stepped between clump grass after the farmer, silently closing the distance between them. Forty paces, now thirty five, now thirty. The farmer paused for breath and Ishi froze in the middle of his step. His heart was pounding so loud in his own ears he thought the dog might hear it, and he trembled with the effort of holding still. The farmer sniffed the air and sneezed, then started again.

“Like a deer,” Ishi whispered in his mind. “Calm… I am the hunter.”

He stared at the back of the shaggy brown head. “One arrow, one target.”

He stepped forward and whipped the sling in a smooth arc.

The farmer heard the whirr of the leather thongs and froze for an instant. He started to dodge, flinching to the side, but the rock hit the back of his skull with a crack. He pitched forward like a felled tree, the glaive still clutched in his hand.

Ishi was running almost as soon as he released the rock. He snatched up the glaive and pressed its blade to the farmer’s neck.

The dog didn’t move. He lay as he fell, mouth open, tongue lolling in the dirt.

Ishi bent close to look, holding the wide blade to the shaggy throat. The dog was face down in the dirt. His eyes were half open, staring at nothing. Ishi could hear his breath, ragged and shallow. Dark blood soaked the fur on the back of the farmer’s head.

Ishi looked up the long slope toward the road. He couldn’t hear any yelling or see anyone climbing down. The wind still flowed toward him from the ridge, so the chasers might not have heard.

“I let you live, you’ll follow me,” Ishi muttered. He pressed the iron blade into the fur of the farmer’s neck. The dog didn’t move.

“Damn stupid fat farmer!” Ishi hissed.

He put the glaive on the ground and yanked the dog’s limp hands behind its back. He wrapped the farmer’s thick wrists tight with his sling. The big dog had on a rough tunic and pants held up by a belt of knotted twine. Ishi jammed a stick sideways into the dog’s mouth like a bit and tied it in place with the twine. He wrapped it around the big head and muzzle, clamping the stick between the farmer’s jaws. “Yeah, I hope that hurts, you idiot,” Ishi muttered as he pulled the knot tight. The farmer’s breath whistled feebly through his teeth where the stick forced them open.

Ishi stood and scanned the hillside again. Still quiet, but it wasn’t going to last.

He knelt in the dirt and lifted the unconscious dog as quietly as he could manage. He got the limp torso high enough to get his shoulder beneath it and stood up, the dog draped over him like heavy sack.

Ishi staggered under the farmer’s weight and barely kept from falling. His breath rasped between his teeth. He started down the slope for the trees, trying to make as little sound as he could. His ankle hurt terribly.

How many minutes lost for this? Ishi staggered one step after another, forcing his attention to the placement of his feet while his heart pounded with returning panic.

At last he was in the trees. He made himself keep walking until he was many paces into the woods. When he began to fear his legs would give out, he leaned against a thick tree and let the farmer slide down it to the ground.

Ishi checked to see the farmer was still breathing and untied his hands. He pulled off the dog’s clothes and sat him up facing the tree trunk with his arms and legs wrapped around it, his face pressed sideways into the rough bark. Ishi tied the farmer’s hands with his pants. He tried to use the tunic to bind the farmer’s feet, but the best he could do was to tangle them in it, so he gave up.

The farmer was beginning to come around. He groaned softly around the gagging stick and squinched his eyes.

Ishi wrestled the dusty tunic loose and pulled it down over the farmer’s head, leaving it just loose enough to breathe through. He reached up under the tunic and grabbed a fist full of bloody fur, pushing the farmer’s head up against the tree.

He hissed loudly into the farmer’s ear, “Now we’re gonna wait right here. You move one muscle or try to warn your friends and I’m going to chop your head in half like a piece of kindling! You understand me?”

The farmer grunted around the gag and nodded his head as best he could.

Ishi stood and limped as quick as he could back up the hill to where he’d left the farmer’s glaive. He took one more look up the slope, but there was nothing to see.

He trotted back to where the farmer was tied. The farmer hadn’t moved. Ishi moved a short distance away along the contour of the slope until he could see a fairly clear path down hill through the woods. He didn’t try to be especially quiet, and he made sure to brush against a manzanita bush and scuffle a bit. He could see the dog, head covered by his shirt, not moving except for the rise and fall of his breathing.

Ishi stood still for a dozen heartbeats and then carefully began to step away down the hill into the forest. He turned no leaf on the ground and brushed no grass.

When he had gone thirty steps, he turned and tossed a pebble back toward the manzanita he had brushed, and at fifty he tossed another.

Well, that’s the best I got, he thought. He either knows I’m gone or I fooled him.

He fought down the urge to run. The light was dimming fast in his canyon, and the whisper of the wind through the leaves was the only sound.

When he was a hundred steps away, Ishi began to pick up his pace. He held the heavy glaive in one hand and the coiled sling in the other and focused all his attention on the ground at his feet.

The forest stayed thin, smallish oaks with dry grass between as he descended the slope. No cover here and the trees were too small to hide in, nothing to do but run again.

Ishi ran. He tried to land every step as quietly as he could, but he had lost so much time. His foot hurt horribly, the pain stabbed up his leg each time he put his weight on it. Soon he was limping no faster than a walk.

Looking up in the open spaces between the treetops, Ishi could see he was near the bottom of the canyon. The undergrowth was getting thicker, forcing him to pick his way. The already dim light in the shadows of the hills was turning to true darkness as the sun set.

A barking yell echoed from far up the slope above him. Ishi’s heart jumped in fresh panic as he scrambled through the thick brush. He smelled water, and then heard it, and suddenly he was out of the forest on the sandy edge of a fast, dark river.

Ishi turned about on the beach in fear and despair. He was a terrible swimmer. He limped to a downed tree that rested half in the water. If he could get it out into the current, he might be able to hang on to it and float far enough down river to try and run again, or even get to the other side.

He threw down the farmer’s glaive and his sling and tried to get his arms under the trunk. He heaved with all the strength he had left and moved the tree a hand's width down the beach. He tried again, and again, straining his back and legs, barely moving the heavy trunk. The water whispered and gurgled in the tree’s branches, mocking his efforts.

A crashing in the brush just downstream was the only warning he got. A big gray dog burst from the trees and skidded to a stop on the sand not twenty steps from him.

The dog panted and stared at him in the dim light. He was lean like a wolf, head and shoulders taller than Ishi. He wore a black tunic and pants and held a glaive like Ishi’s easily in one hand.

The dog looked from Ishi to the tree and snorted a laugh.

“What’s the matter, freak? Can’t swim?” the dog asked. He walked toward Ishi, casually rolling the glaive’s handle in his hand. The curved blade rotated, catching the last of the light on it’s polished iron edge.

Ishi crouched and grabbed for his own weapon as the dog stepped in. He snatched the wood handle along with the sling and handfuls of sand, desperately bringing the blade up to meet the dog’s whistling overhand swing.

Ishi tried to parry the whirling stroke with his own blade, but he was too slow. The big dog’s blade slid down his and chopped into his hand, hacking away his index finger in a spray of blood and bouncing free to bury itself in the tree trunk at their feet.

Ishi screamed and dropped his glaive in the sand. He sprang at the gray dog as the dog tried to yank out his blade.

Ishi clawed at the dog’s face and bit him, tumbling them both to the ground. Ishi wrapped his arms and legs around the thrashing dog and they rolled over and over in the sand.

Somehow Ishi was behind him, clinging with his arms around the muscular neck. The dog rolled on his back, pinning Ishi beneath him, driving the air from his lungs and trying to dig his elbows into Ishi’s ribs.

Ishi realized he was still holding the leather sling in one fist. He twisted his bleeding hand into the thong and yanked it tight around the flailing dog’s throat.

A white flash of pain exploded in Ishi’s eyes as the cord dug into his wounded hand. He wrapped his legs around the dog’s ribs and pulled his fists together with all his strength. The big dog fought to get a hand under the leather cord, but it was buried deep in the fur of his neck. He butted his head backward, clicking Ishi’s teeth together. Ishi clamped his teeth into the dog’s ear and pulled on the strangling cord with everything he had, one fist against the other.

The dog thrashed harder, flailing and clawing at Ishi’s face and hands. Ishi’s breath whistled between his teeth as he held on.
He could feel the dog weakening, scrabbling, trying to free something at his belt, a knife. He bit harder into the dog’s ear and kicked at the desperate hand, pulling as hard as he could on the straps of the sling.

The dog got his knife free and tried to stab over his shoulder at Ishi’s face, but he couldn’t seem swing it right. He tried again, but lost his grip and dropped it in the sand.

His hands clawed weakly at his neck for a few more moments and then he was still.

Ishi squeezed his hands together hard, the leather strap digging into his wound. The dead dog was limp on top of him. It stared up at the sky with bulging eyes, mouth agape and rimmed with blood and foam, its weight pressing him into the sand. Ishi held tight to the sling, his legs clamped, ankles hooked together around the dog’s ribs.

He shut his eyes and tried to get himself to relax his grip. His hands didn’t want to obey him at first, but after a while they let go. He didn’t have enough strength to roll the dog off. He gave up and lay still under it.



Ishi opened his eyes and looked up into the dark purple of the sky. He was still pinned on the sandy bank under the gray dog’s cooling body. The river sighed and muttered a few feet away.

The potato farmer stood looking down at him, the iron glaive in one big hand.

“You woulda got away if you’d of killed me,” he said. “Been a lot faster.”

The farmer looked out across the dark river and spat in the sand.

“I never wanted to come. He offered me a bunch of money,” pointing the glaive at the gray dog. “More’n I make in five years.

The water slid by, brown with silt beneath the blackness of the trees.

“I been a potato farmer since I was a pup.”

He tossed the glaive away into the dark. It landed with a ringing thud somewhere up the beach.

He bent down and rolled the dead dog off of Ishi and helped him sit up. He pulled Ishi up, almost lifting him, and set him on the tree at the water’s edge.

Ishi didn’t say anything. He watched the farmer in the dark. The farmer cut at the dead dog’s pants leg with the knife. He ripped long strips of fabric from the black trousers and threw the knife in the sand. He brought the strips over to where Ishi was sitting and made Ishi hold up his wounded hand.

“I seen worse,” he said looking at the stump of Ishi’s severed finger. With surprising care, he tied the strips of cotton around Ishi’s hand, binding the wound so it stopped bleeding. “Don’t wait on gettin’ that took care of.”

Ishi looked at his hand, then at the farmer.

“Thanks. I’m Ishi.”

The farmer turned and stared out over the river again. “I know who y’are. I seen you at the market, with my cousin.”

He sat down heavily on the sand.

“Shit," he said. He looked down at his hands. "I’m the one who told ‘em it was you.”

The river whispered in the dark.

After a bit, the farmer got up and went over to the dead dog. He pulled off the dog’s shirt and belt and picked up the knife and Ishi’s sling. He brought them over and helped Ishi stand up and get into the shirt. He tied the belt around Ishi’s waist and stuck the knife in its sheath. He looped the sling into a loose knot and hung it over Ishi’s shoulder.

Neither of them said anything. The farmer bent down and heaved at the beached tree trunk. He slid it into the river and stood in the water holding it, looking at Ishi.

Ishi said, “What about the other two? They’ll track you here.”

The farmer looked up at the woods and the unseen hillside above.

“I’ll deal with ‘em.”

Ishi waded into the water. The farmer helped him push the tree out into the faster current. Ishi hung on by a branch and let himself float when his feet lost touch with the gravel bottom. The farmer waded back toward the dark shore.

Ishi held his wounded hand out of the water as best he could and watched the farmer’s back, like a boulder in the last light until a bend in the river took him from view.



...


(more to come, as projects allow)
Last edited by kehaar on Fri Sep 11, 2009 4:20 pm, edited 2 times in total.

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agarrett
Posts: 70
Joined: Fri Sep 05, 2008 6:43 pm

Re: New Installment of OG fan fiction, Sept.8

Post by agarrett » Thu Sep 10, 2009 10:37 am

The cussing takes away from the story. When was the last time you've seen a knight swear?

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