It's time to critique me!

Run_The_Shadows · 2004-01-22T10:52:09

I just wrote this at 2:00AM in the morning in about 20 minutes, it seems decent enough, but I''m wondering whether I should actually try to ''explore'' this world a bit more and see if I can cook up a design out of it. There hasn''t been a flyer in the scorched sky in over a generation. The forests left our fathers''s fathers''s fathers''s to a degree not recalled and now charred stumps are all we have to remember the great green trees by. Our world lives in sunset, the sky a constant fire reminding us of our payment for past sins. What is it, the great survivor-prophets ask of the newborns, that makes us so evil. Why is it that we alone are here, in this place, what did we do that the mighty Hell-Shaper himself took vengeance upon us and gave us this purpose. The wombs of the childrenbearing are growing ever barren and the strength is sapped from even the strongest of the enclave-fathers. Our homelands are a graveyard, both of our heritage and our world. The great ruins surround us as we huddle in our enclaves, frightened like children being told stories of the endless wanderers. The truly cursed amongst us. They have searched this world wide to find life again, and returned generation after generation with stories of but other enclaves huddled and hoping for else. They stay long enough to tell stories of what abominations they have seen, what this world has shaped men into, then leave in the dark of night to continue their penetant hunt, taking with them the eldest of us as the only charitable act they know; Saving us from watching our once-great hunters and childbearers fall to illness and the rot. It takes your long manes first, to take your pride; And as your self crumbles without the pride, your body no longer holds it''s strength, falling to wasting disease and live decay. The wanderers never appear with elders, they always leave with them. The seasons have deserted us to time, and we no longer know when we are. The skyburning is and shall always be, as it always has been. The eldest amongst us cannot remember an elder tell of even a tale of an elder''s elder who knew when last saw anything but the brimstone horizon. The deepest of the great ruins are home, the towers of earth and steel protecting us and reminding us that once we were better. The wanderers find relics in their travels and bring them to us in trade for our newbred. They repair the lifesuits that support us so that we might give them more in their quest. And we do, there are always more young to be given so long as we are alive. What is living, the survivor-prophets teach, but repayment for a servitude that we inherited. The contract was that of our heritage and the contract is thus ours. We maintain our contract, the survivor-prophets teach, by maintaining our enclaves so that the wanderers can maintain theirs through the Search. One day, it is foretold in the ancient books long gone dust, the green shall come again and the sky will be as sapphire; then only will our duty be done and our obligation be ended. - It''s a life''s work :Image Hosting @ $5/3 Months :30Gig/month bandwidth Reseller Plan @ $40/3 Month Generic WebHost: The Cheapest Hosting Around! -ryan@lecherousjester.com

Writing for Games Game Design

Started by Run_The_Shadows January 13, 2004 03:35 AM

10 comments, last by Run_The_Shadows 20 years, 2 months ago

dcosborn

674

January 19, 2004 02:02 AM

The first 2 "fathers''s" are right, but the last "fathers''s" doesn''t possess anything so it should just be "fathers". ...Assuming I''m not missing something.

Anonymous

January 22, 2004 10:52 AM

Looks Dune-ish.

It's time to critique me!

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It's time to critique me!

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