Daggers in Smiles

**RoadKill** · 10-02-2007, 01:14

Hey, everyone first time posting, I've been reading some of the stories, and you could say I have been inspired to right my own. This is a prolouge to one of my stories, I want to see everyones opinion in it, to see what I have to change and what I'm doing thats good. Any type of feedback would be good. And if the feedback is good I guess I can continue the story.

Thanks.
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Rain trickled against his rough skin, then eventually clanking onto his steel armor. His stained rusted, dented armor. His fairly long, tangled, shining brown hair dangled down and stuck onto his, broad face, completely soaked. His plated fingers clanked around the handle of the sword. The hilt of the sword was made from pure gold, with spirals wrapping around it, giving the owner the perfect grip. The pommel of the sword was covered with shards of beautiful rubies, the guard of the sword decorated with fabulous riches. The edge of the sword as slick as a blade of grass, could skim through anything. Yet the owner has pushed it to its limit; the sword was dented, crisped, and stained with the lives of millions. Covered in dried blood and rust lay the words “All they that take the sword, shall perish with the sword”. The words were written beautifully, perfected by its creator.

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YEAR 1279

“MASTER!” a voice showered into the throne room, echoing through. A man dressed in armour, that was decorated with great detail, with trims of gold and silver seeming through every inch of the armour. He was clutching his helmet on his waist with his arms. He had a grave expression on his face, a grave, grave expression.

“KING! The enemy has reached the final wall of the citadel!, we have no were to run! No where to hide! Were doomed!”

The knights dressed in the same elegant armour as the king slowly and gravely looked to the servant on his knee. The servant trembling in fear of death.

“DAMN THEM TO HELL!” the knight screams, engraving his fist deep into the wooden table, almost snapping it. The king places his hands on the angered knight’s shoulders.

“Fear is not worthy in our ranks,” the kings voice, deep, with a soothing tone. “How many of our men are still worthy to fight?!” The servant stood up.

“We have a rank of noble spear militias, waiting at the last gate, to intercept the incoming forces.” The servant spurs out, “We have a remaining 47 archers at our walls, and a band of Noble Knights –

“And of course my 40 brave and worthy escorts,” The King grins saying his words with great wisdom.

“Sir! That will not be enough!” the servant shutters. “We have only been able to cut off half of their forces, while they have diminished our forces to one-forth! We will be crushed under their swords,”

The king looks towards one of his escort knights. “Grom,”
“Yes King?”
“Take my three sons, and wife, and leave.”
“What master? Leave?!” I can’t lord, “I will stay by your side to the very end!”
“Enough to disobey me!?” The king booms towards his knight.
“But lord –
“Go!”

It was then that the saddened knight, Grom, grabbed his oldest son by the hand pulling him away, with the other grabbing the empress, dragging them away. The empress held her baby son in her hands with the other hand grasping the second son. Sobbing, the empress and three songs forced to leave, and abandon the great King.

The King could not even bare to look, silently crying, he puts on his shining helmet. The other 39 knights placed on their helmets as well, knowing what their fate was going to be the very second. And so 40 brave men marched out of the throne room and onto the bloody battlefield.

“War does not determine who is right - only who is left.”

**Agent Miles** · 10-02-2007, 14:37

Good job! You have many typos that distract from the story, so you might want to clean those up. Carry on.

**RoadKill** · 10-03-2007, 00:50

In the middle of the forest, where no one would go, where no one would search, laid a small wooden housing. The house was supported in the bottom with bricks, the bricks were old and dirty, and can barely support everything all together. A tall oak tree, old and strong, strung above the cabin, shading over the cabin. Near the cabin, a slapping and crunching sound could be heard, it was the river near the cabin rushing down the mountain. Loud whining voices could be heard from the river.

“Oh come on!”

“Oh, just shut up, this is harder then you think!”

Lorenz, pushed his soaked brown hair over his head and out of his eyes. He had his brown trout pants rolled up to his thigh, and his brown tunic sleeves rolled up as well.

“You’re not getting out of the water till you get that fish!”

Lorenz replied, “Why am I doing this while, you munching on apples up there,”

The boy on the tree jumped off, chewing on an apple, then spitting the skin out.

“I’ll show you how to do it,” replied the boy, in a stuffy manner. He leaps off the hill and skids down to the river, jumping straight into the water. Lorenz watched curiously, with an eyebrow raised up.

“What are you -. Before Lorenz could finish his sentence, his brother rose from the water struggling with a large trout in between his armpits. It took a long while of wrestling till the brother could finally suffocate the fish.

“You were saying?” the boy said.

“You just got lucky Edwin!” Lorenz screeched at his older brother.

“You call THAT, lucky?!” Edwin emphasizes, “Don’t be ashamed you’ll be like me sooner or later,” Edwin laughed. Lorenz soon stomped away back to the cabin. Edwin then sprinted past him and ran in, cheering.

“Look mother! I caught a huge trout!” Edwin bragged.

“That’s wonderful,” their mother replied, very softly. Their mother, has grown old from the exhausting work to take care of her children. Wrinkles could be visible on her forehead, as her cheeks start to hang low. But above all that it is also very obvious that their mother was once a beautiful woman a noble would only marry.

A little blonde hair boy sprinted to the table, grinning immensely.

“Its huge!” the little boy cheered.
Edwin held the fish by its fin bragging to his little brother. “Don’t worry Charles, you’ll be just as strong,” He laughed.

“Mother, I tried as well, but – Lorenz stopped. He looked at his mother with a sad face, but yet his mother did not pay a spec of attention on Lorenz, he frowned and walked away.

He sat down on the huge oak tree, chewing on a piece of straw. It was weird. His older brother, Edwin, and his younger brother Charles, both had nice blonde hair, with beautiful blue eyes; while Lorenz had dark brown hair, and not-as-fashionable turquoise eyes. He always did wonder why he was so much more different then his brothers, and his mother. Lorenz also always wondered why his mother would give him a Greek name, while his two brothers had English name. Lorenz could only sit and wonder. He felt, out of place.

“I wonder when Grom is coming back, he promised to teach me to sword play,” Lorenz thought out loud.

Then suddenly the silence broke “Really?” Lorenz swung his head around, almost falling down the hill.

“Who are you!?” Lorenz panicked.

“Keep quiet you fool, or I will be forced to kill you,” the man said. The mysterious man was wearing a long red robe, hanging straight down to the floor, it was obvious he was hiding something heavy in it, knives probably, as it hung straight down dragging on the floor.

Lorenz couldn’t see his face as it was cloaked with the hood as well.

“Well, actually I’m going to have to kill you anyways,” the man laughed pulling a dagger out of his sleeve, raising it to strike. Lorenz could only stare, and wait for his fate.

“Too bad the traitor Grom won’t be here to save you!”. The man grunted and -

“DIE YOU ASSASIN SCUM!”

Lorenz saw the tip of a sword, punch into the man’s stomach. The dagger in his hands dropped down and rolled off the hill.

“Run Lorenz, run!”.

Lorenz quickly stumbled up and ran straight down the hill, he saw the dagger and fumbled with it putting it into his pocket. He dragged himself back up and ran.

Lorenz quickly took a peek back, a man dressed in armor, was the one that saved him. An armor that was trimmed with gold, and elegantly designed. It was Grom, he has finally come back.

**RoadKill** · 10-03-2007, 03:18

I see I am getting some views, please comment about the idea, becuase I know I have many flaws in it, but I need the readers to tell me whats wrong thanks.

**RoadKill** · 10-03-2007, 22:48

“Ahhhh!” Lorenz trips over a log, wiping out and crushing hard onto the ground. He grips his knee tightly at the bleeding pain. He sits there emotionless, trying to process what has just happened. He exhales and shakes his head a little.

“Who was that man?” Lorenz though to himself, “Why would he want to kill me – Lorenz stopped.

“EDWIN, CHARLES, MOTHER!” Lorenz bursts out forgetting that he was the only one that ran away. Lorenz panics.

“I have to go back and get them – Lorenz looks around, he has no idea which direction he came from, and how far he has ran. Lorenz takes a gulp and sits back down.

“GAH!” Lorenz trips back up. He looks at his arm, as blood started to gush out. He looked around, and saw that the dagger he stole with him, was on the floor, pinched with his blood. He picks it up and analyzes it.

“Δεν βρέθηκαν λέξεις,” Lorenz had no idea what language that was, but it looked familiar. He skimmed the symbols on the dagger with his fingers.

“I’ll take that back,” a hand clinched into his shoulders, with so much force Lorenz let out a scream of pain.

“Your one little nuisance of a brat, just like your father,” The man’s voice was deep and rough. Lorenz tries to turn around to look at his face, but the grip of the mans hand pulls him back forward, away from him.

“Because of you, my partner back their got slaughtered by that Escort Knight,” the stranger curses under his breathe, “but don’t worry, he’s safe…… IN HELL!” The man laughed like a maniac. He could hear the sound of steel rubbing against steel behind him, the stranger taking out his sword.

Lorenz vision slowly got blurred, he couldn’t help himself from crying.

“Crying ain’t gonna save you know,”

“ARGHHHHH!” Lorenz took the stolen dagger in his hand, swung it backwards with all his might. He could feel the flesh and blood pouring out onto the dagger, he has hit his enemy straight in the stomach.

The man was hooded like the previous attacker, but this time his face was visible, with the hood taken off. His head was completely shaven, he had a frizzy rough black beard. Lorenz felt disgusted at the sight of the deep scars and wounds all over his face, dementing it.

“You little pest!” The assassin tries to grab Lorenz with a bear hug, but Lorenz just manages to wriggle through.

Right there Lorenz saves his own life, he raises his foot up and nails him right in the crotch. The assassin falls to the floor clutching it. Lorenz broke for the run, he sprinted and sprinted and sprinted, like there was no tomorrow.