And so it was that in the four hundred thirty-first year of the Septim Era the Imperial Legion saw fit to capture the bandit king of the Alik’r Desert. Captain Desalius had heard the stories, most of them, anyway. His given name was Cyrus, after Cyrus the Restless, but all the desert folk and a few of the city-dwelling redguards called him Lobusu-alik’r, in the Yokudan tongue. Desalius didn’t know exactly how it translated into his own speech—indeed, it was unlikely that an exact translation existed—but he knew that it meant something like Wolf of the Eastern Sands, and perhaps more. The local merchant caravans simply called the fellow the Alik’r Raider.
For two and one-half years the Alik’r Raider had preyed upon the merchant caravans of western Hammerfell. At first he had struck only at night, his small cadre of bandits sweeping through merchant encampments as they rested along the road from Gilane to Hegathe. Seldom had anyone been killed or even injured in the raids, but the merchants paid dearly in lost gold, weapons, armor, and the more mundane trade goods. In recent months the raiding parties had grown larger and raids subsequently bolder—day or night, mercenary escort or not, the merchant caravans were besieged. Most surrendered right away. The few that fought never fought for long.
Desalius well remembered the last raid. Cyrus and his band, perhaps thirty strong, ambushed a party of diamond merchants where the road nearly overhangs Hunding Bay. The merchants did not resist, but when they reported the raid in Gilane the city guard endeavored to track the Wolf of the Eastern Sands.
It was a disaster.
That Cyrus’s trail vanished, obliterated by the wind, amidst the dune sea that is the southeast Alik’r was bad enough. This was typical and to be expected—no one had ever managed to track Cyrus and his band for very long.
But in the absence of the city guard, Gilane was left undefended. And somehow, Cyrus had known.
Desalius had seen it himself. He had just arrived in Gilane then, in the company of the new ambassador, a distant cousin of the countess of Anvil. They were riding outside the city gates—talking about the Wolf of the Eastern Sands, as fate would have it—when the raiders struck.
It was breathtaking. The bandits swept in from the desert like the high summer thunderheads, full of sound and fury and light. They were dressed in the old Yoku style of the Alik’r nomads, red flowing robes billowing in the wind, shouting, “Lobusu-alik’r et van-ehka! Cyrus is come!” over the thunder of their horses.
As they reached the stables the body of raiders split, one group seizing away the many horses kept by the merchants, another riding for the city gates. At the head of this second mass of riders was Cyrus. It had to be—he was riding a huge white stallion and wearing flowing red-orange robes the color of the Alik’r sand, tangled black hair blowing in the wind, a crescent-curved steel saber in hand, glowing like fire in the afternoon sun.
The bandits forced open the gates and the city was madness.
Naturally, this too will be reopened after the closing date for the competition.
Please remember, don't post as yourself but login to the guest or guest2 account, password = chorrol
A few problems
1) the Imperial Legion wouldn't be dealing with the problem in the first place because of the treaty with Hammerfell that lets them solve their own problems.
2) no bandit king would attack a CITY and its elite guard.
3) no city guard would be crazy enough to leave a city undefended anyway.
"Cyrus and his bandits had forced their way into the castle, slew her honor guard, and taken her father’s sword from her own hand."
Bandits just don't go around things that way.
4) "Even mighty Sentinel, whose roads were seldom troubled even by the Wolf of the Eastern Sands, was offering 5,000 drakes in blood money."
5000 drakes are barely enough to cover one month wages for those on the expedition.
5) "He knew that the soldiers, Colovian heartlanders all, resented his own Nibenese upbringing."
Hardly an issue given the circumstances.
6) "Cyrus was not a name given idly, and he could not help but note the mythopoetic significance of his own role in tracking down the Wolf of the Eastern Sands."
More than a name is necessary for mythopoetic significance.
7) "The night was quiet and then it was not. Desalius woke up, heart pounding, and then the shouting and the pounding of horses’ hooves ripped the night apart. He staggered up from rest clutching his steel and was nearly run down by a bandit on a bay horse. The raiders were in camp, were everywhere. All the soldiers were up now with their weapons and the sentry, a young highland lad with some nord blood, was bellowing something about the horses."
Not very credible unless the Imperials were very incompetent.
8) "Move out. Back to Gilane. Without me. I’ll take Cyrus myself."
That doesn't make so much sense.
9) "He felt a sword in his hand but it was not his own. He looked. It was a saber, encrusted with jewels. The queen’s father’s sword. How? The question came unbidden and could not be answered. He stood and saw his horse standing beside him. It could not be answered.
There was something out there, in the Alik’r, and it could not be explained."
There has to be an explanation. If you want to judge by the text and find the explanation:
Cyrus drew the jeweled saber of Gilane and solemnly intoned, "Prepare to Make Way."
Cyrus 2 is a Rebel like Cyrus 1, and he's like Hoonding with the "make way", so the idea is that they face each other and suddenly the Knight becomes an aspect of Hoonding. Wait, what? Make way for who? Where? It doesn't make a lot of sense because it was not explained.
Hard to do a proper epic in 2000 words. Maybe not possible--leaves too much to evoke.
Gods forbid a tale leave something to the imagination. I mean the best literary works NEVER did that. No, they explained everything for you, so you didn't have to think. ~ENDSARCASTICRANT
In all seriousness, this is my favorite tale, the author clearly has a love for Hammerfell culture, and in a limited frame, paints a beautiful picture.
And to the dectractors. They had one week, and 2000 words. Everyone did quite well considering. It is interesting however, that with a mask on, you see more of peoples true selves. The safety of anonymity, eh?
This was greatly hampered but the word limit I sense. It was done well but too be completely honest I think it might have worked better on a smaller scale perhaps telling only a part of the story but saying that I am impressed at how well you handled the whole.
It was indeed well written and I liked the note it ended on too.
Only other comment is that the plot was quite linear, but again word limit in a plot of this size makes anything else tricky.
“The bandits forced open the gates and the city was madness.” This should be “thrown into madness” surely?
The raid on Gilane is described magnificently and gives the prose a cinematic feel. This makes the beginning of the piece feel a little distant as it describes the other events in shorthand and without the fear and emotion of that Gilane raid.
What the old man says about Cyrus doesn't make sense.
“Further prodding revealed nothing more,” This sounds painful, perhaps it should read “probing” instead.
“The night was quiet and then it was not.” Clumsy. This could have been worded better. In fact, leave it out altogether and just start with Chaos.
I like the build up to the king and the rebel meeting but then it loses its way. The lack of description feels as though the writer couldn't finish it off, when they were doing such a good job up until then.
I think the ending could be improved, it just leaves things too vague, unsatisfied. A bit of a let down compared to the rest.
I like the plot and the characterisation, but something lets it down at the end. To sum up, great story, with some parts well described, but lacklustre ending. 2nd place for me.
Powered by Invision Power Board (http://www.invisionboard.com)
© Invision Power Services (http://www.invisionpower.com)