Clayton, aka The Shiniest One (theshiniestone) wrote,
Clayton, aka The Shiniest One

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I got so bored today, at work, that I decided that I wanted to write down the opening to "The Guardian", my NaNoWriMo project.

And here, for your pleasure, is what I have. Its about 300 words worth of stuff. I wanted to get this down so I have SOMETHING to go with, that way I don't feel like I dont have a beginning. I personally think that this is a very decent beginning in fact!   So here you are!

     The wind howled and whipped around the ledge on the mountainside, causing small flurries of snow and sleet to fly around the two men who stood facing each other. They were bloody, beaten, bruised, and one had several burns on his arms and clothing. They stood, panting in the cold, their breath forming small clouds of steam in front of them.
     “You can't win Gerrard. You know this.”
     “And neither can you Guardian! I have the vigor of youth on my side! Your body is wracked by age. You won't win and you know it. If you could, you would have beaten me by now.”
     The man known as the Guardian sighed, and glanced at his hands, wrinkled with age. He stared at his opponent. Gerrard stood confidently, his robes whipping in the wind, his hands at the ready. The wizard was good, and the Guardian knew it. But the Guardian knew something else as well, and it was with that thought that his plan was formed.
     “You are right Gerrard...I am old, and my time is due. But if I cannot survive this...neither shall you!” And with that, the Guardian focused his energy and slammed his fists into the ground, faster then Gerrard could react. A resounding crack followed, and the ledge began to quake. Gerrard stared at the old man.
     “What have you done?!”
     “Simple,” said the Guardian, “I have started a landslide. You cannot teleport, and your powers are drained enough that you cannot fly! We shall both die here, and the mountain shall be our tomb!”
     “You foolish old man!” However, before Gerrard could continue, the side of the mountain quaked, and rocks began to fall. Almost immediately after that, the ledge the two men stood on broke off, and began its fall down, taking the two men with it. The crash that followed as it impacted the ground hundreds of miles below echoed off the mountainside. Then, there was a bright flash of light, and then silence.

This has been crossposted to my other journal, The Spirit of Silva

Tags: beginning, nanowrimo, writing
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