Yea so I’m trying this
I know used to write, but that was before i learned some smooth moves in school
I see few talents in myself so i want to try and find one trait that shines bright.
Also, a fitting theme for the story.
Finally, here’s the story itself. Im hiding it under a tab like this just to prevent a wall of text from annoying you.
Ravenna mines
(May 22nd - Y1854)
Thud.
The room was dark, the color of a demon’s skin. A deafening ring was chiming in my ears while iron was dwelling in my tongue, the freezing air pretending to be a blanket. Some sort of strange smoke filled my nostrils.
For a moment that felt like an hour I laid there, sedentary. Something on my body was heavy, but I was unable to pinpoint where it was.
When that long moment passed, A door, made of metal, creaked and screeched as if to show pain.
Clip, clop, clip, clop.
A cold mass rammed into my right arm. The preexisting cuts made it feel like a bee sting.
I moved my opposite arm and made an effort to pull myself to my feet. The distorted figure of a person in golden-bronze armor was facing me, looking down. I could not make out any of their facial features.
“You’re oversleeping, prisoner.” They said, “Take any longer and the authorities of Ravenna will issue a punishment this instant.”
Moving my right arm I pulled myself up to see the surroundings. Several dark bars lined the room while jaded orange lights were coming from flames on the walls.
The guard’s boot rammed my right arm again, I collapsed to the floor immediately. I coughed, a splotch of liquid splashing in front of my face.
“If you cannot handle the most superficial layer of the mines, I will issue you to a cell deeper within the mines. Get on your feet. We must go.” The guard said.
I was still unable to raise myself to stand. The guard kicked my arm again.
“Would you stop doing that? I can’t work in so much pain.” I said weakly.
A gauntlet clamped my arm, serious and angry. I could feel my weight getting dragged across the floor. There was the scraping sound of metal as I was being moved, either from other prisoners or from myself.
More scrapes formed on my legs. Iron accumulated in my tongue. After two minutes, I passed out from the pain.
“Psst.” A child’s voice said.
…
I moaned, pulling myself onto a sitting position. The freezing air felt more caustic now.
“You’re up, good job.”
My head slowly turned. My eyes laid themselves upon a small blonde-haired girl with cobalt blue eyes. She was wearing brown clothes so few and badly messed with you could classify them more closely to washrags or loincloths than actual clothing.
“What in the world of magic happened to you?” I asked, wearily.
“It’s a long story.” She said, “Tell me a bit about yourself.”
I grunted softly. “Vega Anchor. Skilled user of fire magic and iron leg.”
“Iron leg? What’s that, a boot you use to pulverize poor people?”
“Somewhat. It’s a style of combat and it derives its name because your legs eventually get really hard after using it, like iron or something just as hard. Specializes in assaulting your target with kicking attacks.”
A look of understanding. “I see.”
“My legs are usually absurdly dense because of the style. However, it doesn’t feel the same right now…”
“Oh, that might be because of the shackles on your ankles.” She said, “They’re forged with imbued bronze, and that allows them to restrict not only your magic but your strength.”
I looked down at my feet and then at my lacerated legs. The cold forced a shiver out of me.
“You’ll adjust to it.” The girl said, “The cold isn’t an issue after a week.”
“Says somebody who’s almost… you know.” I replied, bothered.
“Don’t lose the rags they put you in, these guys are so ignorant and snotty they don’t give you a replacement if they all get destroyed.” The girl told me, tone serious.
“Yikes.” I looked at what I’d been put in, a patched shirt resembling a tank top and shorts which were thin and ripped at the ends. The frigid air of the cavern shocked me again.
“Cherish them. You need them.” She told me.
“You know,” I said, “Tell me a bit about yourself.”
The girl looked straight at me when I asked that. “Tora Silverthorne. If you’re willing to be my angel down here, I’ll be yours.”
I focused on her messy face. “You have some magical abilities at all?”
“If I had my special weapon, I could show you.”
“Somebody who needs special equipment to harness magic? That’s new."
“Unique character quirk, for say. My first mind is essentially asleep until I have Slipstream with me.”
A new sound was distant, but I laid attention to it
Clip. Clop. Clip. Clop.
“Hide somewhere in my cell, I can hear some guards coming.” I said in a soft voice. My arm waved to force her beneath the sheets.
She nodded to me. She crawled beneath the sloven bed I was resting on, which was essentially a slab of rock with a threadbare blanket and a pillow that hardly classified as a pillow on it.
Shortly, they passed. Neither of them seemed to notice I was there, or how I had a child dressed like a neanderthal under my bed.
Tora crawled out from beneath my bed, and whispered into my ear. “You know, I thought all of em would be asleep by now. These guards actually have a pitiful habit of sleeping on their jobs, you know? I can tell it’s late, I’m used to this place.”
“How are you able to pinpoint the time of day down here? There’s no sun to make estimates, and there’s no sundials or clocks either.” My brain raised an eyebrow.
“I’ve gotten very used to their patterns. For some reason, most of them like visiting their families instead of, I dunno, making sure a prisoner isn’t causing a sudden and deadly outbreak.”
“That makes no sense at all. Are we going to capitalize on this moment?”
Tora’s blue eyes looked as if they were trying to glimmer, but they couldn’t. "I want to try, but I’m apprehensive. Those guards from earlier are certainly nearby.”
I gave her a sad look. “If we could find some sort of bandage for my wounds…”
“I’m afraid that’s a little too risky. Even if we pull it off, the guards’ll surely notice that you used their bandages for yourself and will assume you stole them. Guess what happens after that.”
I looked at her worriedly, sadly. We were both silent for about five minutes, until Tora’s head twitched upright and she faced me.
“Hold on, are you a new prisoner?” Tora asked me.
“Indeed. I can remember getting harshly smitten by the lord yesterday, trying to reprove me on why I shouldn’t challenge Ravenna’s royal groups in fights.” I responded, “Hell, I can even sort of remember the guards dragging me away to supposedly get stripped.”
“You got sent down here because you fought a high lord of sorts.”
“Yep.”
“And you beat them.”
“Yep.”
“Then why didn’t you just beat up the high lord yourself with your fires and iron leg?”
“False safety. They deceived me into a civil conversation to lower my guard and be hit with the king’s drivel along with his trident. That thing cuts way too much.”
Tora went silent. She put her hand up to her ear and listened for something.
“I hear more guards. I think it’s safe we call it here, I don’t want to get any of their attention. We’ll… continue tomorrow night, got it?”
I gave her a thumbs up, a simple approbation. Tora darted left down the hall to her cell while I remained in my ‘bed,’ motionless.
The guards in picture came shortly, only these ones noticed my door was open.
“Hey.” One of them said.
“You expect yourself to be running around after hours like that?” the other continued.
“You think I can run around with this many cuts on my arms and legs?” I replied, “As a bonus, my head is on a carousel right now. Hazy, spinning, and overall utterly shameful. I might not be able to work with how much pain I’m in, hey!”
The two of them looked at each other. One of them left while the other glared at me.
I pulled the blanket off of my legs to reveal my body’s pitiful state.
After two minutes, the other guard returned with a gauze bandage. They wrapped some of it around my forehead, enveloping most of the cuts and scars that had accumulated from my clash with the lord.
“We expect you to be ready for work tomorrow, mister. If you act truant as you were reported to have earlier, your punishments will be immense, such as getting sent to the deepest, most ruthless parts of the mines and losing your clothing altogether.” They told me before locking the door to the cell and wandering off.
I rolled my eyes once they got out of view.
“Immense punishments who? Oh no, I’m getting sent to a deeper part of the mines!” I said, mockingly. “Tora’s not coming back, so it’s better to get shut eye.”
I fluffed the pillow in hopes of making it feel softer and laid down in bed. Throwing the tenuous blanket over my skin, I tried to fall asleep.
Still… Even if those punishments will most likely be a fraud, what about tomorrow? Just how strict are the guards with the rules here? I don’t want to think about it…
When your body is laden with cuts and bruises, head spinning like a top while beating like a drummer’s drum. Sure, those bandages I wheedled from the guards will help slightly, but my overall condition was trashed due to one bad move.
I settled down, trying to not worry about what could happen tomorrow.
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