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Qualität des Beitrags: Beteiligte Poster: Strongitharm Forum: Stardust-Foren Forenbeschreibung: Ragnarök online aus dem Unterforum: New Stories, Ideas etc Antworten: 1 Forum gestartet am: Samstag 31.03.2007 Sprache: englisch Link zum Originaltopic: After the end of the world... Letzte Antwort: vor 13 Jahren, 6 Monaten, 22 Tagen, 19 Stunden, 13 Minuten
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Re: After the end of the world...
Strongitharm - 04.10.2010, 23:22After the end of the world...
A story that can be made communal if anyone else would like to join in...
Build on the background premise, introduce your own characters, tell their continuing stories...
Sorry for not getting this up when I originally planned, but only 1 day late...
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The end of the world was coming, and there was nothing to do but wait. Family and friends gathered to spend a final time together. Bruce could feel the ground shake as the world-tree split, and a great roaring sound filled the air.
A sudden crash and world tipped sideways, water poured through the square. The town was swept away, Bruce desperately grabbed for his daughter, but was too slow. People, architecture, trees, everything was swirling in the water, he saw his father disappear under the debris, and the last person he saw before he went under was his sister clinging to her cart that somehow was still floating in the maelstrom.
Fighting the current, desperately snatching air, but slowing losing… Getting tossed around, and into debris, limbs getting tired and heavy, one last gasp of air, and then under the water. Spun round, bloodied and bruise, no longer knowing which way to go for air, darkness closing in. Bruce almost gave in, but kept fighting, all his training, all his life was about fighting for friends against anything, even at the end of the world. He clung onto something his father told him that nothing is truly lost whilst it is remembered. He would hold his memories, stay alive, and would keep his friends, his world, alive within himself. If that was all that was left then he would not let it die.
****
Dark, cold, no breath left, nothing but refusal to give up, and as the last glimmers of light left the world a line from an old song went thorough his mind, “Let us not go gently to the endless winter night”…
****
The surf was washing ashore on a sandy beach, the sun was rising and the sky was clearing. A huge storm had left the beach littered with debris, and scavenging animals were picking through the debris. A large crab snipped away at some sodden cloth, and found meat underneath. Suddenly a fist flashed out, knocking the claw back, and a man stood up, stumbling to face the crab nearly the same size as himself.
Darkness, then sudden pain, Bruce woke as something cut into his right arm. He lashed out, and jumped up, finding himself on beach facing huge crab. The fight was uneven, punches only seem able to push the crab back, bare hands were not enough to crack the thick shell. The crab was too fast to run from, and it was fresh and unhurt as well. His robe was torn and waterlogged, so he tore it off to free his movement, and realised there was something heavy left in the pockets. Swinging the robe round his head to drive the crab back, he then reached into it and found his knuckles, the ones made by his father when he qualified as a monk. They fit his hands like a glove even after all this time, all the other things that had changed and a quick flurry of blows made a crack in the carapace of his opponent. The crab staggered back, and Bruce summoned his spiritual strength, gathering it and hurling it at the crab in one blow, splitting the shell in two and killing it in one massive blow. Adrenaline faded, and he sat down next to the dead crab. He looked at the weapons in his hand and stared at the maker’s mark, and remembered his friends, his family, and his world.
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