View Full Version : Pyhreene (Fantasy Scratchpad)

June 21st, 2014, 06:21 PM
Note: This is a fantasy land scratchpad, the concept of which I have borrowed from another website. Basically, I am writing the story as I go, inside the editor with no previous planning. All story writing and action/thought is done inside this editor. Furthermore, because I have not planned the story in advance, this opens up the possibility of incorporating suggestions from the audience. Let's begin!

:: Pyhreene ::

Marcellus woke up with a throbbing headache. A large man stood over him, dressed in bear skins and animal furs. In the dimness of early sagacity, Marcellus had immediately thought the man was yelling at him. But as he continued into wakefulness, he realized that this was not so. The man was simply curious.

Nevertheless, Marcellus' first action was a tactical one, borne by years of training in the barracks. He kicked wildly in the air. The man stepped aside, and Marcellus' quickly retracted his leg. Using the momentum, he spun backwards over his right shoulder, and whipped out a medium bear knife. Marcellus held it up at the ready, his whole body quivering with tension.

The man thought Marcellus' actions strange, at first. But in the next few minutes, decided that perhaps Marcellus had good reason to be afraid of him. Turning side ways, he stretched out his arm over the woodland hills. Blood fouled the air. Marcellus' fellow soldiers lay, strewn like cast aside rag dolls, all along the mist shrouded hills.

Wetland frogs croaked in mighty unison, even as thousands of crickets played their song for the dead. It was like a slow, syncopation of different animal funeral processions. The frogs in the lead, sounded off with deep throated croaks and ribbits. The crickets served as brass and chimes, tinkling triangles of the orchestra. From above, ruby throated magpies gave the melody of woodwinds. The large man continued to watch Marcellus, but did not speak.

Marcellus, for his part, tried to remember the events of yesterday. He did not remember hearing the order to march. Nor did he remember a battle, against the Gallic Northlanders or otherwise. He remembered smoke, and music. From the cobwebs of his minds, he recalled the taste of wine, and sensuous, seductive touch of a woman.

Slowly, her face came to him. It was a blond face. A daughter of a Celtiberian priest. In modern times, we would remember them as Druids, although these were no Druids, as we would remember them. Marcellus, having been assigned to Pontius Magnate as a bodyguard, was there at the introduction between them. He remember her eyes, green and glowing with intelligence, sly and mischievous as she spoke her name.

"Pyhreene." Marcellus whispered, solely to himself, as he stood amid the corpse strewn bodies in the hills.

"Is that the name of your order?" The large man said, snapping Marcellus out of his reverie. Marcellus looked once more at the man, and realized that he had been in trance. If his opponent had been so inclined, the bear knife would have provided little protection. The man, however, seemed more interested, curious, than hostile. He wore garbs of the Gallic peoples, but did not seem to have their mannerism. Dressed in heavy cloak, there was a gentleness to his eyes. An intelligence that Marcellus did not see in other Celtic men. It was rare even for Magisteria to look as this one did.

"Is that, Pyhreene, the name of your order?" The man repeated, in a very strange form of Latin. The man pointed to Marcellus' bear knife. "The logo on your blade, is that the house of Pyhreene?" The words were strange to Marcellus. "Logos" as it was used by his opponent was incorrect, for it was just a knife. It had no mind, as the stranger seemed to think by his diction.

"You speak strangely, Celt. Why do you not attack?" Was all Marcellus could say.