| The name was shortened to make room >_< Anyway, welcome to the ROBLOX Bookwriters club! This is essentially the site for the ROBLOX group, bookwriters club. Since we all know that ROBLOX's filter can be fairly strict, to the point where you have to use fancy wording to tell your readers the age of your characters, we made this to free our bookwriting capabilities. Message me, and I can run through your book for filtered words, then post it on the forums! |
| Dragon's Game; Chapter One | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jun 11 2012, 09:17 PM (103 Views) | |
| wolfsorg | Jun 11 2012, 09:17 PM Post #1 |
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It was well after midmorning when Johan,son of Jondalrun,stood on the edge of the cliffs and looked out over the Strait of Balomar. He wiped damp blonde curls from his forehead and shaded his eyes against the sunlight. Johan was tired;He had begun the climb in predawn darkness,carrying the wing tenderly as he made his way across the bushy hills to the northern escarpment. Even with his care, the stretched leather surface and wooden frame of the wing had been scratched by Hookberry vines and sharp rocks. The last part of the climb had been the steepest,and the sea winds there had made the wing jump and buck like a stallion. Yet Johan had persevered. He intended to fly this day, and he would settle for nothing less. The boy now sat upon a huge rock,having carefully anchored the wing behind it. He ate a nectarine he took from his father's garden, and gazed up at the foamy clouds as the breeze dried the juice on his cheeks. He was a farmer's son, young but strong and limber. The friendly wind played with his hair, tickling strands against his face. Johan hugged himself, as much in delight at his daring as against the slight chill of the Fandoran spring. His father, Jondalrun, would be angry. Risking safety for pleasure was a silly, Simbalese thing to do, but Johan had seen Amsel one beautiful morning, drifting above these very clouds, soaring as free as a fabled dragon,and he knew that to fly was far more than pleasure and truly worth the risk. Taking the wing had been easy. The giant tree that formed part of Amsel's house rose up to Greenmeadow Mesa, and its massive uper branches grew flush with the cliff's edge. Johan had simply walked onto the tree, decended to the limb where the wing was kept, and left with it by the same route. He cautioned himself against falling into the easy habit of thievery. Just this once, and never again. He would apologize to Amsel when he returned it later. He was rested now, and the nectarines were all eaten, and there would be no better time for flying. He carried the wing with him to the cliff's edge. A hawk sailed by far below him, close to the cliffs's face,wings motionless. 'Wait for me,' Johan thought. 'Hawk I'll show you flying' Standing at the edge, he carefully aimed the wing into the wind. As the leather flapped and boomed in the updraft , he gripped the steering bar beneath the frame and slipped his feet into the thong loops, as Amsel had once showed him. That done, he stood faceing the ocean, far below. For the first time he felt cold fear spreading under his heart. What if flying was not as easy as it looked? But it was too late now. The weight of the frame pulled him forward, and he could only push with his feet to turn a sudden decent into a awkward leap. Sea air slapped his face, and he cried out in terror. He was falling! Amsel's invention had failed, and Johan prayed that he would not die. Eyes squeezed shut, he twisted his body desperately, this way and that, and after an eternity felt air catch beneath the leather sail. Suddenly he was not falling, but riseing. He opened his eyes: a cloud of indignant gulls exploded about him, protesting his invasion. He was flying! Held alfot by the laughing wind, Johan experimented wtih his body weight, learning the rules of flight. Mastery came swiftly as he flew out over the water. The sheer beauty of it! Johan had known little more in his eight years of life than plowing and sowing, harrow and harvest. This was totally new, this was wondeful! Air burned sweetly in his lungs, then exploded from his lips in a shout of delight as he swooped and circled. As the first euphoria faded, Johan began to study the scenery below. He was hovering in a steady updraft just over the vertical cliffs. The Strait of Balomar separated his land, Fandora, from the dim purple shore to the east. Through the mists above this shore was Simbala, home of the mysterious and distrusted Riders of the Wind. On his rare days of play, Johan would often come to these cliffs with his friends Doley and Mari, and they would sit for hours, staring eastward, hopig to see the slow-moveing Windships of Simbala. It was well known that the Sim were magicians and sorcerers and even the smallest of them could shrivle cornstalks with a glance. Though Johan knew he should not be fascinated by the crafs of sorcerers, still he came hopin to glimpse the sails of the distant windships in the clouds. Johan sailed dizzyingly in a wide arc over the water. The sim, the couriers had said, must be magicians. How else could they make boats fly? Yet, Johan thought, here I am, flying as swiftly as any Sim, and I am not a magician. He had seen Amsel build the wing himself, without sorcery. What if the Sim had built their windships just as Amsel had built his wing? Many folk, his father included, were worried about the possibility of another attack by the magicains of Simbala. What if they were not magicains, but humans like Ansel and Johan himself. Perhaps the Sim were not people to be feared, after all. Perhaps Amsel was right when he said that the unknown should not be feared just because it was unknown. Filled with the joy of flight, Johan was sure that he could convince his father, and everyone else, that Amsel was a man of vision. Johan's dreams soared higher than the Wing he rode, and in them his friend, Amsel, that shy and strange man, would show the fandorans marvelous things. And he, Johan would become his apprentice, and be privy to all the wonderful secrets and inventions that filled Amsel's forrest home... Johan flew through the bright day, happier than he had ever been. He flew, and dreamed, and occupied by his dreams, was blind to the nightmare to coming until it was far too late. The sight and sound of terror came simultaneously: as Johan swooped over a white sickle of beach two hundred feet below, heading inland, he saw his small shadow over taken by a vast bat-winged blackinged blackness. there was a deafenng screech, and then a hurricane hit him born of giant wings. Then swiftly the dreams fell to darkness, and the dreamer to death. Johan had hardly enough time to comprehend the casual shattering of his life; the torn leather and broken frame fell and he fell with it, screaming and grasping at the mocking wind. As he fell he caught a single glimpse of the dragon, its mouth open blotting out the world. The pain was mercifully brief. Y U NO REPLY? Edited by wolfsorg, Jun 11 2012, 09:25 PM.
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| I heard you like drawings so here's a snake -------- | |
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| chichi87 | Jun 13 2012, 03:02 PM Post #2 |
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ummm, Ditzy Dani?
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Wow... that was... breathtaking... Which one? Edited by chichi87, Jun 13 2012, 04:40 PM.
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HOLY CRAP IM DREAMING! IM DREAMING! IM-... DANGIT! I WOKE UP! Spoiler: click to toggle Lucid dream goals: ★Fly ★Summon things ★sing and dance in front of a buttload of zombies and slap them afterwards. | |
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| Bro | Jun 16 2012, 09:45 PM Post #3 |
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It's legen- DARY |
| It's gonna be legen- wait for it... | |
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12:24 PM Jul 11