Fabled Tales: Legend (Futuristic Fantasy/Sci-fi)
Reply With QuoteEntry One-An Ongoing Episode
“Can you even speak of a horror untamed?
Desperation killing as swift as a blade
What would you call it if it were to be named?
War, perhaps, when consequences are made”
A tall, pale-skinned man sat quietly in the remains of an alleyway. His loose, dark black hair hung down over his eyes, yet the rest on his head was tamed fairly well. He breathed out slowly, his breath appearing in the chill autumn night. He wore black jeans that looked fairly comfortable to move around in, and a tight black sleeveless shirt. Overtop of his shirt he wore a large heavy leather trench coat, which was the only thing keeping him warm on this night. He had his face buried into his hands. A pistol sat to the right of him, and to the left of him was a lantern that was turned off. It was almost pitch-black; the only light that illuminated the scene was the small constant flicker of an old streetlight. The man’s head shot up, revealing two cold, bright blue eyes. His face was not necessarily that of a handsome mans, but handsome was a label for the rich. He was just past decent, which was good enough to live, and good enough for him. He brushed his hands on his chest, which had a medium built tone to it like the rest of his body. His name was Zith Andrak and he was one of the less fortunate humans to live on the world of Lannia.
Lannia you ask? Well, you might not know too well of it. It’s a world far beyond the grasps of your humanity, but Lannia is very much like earth would be in another millennia. Just picture your vision of the future, and that pretty much describes the rich sides of town. Tall buildings, floating cars, but the poor side of town… Well, picture the houses of the streets that you live on semi-torn apart and people actually living in them if they are lucky. The less fortunate of the poor live on the broken down streets that used to house cars, but now house only memories of a strong past. Lannia is the whole world, but this particular tale takes place in one of the largest and most powerful countries, Terre. It’d be like a United States of America sort of country, powerful and plenty arrogant.
The king of Terre is the only thing ‘good’ about the rich side of town to the poorer people. The king goes by the name of King Garon Khelsea and he believes in equality between the rich and the poor, which the rich do not agree upon. Frankly, there are more poor than there are rich so you ask: Why isn’t there ever a big rebellion?
Well, there have been plenty. Just some poor people don’t want to get slaughtered so they stay out of it, which is really what started the poor colonial age. The less fortunate people broke up into tons of smaller colonies, instead of living as one… which is what put the rich even further ahead. The rich are lucky; they are one huge union, like the iron fist that runs the corrupted world.
“Can we go home now?” a tiny frail voice asked.
Zith shushed the voice and put one finger to his lips. The young boy was not Zith’s, and no one was entirely sure whose boy he was. They had bought him for a small fee to raise him up to be another warrior in their colony. His name was Kib, and that’s all they called him. He had no last name, he had no middle name, so they just called him Kib. Why Kib? It was the first word he said after they bought him at a young age. Kib was about three years of age, but he was very smart for those tender years. He knew when to be quiet, when to talk and such. He was just a very bright boy.
His blonde hair curled slightly over his whole head in a messy fashion. His strongest feature were his big blue eyes that were not at all like Zith’s. While you would think Zith’s could peer right into your soul, Kib’s eyes were just adorable. He had pudgy little hands and feet, both of which were covered up since they didn’t want him to catch a cold. His little button nose still ran a bit, which was normal for living in a broken-down house in the cold fall nights. He smiled big and wide, some little white teeth showing through his open lips. That was one quality that Zith grew fond of, he was never really upset, and he always seemed to be happy. He wore a little pair of light blue jeans with a little dark blue sweater.
Only now could the woman beside Kib be seen, as the light had stopped flickering and had grown to a full glow. She was indeed beautiful, but a different kind of beautiful than what was considered in that day and age. She did not have the blonde curls or the oversized bosoms, but instead she had more of an attractiveness that drew one closer to her. She had raven black hair that remained straight at all times and drifted down her back, with a bit of hair falling over each one of her shoulders. She had a skinny frame, but definitely was not deathly skinny. She was very athletic, although there weren’t many sports to compete in for women on the poorer side of town. She didn’t exactly have the oversized bosoms, like I said before, but they were big enough to get a man to silently undress her in his head. She had a light purple lipstick on and had very dark eyelashes, which went well with her dark eye makeup, which is what most poor women put on since it was the cheapest you could buy. She wore black tight pants with a black tight shirt, since ‘tight’ was the fashion for women and for some guys when it came to shirts. Overtop of her tight shirt she wore a purple leather coat, which was something she could never afford. She took it off of a dead rich woman that had stumbled into the poorer side of town. Her name was Evalyn, and she had been named after the angel of Lannia that brought peace to the world in times of war. Most people called her Eva or made that even shorter and just called her Ev.
“There’s four of them and three of us, and they’re all men…” Evalyn said, eyeing the ground casually.
“Your point being?” Zith asked inquisitively “I sort of analyzed that problem a while ago…”
“I don’t think we’ll make it out alive” Evalyn spoke quietly.
“But we always seem to pull off some sort of miracle, this is just another everyday situation on the streets” Zith replied coolly.
“Who are the people?” Kib asked, he was always asking questions, and he always spoke in a slightly wrong English, as he was only a little child.
“Marauders,” Zith answered “Their colony has twice the population of ours, but does not own any houses. So they’re looking to take ours off of our hands…”
“Where’s the rest of the gang when you need them?” Evalyn sighed in grief. She was one of two women that belonged to Zith’s gang, well, it wasn’t really his but he was high enough up in the ranks to call it his. Zith’s gang was labeled simply ‘Unified’, which described the way the small colony lived. They lived together and worked together as a whole.
“We’re going to have to get back home now. It’s getting late” Zith proposed.
“Agreed.” Evalyn replied steadily. Kib was drowsy, and he looked as if he were about to doze off at any moment.
Zith reached to his right and picked up a pistol. “It’s our only pistol, take care of it, use it if you have to… I’m going to go ahead of you and tell you if its safe to walk or not…”
Evalyn was quiet.
“Trust me,” Zith confirmed.
“I hate trusting you” she replied.
“I was right about the fact that they want to take our house away from us…” Zith said, smiling wryly.
“How are you sure?” Evalyn asked.
“Listen.”
A chuckling of two voices could be heard not far from where the stood. They spoke of killing Zith and Evalyn, then taking the child with them and taking the house with more men. When they were finished talking Zith had guessed at where they were.
“Now if you keep completely quiet we might be able to sneak-” but Zith’s words were cut off, as Kib coughed, and the small cough sent him into a barrage of hacking and wheezing. The two men picked their heads up, and both ran in the direction of the group of three.
Zith turned around, his normally cold face filled with utter disgust, he wasn’t mad at the boy, he was mad because now he had to take out two of them. They were unarmed, which was always a plus. They were both bald, as most Marauders were; it was a custom thing to recognize each other. They wore black leather jackets symbolizing their clan, unlike Zith’s whole gang who wore nothing but their regular clothes. One of them wore black glasses, which must have been for fashion as it was night. They both wore dark blue jeans and black boots, a common trait among most men. The one with the sunglasses was heavily built; the other had a very skinny frame.
Zith reached into his trench coat and pulled out the only thing his hands made contact with, a very sharp dagger. “Old Reliable” was what it had been dubbed from past experiences. Zith drew it out in one movement and brought it to his ear, where he followed his hand forward and snapped his wrist. The blade soared through the air and hit the skinny man in the throat.
“****” Zith cursed. He had originally aimed for the meathead, but at least he killed someone, which was his first objective.
The heavily built man did not halt his charge, unfortunately for Zith. The man roared mightily and swung his fist at Zith. Zith had never been that good of a fighter, and it showed because the man clubbed him across the head with his fist. Zith’s head snapped at such an angle that another man watching could have sworn his neck snapped. Zith fell to the ground limply; his legs and arms showing no movement.
Zith could only faintly hear the scream of a woman. Inside his head he raced to get himself up to help Evalyn, but he could not move. He knew it had not been his muscled foe that was picking on her, for he was still kicking Zith’s gut.
Evalyn’s shrill scream filled the air again. Another man had approached her with a butcher knife. Her right hand searched rapidly across the ground but to no avail, she could not find the pistol that Zith had given to her. Then there was a loud bang. She looked to her left and saw Kib, the boy that was soon to be asleep before was now crying and in his hands he held the pistol.
Evalyn was scared to death for the boy. Had he shot himself? As if he had he surely would die. When she lifted her head up to look at the man who held the butcher knife she noticed he had quieted down considerably. His mouth was gaped open and he gasped for breath. He collapsed to his knees and his right hand shot to his stomach in obvious pain. His chest hit the cold pavement stone and his body twitched once and only once, then his head drew up and collapsed to the ground again. He had died. Kib had shot him. The recoil of the pistol, although small for a full-grown person, must have scared the child to death. Evalyn picked the child into her arms and rocked him back and forth while watching Zith get killed. She knew she couldn’t do anything, which was the worst part about it, her getting up could result in her own death and she knew that Zith would not like her to risk her own life.
“Come on, risk your own life now…” Zith said in his head. “C’mon Evalyn, I’m dying here.”
Finally the man stopped kicking Zith. Zith could no longer feel his stomach or chest. He managed to pull himself from the ground and he met the man that had knocked him down. He stepped eye to eye with him and looked him down considerably, all the while waiting for the brute to hit him again.
Evalyn gasped briefly, she had pricked her finger on something lying on the ground. She drew her finger up to her mouth and sucked on the tip. She then reached down beside her and noticed a discarded sword, it was rusted and the center had rotted considerably and was no longer present. She picked it up and skidded it across the pavement.
All the while Zith watched her through the corner of his eye. As soon as the sword skidded into a place that he could reach the man thrust his fist at him. He ducked backwards and let himself fall, bringing his right foot up to meet the man’s crotch. The man keeled over in pain and Zith picked the sword, and himself up off of the pavement. Zith drew the sword up over his head and stabbed it into his foe’s stomach.
The brawly man screamed and then fell limp. He had also died. Zith drew the sword from the man’s corpse and placed it in a sheath that he always wore on his belt. One of the men in his gang was quite a good weapon-smith, and he would know how to fix it up.
Zith began to walk back to Evalyn.
“Got them all.” Zith said proud “We got them all.”
Then a loud gunshot was heard, and the moment it was heard Zith’s eyes opened wide. Blood blew from a small exit wound near the edge of his stomach. It had almost just skinned him, but instead pierced its way through the edge of his gut. Evalyn screamed, but acted quickly and immediately shot into the distance where the bullet was fired. She heard a loud groan and then a collapse to the ground followed by eerie silence. Zith twitched in pain. Beaten, bruised and shot, he was prepared to face death.
He got up. Despite the pain raging inside of him, and his bruised bones cracking at nearly every step, he got up. He walked towards where the gunshot was fired and Evalyn, still carrying Kib who had now fallen asleep, followed his slow pursuit of the attempted killer. When he arrived at the dead body he found it to be a normal Marauder, but what he had used to try to kill Zith really puzzled him. It was a sniper rifle, a UHI series as well. If he had fired a sniper rifle at such a close distance, roughly twenty-five yards, it should have left the exit wound the size of a tangerine, but it hadn’t.
Only a little bit upset at the final outcome, Zith picked up the sniper rifle and slowly began a torturing walk back to his house, and Unified’s house of residence.
* * *
The next day Zith awoke sourly. He had been patched up a lot, but the wounds and battle fatigue still hit at him like a weight lifter with a sledgehammer. The new rifle acquisition had given the whole gang an extra gun, and a good one at that, which was always a plus. It was also the morning to introduce Kib to the rest of the members of Unified. Kib had only ever seen Evalyn and Zith before, and they were only two of six members. Most of the members were rarely around, but everyone was present that morning. Zith joined everyone else in the room that they ate in. Nobody was eating, as they thought breakfast to not be that important.
“Well, Kib, I guess its time you met the rest of the members of Unified. You’ll be the tenth member if we choose to induct you.” Zith began.
Kib nodded and smiled showing his baby teeth quite a bit.
Everyone was gathered around a cherry-oak half-crescent table, of which had seen better days, and Zith and Kib stood at the flat end of the half-crescent.
“You’ve already met Evalyn, but I’ll introduce you to the other female member of Unified.” Zith pointed to a busty woman wearing a red tube top with blue trim around it. She was also wearing light blue shorts, which wasn’t very casual for the cold nights of autumn, but she always had the most blankets at night anyway. She had fiery strawberry-blonde hair and luscious lips. Her eyes were a dark green color, but they changed colors every once in a while. Her hair was up in a messy bun and two strands of unattended hair hung over her forehead. She wore eye makeup that only highlighted her features, not boasted it further. She also wore dark mascara. She wasn’t all that tall, but fairly tall for a woman. She was five foot seven, or around there at least. It didn’t quite compare to Zith’s six feet, or Evalyn’s five foot nine, but it was still fairly high. “Her name’s Patrycja, and she’s here mainly because she needs protection from the world outside. Of course, we don’t mind at all…” Zith’s eyes fell below her eyes “But she’s been pretty essential to the group at times.”
The next person at the table was the only black man of the group. He was very short but you could tell he was sly by just looking at him. He flashed a bit white toothy grin and looked at Zith.
“Tell the boy about me, will you?” he laughed.
“I’m getting to that, you thief,” Zith snapped.
“Thief? I only do my men a fair trade. Thieving is not what I do, I prefer to call it trickery, if you consider that a better word.”
“It’s the same no matter how you say it, Clive, stealing is stealing” Zith retorted.
Clive had very short dark black hair. He had brown eyes and an almost flat nose, with large nostrils. He had the look of a sophisticated man, and it showed off with the way that he acted—but he could easily lose his mentality and resort to using other methods of getting his way. He was about five foot five in height, very small for a full-grown man, and he had a very slim build. He always ate the most of the bunch too, which came to get people thinking where the food went. He wore a white sleeveless shirt that was worn tightly to his chest. Along with that he wore black joggers pants and a robe for survival in the cold. He was a master of dagger throwing, and had taught Zith many a trick. Clive propped his feet up on the table.
“That’s Clive, Kib.” Zith said, motioning to the black man.
Next in line was a brawly bearded man. He looked to be in his mid-forties and wore a smug grin on his face. He had a trim brown beard and brown hair to his shoulders. His beard was not fuzzy, like most men’s beards, but it was just like the hair on his head—that was if he let it grow long, which he never did. His beard and hair both had traces of gray in them, which was the only sign of age that could be seen. He was muscled heavily, ripped and toned quite well. He wore a thin armor chest-plate, which he forged and made himself out of an old woodstove door. The chest-plate was full, and had a back to it, which was why the iron was so thin on it; it was a sacrifice he had to make. He wore nothing under this chest-plate and wore simple tan merchants pants. He also wore brown sandals that matched the color of his hair perfectly. He wore big gloves made of chain mail that covered his rough hands. He was only three inches taller than Zith, which made him rest at a tall six foot three.
“Just tell the boy my name, no need to analyze me!” the brawly man said roaring into laughter, he always enjoyed a good laugh—even at the most uncomfortable times. He was always there to cheer people up, which people respected him for.
“That man is Dominious.” Zith spoke, answering the built mans comment.
“Oh, by the way, Zith” Dominious began “I fixed up the sword you had in your sheath. I made it a lot lighter; it should be like wielding a saber now. I cut out the center, following the trace of the outline of the blade. But don’t worry; I left enough on the outside so that it won’t break as soon as you strike somebody with it. I also took all of the rust off and applied a new coat of steel.”
Zith nodded his head in approval, he didn’t know what else to say. Dominious was always remarkable at things that he liked doing.
“Oh, and a new grip-efficient handle. I made it myself,” Dominious added on with a big, cheesy grin. Dominious put forth is huge hand and shook Kib’s little frail hand.
Zith turned to the last man at the table. He was six foot eight, a beast when it came to men. He was very hefty, yet he only wore a large pair of black jeans with a belt that had a buckle made of pure gold. He had killed a rich man for it, but no one dared to take it off of him, even the sly Clive. This last man was the leader of Unified, and he founded it with Zith a while ago. Zith proceeded to bring in Evalyn and Clive while he brought in Dominious, possibly the greatest find. No one really brought Patrycja in, she just found them by fate.
“And introducing this stocky, definitely powerful leader of Unified commences all the people you have to meet, Kib. His name is Willow.”
Dominious raised up a glass that he had been drinking out of “Let us drink towards the oncoming of a new man to Unified!”
Everyone else raised their hands or their glasses, depending on if they had one or not, and cheered in a resounding “Hail!”
Originally Posted by Gavin Luper
