Free-Writing 1
#1 of Free-Writing
Hello there, lads 'n lasses. This is just a random part of a non-existant story that I came up with whilst Free-Writing. For those that do not know what that is, Free-Writing is commonly practised by writers that, when working, feel the need to relax and empty their minds in order to make room for new ideas. You basically just begin writing what comes to mind, without thinking about a proper story, plot, or character development. It is as random as can be!
So I give you this-.. The Yellow King.
The Yellow King sat high upon his throne, it being cast into deep shadow by the curtains that envelopped its sides. His hand clenched around the both majestic and ice-cold Bloodblade 'Ravager', its tip resting on the pure marble floor underneath. His facial expression was concealed from plain sight due to the horrific crown he wore, as it also functioned as a full-faced helmet. The crude carvings inside the metal were to respresent a royal figure, yet all it did was strike fear into the hearts of his subordinates.
The throne room itself was empty-... Lifeless as ever, except for the Betrayer King himself and the single individual that stood a few feet infront of the burgundy carpet that lead up to the spiked throne itself. He wore his silver-plated armaments with pride, his pauldrons shaped into a single lion's roaring head to the right and a winged beast to the left. The blood red coloured cloak that had rustled behind him as metalic echoes of his boots guided him through the long hallway had now been frozen, for he stood still. The blade in his hand nearly slipped out of his gauntlet due to the drops of sweat that oozed through the cracks and crevices of it. He was nervous-.. Anxious even. For too long this tyrant had ruled the land with an unjust iron hand, and he would put a stop to it.
Not a single word was spoken... But when the hero readied his blade and held it in both hands, a single lightning bolt was visible through the stained glass window to their left. A storm was brewing, and the first drops of rain came pouring down from the heavens. The deafening sound of thunder rang through his ears. He looked up at long last, facing his opponent head on. He charged.
It was time.
High up on his throne, The Yellow King sat. A dark figure that was told to feast upon the souls of the wicked and weak. And he was smiling with cruelty...