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Title: Exiled Post by: Jo on November 27, 2011, 09:34:47 am Slowly, shuffling, something trudges across the dust of a thousand sessions. It grows so weary of its trek to reach its final destination, but it is a trip of utmost importance - there are only days left. Its perception is hazy, vision; thumping. Its knees tremor slightly under strain, withering slowly from the slog. Sand licks persistently at its split, shoeless feet. Tiny, immeasurable droplets of perspiration trace down its furrowing brow, the residue evaporating; taste, salty, too drained to brush the side of its own face with its palm. Hopes that perhaps the slowly strengthening desert winds will cease in blowing dust into its eyes are slim. The sun is like an angry red monster, pounding down on the exile with flaming fists; the wicked fires beat down on it.
Its grip is fixed tightly around the tattered satchel hidden underneath its ancient, musty rags. The package is to become secrecy, to ensure security. The package is to reach its final destination, before the Critical Event. The package is to deliver hope to a dying civilization. The package is the only thing it is meant to exist for. There will surely be opposition looking to take the package, but so far the only opposition have been the arid grounds on which it is meant to traverse, and the sporadic swathes of dead heat that wash over it. Marks of the stranger’s winding path are scored deep into the gilded sands of the tainted landscape; an etched, windswept conduit, the only remnant of its final journey, a course stretching far back - tens of miles - to its own pod. The expedition is drawling, aching from earlier threatens to return with agonizing results, pain creaks from every receptor in his body; it cries with the feelings of pain. Yet it continues to walk. The wanderer still travels across the vast expanses of an ancient bone yard. It seeks salvation. Not even the elements will stop him; its own unwavering determination will seek to that. Yet the elements are relentless, as unrelenting as the force that drives it to succeed in its ambitious undertaking. The days are long and rolling in this hostile environment - it’s a struggle to survive, but it must get there, it must. Over the dunes, across the tundra, over the dunes, across the tundra, the surroundings are bleak and repeating; with, perhaps, the exception of the gradually dipping sun. Yet the wanderer continues ambling forth, scaling yet another ridge intrepidly in his journey. If only, it anticipated, perhaps the end will be in sight here. Just over this next dune... It presses forward, begrudgingly, with only just a slither more hope that the coming prospect will bear fruit. It battles through the familiar throbbing that decides to revisit. It strides up the glistening orange mountain leaving pockmarks where it steps. It holds its breath as it takes the final step, but rather expectedly, is yet greeted with more endless expanses of gold. The peripheries of his vision are flooded with the same, bland visage of a molten landscape of dusty orange and fiery yellow. It is new to these lands. Even the horizon shys away from him. ***** I slightly rushed the ending, I know, but I like that last little sentence there. :3 So I tried a new style of writing, and really enjoyed myself here. I'll definately continue this, if anybody else would like to comment or tell me something that I didn't do quite right, or why I didn't manage to achieve the atmosphere I quite wanted to, please feel free to reply. Any support is appreciated, and equally, if you'd like to continue in a similar style, please do so. I like this idea, and although it may not seem blatantly obvious, there's a lot of potential in story here. I'll be continuing with this. Title: Re: Exiled Post by: Rederror on November 29, 2011, 01:16:09 pm *snaps ou |