2. I've been gone because of a game called Spore. it is probably the second best game ever. Here is some stuff I made:
3. Been piled up with homework to fill a hobbit...
4. Speaking of Hobbits, I have been re-reading the hobbit by: JRR TOLKIEN
5. Been having some IRL... "Soap Opera"
6. I did the Selena Gomez quests and... HAD TO BUY A SHARK MOUNT!!
7. And writing a story for a writing contest...
HERE YA GOES!
The year was 340 BC and the Unicorn Wars were drawing to a close. The Gnomish resistance was weakening. Lord Mrukor Moonthrower had hired Unicorn Slayers, vile, Orcish, beasts spawned in the darkest pits of Legeth, with a natural rancor to Unicorns. Unicorn slayers infiltrated the Gnomish city of Blan-Vargen in the darkest night. The Gnomes rode the Unicorns into battle. The Unicorn Slayers had murdered all the Unicorns. All but one…
“OI!!” yelled the Orc, “GET BACK HERE YE DIRTY GNOME!!” Rhybrin leaped over rocks and ducked under trees. The Orc just blasted through everything. He was bigger than a normal Orc, eight feet of muscle and armor. He had a sword, a BIG sword.
Rhybrin turned his head so he could see the Orc better. Rhybrin then groped in his pocket for something. He took his hand out and was holding three Catzingh. Catzingh were small metal orbs that, when thrown, exploded sending sharp, metal spikes out in all directions. As he tossed the Catzingh at the Orc, Rhybrin increased his speed.
“AAAAARGHA!!!” he heard the Orc yell from behind. The metal spikes from the Catzingh had imbedded themselves into the Orc’s body. Most of the spikes harmlessly repelled from his armor. But a few nailed his face. Black blood dripped from the face of the Orc who, then, burst into black dust, floating through the air, like ash picked up by the wind.
Rhybrin slowed, for his foe had been destroyed.
“EY! Watch where you are going youngling!” Rhybrin had run straight into a Gnomish Elder. He knew this elder, Yorc, the Master Rider of the Unicorns. His royal steed, Yeowglinn, had been the first Unicorn murdered by the Slayers.
“I saw what you did to that Orkin.” He said in his gruff voice, a voice hardened by years of riding Unicorns through the wind.
“Orkin?” asked Rhybrin. He had heard of Orcs but not Orkin.
The elder sighed, “Orkin are one of Mrukor’s more vile creations. He cuts his finger and lets the blood drip on the body of an Orc. The Orc is then reborn as a half-Orc, half-demon. But that is not the point. The point is I saw what you did to that Orkin. It is one of a Rider’s most valuable traits; the ability to control themselves without looking straight ahead. You, young boy, would make a mighty fine Rider.”
“But Yorc,” said Rhybrin, “all the Unicorns were killed by the Slayers.”
“THAT my boy is where you are wrong… When the Slayers invaded in the middle of the night a young boy, once shunned by all as a pariah, was playing with a Royal Steed. When the Slayers got to that stable the boy fled to the forest with the Unicorn. A couple days later the lawn gnomes noticed a Unicorn exiting the woods followed by a Gnome. The Unicorn was identified as Satrigna, the strongest mare of the pack.” All Rhybrin could do is gape his mouth,
‘So, you want to make me the last Unicorn Rider?!” Rhybrin asked awestruck.
“By Balthazar you are slow… Yes I want to make you the last Rider! So come now boy we are going to the Gnomish mountain refuge of Tendor-Vlen. That is where Satrigna is being kept.” Yorc started walking, pelted by question after question from Rhybrin.
The pair walked through the Plains of Haradore, warding off Haradian Buffalo with Catzingh and trekking through miles of dense shrubbery. Reaching the mountains of Aeldabor Yorc halted, “Tendor-Vlen is a mere mile away, but the creatures here are stronger than in the plains, some could rip you limb from limb-“Yorc was interrupted mid-sentence by a monstrous crashing. Snow-covered rocks flew from the west as is blown from a shrapnel bomb. Rhybrin and Yorc covered their eyes as a wall of snow and dust came towards them.
Yorc screamed as a giant, white furred hand darted from the trees and snatched him up. The hand was connected to an arm, the size of a tree trunk, which, in turn was connected to a huge body. Pieces of dirt and animal bone littered the snow white fur. The face of the creature was just as grotesque as the body. Two black, unblinking eyes stared intently at its victim. It had long curling horns protruding from the side of its head. Its jowls were tinted yellow from years of living in the mountains.
“Run, my boy, run!!” Yorc shouted from the hand of the beast. Rhybrin didn’t need to be told twice. He started running, ducking under branches and leaping over rocks. This reminded him of the Orkin encounter, except the creature was ten times as big, and he didn’t think Catzingh would work on it.
As Rhybrin ran he heard a scream coming from far behind him, Yorc’s scream. He continued to run, blocking the bloodcurdling sound from his mind. The scream continued, then silence. Perhaps Yorc had defeated the beast, Rhybrin didn’t want to go back to check. He started to hear thudding footsteps following him. The ground shook with every stomp. Rhybrin ran as fast as his Gnomish legs could carry him.
THUD, THUD, THUD! The sound was drawing closer. Rhybrin picked up the pace his lungs felling as if they would burst. The footsteps ended as if they were stopped by an invisible wall.
All i have.