24-01-2004, 18:52
The sandy wastes of the vast Island of Hist were being sucked up by the winds and set down again when these winds failed and vanished.
These wastes were broken only by the multitudinous and lush valleys where the Hist dwelled. Of course, for economic efficiency, the great cities, the industries of the Hist Empire were set upon the edges of the valleys and could even be said to be in the desert itself. The valleys were used for the painstaking and careful harvest of foods for the Hist population.
The streets of Kibarron (Kee-bae-rron), the capital; were dusty and the citizens were busy about their lives, no fulfillment or joy of living life, but content just to exist. Their love of actually living a life had been drained for centuries by the culture enforced by the Hist Masters and the all powerful Hist-span Corporation which dominated the country. A massive tower stood in the centre of the city and all four sides bore a large screen.
Klaxons sounded and the city fell silent but for the deafening sounds of the alarm.
The screens flickered on:
"Greetings citizens of Hist. The strong are our master. And here it shall be decided"
The voice was like that of a commentator at a race or arena. It was live and quirky. Its voice was the only one speaking in the city as the citizens glared up at the screens.
"Our great leader; the Lord Daraki has faced a challenge from his protege; Lady Vaja.
Today the future of our nations leadership shall be solved in the customary Hist way."
A man appeared, clothen in red and black robes, his skin pale and his hair black. He drew a sword, black and fell with deep red jewels encrusted that glowed brightly as the light was absorbed into the crystalline decorations. He greeted his opponent.
A woman appeared, clothen also in red and black though the decorations were not as elaborate as that of her master, her opponent. She also drew a sword though it was black and it seemed to suck all of the light into
"No duelist has ever fought with guns and so it shall remain so as tradition, the law of our nation; dictates."
Quick as lightning, Daraki jumped into the air and brought his light-weight sword down on Vaja. Vaja parryed his movement and moved to the side and quickly jabbed Daraki in his side. Daraki quickly broke that counter assualt with a movement of his sword. They backed away from each other.
"Why did you betray me? Do you not see that you are not strong enough to defeat your master? Have you not learnt from the ancient ones that one must never kill their master until they are strong enough? You are a fool, my dear Vaja!"
"No! You are the fool! Lord Daraki. The Hith throne is mine and I shall take it from your cold, dead hands. We shall settle this conflict with swordplay!"
She charged at Daraki in a blare of rage, her sword poised to stab her former master. However this turned to her ill.
Daraki quickly maneuvered his sword, parrying all her thrusts until she was too far forward. His sword thrust into Lady Vaja. She tried to breath but only blood escaped her lips. She fell to the ground.
Lord Daraki retrieved his sword from the corpse and sheathed it in his scabbard.
The announcers voice shouted forth again.
"And so we have it folks, Lord Daraki is still the Master. All hail Lord Daraki!"
The screen flickered off and the people resumed their toilful lives.
These wastes were broken only by the multitudinous and lush valleys where the Hist dwelled. Of course, for economic efficiency, the great cities, the industries of the Hist Empire were set upon the edges of the valleys and could even be said to be in the desert itself. The valleys were used for the painstaking and careful harvest of foods for the Hist population.
The streets of Kibarron (Kee-bae-rron), the capital; were dusty and the citizens were busy about their lives, no fulfillment or joy of living life, but content just to exist. Their love of actually living a life had been drained for centuries by the culture enforced by the Hist Masters and the all powerful Hist-span Corporation which dominated the country. A massive tower stood in the centre of the city and all four sides bore a large screen.
Klaxons sounded and the city fell silent but for the deafening sounds of the alarm.
The screens flickered on:
"Greetings citizens of Hist. The strong are our master. And here it shall be decided"
The voice was like that of a commentator at a race or arena. It was live and quirky. Its voice was the only one speaking in the city as the citizens glared up at the screens.
"Our great leader; the Lord Daraki has faced a challenge from his protege; Lady Vaja.
Today the future of our nations leadership shall be solved in the customary Hist way."
A man appeared, clothen in red and black robes, his skin pale and his hair black. He drew a sword, black and fell with deep red jewels encrusted that glowed brightly as the light was absorbed into the crystalline decorations. He greeted his opponent.
A woman appeared, clothen also in red and black though the decorations were not as elaborate as that of her master, her opponent. She also drew a sword though it was black and it seemed to suck all of the light into
"No duelist has ever fought with guns and so it shall remain so as tradition, the law of our nation; dictates."
Quick as lightning, Daraki jumped into the air and brought his light-weight sword down on Vaja. Vaja parryed his movement and moved to the side and quickly jabbed Daraki in his side. Daraki quickly broke that counter assualt with a movement of his sword. They backed away from each other.
"Why did you betray me? Do you not see that you are not strong enough to defeat your master? Have you not learnt from the ancient ones that one must never kill their master until they are strong enough? You are a fool, my dear Vaja!"
"No! You are the fool! Lord Daraki. The Hith throne is mine and I shall take it from your cold, dead hands. We shall settle this conflict with swordplay!"
She charged at Daraki in a blare of rage, her sword poised to stab her former master. However this turned to her ill.
Daraki quickly maneuvered his sword, parrying all her thrusts until she was too far forward. His sword thrust into Lady Vaja. She tried to breath but only blood escaped her lips. She fell to the ground.
Lord Daraki retrieved his sword from the corpse and sheathed it in his scabbard.
The announcers voice shouted forth again.
"And so we have it folks, Lord Daraki is still the Master. All hail Lord Daraki!"
The screen flickered off and the people resumed their toilful lives.