Who likes reading?

I do. Sorta. I like writing more though. :]

And so, in spoilers, I shall post the first bit of a story I'm writing. Feel free to bag me out. (Y)

Spoiler - First part

For a mere mortal such as myself to be blessed with a profession such as mine, there is no doubt in my mind that the whole aspect of free will was questioned. Perhaps, though, it wasn't questioned enough. Something must have slipped their minds; something enormous. We humans have a weakness, in fact, we are the weakness. Being a righteous human being would mean living a righteous life, one would believe. That is indeed true, but give a righteous man the power of the world, and watch the righteousness fade. I am that man, and my tale is thus...

On the twenty third day of the month of April, year 1097, our contingent arrived at Constantinople. We were on the holiest of missions, led by Raymond of Toulouse, to recapture Jerusalem and restore it to Christian control. Our contingent was by far the largest and most feared. We marched on little food and water, carrying with us our armour, weapons and shields, as well as the burgeoning burden of the countless infidels we had slain in the name of the Lord.
'We camp here for the night, men, and prepare ourselves for a harsh ascending march north in the morning. Rest your shields and blades but be wary, the Muslim armies will take any and every opportunity to finish us, especially so in our slumber.' Instructed the general in command of our sector.
Many of the men at the back of the gathering couldn't hear him clearly, so it was our duty to pass the announcement on through to the end. By the time the message reached the final troops it had been stripped down to 'camp here, north tomorrow, beware Muslims', which seemed more effective than any valiant speech our general could cough up.
'It's about bloody time, aye. I think we earned this rest.' Said one of the men next to me. His helmet and blade were already on the floor, and was in the process of removing his iron gauntlets.
'It's all very much civil, gentlemen. We had to use our own two feet to get here, while our Toulousian hero sat atop his steed. A true knight!' Stated another man mockingly, spitting on the ground.

I couldn't sleep that night. Not because of the general's warning. That seemed useless to me. I was in the middle of the camp, surrounded by at least a hundred men on each side.
No, my insomnia had a real reason, a personal one. It had been nearly a year now. I could remember her pale face as she lay still in my arms, bleeding her precious life away into my hands. I could almost feel her cold skin around me, hear the drops of blood hitting the marble floor below, and taste the salty tears that had rolled down my cheeks and into the corners of my mouth.
Ever since that fateful day, I had felt like something was missing, as if my heart was ripped out of my chest and thrown away in the deepest ocean. My heart is in me, though, still beating and very much alive, and that was the problem.
Perhaps, in being here on this mission, in risking my life for the sake of what is good, I could die an honourable death and finally - finally see her again.

'Halt!' Shouted the general, raising one hand up in the air.
'Halt, halt, halt, halt.' His word echoed through the whole contingent.
The entire legion stopped. Some of the men at the back, having not heard the orders, kept on marching, clashing armour with those in front. This wasn't enough to disturb the order of the troop, though, which waited attentively for further instruction.
'Ready your weapons!' Yelled the general, not bothering to look back at the army. 'Prepare for head on collision!' He had already unsheathed his long sword. 'My lead, men!'
The complete battalion broke into battle cry. I had no time to look around, no time to think. I unsheathed my blade and lifted it up towards the scorching sun. All I could see was metal. Some reflected sunlight into my eyes, forcing me to use my free arm to lower my helmet.
'Hold it!' Screamed the man at the front.
'Hold, hold, hold, hold.' My heart began to pound hard. Adrenaline rushing through my veins. I swallowed with difficulty and focused my gaze at the swaying swords before me. The heat of the sun was making me sweat; my armour and blade were weighing me down. I was starting to lose concentration; I needed something to keep me focused.
'Charge!' Ordered the general. This time there was no need for his instruction to be repeated. His voice, loud and deep, shattered my trance and brought me back to reality. This was exactly what I needed.
The battle cry, howled by the lot once more, echoed around the entire area, striking, as I imagine, sheer terror into Muslim hearts.
I could see the men at the front begin to run forward, weapons in position, ready for battle. Row by row I watched them dispatch. I couldn't see the enemy. All I could see was shining metal and red crosses.
Four more rows and I'd have to start running. I clutched my blade as tightly as I could, lifting it into the air.
Three. I could feel the sweat running from my gloved hand and down my sleeve.
Two. I swallowed hard and focused my gaze forward. It seemed that my heart was held in place only by the heavy armour I wore.
One. I watched as the row before me leaped and began to sprint forward. There was no time to prepare. I could see the space in front of me broaden. This is it.
'Move, move, move, move.' The entire row roared. It felt as though they were personally shouting their orders to me. My ears were ringing. I could see the men had already begun to charge forth. I couldn't bear to disrupt the order of the troop by delaying any further. I gripped my blade even tighter than before, and ignoring the heat of the sun, the sweet running down my body, and the weight of my armour, I raced forward. With all my strength and stamina, I streamed forth. My heart, leaping with each step, almost burst out of my chest.
This wasn't my first battle, or my second. This was the twelfth time I had charged against the infidels. Each battle becoming more surreal, as if though I was getting closer and closer to my awaiting bride.

PS: It's a story about the Crusades, so of course there's going to be some religious aspects.

Wow, that's incredible... MOAR. Now. Seriously though, that's a really well written story. I'll subscribe, if you're taking subscriptions. ;P

Also, I thought you'd left?

Eh, I don't have any subscription things going on. Just wanted to share my story, and I'm glad you liked it :D I've got others, but that's all I've got for this one.

Also, I visit randomly. :D

Well, this is a really great story. :p But I just noticed, this should be in creative writing. ;)

I read half of it, it looks pretty good with big words in it :D Crusades sounds like a good topic to base it off of too

Thanks guys!

Also, dang, maybe a mod can move it? :)

wow. u iz a good writer.

Thanks! And so I edited the previous story to make a little bit more historically accurate. Thar we go:

Spoiler - Edit

For a mere mortal such as myself to be blessed with a profession such as my own, there is no doubt in my mind that the whole aspect of free will was questioned. Perhaps, though, it wasn't questioned enough. Something must have slipped their minds; something enormous. We humans have a weakness, in fact, we are the weakness. Being a righteous human being would mean living a righteous life, one would believe. This is indeed true. However, give a righteous man the power of the world, and watch the righteousness fade. I am that man, and my tale is thus...

* * *

On the twenty third day of the month of April, year 1097, our contingent arrived at gates of Constantinople. We were on the holiest of missions, led by Raymond of Toulouse, to recapture Jerusalem and restore it to Christian control. Our contingent was by far the largest and most feared. We marched on little food and water, carrying with us our armour, weapons and shields, as well as the burgeoning burden of the countless infidels we had slain in the name of the Lord.
'We camp here for the night, men, and prepare ourselves for a harsh ascending march north in the morning. Rest your shields and blades but be wary. I fear the Byzantines may not take kindly to our being here.' The general in command of our sector instructed.
Many of the men at the back of the gathering couldn't hear him clearly, and so it became our duty to pass the announcement on through to the end. By the time the message reached the final troops it had been stripped down to 'camp here, north tomorrow, beware Byzantines', which seemed more effective than any valiant speech our general could cough up.
'It's about bloody time, aye. I think we earned this rest.' A large balding man standing a few feet to my right groaned. His helmet and blade were already on the floor, and was in the process of removing his iron gauntlets.
'It's all very much civil, gentlemen. We had to use our own two feet to get here, while our Toulouse hero sat atop his steed; a true knight!' Another scrawnier looking soldier stated mockingly, spitting to the ground.

* * *

I couldn't sleep that night. Not because of the general's warning. That seemed useless to me. I was in the middle of the camp, surrounded by at least a hundred men on each side.
No, my insomnia had a real reason, a personal one. It had been nearly a year now. I could remember her pale face as she lay still in my arms, bleeding her precious life away into my hands. I could almost feel her cold skin around me; hear the pouring down the marble floor below - taste the salty tears that had rolled down my cheeks and into the corners of my mouth.
Ever since that fateful day, I had felt like something was missing, as if my heart was ripped out of my chest and thrown away in the deepest ocean. My heart resided in me, though, still beating and very much alive, and that was the problem.
Perhaps, in being here on this mission, in risking my life for the sake of what is good, I could die an honourable death and finally - finally see her again.

* * *
‘Alright, you lot, over here. Don’t keep me waiting.’ The thunderous voice woke me.
‘No, no, no, no!’ It was coming from behind me, it seemed. It was far too early in the morning to bother, but alas, curiosity forced me to turn around. It took a moment for my eyes to adjust; daybreak wasn’t exactly my peak hour.
‘Get the hell back in line, you scum.’ A short, well built man in light Byzantine chainmail barked, blocking the entrance to the city. He looked about fifty years of age, and his heavy facial hair drooped over his mouth like a black and white curtain.
‘Now, you’re only allowed in here for provisions; Emperor Alexius will tolerate no – association - within his walls. You eat, you drink - you leave.’ His orders were precise; they must have come from the Emperor himself. ‘Move in; one faction at a time, just as I arranged you.’ His voice was calmer now, yet still awfully callous.
‘You best be up on your feet, cross bearer.’ The unfamiliar voice startled me. Uncomfortably, I twisted my body sideways and faced the figure towering above. Another Byzantine soldier; up until that moment I hadn’t realised they were surrounding us. ‘You’re keeping your men, and ours, behind.’ He proclaimed.

* * *

Our assembly consisted of about forty or so men, only about one or two of which I recognised. We had already rallied just outside the large iron gates; our weapons sheathed and equipment suspended on our backs. The gates were opened on an angle, and though we were a few steps away, we couldn’t exactly see what sort of city we were about to walk into.
‘Assemble into two rows, cross bearers, I want to see formation!’ The short official instructed, his long beard flickering in the wind. ‘No order, no entry!’ He declared.

***(skip few scenes)***

‘Lovely sight, aye, gentlemen?’ The bald headed man chuckled, glancing my way.
I gave him a half hearted smile and commenced to look around. The entire area was littered with mangled corpses, bloodied swords and shattered shields. Some of the men were crouched over the bodies in search for loot, while others were busy cleaning the blood and dirt off their weapons.
‘Who’d we lose to the other side this time?’ I heard one of the soldiers enquire. No emotion; no sadness in his voice.
‘See that helmet?’ Another man pointed. ‘Edgar lost it, together with his head; sliced clean off. Poor ******* couldn’t control the Byzantine dogs.’ He lifted his arm and wiped the beads of sweat off his forehead.
I couldn’t take my eyes off the lifeless lump of metal and flesh. I saw that man being severed before my eyes. In a way, Edgar had saved my life. If he hadn’t occupied that space before I did, it would have been me.
‘Getting prudish, aye?’ The hairless man laughed. ‘Your head’s still on, son.’ He assured.
‘Huh?’
‘Is your intention to strangle yourself, then?’ He raised one eyebrow.
I looked down at my hand. I hadn’t realised I’d been grasping my neck the entire time. I quickly released my grip.
‘Right, no.’ I blurted awkwardly. ‘It’s only that this – this head - could have just as easily been my own.’ The notion horrified me. As much as I embraced the concept of death, it still very much scared me.
‘Eh, could have been anyone’s, really.’ He grumbled. ‘You can never really know; it’s a world of chance we live in.’ He seemed to be enjoying the conversation.
‘Does it not frighten you?’ I had to ask. Perhaps I sought reassurance that I wasn’t the only one who feared bereavement.
‘To cower from death is meaningless.’ He clenched his jaw, which seemed colossal in comparison to mine. ‘Death is unavoidable; if the reaper wishes to seize my soul, I say let him come seize it, but I won’t be giving it up with ease. He’s going to have to fight hard for it.’ He chuckled, pulling an apple out from his leather pouch and crunching loudly into it.
‘I admire your bravery, soldier.’ I stated boldly. His way of thinking clearly mirrored his way of life, and more importantly, his actions in battle. I have witnessed this man being hopelessly outnumbered, many a time, and always emerging the sole survivor.
‘They call me Henry of Estonia.’ He announced. ‘Or, as some say, Estonian Hercules.’ He grinned widely, hurling the remainder of the apple into his mouth.

Also, a poem. Can ya guess about what?

Spoiler - The Empire

The Empire

Each pierce, a beastly blow,
Each strike, a gallant deed,
Each wound, a gaping hole,
Each drop, the Republics bleed.

A hasty death, a unity shattered,
A bloody trap, all things undone.
A steady slice, the cattle scattered,
A perfect end, hath just begun.

Set in motion, a rippling wave,
Set in place, a daunting travel.
Set in stone, a Caesar’s grave,
Set in time, a thread unravels.

Beauty had faded, the truth revealed,
Satan had sided, the pretence cast.
Atrocity had varnished, the lies unsealed,
God had foreseen, the dreadful past.

Trapped in time, a history engraved,
Free from shackles, a prisoner’s hold.
Trapped in place, a memory saved,
Free from nature, a tale told.

Who would predict such an event?
Where would be the assassins’ scar?
Why would he think to repent?
When would time dim his star?

Clouds of black tarnish the skies,
Goats of white stain the field.
Trees of stone where he lies,
Roses of pale at once revealed.

From the ashes, a phoenix rises,
From the seas, a trident shines.
From the city, free from guises,
From the skies, a union binds.

The stone shatters, a new beginning,
The ground dries, of innocent blood.
The marble buffed, clean of sinning,
The Empire founded, a blooming bud.