let's have an adventure. - no posting.

Are you a writer or a poet? Come and share your creations with us, or discuss writing techniques with others
Forum rules
Please only post your own original work, do not post poetry or stories which were written by someone else.

Tale of a King's Squire and the Battle of Fear

Postby phenomenon » Thu Feb 07, 2013 6:52 pm

Phenomenon's Gravy wrote:Gravy is a sweet little JBD that has a love for potatoes, gravy, and a burning passion for beavers. He's quite shy and timid. Certainly not the bravest JBD on the block. But he will stand up for what he believes in. Like beavers. His friends know him as the happy-go-lucky kind of fella. Always optimistic and the one to cheer up a depressed friend. He may not be a very daring dragon but he won't leave a soldier behind. He is warm and smooth like real gravy and his heart is just as warm and comforting. Gravy is full of compassion and utter sweetness.

Image

from Phenomenon's form wrote:Why does he have this plushie?: It was a gift from his mother a long time ago when he was a wee' little JBD. It was back then when Gravy was extremely fearful of...well, just about everything. Why don't we take a peek in the past, shall we?


- Tale of a King's Squire and the Battle of Fear -


Gravy's mother was worried about her son on how he fretted about the dark and how he trembled at the slightest odd noise. She decided to make him a companion. Gravy's mother was a fantastic sewer so making a plushie was no hassle for her. She bought some new special fabric and set to work.
Now Gravy was busy hiding in a tree from a "mysterious" sound which later he found out to be a strange bird. But of course, little Gravy didn't know that. As far as he knew, is was the Dragon of the Dark Earth coming to eat little JBDs. Thank goodness his grandfather warned him the Lord of the Dark Earth couldn't climb trees.
"Gravy! Why don't you come inside? I want to show you something." Gravy's mom called from inside the cottage. They lived in a cozy cottage on side of a hill so it was almost like a burrow.
Gravy shivered and looked around the ground below him. "B-but mom, I can't! The Dragon of the Dark Earth will eat me!"
Gravy's mom opened the side door to get a look at her son. "Gravy? What are you doing in the tree?"
"Hiding from the Dark Earth Lord." Gravy said still looking afraid. "Last night, Grandfather told me he can't climb trees. That's why I'm up here."
Gravy's mom looked at him and pondered this. Gravy's grandfather was such a vivid storyteller! How would she get her son down now? Oh, wait a second... "Oh, Gravy!"
"Y-yes, mom? Do you s-see the Dark Lord?" Gravy trembled from his perch.
"No, but I have a plan to make the Dark Lord go away." Gravy's mom said a matter-of-factly.
"Really? W-what is it?" Gravy asked his ears perking up.
"I can show you. But you need to come down from the tree." His mom said smoothly.
Gravy still looked a little unconvinced.
"Don't worry. The Dark Lord ccan't get you in the house. Especially with me around." Gravy's mom said holding her head up high with a smile.
Gravy hesitated but slolwy slid down the tree. He cautiously pulled his claws out of the bark and looked left and right as if crossing a street. Then faster than a jack rabbit, he made a bee-line for the house.
Gravy's mom smiled to herself and closed the side door. She padded over to her sewing chest with Gravy in closely following her. As she rumaged through her things, she began her planned talk. "Now, Gravy, I know Grandfather told you the Lord of the Dark Earth can't climb trees. He alos told you he eats little JBDs?"
Gravy nodded fast. His big eyes tried to peek around to see what his mother was doing.
"But did he tell you the Dark Lord's biggest fear?" His mother asked.
Gravy frowned. "The Dark Lord's fear? He has a fear too?"
Gravy's mother turned around and bent down to look at her son. "Gravy, everyone has a fear. It's your choice whether you want to overcome it or hide inside a hole. And when you stand your ground, your fear begins to fear you instead."
Gravy listened wide-eyed. "S-so...if I stand up to the Dark Lord...he will fear me instead?"
"Precisely." His mother turned around again. "And I found a worthy squire to accompany a brave king." She turned around with a beaver plushie in her paws. "Squire Beans!"
Gravy's face lit up and he grabbed the plushie. "I love him, mommy!" He hugged Squire Beans tightly. "I really love him."
Gravy's mother smiled with peace that her son was comforted. "Squire Beans will go wherever you go and stand with you against the Dark Lord. Not to mention he will be deathly afraid because the Dark Lord fears beavers."
"He does?" Gravy looked at his beaver. Then he smiled. "Well, he had better be because King Gravy and Squire Beans are off to slay the Dragon! Charge!" And burst through the side door yelling his battle cry.
Gravy's mother laughed. "Go get him, my King!" She smiled as she watched King Gravy run around with Squire Beans on his back as they charged into battle. It would be legendary.
King Gravy and Squire Beans have been at each other's side ever since. And their kingdon has expanded as they overcame every fear in their path. Their bond holds forever strong.


word count: 737 - status: complete - section: grains of sand
User avatar
phenomenon
 
Posts: 2540
Joined: Tue Jan 18, 2011 4:41 pm
My pets
My items
My wishlist
My gallery
My scenes
My dressups
Trade with me

RuneClan; prologue

Postby phenomenon » Fri Feb 08, 2013 4:42 pm

RuneClan, Book 1: Chaos Rising

prologue
Council Meeting


Image

────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

SOME THINGS TO KNOW

SEASON; greenleaf

WEATHER;
the night is cool with
a slight breeze. there
are no clouds in the sky.
almost a full moon

NOTES;
none

────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

      words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words. words.
────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────────

word count: 0 → status: in progress → book: RuneClan, Book 1: Chaos Rising



side notes; chapter; one
User avatar
phenomenon
 
Posts: 2540
Joined: Tue Jan 18, 2011 4:41 pm
My pets
My items
My wishlist
My gallery
My scenes
My dressups
Trade with me

Who is online

Users browsing this forum: Amazonbot [Bot] and 5 guests