Icarus - a lttle story project

[Sohashu]

Just to keep me busy.

PROLOGUE:

 The robed man entered the abandoned factory, the shattered windows the only source of light, and a dim one at that. He was named Icarus in the legends, and he went by this name, as he had long forgotten his real name. He pulled his spear from his back, and pulled out his cloak. The cape was a gift from the academy at which he had learnt to fight with all the grace of Sarissun, ancient figure of power and agility. As he had learnt this gift was his birthright, and he was also blessed with the powers of Xiorite, the assassin of countless myths. He had been rescued for unknown reasons by Xiorite as a child whilst attempting passage to the town nearest his destroyed childhood home. He had searched for a certain scripture which allowed the knowledge of why, but it had escaped its grip over a century ago. He also could control nature, but it was not much use in this urban hellhole. He heard a growl to his left, and as he finished attaching the clasps on his cloak, he heard the sound of advancing footsteps, and grabbed his weapon.

Icarus crouched low to the ground, raising his spear up defensively. A blade came down on the shaft, hitting the space in between his hands. His arms crumpled slightly, and he grimaced as the force was sent through his arms. He looked up at the behemoth, whose head he could see by the slight silhouette it had gained from the dim light, which gave a sense of implied superiority over him. Well, I’m not gonna take that. Icarus pushed back, trying to free his range of motion. The beast pulled back, its eyes gleamed as he saw its face in detail for the first time.

Its dull blue skin was leathery in texture, with small scales on its brow. It carried a great blade, roughly 6 feet in length. It towered over him, roughly 12 feet in height. Great tusks extended from the beast’s lower mandible, congealed blood on its tips. It pulled its blade back for another swing, attempting a motion that would never be completed.

Icarus leapt up, his blade flickering as 2 marks appeared on its cheeks. He pushed the blade into its shoulder, vaulting over its head. He had hit a nerve, and its hand spasmed, dropping its hulking weapon. It bellowed in agony, blinded by pain. Icarus raked his blade along its spine, using gravity to power his blow. It rocked back, nearly toppling, and this was all he needed for the finisher. He leapt over once again, delivering blows to its chest. He felt several of them miss ribs and tear lung tissue. Using his spear as a fulcrum, he landed a double footed kick to its face. Coughing up blood, breathing impossible, its predatory instincts dying, it stopped struggling, and the last hiccupping breath filled Icarus’s ears.

He stepped of its expansive chest, and attached it to a chain. Pulling the other end, he hoisted it up into the air until it was visible from the window. As he left, he called to all the crows and ravens near him to feast. Their squawking was all the confirmation he needed that nature had not been totally eradicated. He leapt onto the roof and moved west to the setting sun, and to his home.

CHAPTER 1:

The route to his home was not an easy one. He had to trek out of the city; it was of the Awabakal tribe long ago, and move on to the harbour with the arcing bridge. Swimming upstream, he had to breathe as one usually does, so he picked a route full of dangerous reptiles, whose names he did not know.

They were scaly, and were usually about 6 feet in length. They had a head roughly 1.5 to 2 feet in length, and had a toothy maw filled with crooked teeth. Persuading them to cover him, he swam below their bellies, using their ability to scare the average person to cover him. He used this to allow breathing on a regular basis.

As he felt a familiar current, he branched off to land, and to reward his helpers, he threw a few fish he had collected off a dock in the harbour into the water. The creatures snapped them up happily, and moved back to their territory. Relieved, he leapt up into the trees, scrambling from branch to branch. As he grew near, the smell of smoke filled the air. Worrying, he hastened his approach. As he saw the great eucalyptus, his heart sank.

Several of the beasts he had just faced were around his home, lunging at it with their bloody tusks. These ones carried no swords, but replaced them with retractable claws. They also were a dull khaki colour, as opposed to the blue of his first quarry. Damn teens never saw the thing coming. When will they learn that certain places are left alone for a reason? He leapt down, bringing his blade down in a ferocious slash on the closet wrist he could find. And as he landed on their level, the source of the smoking smell became apparent. They were clicking their claws together; sending sparks flying onto dead leaves. He also heard an echo of his landing thump, and the hand which he had attacked fell to the ground before him.

Regretting the motion he was about to take already, he rolled to the hand, and placed on his free arm. The inside was surprising hollow, and room for his hand was plentiful. Throwing the spear at a crouching ones head, he heard a familiar sound of metal on bone, a small clink. This was followed by a sliding rasping sound, and an unpleasant squelching sound was the follow-up to his attack.

He lunged at another, raking his newfound claws across its body. He heard a thumping sound, and he looked up to find the behemoth, which had had a short but bitter relationship with his spear, falling, his spear now embedded in a tree. The claws on these beasts were sharper than he thought, and the one he raked was clutching a broken sternum with a hand covered in red streams. 2 more remained, and one of those was crippled. He skidded back to his spear, grabbed it, and swung onto the branch of the gum in which it was imbedded. Holding on to this branch with his knees, he pulled his weapon out, and also pulled his knee muscle out. His boot had hooked around a knob in the tree, and it had caught quite hard.

Swearing, he fell to the ground, just managing to land on his back. This sound alerted the last healthy one to his presence, and it snapped around immediately. He attempted to get up, but his knee did not let him. In a last ditch attempt, he pulled vines from strangler figs to halt the behemoth. Not noticing this attempt due to its bad peripherals, it tripped on a vine, sending it tumbling down. Its claws hit a root and held fast, sending it into an uncontrolled somersault. Its shoulder joints went beyond their limits, and a cracking sound echoed off the trees. Leaning on his spear, Icarus stood up slowly. The one with the hand that had proved so useful was dead, lying in a pool of its own blood. A bit more than slitting its wrists, but it worked well enough. Finally feeling the full effect of his fall, he fell unconscious, his head narrowly missing an exposed root.

CHAPTER 2:

When he awoke night had fallen. His mind swirling from the fall, he felt a crust on his arm. It took the willpower that still remained to lift his head, a motion that sent his neck exploding into a sharp pain. His arm was covered in coagulated blood, a clawed hand that was not his own lay not too far from his own hand. His gaze drifted past his arm, and a great corpse lay in an awkward position. He saw bone sticking out of the shoulder, and for a second his memory flickered back into existence. Something had happened… the fight. Still unable to arise, he focused on remembering everything of importance about that fight.

There had been the factory, and the river and…the fight. There was something else; something important. It was… my house! His eyes snapped wide open, fear running through him. Adrenaline pumped through his blood, and he clambered to his feet, only to fall face first in the dirt. He needed energy, and soon. Tempting out the strangler figs again, he drained them of energy. Miserable waste of space anyway. Feeling rejuvenated, he steadily climbed to his feet.

Looking up the great tree, he ran his fingers along low gashes from the claws. Scribbly bark I can handle but this is over the top. Something stuck to his fingers, and looked at the gashes in more detail. There was sap as could be expected, but there was blood as well, and short fur mixed in; a most chilling mixture. He clambered up the tree, using the recent wounds as hand and foot holds. He arrived at his abode, which was unique for lack of a better word.

He had grown the trees upper branches into a solid shelter, which could not be seen from many viewpoints. It could only be opened by him, or anyone else with his control of nature, if such a person existed. But it had not been opened; rather it had been smashed open. It was infested with batlike creatures roughly 3 feet in length, with fanged gashes for mouths. He picked up a broken branch about 2 feet in length. Grabbing it in a reverse grip, he advanced slowly up to the flock, and as soon as the first was within his reach, he struck, smashing its head up into the ceiling. It dropped to the ground trailed by a pulp, and landed with a sound somewhat like an egg smashing. Knowing it would not be long before they attacked, he moved quickly through their midst, giving them the same treatment as the first. As he went to finish the last, it squawked loudly in his face. He fell back, dizziness his first reaction. As he fell he heard a flapping of wings, and saw the beast fly out the window. Given my current luck, it may be a good idea not to follow.

Crawling over to the beasts corpses, he picked them up one by one and threw them onto the ground below him. He looked out the hole in his home, looking at the moon. It glinted in his eyes, giving him something to look up on. Feeling confidence for the moment, he ventured out on to the high branches, and began moving to a nearby lake. He glided from tree to tree, feeling relaxation as wind ran through his hair. He reached the edge of a floral cliff, and dived down into the pure spring he had to call his own. As he fully entered the water, he began to swim down into a cave in its floor, and as he felt the bottom, he pushed up. His head breached the surface, and he felt alone and safe, the troubles of late washed away, even if only temporarily. He climbed onto a concealed bank, and curled up into a restful sleep.

Yeah.  Like I said, just to keep me busy. 

[Xion]

Xiorite

= Xionite = Xion Night?
  j/k

I'll crit when I get home, but it looks cool so far...aside from too many "His"es in the third sentence, which is about as far as I got.

[Darien]

Yeah didn't get psat the first paragraph because there was so much backstory, avoid that as much as possible, and when you do include it, include it when it's necessary, we don't need to know that now.

[Rydin]

Of the first eight sentences, five of them begin with "He".  If I remember right from composition, sentence variety is one of the key element in keeping the reader interested. 

For instance:
" He heard a growl to his left, and as he finished attaching the clasps on his cloak, he heard the sound of advancing footsteps, and grabbed his weapon."
Could be changed to:
"A growl from the left alterted him as he finished attaching the clasps on his cloak. Soon after, the sound of advancing footstops pushed him to grab his weapon."

Meh, crappy example, but you should get the drift.  I'm not saying to not use "he" as the first word in a sentence, just try not to use it as much.

Don't want to critique the story itself, as I don't know it all yet   Cant wait for more

[Sohashu]

Yah.  Ill fix those "he" parts. 

And Xion I actually did use your name as inspiration.