Nocturne Exerpt for ContestChapter 1- Mid-Winters eve and the Blackened Dawn It was the night of Mid-Winters eve. The sky was white with snow descending from the heavens above. A bitter cold wind traversed the plains breaking upon the monumental pillars of the great White Imperial City of Mias. The moon lurked among the clouds gazing upon the still earth below.The great white city surveyed the frozen white landscape. Many of the villages and towns glowed dimly through the white. Lying among the outlying view was a small town known as Arbre. A warm glow emanated from the houses in labor circling a host of noble pines in the town square.People ran about, finishing
Nocturne Chapter 2Chapter 2: Grey Death “Are you still able Blaise?” asked Lucis “Always, old friend.” stated Blaise sternly Without a moments hesitation, Blaise drew his sword. He grasped it with both hands firmly as his hand set ablaze with a glowing crescent insignia. His sword glowed a bright ember red, howling through the air as he ran at the amassing force in the distance. Steam trailed him as the sky seemed to distort around his body. Flames engulfed every inch of his body, his eyes glowing with fury. Lucis took the opportunity and grabbed Amarin, running towards the now fallen Mias. He had to get him to the church, Scion wou
Nocturne Chapter 1Chapter 1: Mid-winter's eve and the Black Horizon It was the night of mid-winters eve. The sky was frosted over as snow descended from the heavens. An icy wind blew across the plains, into the great white pillars of Mias. The moon lurked about the clouds, occasionally glaring down upon the world below. The great white city overlooked the frozen lands. Many villages and towns lay on its plains, one of which, Arbre. A warm glow emanated from the many houses that circled around the pine trees. People ran about, finishing off the last of their chores and getting ready for the main event. The pines were being decorated with all manner of orn
Black Manifesto - IntroBlack Manifesto The dull glow of a screen illuminated the room, the table before it littered with cans and other debris. Code blinked menacingly across the screen in a uniform green. A man of 18 walked out of the kitchen, coffee in hand. Black hair parted in front of his emerald eyes. His skin pale as white, luminous even in the dark room. He stroked his stubble with grimace. Who'd ever heard of anyone his age taken seriously without a beard. He chuckled at the thought. He turned on the news, hoping for at least some type of relief from the monotony that consumed the present America. It was 2020, a Monday no less, how he hated Mondays.
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