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    Concept: The Gipfelstürmer

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    Pr0nogo
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    Concept: The Gipfelstürmer

    Post by Pr0nogo on Fri Jun 08, 2012 3:50 am

    There's something about old Daniel that just didn't seem right. Perhaps it was the silver-handled knife protruding from his back, or the red and black vine-like tendrils covering both of his arms. If not that, maybe it was the orange blood dripping steadily out of his mouth, splashing onto the hot sand and staining until it evaporated. Let's face it, though, his eyes - that's got to be what's wrong. Well, maybe it's his eye sockets, seeing as how his eyes have gone missing. They're probably off playing hide and seek. The things holding their spots are sharp, brown stalks that must be attached to old Daniel's brain. An even bigger stalk is coming right out of his chest, probably stemming from his heart. Daniel was very still. In this heat, he must not feel any of this. It sure looks painful. After all, old Daniel was always very sensitive. If he felt it, he'd scream or something.

    Right?

    Daniel was screaming now. He was screaming like his life depended on it as he jolted upright, his entire form shaking as sweat dropped off of him as if he were a raincloud. He collected himself after a few moments, wiping the sweat from his brow, and tossing his legs over the edge of his straw cot. He'd always known sleeping on straw was a horrible idea during the heat seasons. Straw just made him sweat more, and he didn't need any more problems. Old Daniel sighed.

    He heard a sharp, high whine from somewhere nearby, and the man's head snapped to the entrance to his tent. Daniel only sighed again, and clapped his hands together, not trusting his voice just yet. It always hurt to speak after a nightmare, and he hadn't the faintest clue why.

    In came Lupara, one of the many three-legged, thick-skinned, furry-coated animals that were often used for hunting by the locals. Daniel's was an albino - and he sometimes called her "Lupara Bianca" because of it. The beast had been his companion almost a decade now, and Daniel adored her. She padded in at a medium pace, nuzzling her wild white mane against her master's legs and gazing upwards at old Daniel.

    Daniel loved her bright orange eyes. The pigment defect had caused her to have light red eyes for most of her life, but they had begun to change with the seasons. The colours were always rich, now, and Daniel could never help but stare. Her eyes were huge, magnificent, and so very intelligent. They reminded him of Aleksander's eyes, though his had been bright green.

    The man stood up, reaching his arms upwards to stretch and snap them back into place, as was required for most of his kind. Daniel belonged to the Nomads - offspring of the Gipfelstürmer who wandered the deserts of Telos, looking for a way out. All Nomads were lost, and old Daniel was no exception. Some Nomads, Daniel remembered, were lost together. As he reached over to pick up a golden, ornate medallion, the tired Nomad's eyes flicked from a dull red to a bright blue. His vision began to lapse, and he started to sink into the medallion - the colour of which now matched his eyes. 

    Yes. Old Daniel remembered. He remembered quite well, actually...

    Aleksander was a dull-looking child. Really, he was. His eyes, his hair, his skin, and even his palms had little colour. He blended in with the desert sand, and he hardly ever felt warm. When the bloodthirsty Wørgs found their way into the Nomad camps, they'd always forget Aleksander. That's how dull he was as a child.

    He grew up to be a pretty bright man, though - his skin became closer and closer to the bright yellow hue of the Risen, and his eyes had spattered gold flecks in them. Some said he had the blood of a Risen in him, but he never agreed. Aleksander was never very accepting of his fate, even when it killed him. Daniel knew that better than anyone.

    Who else would know, though? Aleksander had only ever partnered with Daniel. Daniel had experience with others, but Aleksander had compassion and intelligence. Their bond was one of the strongest, even though there were plenty of promising others whom Aleksander could have had, of he so desired. Everything about the bond was what Aleksander had wanted all along - freedom, protection, trust, and sex. It was all there, and Daniel knew that the way things were was only good for a short time.

    In truth, Daniel was a brute of a man, standing well above the standard height and living several decades past the usual life expectancy of thirty. Aleksander, on the other hand, died when he was twenty-four, and the bond between the two had sired no children. "Gipfelstürmer has cursed you," the others had said. "Only that energy could have rendered you so... senseless."

    It was Daniel who had killed Aleksander, many years ago. It was after the Nomad had been attacked by a pair of Wørgs - Daniel still remembered every moment of that day. The freakish quadrupeds, messes of black scales and green fur, had bolted after Daniel, trying to snap at his feet. The brute was livid at this attack - especially since it had put his bond in jeopardy. The Nomad unsheathed from his scabbard a great blade that would take two hands to hold for a simpler man, and swung hard at the first of the purple-blooded abominations. Down went the creature! A leg severed, another broken, the beast was out of the fight for sure. They were hardly stupid creatures, though. The second Wørg had backed away a little, its vicious maws snarling at the Nomad. Daniel was ready to sever both of the creature's heads when he heard a great thunderclap from his tent.

    A vorstorm had begun, summoned by a unseen enemy. These artificial forces were powerful enough to move entire dunes of the desert, if manipulated by proper hands. Voragos - the mage race banished here by their breeders - were rare indeed, but loved nothing more than to see blood on the sand. Unblinking, Daniel had already slain the last of his attackers and was charging against the magic, seeking only to rescue his bond-mate.

    Unbeknownst to the warrior, Aleksander had left the tent already. He wasn't far - Daniel could have seen him easily if the sands weren't spraying and flying every which way. The magic that was tearing up the Nomad's tent, however, would have to end if they were ever to be reunited. Daniel left, then, to find the skulking hunchback. The Voragos would have to be near to maintain his spell, and Daniel could almost make out a shadow against the storming sand. He grunted, readying his blood-stained blade.

    The warrior charged at the shadow, seeing it hunched over in the precise shape he'd predicted. He took a great leap, pulling himself against the vorstorm, and roared as his blade sunk into the mage's flesh. An audible sound of the corpse falling to the sands reassured the warrior, but as he lifted his blade from the form, an unsettling feeling crept up Daniel's spine. He looked around.

    The storm was still going strong.

    Daniel looked down, and fell to his knees, hopelessly gazing into the dull eyes of his dead lover. The Nomad warrior had just severed his own bond. He scooped the weightless corpse up, his muscles contorting and twisting as his brain tried to sort out his emotions without ravaging his body.

    Finally, Daniel looked up to the sky, and whispered a word of death. His bond-mate's corpse would decay in his arms, and the dumbfounded warrior would sit and stare into the celestial energy that was called Gipfelstürmer.

    And Daniel would repeat his word.

    "Gone?"

    Aleksander was gone. Daniel was not. Forty-six years later, old Daniel rested his medallion down on the table and pondered. He looked to his companion, who was emphatically waggling her twin tails and staring up at her master. The old Nomad's eyes had returned to their customary dull red, and he opened his mouth to speak.

    "Why am I still alive, huh? Why am I still here, Lupara? Do you know?" The creature cocked her head, as if trying to understand what was being asked. He half-joked whenever he asked that question - which was often. Sometimes, old Daniel wished his companion would answer him.

    Daniel's gaze wandered again. "Yeah. I wish I knew, too." Now that he was done having nightmares, the weary old Nomad wondered just how important the events of his last murder were. Just yesterday, he would have counted Aleksander's passing to be the most important thing he could remember. What was it, really? What was it to Daniel now? A forty-six year old memory is just that - a memory. Just like Aleksander's passing was a memory, so too were the battles of the Great Divide, the Reunification, and the Second Great Divide. Daniel had a lot of memories. Daniel didn't care for any of them. Daniel just wanted out. He looked to Lupara, gave her a single pat on the top of her head, and sighed.

    Daniel had thought about this for forty-six years. It wasn't a decision he'd reached after a few weeks. The decision had been reached, though. Tonight was the night. Old Daniel got up very suddenly, grabbed the silver-handled hunting knife, and left his small tent. For the next hour, he climbed the tallest dune nearby, sat down cross-legged against the sand, and dug the blade in one time.

    He smiled. He's gone.

    There's something about old Daniel that just seemed right. Perhaps it was the silver-handled knife protruding from his back, or the red and black vine-like tendrils covering both of his arms. If not that, maybe it was the orange blood dripping steadily out of his mouth, splashing onto the hot sand and staining until it evaporated. Let's face it, though, his eyes - that's got to be what's right. Well, maybe it's his eye sockets, seeing as how his eyes have gone missing. They're probably off playing hide and seek. The things holding their spots are sharp, brown stalks that must be attached to old Daniel's brain. An even bigger stalk is coming right out of his chest, probably stemming from his heart. Daniel was very still. In this heat, he must not feel any of this. It sure looks peaceful. After all, old Daniel was always very quiet. If he felt it, he'd probably give a soft sigh of approval or something.

    But old Daniel didn't feel it. Old Daniel was dead, and that's just how he liked it.

    ---

    "Gipfelstürmer" is a song by Artas. In this story, it is the creation energy. Not an entity, but an energy.
    "Lupara Bianca" is a song by The Last Hangmen. Lupara is the albino animal companion of Daniel.
    Wørg is a term based on the Dungeons & Dragons species, Worgen. Wørgs are powerful and large wolf-like beasts with black fur and patches of dark-green protective scales.
    Voragos is a term I came up with on my own. I don't think it has any rooted meanings in any language, though I do know that vore is a fetish that involves being cannibalised during sex. The Voragos are a race of magic users bred by another race entirely and banished to the deserts of Telos.
    The Nomads are all seemingly male, but are in fact genderless. Male pronouns were used for appearance purposes. So, no, they are not a race of homosexuals. Sorry.
    Telos is a term I made up long ago. In this story, the deserts of Telos are a practically unending wasteland of sand and dust where you will wander forever if you are banished there. Unpleasant, right?

    I'm Pr0nogo and I was bored from 2:00 AM to 3:05 AM, June 8th, 2012.

    This was originally going to be for the contest but it felt shoehorned and forced. I'll probably use something else.
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    Fyodor
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    Posts : 12
    Join date : 2012-05-30

    Re: Concept: The Gipfelstürmer

    Post by Fyodor on Mon Jun 11, 2012 10:08 am

    That was an interesting twist you had on the ending. I found it to be enjoyable. Look for the bold text below for suggestions at fixing mistakes.


    Spoiler:
    Pr0nogo wrote:There's something about old Daniel that just didn't seem right. Perhaps it was the silver-handled knife protruding from his back, or the red and black vine-like tendrils covering both of his arms. If not that, maybe it was the orange blood dripping steadily out of his mouth, splashing onto the hot sand and staining until it evaporated. Let's face it, though, his eyes - that's got to be what's wrong. Well, maybe it's his eye sockets, seeing as how his eyes have gone missing. They're probably off playing hide and seek. The things holding their spots are sharp, brown stalks that must be attached to old Daniel's brain. An even bigger stalk is coming right out of his chest, probably stemming from his heart. Daniel was very still. In this heat, he must not feel any of this. It sure looks painful. After all, old Daniel was always very sensitive. If he felt it, he'd scream or something.

    Right?

    Daniel was screaming now. He was screaming like his life depended on it as he jolted upright, his entire form shaking as sweat dropped off of him as if he were a raincloud. He collected himself after a few moments, wiping the sweat from his brow, and tossing his legs over the edge of his straw cot. He'd always known sleeping on straw was a horrible idea during the heat seasons. Straw just made him sweat more, and he didn't need any more problems. Old Daniel sighed.

    He heard a sharp, high whine from somewhere nearby, and the man's head snapped to the entrance to his tent. Daniel only sighed again, and clapped his hands together, not trusting his voice just yet. It always hurt to speak after a nightmare, and he hadn't the faintest clue why.

    In came Lupara, one of the many three-legged, thick-skinned, furry-coated animals that were often used for hunting by the locals. Daniel's was an albino - and he sometimes called her "Lupara Bianca" because of it. The beast had been his companion almost a decade now, and Daniel adored her. She padded in at a medium pace, nuzzling her wild white mane against her master's legs and gazing upwards at old Daniel.

    Daniel loved her bright orange eyes. The pigment defect had caused her to have light red eyes for most of her life, but they had begun to change with the seasons. The colours were always rich, now, and Daniel could never help but stare. Her eyes were huge, magnificent, and so very intelligent. They reminded him of Aleksander's eyes, though his had been bright green.

    The man stood up, reaching his arms upwards to stretch and snap them back into place, as was required for most of his kind. Daniel belonged to the Nomads - offspring of the Gipfelstürmer who wandered the deserts of Telos, looking for a way out. All Nomads were lost, and old Daniel was no exception. Some Nomads, Daniel remembered, were lost together. As he reached over to pick up a golden, ornate medallion, the tired Nomad's eyes flicked from a dull red to a bright blue. His vision began to lapse, and he started to sink into the medallion - the colour of which now matched his eyes. 

    Yes. Old Daniel remembered. He remembered quite well, actually...

    Aleksander was a dull-looking child. Really, he was. His eyes, his hair, his skin, and even his palms had little colour. He blended in with the desert sand, and he hardly ever felt warm. When the bloodthirsty Wørgs found their way into the Nomad camps, they'd always forget Aleksander. That's how dull he was as a child.

    He grew up to be a pretty bright man, though - his skin became closer and closer to the bright yellow hue of the Risen, and his eyes had spattered gold flecks in them. Some said he had the blood of a Risen in him, but he never agreed. Aleksander was never very accepting of his fate, even when it killed him. Daniel knew that better than anyone.

    Who else would know, though? Aleksander had only ever partnered with Daniel. Daniel had experience with others, but Aleksander had compassion and intelligence. Their bond was one of the strongest, even though there were plenty of promising others whom Aleksander could have had, of he so desired. This previous statement looks like it should say 'if he so desired' not 'of he so desired.' Might want to edit this. Everything about the bond was what Aleksander had wanted all along - freedom, protection, trust, and sex. It was all there, and Daniel knew that the way things were was only good for a short time.

    In truth, Daniel was a brute of a man, standing well above the standard height and living several decades past the usual life expectancy of thirty. Aleksander, on the other hand, died when he was twenty-four, and the bond between the two had sired no children. "Gipfelstürmer has cursed you," the others had said. "Only that energy could have rendered you so... senseless."

    It was Daniel who had killed Aleksander, many years ago. It was after the Nomad had been attacked by a pair of Wørgs - Daniel still remembered every moment of that day. The freakish quadrupeds, messes of black scales and green fur,This doesn't correspond wit your definition at the bottom, in which you stated they had black fur and green scales. had bolted after Daniel, trying to snap at his feet. The brute was livid at this attack - especially since it had put his bond in jeopardy. The Nomad unsheathed from his scabbard a great blade that would take two hands to hold for a simpler man, and swung hard at the first of the purple-blooded abominations. Down went the creature! A leg severed, another broken, the beast was out of the fight for sure. They were hardly stupid creatures, though. The second Wørg had backed away a little, its vicious maws snarling at the Nomad. Daniel was ready to sever both of the creature's heads when he heard a great thunderclap from his tent.

    A vorstorm had begun, summoned by a unseen enemy. These artificial forces were powerful enough to move entire dunes of the desert, if manipulated by proper hands. Voragos - the mage race banished here by their breeders - were rare indeed, but loved nothing more than to see blood on the sand. Unblinking, Daniel had already slain the last of his attackers and was charging against the magic, seeking only to rescue his bond-mate.

    Unbeknownst to the warrior, Aleksander had left the tent already. He wasn't far - Daniel could have seen him easily if the sands weren't spraying and flying every which way. The magic that was tearing up the Nomad's tent, however, would have to end if they were ever to be reunited. Daniel left, then, to find the skulking hunchback. The Voragos would have to be near to maintain his spell, and Daniel could almost make out a shadow against the storming sand. He grunted, readying his blood-stained blade.

    The warrior charged at the shadow, seeing it hunched over in the precise shape he'd predicted. He took a great leap, pulling himself against the vorstorm, and roared as his blade sunk into the mage's flesh. An audible sound of the corpse falling to the sands reassured the warrior, but as he lifted his blade from the form, an unsettling feeling crept up Daniel's spine. He looked around.

    The storm was still going strong.

    Daniel looked down, and fell to his knees, hopelessly gazing into the dull eyes of his dead lover. The Nomad warrior had just severed his own bond. He scooped the weightless corpse up, his muscles contorting and twisting as his brain tried to sort out his emotions without ravaging his body.

    Finally, Daniel looked up to the sky, and whispered a word of death. His bond-mate's corpse would decay in his arms, and the dumbfounded warrior would sit and stare into the celestial energy that was called Gipfelstürmer.

    And Daniel would repeat his word.

    "Gone?"

    Aleksander was gone. Daniel was not. Forty-six years later, old Daniel rested his medallion down on the table and pondered. He looked to his companion, who was emphatically waggling her twin tails and staring up at her master. The old Nomad's eyes had returned to their customary dull red, and he opened his mouth to speak.

    "Why am I still alive, huh? Why am I still here, Lupara? Do you know?" The creature cocked her head, as if trying to understand what was being asked. He half-joked whenever he asked that question - which was often. Sometimes, old Daniel wished his companion would answer him.

    Daniel's gaze wandered again. "Yeah. I wish I knew, too." Now that he was done having nightmares, the weary old Nomad wondered just how important the events of his last murder were. Just yesterday, he would have counted Aleksander's passing to be the most important thing he could remember. What was it, really? What was it to Daniel now? A forty-six year old memory is just that - a memory. Just like Aleksander's passing was a memory, so too were the battles of the Great Divide, the Reunification, and the Second Great Divide. Daniel had a lot of memories. Daniel didn't care for any of them. Daniel just wanted out. He looked to Lupara, gave her a single pat on the top of her head, and sighed.

    Daniel had thought about this for forty-six years. It wasn't a decision he'd reached after a few weeks. The decision had been reached, though. Tonight was the night. Old Daniel got up very suddenly, grabbed the silver-handled hunting knife, and left his small tent. For the next hour, he climbed the tallest dune nearby, sat down cross-legged against the sand, and dug the blade in one time.

    He smiled. He's gone.

    There's something about old Daniel that just seemed right. Perhaps it was the silver-handled knife protruding from his back, or the red and black vine-like tendrils covering both of his arms. If not that, maybe it was the orange blood dripping steadily out of his mouth, splashing onto the hot sand and staining until it evaporated. Let's face it, though, his eyes - that's got to be what's right. Well, maybe it's his eye sockets, seeing as how his eyes have gone missing. They're probably off playing hide and seek. The things holding their spots are sharp, brown stalks that must be attached to old Daniel's brain. An even bigger stalk is coming right out of his chest, probably stemming from his heart. Daniel was very still. In this heat, he must not feel any of this. It sure looks peaceful. After all, old Daniel was always very quiet. If he felt it, he'd probably give a soft sigh of approval or something.

    But old Daniel didn't feel it. Old Daniel was dead, and that's just how he liked it.

    ---

    "Gipfelstürmer" is a song by Artas. In this story, it is the creation energy. Not an entity, but an energy.
    "Lupara Bianca" is a song by The Last Hangmen. Lupara is the albino animal companion of Daniel.
    Wørg is a term based on the Dungeons & Dragons species, Worgen. Wørgs are powerful and large wolf-like beasts with black fur and patches of dark-green protective scales.
    Voragos is a term I came up with on my own. I don't think it has any rooted meanings in any language, though I do know that vore is a fetish that involves being cannibalised during sex. The Voragos are a race of magic users bred by another race entirely and banished to the deserts of Telos.
    The Nomads are all seemingly male, but are in fact genderless. Male pronouns were used for appearance purposes. So, no, they are not a race of homosexuals. Sorry.
    Telos is a term I made up long ago. In this story, the deserts of Telos are a practically unending wasteland of sand and dust where you will wander forever if you are banished there. Unpleasant, right?

    I'm Pr0nogo and I was bored from 2:00 AM to 3:05 AM, June 8th, 2012.

    This was originally going to be for the contest but it felt shoehorned and forced. I'll probably use something else.

      Current date/time is Mon Oct 23, 2017 11:07 pm