The Other McCain

"One should either write ruthlessly what one believes to be the truth, or else shut up." — Arthur Koestler

Friday Fiction: 100 Word Challenge

Posted on | July 31, 2015 | 9 Comments

by Smitty

The flood abated, and Korban son of Korbill surveyed the ruin by the light of a harvest moon. He and his archers had climbed high in a thick copse of trees on a flanking hill as the orc horde forded River Myzods. The arrival of the flood waters had taken out half of the invasion, as well as the engaged defenders. Father.
The confusion of the deluge had thrown the balance of the orcs into a frenzied retreat, saving the kingdom.
His kingdom.
Father would. . .be picking his way back to the rally point now.
His armor was heavier, somehow.

via Darleen. Also rocking: Jimmy Bise.

Comments

  • http://proteinwisdom.com darleenclick

    I like! I hope more chapters are in the offing?? 🙂

  • http://theothermccain.com smitty

    How am I supposed to know what pictures you’re using? 😉 @darleenclick

  • http://evilbloggerlady.blogspot.com/ Evi L. Bloggerlady
  • http://proteinwisdom.com darleenclick

    Well, you’ve been very nimble so far!
    🙂

  • http://theothermccain.com smitty

    “When the moon stings your eye
    Like Her Majesty’s lie
    That’s ye moray”

  • http://evilbloggerlady.blogspot.com/ Evi L. Bloggerlady

  • http://alanye.com daialanye

    I didn’t want to do this, and apologize for it, but the foregoing story brought it on. (Worse yet, it’s over the word count.)
    Jarl Torok’s Death Lay
    What use have I of mincing ways—of wile and craft and lie?
    I, born within a thundercloud and bred beneath the sky?
    Subtle tongue and monkish wile—what use when bright blades ring?
    Dog! Haste on and learn to die. I was a man ere King.

    Why slinkest thou in craven wise? Thy speech was surely brisk.
    Thy knees are all a-tremble now—is life too dear to risk?
    Thou hast thy shield and mailcoat strong, thy helm and other gear;
    Come up, Dog! I’ve a sharpened edge to send a message clear.

    (Ha! See, the fool advances now, his minions pressing near.
    With numbers pushing close about he trusts to hide his fear.)
    Come forth a few more steps, thou dog, my arms are not so long.
    Thy rear ranks prate of glory… Soon they’ll trill another song.

  • Southern Air Pirate

    As the moon rose over the shore line, the man and his dog
    looked out upon the dying sea. They said there was plan to save the ocean. The world trusted these folks with their degrees and their so-called smarts. So the governments followed the plans. Only to see the life in the oceans begin to die at a faster rate than before. The only answer from the so-called science was we didn’t do it right. So they tried again with a different plan. Then the water became so toxic that ships seemed to melt away in the water instantly.

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