11-24-2015, 11:06 PM
Ballad kept his eyes closed as the evening wind soar through the air around him, providing a gentle tempo with which not even the most hardy could resist the temptation of sleep. Ballad placed both of his gloved hands on his chest, wrapping his fingers around each other as he rested his head against the hard, brown bark; his subconscious raced through his brain, providing him with a rather... otherwordly experience.
Ballad let out a small grunt as his eyes reopened, wiping them free with his closed fists. He began to say "Damn.. morning already-" in a cranky tone of voice before his senses finally caught up to him. His eyes opened wide with surprise as he found himself sitting on his rump in a huge snowstorm. His face and clothes were assaulted by white pellets of ice as he thrust his hand up in a defensive posture, loudly shouting "What the fuck?!" at the top of his lungs.
Ballad quickly pushed himself up onto his feet, his typically green clothing growing a layer of frost with every moment that passed as he whirled around, his golden eyes losing its glow as he looked around, if eyes could even see at all in the frighteningly cold snowstorm. The lack of exposure to the most dangerous element on any planet had spoiled him, and he found himself groaning as the cold stung his skin even underneath the massive layers underneath his uniform.
The green gunsmith found himself in a problematic position. He was being attacked by something he was used to, and there was pretty much nothing else in sight. With no other option, Ballad trudged through the nearly two foot high snow, which forced him to raise his legs up a bit just to walk a few steps forward. He kept his hands in front of his face, squinting as hard as he could as he desperately tried to find something, ANYTHING he could use as a means of shelter.
Then suddenly, the scene changed.
Ballad found himself within a town, or at least on the very edge of the town. To his left and right were buildings, both tall and small, wide and narrow. They were all made of metal, though the metal held a brown hue that indicated rust. Most of the roofs were completely snow-covered, with icicles hanging from the edges of the ceilings. Some had rectangular windows around one foot tall, which were all apparently covered by some kind of curtain. Others were guarded by chain-linked fences, though they were so old that even the breeze, which had thankfully died down, was enough to cause it to shake like a blizzard was hitting the place. But what stood out the most was the building in the middle of town. Or rather, the ruins of one. It was a giant building, much bigger than all the others. However, most of it looked like the construction set of a town hall, just without clocks. Most of the set also appeared to have a crimson color to it, which stood out among the ashen black of the set.
Ballad simply stood at the edge of town, a look of confusion across his face as he grimaced. After a few moments, however, the grimace immediately vanished, replaced with that of shock and misunderstanding as the green gunsmith backed up very slowly, as if each step could've been his last. He mouthed something to himself, though it wasn't loud and not even himself could've heard the words. The only thing that was discernible about it was that-
An explosion rang out, followed by fire, then battle cries.
All of a sudden, the streets were filled with bodies of similar appearance to Ballad: glowing, bisque eyes combined with green, bumpy skin. Most of the clothes were vastly different, with some having red while others had even blander colors to show for themselves. Another thing they all had in common was that all of their clothing were tattered, bloody, and dirt covered.
Those bodies quickly charged into each other like absolute animals, battling it out like it was an important event. Some had large pickaxes that they used to gut and split open each others skulls, while gunshots rang out from the windows of buildings and from rooftops. Red blood filled the streets as the combatants mindlessly slaughtered each other, each crying out various names. The ones that were used most often were "For the Church!" and "You shall be extinguished." Other brutal taunts and jeers were launched at each side as they tore one another into bloody pieces. Brother fighting brother. Husband fighting wife. Father fighting son. All in a thoughtless fury.
Ballad was unable to move, his entire body almost shaking with fear. He had never SEEN a riot like this ever take place in front of him. So many people fighting, all for something they thought they believed in. He let out a small whimper as he witnessed the massive battle in front of him, refusing to take part in it.
Then, to his left, a loud bell sounded that the crowd did not hear. He didn't know what could've made the noise, but it was his only chance to escape the madness that was this war. Sprinting forward, his boots created footprints in the bloody snow as he dodged, bobbed, and weaved through the anarchy that had plagued his town. He didn't even so much as touch anyone or even draw a weapon, all too focused on getting out.
After ducking underneath a wild hay-maker from a male about his size, Ballad caught glimpse of a large gate, unfazed by the weather and the turmoil of war. It cast off a serene glow, and the bars were solid gold. They were wide open, beckoning to him. And Ballad was no more than glad to oblige.
Running forward, he managed to reach the gates before they snapped shut extremely quickly. So quickly in fact, that Ballad didn't even have time to stop running before he crashed into the now closed gates, which had morphed into rusty, iron battens. Shouting in complete and total desperation, Ballad gripped the billets, shaking them repeatedly as if to pry them off by force. His cries were, at that moment the only sounds resonating throughout the ice-covered town, as literally everyone else had stopped to stare at the green gunsmith.
Exhausted, Ballad let out a few deep breaths as he turned back around, his eyes meeting the hungry crowd. Bloodthirsty cries sprang forth from the mass of people as they proceeded to perform a deranged rush towards him, pickaxes swinging and guns blazing.
Left with no other option, Ballad hopelessly let loose every bit of firepower he could into the onslaught of clueless soldiers, not even taking down one before he was brought to the earth, his back on the ground as what seemed like millions of rioters pummeled him to a pulp. He was only able to scream in pain before a single man walked up, pickaxe firmly gripped, and proceeded to slam it down on his face numerous times.
He was still screaming as he awoke.
-------------------------------------
Ballad let out a small grunt as his eyes reopened, wiping them free with his closed fists. He began to say "Damn.. morning already-" in a cranky tone of voice before his senses finally caught up to him. His eyes opened wide with surprise as he found himself sitting on his rump in a huge snowstorm. His face and clothes were assaulted by white pellets of ice as he thrust his hand up in a defensive posture, loudly shouting "What the fuck?!" at the top of his lungs.
Ballad quickly pushed himself up onto his feet, his typically green clothing growing a layer of frost with every moment that passed as he whirled around, his golden eyes losing its glow as he looked around, if eyes could even see at all in the frighteningly cold snowstorm. The lack of exposure to the most dangerous element on any planet had spoiled him, and he found himself groaning as the cold stung his skin even underneath the massive layers underneath his uniform.
The green gunsmith found himself in a problematic position. He was being attacked by something he was used to, and there was pretty much nothing else in sight. With no other option, Ballad trudged through the nearly two foot high snow, which forced him to raise his legs up a bit just to walk a few steps forward. He kept his hands in front of his face, squinting as hard as he could as he desperately tried to find something, ANYTHING he could use as a means of shelter.
Then suddenly, the scene changed.
Ballad found himself within a town, or at least on the very edge of the town. To his left and right were buildings, both tall and small, wide and narrow. They were all made of metal, though the metal held a brown hue that indicated rust. Most of the roofs were completely snow-covered, with icicles hanging from the edges of the ceilings. Some had rectangular windows around one foot tall, which were all apparently covered by some kind of curtain. Others were guarded by chain-linked fences, though they were so old that even the breeze, which had thankfully died down, was enough to cause it to shake like a blizzard was hitting the place. But what stood out the most was the building in the middle of town. Or rather, the ruins of one. It was a giant building, much bigger than all the others. However, most of it looked like the construction set of a town hall, just without clocks. Most of the set also appeared to have a crimson color to it, which stood out among the ashen black of the set.
Ballad simply stood at the edge of town, a look of confusion across his face as he grimaced. After a few moments, however, the grimace immediately vanished, replaced with that of shock and misunderstanding as the green gunsmith backed up very slowly, as if each step could've been his last. He mouthed something to himself, though it wasn't loud and not even himself could've heard the words. The only thing that was discernible about it was that-
An explosion rang out, followed by fire, then battle cries.
All of a sudden, the streets were filled with bodies of similar appearance to Ballad: glowing, bisque eyes combined with green, bumpy skin. Most of the clothes were vastly different, with some having red while others had even blander colors to show for themselves. Another thing they all had in common was that all of their clothing were tattered, bloody, and dirt covered.
Those bodies quickly charged into each other like absolute animals, battling it out like it was an important event. Some had large pickaxes that they used to gut and split open each others skulls, while gunshots rang out from the windows of buildings and from rooftops. Red blood filled the streets as the combatants mindlessly slaughtered each other, each crying out various names. The ones that were used most often were "For the Church!" and "You shall be extinguished." Other brutal taunts and jeers were launched at each side as they tore one another into bloody pieces. Brother fighting brother. Husband fighting wife. Father fighting son. All in a thoughtless fury.
Ballad was unable to move, his entire body almost shaking with fear. He had never SEEN a riot like this ever take place in front of him. So many people fighting, all for something they thought they believed in. He let out a small whimper as he witnessed the massive battle in front of him, refusing to take part in it.
Then, to his left, a loud bell sounded that the crowd did not hear. He didn't know what could've made the noise, but it was his only chance to escape the madness that was this war. Sprinting forward, his boots created footprints in the bloody snow as he dodged, bobbed, and weaved through the anarchy that had plagued his town. He didn't even so much as touch anyone or even draw a weapon, all too focused on getting out.
After ducking underneath a wild hay-maker from a male about his size, Ballad caught glimpse of a large gate, unfazed by the weather and the turmoil of war. It cast off a serene glow, and the bars were solid gold. They were wide open, beckoning to him. And Ballad was no more than glad to oblige.
Running forward, he managed to reach the gates before they snapped shut extremely quickly. So quickly in fact, that Ballad didn't even have time to stop running before he crashed into the now closed gates, which had morphed into rusty, iron battens. Shouting in complete and total desperation, Ballad gripped the billets, shaking them repeatedly as if to pry them off by force. His cries were, at that moment the only sounds resonating throughout the ice-covered town, as literally everyone else had stopped to stare at the green gunsmith.
Exhausted, Ballad let out a few deep breaths as he turned back around, his eyes meeting the hungry crowd. Bloodthirsty cries sprang forth from the mass of people as they proceeded to perform a deranged rush towards him, pickaxes swinging and guns blazing.
Left with no other option, Ballad hopelessly let loose every bit of firepower he could into the onslaught of clueless soldiers, not even taking down one before he was brought to the earth, his back on the ground as what seemed like millions of rioters pummeled him to a pulp. He was only able to scream in pain before a single man walked up, pickaxe firmly gripped, and proceeded to slam it down on his face numerous times.
He was still screaming as he awoke.
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New to OV? Need a question answered? Want a C&C of your work? Send a PM to me!
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