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The Adventures of ArmorGames: The Fallen
Chapter 2: A Quest

Deloric gritted his teeth as Marle's huge sword swung in an arc at his head. He ducked, and slashed back and forth at his opponent's legs. Marle leapt back, and attempted a killing overhead blow. Deloric parried, and jabbed at Marle's chest. Marle deflected Deloric's light rapier, and made a thrust of his own. Easily sidestepping, Deloric feinted a sideswipe. Marle sidestepped that, and then, Deloric flicked his sword up in a swipe that would've cut off Marle's left arm, had they not been using dull swords with the edges covered with wood.
"Very good, Deloric!" praised his mentor. Deloric bowed his head respectfully in acknowledge of the praise. He was a quiet lad, especially for 16; the age when most would be full of energy and still impatient and curious. But of course, Deloric was different. His mentor, Cole, could see that easily. Sent off to the war at a very young age, Deloric had learned an elite swordsman's skills at just seven. But there was a price to pay. Deloric wasn't arrogant, like Marle, the other best student, but he was highly antisocial and had an explosive rage that surfaced easily. He was obsessed with revenge and becoming a better swordsman, and that worried Cole. Deloric had a fairly vacant sense of morality.
"You got lucky," spat Marle, wiping the sweat off his forehead. Deloric laughed and gave his sword back to Cole. Still laughing, he left and went back to the tent. Cole eyed him carefully. The sixteen-year old was the greatest swordsman he'd ever seen: but he was going down a dark path. Should Cole train him, and give him power? Power he didn't deserve?

Deloric kicked off his thick leather boots in the apprentices' tent. Marle stomped in after him, in high dudgeon. The younger, junior apprentices eyed the elder ones' moods carefully, and quietly retreated from the tent. They had seen the twos' fits of rage before, and it was not something they wanted to be in the middle of. The senior apprentices; Luke, Allessia, and Tyren, glanced at them too, but stayed. They weren't afraid of the rival sixteen-year olds.
"You just got lucky," Marle repeated
"Whatever," muttered Deloric, pulling the rough, too-small blanket over himself and lying down on the dirt.
"Hahaha. I told you. You just got lucky," Marle spat, trying to get a rise out of Deloric. Luckily, Deloric didn't have a pride like Marle.
"I heard you the first time," sighed Deloric.
"I don't think you did," Marle said, getting up. Deloric shook his head and sat up, pulling the blanket off himself. The senior apprentices left them alone. The rivals would have to settle their dispute someday.
"Believe what you want, Marle," said Deloric. "Just let me sleep. It's getting dark."
"Yeah, it is getting dark. But just say it. You only got lucky," Marle argued
"Look, Marle. Just let it go. I won," said Deloric, shaking the dirt out of his short brown hair.
"No, you didn't. You just got lucky. Your parents weren't so lucky," Marle spat. The older apprentices winced. That was a low blow. Deloric had watched his parents' house burn to the ground, with his parents inside. And this time, Deloric did get mad. He stood up and grabbed Marle by his collar.
"What did you say?" he growled.
"Your parents. Or maybe they were lucky, just like you. They just were too stupid," Marle said. He was getting frightened of Deloric, whose eyes were narrowed and practically glowing with rage, but he was too vain to back down, especially in front of his rival and the other apprentices. But this was the last straw. Deloric threw Marle to the ground.
"Don't mention them. And not like that," he said, gritting his teeth to control the fury building up in him.
"Oh, I'm sorry. Did I offend you? Your parents don't mind. They're six feet under the ground with worms crawling through them," Marle said sarcastically. Deloric clenched his fists by his sides and approached Marle again. The senior apprentices sighed and started to get up. Apparently, they would have to stop this.
"Hey, Marle," said Luke. "Let it go. Deloric won fair and square; we all saw it." Unfortunately, even though Luke's intentions were good, he'd said just the wrong thing. Marle grew even worse.
"Well, maybe he won. Maybe he won fair and square, with some luck. But he's still a coward. Because you watched your parents burn to death with the screams echoing in your ears. And you didn't help them. You just ran away like the little coward you are," taunted Marle. The senior apprentices gasped in shock. Marle had never taunted like this before, but as the apprentice choosings were coming up, he was probably getting more desperate and aggressive, striving to prove himself worthy. But this time he'd just gone too far. Deloric snapped. He dove onto Marle, raining his strong fists down on the other apprentice. Allessia, Luke, and Tyren jumped to their feet and tried to pull him off of Marle. But not even Tyren, with his giant strength, couldn't pull the enraged Deloric off poor Marle. Blood spattered the leather walls of the tent. Luke ran to Cole.
"Deloric!" sputtered Allessia. "Get off him!" But Deloric had lost control. He punched and kicked and bit, not even aware of what he was doing. A red film enveloped his view, and he kept beating up Marle. Cole came racing in. Together, the three apprentices and the mentor managed to haul Deloric off and away from Marle. Deloric struggled, but the four held him at bay. Marle's carrot-orange hair was soaked with blood, his neat clothes splattered with red and his once handsome face was black and blue and swollen already; the nose smashed like a lightning bolt. Deloric, his hands and arms covered with blood, shook his head, dazed. He blinked, looked at Marle, and looked at his own hands. He gasped, then his face hardened. It showed no sympathy or surprise at all. Just a cruel satisfaction.
"Deloric," said Cole, looking, horrified, at Marle. "You are banned from this camp forever on."
"Wait!" exclaimed the camp mage. "I have an idea. If Deloric goes on a quest...he might be able to return to camp as a better person."
"Deloric?" asked Cole, still furious at both his apprentices(but Deloric in particular, obviously).
"Ok," said Deloric, his dark eyes still looking at Marle's unconscious body with an air of dark satisfaction. "I'll go on the quest."

Maybe you should put your stories somewhere other than Armor Games.
I like this and you obviously have dedication to it.

Thanks. Actually, this took about twenty minutes or so to write. I'm not really dedicated.
Somewhere other than AG? Why?

Only twenty minutes! Wow, something like that would take me 2 hours...

Yeah, I've had to write a lot, fast, with school essays.
Once, I forgot to do my homework, but I had brought it with me to school on the day that it was due, so I finished it before my teacher called for homework dues(which is usually about 1 or 2 hours after school starts). That was a very close call.
What do you think of the story?

What does everyone think of the story so far?

I think it is pretty good. Just s suggestion, make the chapters a little shorter. It gets boring sitting there and reading the same thing.

I think it is pretty good, interesting.

However, it's hard to read... you should put spaces to create paragraphs at each quotation and whenever you feel like other than that. Otherwise it's a huge brick of text that's kind of overwhelming.

reading the same thing.

Yea, it's sorta confusing to read-ish, so can you add a space after each paragragh? Other than that, it's very good. Love the descriptiveness.

The Adventures of ArmorGames: The Fallen
Chapter 3: A Lost Battle

The cold winds whistled into Deloric's face, and he pulled his hood down. It didn't do anything to stop the chilling winds. Deloric's breath came out as white fog. He trudged along the snow-buried path. He was unbearably cold even through his thick tunic, but controlled himself, stopping from chattering his teeth or shivering. Finally, after hours of enduring the chilling winds of the northern thread of Forum Games, Deloric reached Warriors RPG. He walked slowly into the town, his freezing legs stiff. He walked slowly into the warm tavern. Needles pricked into his limbs as he regained the feeling in them. The barkeeper smiled at him.
"Hello," said the barkeeper. "You must be the apprentice Cole sent me?" Deloric scowled, and nodded.
"Well, I'm glad you're here. The ice wyvern is really giving us trouble," said the bartender, attempting a friendly smile. Deloric scowled even more.
"Where is it?" he said.


Deloric gritted his teeth. The cold penetrated his bones. The ice wyvern agitated the cold. Winds whirled and screamed around Deloric like a blizzard. The young apprentice's brown eyes could barely see his own hand, but he still approached the frost dragon with rapier drawn. The wyvern flicked his huge, ice tail. Deloric just barely dodged. He swung his rapier at the tail, but the ice was hard and his low-quality sword didn't so much as scratch it. Then, the dragon flicked its tail the other way, lighting-fast, and it made solid contact with Deloric. Several ice shards from the tail came off and lodged themselves in his chest, and he went flying from the impact and landed hard, blood pooling around him and steaming in the freezing snow and storms.

Woah... That was fast! The Alliance is finished already?!

Yup yup.

The Adventures of ArmorGames: The Fallen
Chapter 4: Unrest

Deloric awoke. His chest was bound with soft cloth. He felt a strange sensation on some of his fingers. He felt warm, and a strange stinging sensation came from his whole body, but was aggravated on his feet, hands, nose, and ears. He sat up, but immediately laid back down. He had an enormous headache and a fever. He steeled himself, and sat back up, ignoring the pain and the urge to lay back down on the soft bed. He looked at his hands and feet. They were wrapped in cloth just like his chest. After struggling, he managed to unwrap the cloth on his fingers and simply sat there and stared. Then, he swore explosively. He was missing the thumb on his left hand, the middle finger on his right hand, and the pinky on his left hand. He gingerly felt the nubs with his remaining fingers. The phantom fingers burned and stung. He stared in shock, then recovered somewhat. Still in a bit of a trance, he unwrapped the cloth on his feet, struggling. He bit his lip. He was missing several toes. All he had left on his feet were the big toe on his right foot and the second-smallest toe on his left foot. Shaking and not realizing it, Deloric stared. Shoving himself mentally, the sixteen year old slowly unwrapped the cloth on his chest. This damage wasn't so bad. Several gashes were present, but silk stitches(note: silk isn't a good suture, but in medieval times, it was the suture of choice). The wounds hurt badly, but the blood-caked stitches seemed to be doing their job holding the skin together.

Finally, about ten minutes later, Deloric collected himself somewhat. He yelled.
A doctor,looking to be about thirty, and wearing the doctors' beak-like, frightening mask, walked in.
"Oh, good, you're awake!" he said. Deloric pointed.
"What the hell happened to me?" he growled.
"Frostbite. We had to amputate or else you could die. And the stitches are from the ice shards lodged in your chest. The surgery actually went quite well," said the doctor. Deloric sat up angrily and gripped the doctor's collar with his remaining fingers. The doctor pried his fingers off easily, Deloric's strength greatly diminished and the doctor clearly experienced with patients angry or shocked at what had happened. The mayor walked in.
"Oh, good, you're awake," said the mayor jovially. A usually-antisocial Deloric turned plain hostile.
"What do you want?" he said angrily.
"Oh...well. I thought you should know," said the mayor. Deloric's headache and fever flared, and he struggled to stay up. He didn't want to show weakness in front of others, though, so he managed.
"What?" he growled, quieter.
"Well, the wyvern got more aggressive after it attacked you," started the mayor, obviously feeling uncomfortable.
"What?" repeated an impatient apprentice.
"You're in Operation: Liberate right now..." said the mayor
"Well, what?" said Deloric impatiently. He tried to tap his fingers, but couldn't for the lack of most of them.
"The wyvern destroyed the entire town of Warriors RPG. Everyone living there died," said the doctor sharply, cutting across the mayor, stuttering and trying to get the message across. The doctor left,and the mayor gave Deloric a sympathetic glance, then left after the doctor.

Deloric laid back down on his bed. And he cried for the first time in fifteen years.

The Adventures of ArmorGames: The Fallen
Chapter 5: Return of the Fallen

About a week after his horrific discovery, Deloric felt ready to get up and out of bed. Hell, if he thought about it, he figured himself ready to fight. Fight that dragon and send it right back where it belonged. And get his revenge. He told the doctor this, however, and got a different reply.
"Definitely not," said Dr. Hynamen, glancing at Deloric's still-open chest wounds. Deloric followed his eyeline.
"They're almost all healed. They don't hurt anymore," Deloric said. The last statement was a total lie; they stung and hurt a lot. Hynamen didn't buy it, but seemed to favor him.
"Ok," said the doctor. He grunted as he picked up something heavy. "If you can lift this above your head, I'll pronounce you ready to go." Feeling confident, Deloric took the heavy weight in his hands, and gasped at its weight. He struggled to heave it up, and got it to his chin. But then, his muscles tired, and he dropped the weight.
"Sorry, kid. You're not ready to go. Your body is still recovering and your muscles are still tired. You're not taking a step out of this bed," said Dr. Hynamen decisively. Deloric waited until he left, and grabbed the weight again. He laid down, and held it just above his chest. And he kept it there for hours and hours, until the doctor returned. Then, he quickly dropped it. This he continued for days. Then, he started getting up and walking around. At first, it was just a few wobbly steps. But he got accustomed to his weakness,and learned how to keep most of the weight off his feet and legs. Then, jogging. Running. Lifting the weight above his head. Soon, even in his weakened state, Deloric could do all of this easily. Deloric even used sticks to practice his sword fighting. And soon after that, about a week or so after Deloric's failed attempt to lift the weight, Dr. Hynamen pronounced him ready for combat.



Deloric felt shaky. And this time, it wasn't his injuries. The wyvern was not too far from him, tromping around in the powdery snow. Why had he wanted to battle this thing again? Deloric held his head high, stopped the shaking, and sent a silent prayer to Moat to help him. He slowly approached the wyvern. It lashed its tail to and fro, not even noticing him. Still, he found himself having to dodge the tail. He had spent hours that he wasn't training in some way picking apart what he had done the first time, and finding what he'd done wrong.
First, he'd approached the wyvern when it was against his own advantage; when visibility was limited and the ice dragon was in its own territory. This time, his plan was to slowly lure it back to a warmer, less snow-covered land, where the wyvern would have less power and he would be able to see, and be unafraid of the cold.
The second mistake was that he'd focused too much. First he had dodged the tail, then he had slashed with his rapier, then...that was when the wyvern got him. So this time he would look at the entire body, and not focus on one thing, just pay strict attention to everything.
Third was his choice of weapon. He'd attacked it with a low-quality rapier that couldn't even pierce it. This time, the blacksmith had given him a much heavier, but much sharper and better at piercing, sword. And had also coated it with oil, which, when lit, would ignite the sword in a fiery layer, and would not only help harm the wyvern, it would detract from its power and give Deloric the upper hand. So, armed with knowledge and a new weapon, Deloric approached.


The wyvern saw Deloric now. It lashed its tail, like it usually did. Deloric dodged(deja vu),but this time he rolled and slashed at the thing's back leg. The wyvern was shocked with the pain, and didn't try to counterattack. Quickly, Deloric jumped at it and jabbed at its eyes. But it lashed its head back and forth. Deloric dove just in time, underneath the chin. He jabbed straight upward, and ran out just as the wyvern would have collapsed on him. And the young apprentice didn't give his respects to it as a worthy foe, as any experienced and respectful warrior would have done. He wiped his sword clean in the snow, extinguishing the fire and getting the dragon blood off, and he spat on the wyvern's corpse. He walked up and beheaded it. Then, he went on the path to return to Operation: Liberate, bearing in his left hand a gruesome trophy.