# Warrior of Iron



## Disciple of Chaos Undivided (Jun 3, 2009)

Hey, this is my first attempt at writing what I hope will end up a full length novel and writing fiction period. I hope that after you read it you'll post a message. I welcome all opinions and criticism. If you like it, awesome, if not please tell me why you think it suck. More to come in the future. P.S. the title is temporary, cant think of a suitable one right now. Enjoy!





* Prologue*


_Crack….Boom!!_
The sound vibrated through Mograns chest as he straightened and looked to the sky. Far to the north he saw what looked like three stars falling from the sky.
“Pa, what is that?” 
His father was staring into the distance with a hand blocking the sun from his eyes and a troubled expression on his face.
“Pa?” Mogran asked again.
“Just some falling stars son, nothing to worry about. I think you’ve worked hard enough today, why don’t you go back to the house and help your mother with supper.”
He started to protest but stopped when he saw the expression on his father’s face. Not wanting to feel a switch across his back he begin walking towards the house, looking back occasionally at his father. The older man never moved and was still staring to the north when Mogran passed out of sight. 

Later that night he lay quietly in the loft that served as his bed room and listened to the grownups talking around the table. They talked in low voices but he could still hear the fear in many of their voices. 
“I’m telling you, it’s a bad omen. Remember the stories we were told as children.”
“Bah, they’re nothing but tall tales our mothers told us to keep us in line!”
Then his father cleared his throat and when everyone had stopped talking he said, “I think the best thing for us to do is to be alert but keep going about our daily lives. There’s nothing to suggest that those stories are even remotely true, now let’s all go home and go to bed. I’m sure we’ll all feel foolish in the morning.”
After everyone had left his mother said goodnight to his father and went into the back room. For awhile there was silence, and then Mogran heard his father get up and walk across the room. There was the sound of old hinges then of his father sitting back down. Again there was silence; Curiously Mogran peeked over the edge of the loft. His father had a long metal club in his hands and was using an old rag to wipe it down. A pungent smell tickled Morgrans nose and he tried but failed to stifle the sneeze caused by the smell. His father looked up and smiled lightly.
“You should be asleep boy, tomorrow is going to be hard enough without you suffering from lack of sleep.”
“I’ll be fine,” Mogran said, “Where did you get that club?”
His father’s smile broadened, “It's no club son, it’s called a lasgun and I got it a long time ago, long before you were born.”
“What does it do?” Now Mogran was really curious, his father never talked about his past.
“It’s a weapon, see this here?” his father said as he pointed to one end, “this end shoots out a beam of light, not unlike a bolt of lightning, and scorches whatever you point it at. I got this a long time ago and in a place very far away……” His father’s voice trailed off and he looked up, listening. Mogran listened too, faintly he heard a rumbling. The noise grew louder and it was joined by clanking and other less identifiable noises. Followed by shouting which quickly turned into screaming. Mogran was startled when his father jumped up, the chair he had been sitting on flying across the room from the movement. His mother appeared out of the back room and looked at her husband.
“Houstus, what is it?
He didn’t answer, instead he turned to his son, “Mogran, I need you to get up in the loft and hide as best you can and stay there till your mother or I come and get you. No matter what you hear or see you must say hidden, understood?”
With growing fear Mogran nodded and climbed into the loft and as he slid underneath his bed the front door exploded into splinters. His mothers screams were abruptly silenced by a loud ripping sound, his father’s shouted oaths ended in a spray of blood that coated the ceiling. Shaking in terror, Mogran huddled underneath his bed waiting for whatever nightmare that had killed his parents to come for him. For several minutes silence permeated the small house. Then the floor boards creaked as though a great weight had been placed upon them. 
“I know you’re there boy, I can smell your fear.” The booming voice came from right underneath him. Mogran peeked through a crack in the floor. Standing underneath him was monster, a monster with skin the color of iron. Bright red eyes glowed from a horned head, as it looked up at Mogran.
“Come down here,” the monster said impatiently, “I don’t have all night!” Paralyzed by fear Mogran couldn’t move a muscle. Swearing, the monster reached up and tore the loft from the wall. Freed from his paralysis, Mogran jumped to his feet and tried to run but the creature behind him was faster. Grabbing him and throwing him over his shoulder the creature laughed. 
“You, child, have the privilege of competing for the right to be called an Iron Warrior. Trust me when I say that before this day ends you’ll be wishing that you had died with your parents. “It continued to laugh as it carried Mogran out of the house and into the darkness


----------



## Thuellai (Jul 15, 2009)

I like it. It's short and a bit simple but the writing style fits the scene. Definitely seems like it could become a very interesting story.


----------



## waltzmelancholy_07 (Sep 30, 2008)

Outstanding... Might avoid a few redundancies... Excited for the next installment..


----------

