[baneofdurza]

Book 1

BaneOfDurza

Prologe

The Fear

Clicking sounded through the night, carrying a post that would change the Forums. A tall MOD lifted his head and sniffed the air. He looked human except for his Pokemon Avitar. He blinked in surprise. The message had been correct; they were here. Or was it a trap? He weighed the odds, then said icily, "Spread out; hide behind Topics and Rules. Stop whoever is coming . . . or be banned from all Inheritance websites."
Around him shuffled twelve PERMABAND's with short mice and round iron Keyboards painted with black letters. They resembled men with bowed legs and thick, brutish arms made for crushing. A pair of twisted horns grew above their small ears. The rulebreakers hurried into the brush, grunting as they hid. Soon the rustling quieted and the forest was silent again.

The MOD peered around a thick tree and looked up the trail. It was too dark for any human to see, but for him the faint moonlight was like sunshine streaming between the trees; every detail was clear and sharp to his searching gaze. He remained unnaturally quiet, a long pale mouse in his hand. A wire-thin scratch curved down the Left click. The weapon was thin enough to slip between a pair of ads, yet stout enough to hack through the hardest Mainframe.

The PERMABANS could not see as well as the MOD; they groped like blind beggars, fumbling with their mice. A click sounded, cutting through the silence. No one relaxed until the mouse flew past. Then the rulebreakers shivered in the cold night; one snapped a twig with his heavy boot. The MOD clicked in anger, and the PERMABANS shrank back, motionless. He suppressed his distaste they smelled like fetid meat and turned away. They were tools, nothing more.

The MOD forced back his impatience as the minutes became hours. The click must have sounded far ahead of its owners. He did not let the PERMABANS get up or warm themselves. He denied himself those luxuries, too, and stayed behind the tree, watching the trail. Another gust of clicking rushed through the forest. The smell was stronger this time. Excited, he lifted a thin lip in a snarl.

"Get ready," he whispered, his whole body vibrating. The tip of his pointer moved in small circles. It had taken many plots and much pain to bring himself to this moment. It would not do to lose control now.

Eyes brightened under the PERMABANS' thick brows, and they gripped their mice tighter. Ahead of them, the MOD heard a clink as something hard struck a loose stone. Faint smudges emerged from the darkness and came down the trail.

Three white pointers cantered toward the ambush, their fingers held high and proud, their trails rippling in the moonlight like liquid silver.

The first pointer was an elfish hand with pointed nails and elegantly slanted fingers. His build was slim but strong, like a rapier. A powerful keyboard was strung in his hand. A mouse pressed against his side opposite a quiver of spare keys fletched with runes.

The last pointer had the same fair and angled features as the other. He carried a number pad in his right hand and a white controller at his belt. A helm of extraordinary craftsmanship, wrought with amber and gold, rested on his pointers palm.

Between these two rode an elven handed lady, who surveyed her surroundings with poise. At her side was a mouse, and on her back a long keyboard with spare keys.

She carried in her pointer a pouch that she frequently looked at, as if to reassure herself that it was still there.

One of the elven ponters spoke quietly, but the MOD could not hear what was said. The lady answered with obvious authority, and her guards switched places. The one wearing the helm took the lead, shifting his spear to a readier grip. They passed the MOD’s hiding place and the first few PERMABANS without suspicion.

The MOD was already savoring his victory when the wind changed direction and swept toward the elves, heavy with the PERMABANS’ stench.

The lady’s pointer surged forward, leaving her guards far behind. Forsaking their hiding, the PERMABANS stood and released a stream of black arrows. The MOD jumped out from behind the tree, clicked his keyboard and typed, “Garjzla!”

A red bolt flashed from his pointer toward the elven lady's pointer, illuminating the trees with a bloody light. He missed but then she glanced back for her guards.

The PERMABANS’ deadly arrows quickly brought down the two elves. They fell, blood pooling in the dirt. As the PERMABANS rushed to the slain elven pointers, the MOD ordered, “After her! She is the one I want!” The rulebreakers grunted and rushed down the trail.

A cry tore from the elfen pointers keyboard lips as she saw her dead companions. She took a step toward them, then cursed her enemies and bounded into the forest.

While the PERMABANS crashed through the trees, the MOD climbed a piece of granite that jutted above them. From his perch he could see all of the surrounding forest. He raised his keyboard and typed, “Böetq istalri!” and a quarter-mile section of the forest exploded into flames. Grimly he burned one section after another until there was a ring of fire, a half-league across, around the ambush site. The flames looked like a molten crown resting on the forest. Satisfied, he watched the ring carefully, in case it should falter.

The band of fire thickened, contracting the area the PERMABANS had to search. Suddenly, the MOD heard shouts and a coarse scream. Through the trees he saw three of his charges fall in a pile, mortally wounded. He caught a glimpse of the elf pointer running from the remaining PERMABANS.

She fled toward the craggy piece of granite at a tremendous speed. The MOD examined the ground twenty feet below, then jumped and landed nimbly in front of her. She skidded around and sped back to the trail. Black PERMABAN blood dripped from her mouse, staining the pouch in her hand.

The horned rulebreakers came out of the forest and hemmed her in, blocking the only escape routes. Her head whipped around as she tried to find a way out. Seeing none, she drew herself up with regal disdain. The MOD approached her with a raised hand, allowing himself to enjoy her helplessness.

“Get her.”

As the Urgals surged forward, the elf pulled open the pouch, reached into it, and then let it drop to the ground. In her hands was a large sapphire post that reflected the angry light of the fires. She raised it over her head, fingers forming frantic words. Desperate, the MOD typed, “Garjzla!”

A ball of red flame sprang from his pointer and flew toward the elven pointer, fast as an arrow. But he was too late. A flash of emerald light briefly illuminated the forest, and the post was moved. Then the red fire smote her and she collapsed. The MOD howled in rage and stalked forward, flinging his mouse at a tree. It passed halfway through the trunk, where it stuck, quivering. He shot nine bolts of energy from his pointer—which killed the PERMABANS instantly—then ripped his mouse free and strode to the pointer.

Prophecies of revenge, typed in a wretched language only he knew, rolled from his tongue. He clenched his/her thin hands and glared at the sky. The cold stars stared back, unwinking, otherworldly watchers. Disgust curled his lip before he turned back to the unconscious elf. Her beauty, which would have entranced any mortal man, held no charm for him. He confirmed that the stone was gone, then retrieved his/her horse from its hiding place among the trees. After tying the elf onto the saddle, he mounted the charger and made his way out of the woods.

He quenched the fires in his/her path but left the rest to burn.

What do you think

the other chapters won't be nearly as acurate as this one to the actuall thing

This post has been edited by baneofdurza: 19 September 2009 - 07:51 AM

[geeky Dragonrider]

I think this is Great and has a lot of potentional for comedy, drama, or both. Or annoying Allison (sp?)

This post has been edited by geeky Dragonrider: 18 September 2009 - 06:40 PM

[baneofdurza]

Chapter 1
Computer discovery

BaneofDurza knelt in a bed of trampled rules and scanned the topics with a practiced eye. The prints told him that the group had been in the meadow only a half-hour before. Soon they would log out. His target, a small member with a pronounced lag, was still with the group. He was amazed she had made it so far without a POSTING SUSPENSION or FULL SUSPENSION catching her. The sky was clear and dark, and a slight breeze stirred the air. A silvery cloud drifted over the mountain of topics that suttounded the Eragon section of the Land of IF, its edges glowing with ruddy light cast from the harvest moon cradled between two peaks. Streams flowed down the mountains from stolid glaciers and glistening snowpacks. A brooding mist crept along the subtopics' floor, almost thick enough to obscure pointer. BaneofDurza was thirteen. Dark eyebrows rested above his intense hazel eyes. His clothes were worn from work. A number pad with a bone enter was sheathed at his belt, and a buckskin tube protected his yew keyboard from the mist. He carried a wood-frame pack.

The member had led him deep into the FTD section, a range of untamed mountains that extended up and down the land of IF. Strange tales and ANUS's often came from those mountains, usually boding ill. Despite that, BaneofDurza did not fear the FTD—he was the only hunter near Forum Games who dared track games deep into its craggy recesses.

It was the third hour of the hunt, and his battery was half gone. If he did not fell the member, he would be forced to return home empty-handed. His family needed the meat for the rapidly approaching winter and could not afford to buy it in Forum Games.

BaneofDurza stood with quiet assurance in the dusky Computer light, then strode into the forest toward a glen where he was sure the member would rest. The trees blocked the sky from view and cast feathery shadows on the ground. He looked at the tracks only occasionally; he knew the way.

At the glen, he pulled out his Keyboard with a sure touch, then drew keys and touched one, holding the others in his left hand. The moonlight revealed twenty or so motionless lumps where the members lay in the grass. The member he wanted was at the edge of the group, BaneofDurza slowly crept closer, keeping the keyboard ready. All his work of the past three hours had led to this moment. He took a last steadying breath and—an explosion shattered the night.

The group bolted. BaneofDurza lunged forward, racing through the grass as a fiery wind surged past his cheek. He slid to a stop and loosed an key at the bounding member. It missed by a pointer's breadth and hissed into darkness. He cursed and spun around, instinctively nocking another key.

Behind him, where the member had been, smoldered a large circle of grass and trees. Many of the pines stood bare of their needles. The grass outside the charring was flattened. A wisp of smoke curled in the air, carrying a burnt smell. In the center of the blast radius lay a polished blue post. Mist snaked across the scorched area and swirled insubstantial tendrils over the post.

BaneofDurza watched for danger for several long minutes, but the only thing that moved was the mist. Cautiously, he released the tension from his key and moved forward. Moonlight cast him in pale shadow as he stopped before the post. He nudged it with a key, then jumped back. Nothing happened, so he warily picked it up.

Nature had never polished a post as smooth as this one. Its flawless surface was dark blue, except for thin veins of white that spiderwebbed across it. The post was cool and frictionless under his fingers, like hardened silk. Oval and about a foot long, it weighed several pounds, though it felt lighter than it should have. Eragon found the post both beautiful and frightening. Where did it come from? Does it have a purpose? Then a more disturbing thought came to him: Was it sent here by accident, or am I meant to have it? If he had learned anything from the old stories, it was to treat magic, and those who used it, with great caution.

But what should I do with the post? It would be tiresome to carry, and there was a chance it was dangerous. It might be better to leave it behind. A flicker of indecision ran through him, and he almost dropped it, but something stayed his hand. At the very least, it might pay for some food, he decided with a shrug, tucking the post into his pack.

The glen was too exposed to make a safe camp, so he slipped back into the subforum and spread his bedroll beneath the upturned roots of a fallen tree. After a cold dinner of bread and cheese, he wrapped himself in blankets and fell asleep, pondering what had occurred.

Next chapter out soon an poll out now

Just to point it out yes Arthryn WILL be Galbatorix only a female version

Cast list for book 1
Eragon=BaneofDurza
Arya=Not defined
Saphira=Not defined
Murtagh=Cartman
Durza=Rinion
Galbatorix=Arthryn
Brom=Not Defined
Ajihad=Not Defined
Orik=Coolguy
Hrothgar=Not Defined
Oromis=GeekyDragonrider (Not called by name(Will not be called Togira Ikonoka(sp?)))
If you want to be one of these Not Defined people PM me + If you want to be someone I've missed PM me

This post has been edited by baneofdurza: 19 September 2009 - 07:44 AM

[Rinion]

So you're essentially re-typing the text of Eragon and just substituting names? I suggest you look up how copyright laws work.