This one is coming at you kind of late because I spent the day trying to find the blasted picture that inspired it. Unfortunately I can't seem to hunt it down. Essentially, it showed this person in samurai armor in the foreground facing off against a giant and what looked like a handful of demonic sorcerers.
This was a challenge given to me by someone on Facebook when I was struggling to write. I decided to free write for it, so it's far less an example of how I used to write back in the day and more-so a peek into my thought process. One of these days, I might actually do something more with this world. For now though, at about 775 words, I hope you enjoy!
Oh, side note, the use of Samurai was originally in direct reference of the picture. From there on out, the use of the words Samurai and Knight, as well as their link to East and West, were always intended to act as simple placeholders so I wouldn't interrupt my own flow of thoughts. Please don't take offense as this is about as much of a rough draft as it gets. Thank you.
Their Last Hope (c) Felicia Skye
*****
Their Last Hope
Alright, initial observations: the person in the foreground appears to have a top knot and Samurai-influenced armor. At least one of the others has the same fashion of horns as the big bad, so I'm thinking the others are more so either the minions of the big bad, or maybe the very ones to call it into existence, than friends of the one in the foreground. Goddamn, I'm starting to think of a fictional story based upon the spread of Earth's nations and continents... Alt Earth, I suppose?
Instead of sworn to Lords, the Samurai are the sworn gatekeepers for the Eastern Passage, the waters there practically untouched by mortal man, all thanks to the Samurai acting as an unbiased group sworn to nothing but their duties to keep the Waters from being abused. A millennia ago, such a group existed for the Western Passage, but when the Black Plague broke out people became desperate for untainted nourishment. It was soon learned that the food from the Waters there not only nourished, but healed. The Knights protecting the Western Passage decided to allow people to partake in moderation, or maybe they sold bottles of it to the highest bidder- history is unclear in this. But what is known is that need turned into greed, and it wasn't long before sheer numbers overthrew even the abilities and skills of the Knights. They were killed down to the last man, woman and child.
The West no longer knew disease or hunger... at least, not for a few centuries. During this time, their numbers skyrocketed, and they spread across the lands, conquering many nations. They tamed the fierce Beasts of the South and brought down the Giants of the North to their knees. Superstition kept the East safe, for stories of bad fortune to all who traveled there had been passed from parent to child.
The Waters are running dry now. The fishing nets are often brought up empty. Boats are scraping against sand far from the shore. Something must be done. There are stories of the Eastern Passage passed along with the superstitions. The people are starting to know a hunger they hadn't experienced for generations, and desperation once more drives the West. An army forms of an impossible number led by seasoned conquerors. Calling themselves the New Knights, they march across the lands in search of the Eastern Passage.
The Samurai greeted them in full force. It was a fierce battle, for though the Samurai trained daily, the sheer numbers of the New Knights were overwhelming. The gods favored the Samurai, though, and struck with a storm filled with demons that tore and ripped at the invader's numbers. The few who survived ran away with their tails between their legs, beaten and broken.
The army couldn't go home defeated with nothing to show for their losses, though. Desperation drove them to the North and the Giants who had been conquered. The remnants of the New Knights spoke on behalf of their leaders, promising freedom and lands to their captives if they only took the Eastern Passage. All they wanted in return was full control of the Waters. Most of the Giants refused, preferring to live enslaved than to fight their conqueror's war for them. A few agreed, desperate for the hope of freedom regardless of the cost.
And so the Giants marched with the diminished numbers of the New Knights. Word reaches the Samurai. They had never faced the Giants before- they never had reason to. Though they had been victorious in the last battle, they had lost many of their own, and many more were still recovering. The evening before the New Knights arrived, the Samurai shared dinner with their families. They knew this would be their last meal with their loved ones. It was written in their faces the way a fisherman's wife knits her husband's death into his sweater. Last goodbyes, and the families are sent to the mountains, into the deep caverns where they might be able to hide and survive.
Morning comes, and with it a thick fog covers the beach that serves as the Eastern Passage. The New Knights had been busy: totems had been arranged with the rotting bodies of those they had killed from the villages along the way. The leader of the Samurai stands at the front of his brothers and sisters. Maybe... Maybe the gods will smile upon them once more. Maybe all isn't lost, afterall. But if this should be the last day he draws breath, then let every breath he draws before his last count to the utmost. He raises his sword, and the Samurai charge.
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