Dae Jinn
Jun 7th, 2002, 01:07:33 AM
This is a story I started a few months ago, I was just hoping to get some opinions on it, whether or not I should finish it, etc.
Constructive critism will gladly be accepted!
25 long years ago. The Saiya-jinn homeworld - lush, rich, full of life. And death. This civilization had been at war with it’s self since it’s birth. Clans of warriors, headed by those of noble birth, constantly struggling for control. The planets’ five continents are
covered by lush tropical rain forests, burning hot deserts, and murky dank swamps; these climates blended together with beautiful savannas.
The capital of the First continent was home to many of the most vicious clans. More civilized than most, these clans had order. They had joined together in an uneasy alliance,
creating a vast army. The leader of this army, Lord Diablos Jinn, a dark violent man, was set on destroying those weaker, by any means possible. This is what he had taught his first-born son, Ja ‘Aku, since he was a young child. And he was living up to his fathers’ expectations.
The screaming simply wouldn’t stop.Not that Ja’Aku wanted it to. The screams of these innocents was sweet in his ears.
A warrior child, he was barely past age 10. Ja’Aku Dama closely resembled his warlord father, except for being gifted with his mothers’ thick scarlet hair. His eyes were all his own, piercing glowing red eyes that betrayed the horrid thoughts that danced behind them. A child’s grin was on his face, one smeared with the blood of the villager he just tore apart with his “claws”. These claws, his weapon of choice, were a simple bar with four diamond sharp blades jutting from it. A present from his cherished mother. She had nurtured his violent streak, and he loved her for it.
He turned his attention to the girl, the one screaming and weeping over the body of her father. He laughed, stalking towards his prey. “This girl,” he thought, “this blubbering
child, her death shall not be an easy one.” He kicked her away from the corpse, sending her backward with a thud. She began screaming again, and Ja’Akus’ face suddenly changed. A low growl rose in his throat, a snarl past his unsmiling lips as he kicked the dead man aside. The girl let out one final feeble sob, staring up at him.
He lowered his head, a smirk played across his face. With his eyes to the ground, he stretched out one clawed arm. Pointing to the forest at the edge of the village, he spoke, his voice soft and gentle.
“Go. Now. If you can get away, you will live.”
The girl hesitated. He lunged at her, sending her running for her life. Ja’Aku switched his left claw to his other hand, holding both at his side. He raised his free hand, running it through his wild red mane, matting it down in spots with blood. He would give her enough time to reach the forest, once there he would kill her. He twirled the long thin braid that hung down his shoulder and over his chest, quite amused by all this. These villagers were nothing more to him than play things, cheap toys to be broken and discarded. He wiped some blood from his cheek, revealing a large tattoo of a black dragon - the noble symbol of his clan. He had it for as long as he could remember, this fierce protector that curled down his face, his neck, it’s body resting on his chest. “Not the most subtle symbol of nobility,” he grinned “but it works for me.”
He looked towards the forest; the girl was scrambling through the first layer of dense brush. Slipping his fingers around the cool metallic grip of his claws, he began his hunt.
Constructive critism will gladly be accepted!
25 long years ago. The Saiya-jinn homeworld - lush, rich, full of life. And death. This civilization had been at war with it’s self since it’s birth. Clans of warriors, headed by those of noble birth, constantly struggling for control. The planets’ five continents are
covered by lush tropical rain forests, burning hot deserts, and murky dank swamps; these climates blended together with beautiful savannas.
The capital of the First continent was home to many of the most vicious clans. More civilized than most, these clans had order. They had joined together in an uneasy alliance,
creating a vast army. The leader of this army, Lord Diablos Jinn, a dark violent man, was set on destroying those weaker, by any means possible. This is what he had taught his first-born son, Ja ‘Aku, since he was a young child. And he was living up to his fathers’ expectations.
The screaming simply wouldn’t stop.Not that Ja’Aku wanted it to. The screams of these innocents was sweet in his ears.
A warrior child, he was barely past age 10. Ja’Aku Dama closely resembled his warlord father, except for being gifted with his mothers’ thick scarlet hair. His eyes were all his own, piercing glowing red eyes that betrayed the horrid thoughts that danced behind them. A child’s grin was on his face, one smeared with the blood of the villager he just tore apart with his “claws”. These claws, his weapon of choice, were a simple bar with four diamond sharp blades jutting from it. A present from his cherished mother. She had nurtured his violent streak, and he loved her for it.
He turned his attention to the girl, the one screaming and weeping over the body of her father. He laughed, stalking towards his prey. “This girl,” he thought, “this blubbering
child, her death shall not be an easy one.” He kicked her away from the corpse, sending her backward with a thud. She began screaming again, and Ja’Akus’ face suddenly changed. A low growl rose in his throat, a snarl past his unsmiling lips as he kicked the dead man aside. The girl let out one final feeble sob, staring up at him.
He lowered his head, a smirk played across his face. With his eyes to the ground, he stretched out one clawed arm. Pointing to the forest at the edge of the village, he spoke, his voice soft and gentle.
“Go. Now. If you can get away, you will live.”
The girl hesitated. He lunged at her, sending her running for her life. Ja’Aku switched his left claw to his other hand, holding both at his side. He raised his free hand, running it through his wild red mane, matting it down in spots with blood. He would give her enough time to reach the forest, once there he would kill her. He twirled the long thin braid that hung down his shoulder and over his chest, quite amused by all this. These villagers were nothing more to him than play things, cheap toys to be broken and discarded. He wiped some blood from his cheek, revealing a large tattoo of a black dragon - the noble symbol of his clan. He had it for as long as he could remember, this fierce protector that curled down his face, his neck, it’s body resting on his chest. “Not the most subtle symbol of nobility,” he grinned “but it works for me.”
He looked towards the forest; the girl was scrambling through the first layer of dense brush. Slipping his fingers around the cool metallic grip of his claws, he began his hunt.