I awake from the breeze that blows theouout the dungeon cells. I open my eyes slightly to the surprise sight of a torch being lit up near what seems to be the dungeons main door. Wiping my eyes I look around and see prince Nerian sleeping with his back to the wall. He doesn't seem that old. I'd assume 20s? He wears worn out clothing, one a civilian would wear. His face is covered in dirt scars and bruises. Clearly they do not practice subtlety here. I look around memorizing outline of the dungeon where we are being kept. Large cages with metal cell bars. The floor tiles are wet. Odd animals with long tails and dark fur run about the dungeon. I cannot clearly remember for how long we've been kept here. If I had to assume, maybe a week. …show more content…
Surely he thus that he'd be better off with everyone just imprsoned here." "That's not entirely true Fafnir. You see, just after the events of my parents death a rebellion started. They consisted of people, nobles who thought good of the previous royal family. They fight to bring down my uncle and to return Vasantria to its former glory. A prosperous one." "Small skirmishes here and there had happened. This was before he had us imprisoned. Apparently the rebellion became a thorn on my uncle's side. So he amassed to kill the ones that the rebellion is fighter for, and that is the people. Random people, innocent strangers that lived in Vasantria. He made an example of all of them. The rebellion attacked less due to this." I think I have pieced it all together. I interrupt Nerian to try and prove my hypothesis. "So that means that the rebellion has begun to move once again provoking your uncle to take the lives of yet more Vasantrians. "Correct. It seems that we are his next victims..." He looks around the slightly lit dungeon room and sees the people. Some have smiles on their faces thinking that will be freed from this. There are some who have families in here with them and there are some who are elderly. Various types of
that their power was being taken away slowly he gave them positions in the army
" Well apparently the kingdoms are fighting, Lord Crailimor 's soldiers killed a family cause they couldn 't pay their taxes and Lord Crailimor 's praised them for it " she says as she looks at me. I can feel my face go red, I can hear my heart beating. My blood is boiling now.. If war is what he wants we will give it to him, we start by seeing Lord Williamson in the morning.
"One of the Cursed Generation. So, not all of them have been executed by now," a deeply-voiced traveler couldn't help but stare at the guards with a smug look on their faces. "Where has the kindness of the world gone? It's a shame he might not live a full life."
The first half of my book “The Cellar” written by Natasha Preston, was so good that I could not put the book down. The girl, at that point, had no memories which include her name and anything before she woke up on a dirty, bloody cabin floor. She looked down at her throbbing hand and found that two of her fingernails were missing.
...r to Menelaus now. Thee tapestry is too intricately woven, so as the central blame is Helen, most of the individuals involved are in the war for widely different motives.
Although there were many other things to worry about as I transported my flock, my mind still drifted to the merchant's daughter. The dark night sky gave my memory time to fade into familiar sounds and colors that made my recollection of that day clear and vivid.
It is contradictory with itself when trying to explain that their subjugation of the other colony is justified but if the other colony were to do the same to them then they would be unnatural. Clearly T.H. White is trying to explain how the entire war seems unnatural and is showing that through his own version of the Arthurian Legend.
excited the crowd in his idea against tyranny, and in offering his own death brings even more
With a bad, red, blemished face, the Corporal is also very large and has broad shoulders. He wears an old jacket, dirty shirt, muddy boots, and a tiny hat. At the beginning, the Corporal is controlling towards the men, but that is because it is his job. He did not
“You told me that the Nekrums wouldn’t invade while you were here. I was born into my life with you in it, and I’ve studied beside you since I could read. And I never saw you ill. What are you not telling me?”
I reached into the hidden pocket of my robe sleeve and pulls out a couple of tangerines -- from the grove we’d seen a few minutes ago, actually -- peeling part of the skin of one of them with my fingernail so it’ll be easier for Minho, with his bitten-down nails, to peel, and handing it to him.
The novel not only makes us question how the war effected the individuals of England, it also makes us question what kind of individuals can engage in a war. The continuity of war is also dependent on the nature of humans. Septimus thinks to himself, “Why could he see through bodies, see into the future, when dogs will become men?” (66). This is hinting at Charles Darwin’s idea of evolution, and that we all have primitive features and characters, as it spectates in some way that we all come and evolved from animals. The implication of this is that humans are no different from animals, we have the same beastly and malicious qualities. This in some way justifies the war, or at least helps to explain it. Anyone who could slaughter another human being must have some kind of animalistic or inborn tendencies to compete and dominate. Only animals would consider the killing of others as a victory. This contradicts the notion that “the war is over” because if we are all just forms of beasts the war will never be over, it is in our nature to fight and to kill, all in hopes of winning. Sure, this war is over, but there had been wars and fights far before, and far after. Septimus sees the truth of humans saying, “One cannot bring children into a world like this. One cannot perpetuate suffering, or increase the breed of these lustful animals, who have no lasting emotions, but only whims
she always used to wish for a way to escape her life. She saw memories
As I saunter onto the school field, I survey the premises to behold people in coats, shielding themselves from winter's blues. The sun isn't out yet, but the place bursting with life and exuberance, with people gliding across the ice covered floor almost cat-like. The field is effervescent and despite the dire conditions, the field seems to have taken on a life of its own. The weather is bad and the ice seems to burn the skin if touched, yet the mood is still euphoric. The bare shrubs and plants about the place look like they've been whipped by Winter himself. The air is frosty and at every breath the sight of steam seems to be present. A cold, cruel northerly wind blows across the playground and creates unrest amongst some. Crack! The crisp sound of leaves is heard, as if of ice splitting and hissing. Squirrels are seen trying to find a point of safety, scurrying about the bare trees that lie around the playground. Mystery and enigma clouds the playing field, providing a sense of anticipation about the place. Who is going to be the person to spoil the moment? To kill the conversation?
“A land of their own choosing?” the king repeats in bafflement. He does not remember agreeing to those terms. He would never agree, even under threats of death, to give up parts of his Kingdoms he fought so hard to claim for not attending a