Useless Ramblings

Okay so... I got assigned this project to write 3 of the same essay in 3 different ways. (Cole, Will, this is mainly for you guys. but others, enjoy.) I wrote a re-told scene from Aestus Belli. the first essay was from Sceare's point of view. Second was from Calvarous's. and the third is this silly-ass fake documentary that uses dramatic irony to make it funny (you have to read it last for the best effect)

1 As the deer’s body dragged along the ground, the sound of cracking could be heard from only but a few feet away. The sound of the leaves and twigs were drowned out by the loud rustle of the breeze that hissed through the canopy of the forest. As he walked, Sceare began to feel the light-ish weight of all of today’s deer in his muscles. For dragging and bringing food back to the village was his job every few days. Groaning, he hoisted the deer up onto his left shoulder, slightly cringing at the feel of it dragging along the feathers on his shoulder. In his human form, Sceare has only feathers on his shoulder, claws and a tail. Sceare is a griffon, like most creatures, he and his clan have adapted to have a human form.
Pressing onward through the forest, he felt the breeze slowly getting warmer. He had thought nothing of it. It was the midst of the long summer on the planet Oblitus Regni and the wind had been known to change its patterns frequently. Sceare approaches the tree that stands nearby his path like he always has over the last five years, unsurprisingly; the markings engraved on the tree were still there. Observing the markings on the tree, he reminisced about that day, five years ago. He remembers all that had happened on that day with perfect recollection.
He launched himself up on the tree, and sat down on one of its largest branches, only to be followed up by his companion. She sat right next to him on that same branch. Her brilliant red hair flowed behind her in the breeze of the afternoon. Her name was Marico. She was also from his village and had also been a griffon. It was the afternoon in which Sceare had finally decided to confess his love for her. And he did just that.
Five years later and their bond is still just as strong. Sceare ran his claw through the old engraving on the tree; his claw fit the groove perfectly as he was the one who carved the marking in the first place. Withdrawing his hand form the tree, he shook his head, picked the deer back up and began to move once again.
Drawing closer and closer to the village, the smell of smoke becoming more evident. Becoming more intense, it had an almost ominous feel to it. Moving faster now, Sceare became puzzled; the smell was now unlike anything he had come across before. “That’s it!” He thought, realized now that it had been the smell of blood in the air. He stopped, in seconds his face had transformed into a large beak and covered now, in feathers. As his wings emerged from his back his claws became talons, and hind legs now into the legs of a strong lion. Now a griffon in his natural form, he roared. The deer lay on the ground next to him now, no longer his worry. As he launched up into the air, the deer was thrown far back from the turbulence his wings had created. Sceare now burst toward the village.
He erupted out of the tree cover of the forest and into the clearing of the village. Fire. The village, engulfed in flames crackled and roared. No more screams could be heard, it was as if everything, all life had been terminated. On the ground now, he ran toward his own abode to check on his family. Nothing. “Damn it!” he cried, smashing his talons into the wall. Sceare stopped and shuddered, “Marico!” he thought to himself. Flying low, he stormed through the village to the other home. Upon approach, he could see that the fire had subsided in this house, and the rounded roof gone. He entered the door, only to see the pile of bodies that had been Marico’s family. They had died fighting, he could tell. Upon entering the next room he saw the large griffon. Its fur shined in a glorious natural red color, talons as sharp as blades. Lying on a puddle of her own blood, she was dead. Becoming his human form once again, he knelt next to her, her body was still warm, and in her claw she carried a brilliant silver item Sceare knew to be her knife, her most prized possession. Looking to the sky now he saw a band of dragons, one of a bright orange stared down at him but flew off. Sceare knew that this was only the beginning of his suffering.





2 Flying high above the canopy of the forest, the brigade could see for miles and miles across the surface of Oblitus. The front of the pack was Calvarous, a deep green colored dragon with golden eyes who had been turned a fluorescent orange color with light purple eyes as a disguise. On his back rode his wife, a human mage with the name Tarune. The two were Generals under the rule of Verum Regis. Their king, Valsh, had sent them on their way to Port Town to destroy the main trade center of their rival kingdom The Knights. Calvarous led the dragons, while Tarune lead the mages that rode them. Just hind of Calvarous was a dragon officer named Gyrox. He was a red bearded dragon with a scar on his snout. On his back was a mage officer with the name Alec. Alec had been the man who had disguised Calvarous in the first place. Gyrox flew up toward Calvarous to have a word with him.
“Calvarous, some of the troops have been talking of a village of flyers ahead, what shall we do?” He asked. Calvarous thought for a moment before responding. “Well,” he said, in his chronically stern voice. “Stick to protocol unless we get spotted.” Gyrox nodded and slowed down to fall in league with the rest of the dragons to tell them. Their protocol was to fly low to be undetected.
Simultaneously, all of the dragons began to lower toward the canopy level. Tarune yawns. “I hate when the trip is this long.” She said, closing her eyes and squeezing close to Calvarous’s neck. Minutes go by as the quiet flight advances toward the village they are trying to cover.
Over the horizon Calvarous spots a speck hovering above the treetops. Drawing nearer and nearer he begins to see that it is not hovering but flying and it begins to take shape. It was a griffon. “Curses.” Calvarous mutters, and then slows down next to Gyrox. “The flyers are griffons. There’s no way we can escape their gazes undetected.” Gyrox nods, “What do you propose we do?” he asks. “Take them out I guess.” He sighs. Gyrox turns to him. “We don’t even know if they have coms or not.” Calvarous sighs. “Can’t take the chance Gyrox.” Gyrox nods. They both give the signal to swarm the town and make sure there are no survivors.
One by one, the dragons rush in to attack the village in blind assault. Calvarous and Gyrox now fly behind the cloud of dragons. From their view they can see the shimmering of the fire and the cloud of smoke rising above the opening of the forest. They smell the scent of blood and can hear the screams of terrified griffons, completely blinded by the sudden attack. As they drew closer they began to see the leveling of the innocent village had stood peaceful but minutes ago. Swooping down, Calvarous motioned and signaled off the attack. Now, at the end of the attack he sees not one survivor until a lone griffon bolts out of the forest and runs throughout his forsaken village.
One of the dragons flies over to Calvarous. “Should we kill him?” Calvarous stares, stoic as ever yet also somewhat guilty deep down, at the griffon, just as the griffon stares back up at him. A moment of silence passes as the eye contact was made. “No, I think he’s suffered enough. Let’s move out.”







3 Sitting in the chopper, Environmental Journalist Marvin Freimon looks down out the window. The chopper was silent and invisible from the outside. All of the crew, especially Marvin, knew that they weren’t supposed to be here. This story wasn’t meant for them, yet here they are. No stopping them now. Looking at the pamphlet in his hands, Marvin read the words: “Oblitus Regni, a planet distant from Earth and three times its size. Carrying varieties of different forms of wildlife than that of earth-” He closes it, looks down at his gear and nods to the crew. He looks down at the camera. “S’it charged and ready?” he said in his glorious voice. They nodded. He reached for his camera, picked it up and placed it on the mount. Flying far behind the action. He flicked the switch.
Planet Oblitus. This large Earth-like planet orbits the star Regni 2, a neighboring star to our own. It is home to an advanced and diverse ecosystem full of life on almost every inch of the planet. Untouched by pollution like that of our planet, Oblitus has near perfect air quality and water quality.
Some of the planet’s diverse life forms are what appear to be dragons flying through the sky in packs. As these fairly simple-minded creatures fly east. It is believed that they make these types of mass migrations twice a year to get out of the hot sun in the midst of summer making stops to feed frequently. Gracefully flying over the dense forest, the dragons hunt for prey. As they lower toward the ground they intend to surround their prey they begin a most, unexpected maneuver. Rather than the lizards’ expected move they plow into the burrow. The creatures feast on their prey by crashing through the prey’s hill-looking burrows, and burning them with fiery breath to cook them evenly then only to crunch them down, feeding their stomachs. While eating their meal, the orange alpha male and his red mate fly slowly behind, allowing their kin to feast for the long road ahead of them.
As they fly toward the breeding ground of their prey, the alpha and his mate intentionally fly slowly in order to grant their pack enough time to have a full meal. Once the alpha male decides that his kin have had enough he flies into the middle of the field and gives his signal to tell the dragons to begin to move again toward their summer migration fallout. The alpha male and his mate seem to have eaten earlier and do not feast this time, and they continue to fly off with their herd.
Marvin flicks the camera off. “That was a good shoot.” He says, now lounging in his seat. The crewmembers shake their heads in approval all except for one of them. “Don’t you think we should study these creatures and understand them a bit more before we go out and shoot a documentary on them?!” says the man who did not shake his head. “Hey,” Marvin says. “They are just primitive lizards. What more could we possibly need?” Content with his work, Marvin looks to the crewmen. “Am I right?” They shake their heads all except that one guy, who simply scowls, crosses his arms and looks away. “Isn’t wildlife amazing?” Marvin asks rhetorically.