Shadows of Yavara: World of the Exiled

This is the prologue to Shadows of Yavara: World of the Exiled which I am in the process of writing. World of the Exiled is the first in a 4 part series I plan to write. I have already completed 250 pages which I will not show because a 300 page post is obviously unacceptable. 🙂 This is the begining intro to the book, taking place long before the actual story supposedly begins.

Sadly, the attach file option in the "post new thread" area doesnt accomodate word files so I will have to manually paste as much of it as I can. By the way, if you manage to read all this I congradulate you. Plz tell me what you think.

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[opening intro]

Fight on my friend?
For fame and honour? Victory or death?
What glory can be forthcoming in this hour?
Where upon the very stones at the foundation of our empire we hath created, now lies the blood of our kindred, our own.
What words for those lost, and those we shall lose now?
Nothing, no words at all. No grievances for the dead. No comfort, no sleep.
There is nothing that praises war's accomplishments,
Nor anyone to speak of it's tragedies, the failure.
That in this hour now we understand, as we stand on the brink of destruction.
Only in eachother, standing together, could we have survived.
Now that even, is lost. For all we have fought and fallen for these past years, in vain were those efforts;
For none now care to remember them….
But always, hope remains where truth exists- if only we should look to seek it…

PROLOGUE
-The Shadow-

The soft sounds of the swelling ocean filled the air with a melodic rhythm with every wave that rolled upon the dark shore. All else was but silence; even the chirping of the beetles in the brush were drowned out by was the waves crashing against the rocks far off in the distance and echo of the breeze over the water. The ocean frothed noisily in the moonlight, spraying foam on the clear white sand. From here the world seemed so peaceful and tranquil, without a single flaw of any kind.
"Jalûr!"
The silent man turned his face from the misty water that rolled in, to see a young boy, maybe eleven years of age, running towards him. The man called Jalûr could recognize this boy, for he had known him quite a long time.
"Jalûr!" the boy called out to him again.
Jalûr held his hands out in front of him to prevent the boy from colliding into him in the darkness. The boy stopped in front of him, out of breath.
"They want you… There's no time…"
"Not much time? What does that mean?" he had found himself inquiring.
The young boy shook his head. "I do not know. I repeated what they told me."

Layam; that was the ancient name of this planet; thousands of past years ago named for tranquility, in their primordial speech. To the people now hiding here, it was the last freedom, the last symbol to live for. How ironic, it would seem, that it would soon become the deadliest battlefield of a hopeless war. The serenity of Layam, a peaceful world as it had always been, would soon end in the devastation all knew would one day come. Layam was the last free world circling Yavara, the star that had for thousands of years lit their lives and risen as their sun every morning to greet them. Had it too betrayed the last people of Yavara, like all the rest? Layam became a refugee camp for free Yavara. The defense of Layam was a last stand. Only one hope remained for the people here, and it was a hope that would not last long.
"No," was all Jalûr could mutter. He tore across the beach spewing wet sand into the surf as he ran. The memory faded as he ran, for he could not recall everything that happened. As he ran, the lone building ahead of him grew in size: a steel bunker built out of the side of a hill.
The door. On the face of the bunker was one door that led to the interior. Nothing spectacular to it. All it would take would be to reach out his hand and open it. But he knew that when he did, his life would be changed. He knew that they waited inside. The ones who would bear the news. The news of their fates.
Jalûr reached out his hand to open the fateful door…

The Aracahns; the dark name of the mysterious invaders that had wrenched his and the lives of billions out from under them, determined on their domination of all things. What they believed and why? No one could answer, for none knew the truth about the terrors that had swept across Yavara and destroyed them. World after world, planet by planet, the unstoppable force crushed them to oblivion, always adding to their dark empire. Their methods ruthless, their ways unexplainable, the Aracahns were an enemy unlike any ever encountered. In monstrous vessels fathoms long, it would seem they could have emptied their homeworld in a savage effort to eradicate the people of Yavara and its worlds. Where had they come from? Yet another question that could not be answered. Why was another. Because no one knew the answers. Everything had come on them too fast.

The door opened.

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I apologize for the terrible formatting and all. It isnt easy to post long things on this. Continuing....

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Many were in the room beyond, speaking of various things that sounded grave at the least, but none turned as he entered. The man he had expected to see was waiting for him. A squatter man wearing military insignia and pins and medals across his uniform. This was the commander Jalûr had always looked up to, not just for orders, but for advice.
"Sir," he spoke blandly.
A murky expression clouded the commander's face. "I suppose you already know the situation, major," the commander continued, seeing the look on his face.
"They came."
The general ushered him to a chair. "Why don't you have a seat?"
"Sir may I-"
"Sit down, that's an order. Your blood pressure looks too high even from the outside," the commander said with sincerity. He knew it was the truth, but he couldn't be blamed for it. He had been waiting on edge for months, not knowing when it would happen, and he had been dreading the moment that he knew was bound to come. Now it was here.
"Sir," he replied, sitting back in the cushioned chair.
The uniformed man finally spoke, while twiddling a small metal object around with his fingers as if it provided an escape to what he had to say. "You would have come to conclude by now what is happening. I cannot deny that I wish it had not been so soon. I wish none of this had happened."
"As do I. How did they find us?" Jalûr asked impatiently.
The general paused. "You know as well as I do that our freedom could not stay hidden forever. It was the risk we all took…" He paused. "When we came here, we had no idea of the true extent of our enemy. From where did they come? Was it this system, this galaxy? What cruel place could have spawned such a terrible mirror of humanity? They took us all by surprise. There was no word from them, only relentless anger against us, for whatever reason they had.
"From the start I realized we would never be able to repel these 'Aracahns'. As we lost worlds, it became even more apparent to me that we were defenseless against this evil. Amidst five-billion deaths, I slowly could see Yavara falling to our enemy. Now our last free light burns on Layam, and it is about to be snuffed out."
"How was Layam discovered? This planet is well out of the way of the others." Jalur asked.
The response came after some time in silence. "I once thought Layam would become a staging ground for our reclamation. I thought we could fight back secretly and someday find a weakness in our foe. But that has all changed now; everything we fought for was lost just the same." He looked straight into his eyes. "You knew as well as I that it was only a matter of time before we would be discovered. It’s time we act for the last hopes of our people."
"What can we do? We have our backs to the expanse of space. There is nowhere to run. There is no way for us to survive."
"Not for ourselves, you are correct," the commander told him. "But we must make them believe that we have lost. I propose to save as many people as we can in one last strategy, our last move. We would need a diversion for the common people so they would escape."
"Diversion? What might that be?"
"You don't know?" the other questioned. "We, we are the diversion. So that others can live, those we care about. We fight for that cause now, just as we always have."
Jalûr knew what he meant. A sacrifice on an incomprehensible scale. "It is suicide. We would be casting all our lots on one hope. If it fails, so have we."
The commander smiled. "It will not fail. The military, all those on Layam who can fight, will stay, so that we can save those who cannot fight, and give them a last hope. Our last chance at saving our culture, our beliefs; and our last chance to strike back at those who took it all away from us. In that time, we should be able to gather as many people as possible and have them escape."
Jalûr saw what the man meant to do. "There are not enough ships. There are too many people to save and not enough transports."
Another sad look crossed the commander's face. "No, there are not… That is why we have to stay behind. Only a small percentage of the refugee population will make it. The rest will have to stay. There is nothing we can do to change that fact. We have to save as many as we can. That is the most we can do."
He shook his head in a sad, but understanding way. How could this be happening? What price would be paid for their culture? Slowly, he rose from his seat and started for the door. Even so soon, he did not believe he could stand to hear much more of their doom. A voice in him cut into his consciousness: There is no hiding from fate…
The stern expression on the commander's face hardened even as the major left. "Jalûr, they want us at the gun-cities. We have to play out our part in this, as much as you and I don't like it. The fleet is heading here even as we speak; that gives us thirty days. Then we have to roll the dice and hope for the best."
He sighed wearily. "Yes. All hopes on the roll of the dice…" He again started for the door, but as if remembering something he had forgotten, paused and turned.
The commander still stared at him and his hard gaze met his with equal strength. Jalûr dared to speak his mind. "Where are they going?"
Though the severe look did not dissipate, confusion rippled across the other's face. "Who are you referring to?"
Jalûr took a breath. He had to know this answer. "If we are to save our children and wives, as you say, then you would have in mind some safe haven for them. Where are they to go? What refuge now lies out of reach of our enemies?"
"Major, think back if you can, to several months ago. Remember those words I told you? I told you there were secrets, great secrets that took place in this government that secured our protection. All of them were forsaken to us, useless as they proved to be. Save but one. It was a secret that has given us hope these past years. We code-named this knowledge as the "New World". Ten years ago we discovered a habitable star system that we hoped would be hospitable to us. It is a place much like Yavara. Command plans to have them sent there. That is where they will go, and that is where our society will survive on if we fail here. They call this place Seleniar."
Jalûr felt a knot in his throat tighten. "All our trust on unsupported evidence of a place for us to dwell? I only hope we have such luck on our side."
The commander closed his eyes. "It's our only chance," he said turning back to the others in the room. Jalûr gazed at the man for a moment before closing the door between the warm inviting room and the windy, dark stretch of beach. Seleniar, is it? So it shall be. The world of the exiled.

My Dear Kirrin,
It is at what we thought was the end that a last hope has been established. We have strived to keep our society alive, but in doing so have failed in the protection of its people instead. Nothing is left now for us but this hope for our few that may live on. I am sorry that you had to live the life of a fugitive with me but I know it is for the best; for us and our sons. Soon we will be evacuating Layam, as many as can come in the space we have on our ships. You may be one of only a small group to escape.
I am entrusting you to survive. If you do not live then I will surely die too, one way or another. If you fail, then I have also failed. I cannot keep one secret from you; the chances of me ever seeing you again are very small, close to nothing. Even if I die you need to remember that I love you. Remember that and you will survive. I will and honestly cannot forget all of our time together and the memories we have. Nothing hath part us, least of all death. I would be happy to know that you are safe. Take care of the boys. You must make them understand what has happened even though it will not be easy. And I would ask to this one wish: that those here to stay in Yavara will not be forgotten. I would hope that our beliefs would live on. I can ask no more from you than not to give in to the world nor to grief just the same. Do not forget that which I say: I love you.
Jalûr Amikara, 4/23/4504

Jalûr scanned the document again and again, reviewing every letter with a precision he had no idea he could use. Every time he read it, something new seemed to be missing from it. He was no writer though. He would have spoken to Kirrin personally, like he wanted to, but he had no way of doing such. All because of war…
Jalûr folded the document carefully and held it in his hands, staring at it. He didn't think he would be able to explain what he wanted to say in a hundred more pages had he written them, although he wished he could write on forever. Opening the cabinet drawer, he pulled out a clear covering bag in which he placed the folded paper. The pouch instantly sealed, airtight, around the letter. He held the sealed package in front of him. What he held in his hands was the most important document he had written, not to say he had ever written anything else anyways. Few wrote anything any more since it was considered to be more of an ancient art in the highly technological age they were in. Somehow though, it seemed to mean more to him to be writing the words for himself rather than trusting a machine to understand what he felt. These would be the last words his wife would ever hear from him; the last contact between Kirrin and him while he was still alive.

It was not a long walk through sullen streets of the city to the relations center where his letter could be sent out close to instantly with others to where they were needed. He held the letter in his hands, prepared to drop it to the bottom of the bin with the others. One last thing seemed to be missing: a picture, memento, something. He groped through his pockets, nothing. He had nothing in his possession that could be of meaning to her. The military had made an organized person out of him and now he knew it was all for nothing.
Then his hands met the object he felt in his lower pocket, a metallic chain it seemed. He looked at it. He suddenly remembered. The chain he had made almost a year ago while in the trenches fighting on the world of Uren. That was back when there was still hope… He remembered taking metal wire and pliers to individually twist the wire into a chain for the sole purpose of a way to pass the time. He had meant it to be a necklace of sorts in the end, but he had never had a chance to complete it. In the end he had made the completed chain into a bracelet, for what purpose he had not known at the time. He remembered he had put the chain in the lower pocket of these pants all that time ago and zippered it up with the unfinished wire section he had meant to finish later.
Jalûr ran his hand though the pocket again. The unfinished piece of chain was gone. It must have fallen out sometime, perhaps even when he had been running on the beach not a month ago now. A pity... At least he still had the bracelet part of the chain. He grasped it and dropped it into the sealing bag along with the letter. He then let the small packet with the letter fall down atop the other letters in the pile. His last gift to Kirrin.

As the time passed over the thirty days he waited for their fates to be decided, he would walk in the streets of the city he had been assigned to with countless thousands of others. Their orders had all been essentially the same: stop the enemy at all costs. Fight for freedom, to the last man. Fight for those you love. Fight so they can live.
It seemed a just enough cause to die, yet as he would walk down those great avenues of steel, he would take in his surroundings and try to make sense of it all. He had been able to do this so much easier back at the islands where he had stayed with his superiors as they drew their plans. Where he once looked out at waves, he now looked upon metal buildings hundreds of stories high, now abandoned for the most part, used as residences for the military draftees and the tactical command. Where he had seen forests and trees only a month ago, miles away from that he now noticed nervous soldiers and officers. All waited for a time that would inexorably come; a time for them to fight. He looked to the sky then, almost expecting to hear the seabirds but now he saw mighty weapons of war, ships and weapons of destruction that came in all sizes, poised and ready. Both here on the surface and in the skies above their last battle would be fought. He only wished his last time could have been back with the sand and the sea and the birds instead of this. It would have been his last wish, other than to have assurance of his beloved's life.
Why had civilization grown this way? Grown to where such simple yet beautiful things as the ocean would be traded for this new way of life. He could not recall ever learning of a time in all of Yavara's history on any planet where there had once only been those simple things of nature. Where had humanity come from? And why had it evolved into a people that would do such things as destroy eachother for the sake of belief or ideal? At what cost was their society to live on?
It was nearly thirty days since his first visit with the commander on his old island refuge with Kirrin. It was almost ironic how many times that scene came to his head. He remembered every word of what he had been told. Two days after that fate-changing encounter, all of the military on the islands had been reassigned to various posts across Layam. Many such places were anti-orbital cities like the one he now stood in. They were critical to the defense of Layam because ant-orbital guns in militarized cities such as these had the ability to fire out into space from the surface. They had been well utilized against the Aracahns in previous engagements. But always they had lost, utterly, and completely. No military engagement throughout the course of the whole war, which spanned over seven years, had ever been won against their enemy. They had taken losses, but the Aracahns fought with exponential numbers whereas the defenders had always been outgunned from the start. And even if the numbers had been even, in both manpower and ships, the Aracahns wielded a might that could not be defied. It was always terrible, and it always ended in destruction to fight the Aracahns. Against them, there was no victory. Jalûr knew it would only be the same for Layam.

A day later, word came in that the escape ships all around the planet were prepping for launch and civilians were being evacuated. There is still hope, hope for those that live on. Those who can make a change; those who can have victory, not through military might, but through survival, he had thought.
He wondered if Kirrin would get the letter he had sent her. He could barely believe that he had only written it several days ago and already forgotten what it had said. It must have been a side-effect of how hectic everything had been. He'd had little time to think about anything for quite a while. It was duty that was all that mattered now.
For Jalûr and the entire defense force, hope had diminished. The air itself seemed to stop, holding its breath. Their enemy was coming. A dense cloud cover now shadowed the city as if trying to hide the planet from what was soon to happen in the skies overhead. The gloomy moods of the soldiers under Jalûr's command were no different than his own. He tried not to think about himself, and focused on trying to lighten the spirits of his men. Encouraging words did little, but he tried to stay calm …even though he wasn't calm at all.
He could barely remember how long it was after that when the fighting began. It could have been a mere hour, a day, perhaps a week. He has eaten many times since he had last thought of this yet he was still starving, as if the food wasn't enough to satisfy his real hunger. He had lost track of days as he ate, slept, and woke again, always in a daze as if none of it were real. As if the end wasn't really so close.
The report had been given over a planetary communications signal: "We are engaged. Stand by for ground defense." Naught but words; and said to innocently. Said as if they had a chance against the impossible odds.
Hours passed, long, tense hours in which all that could be heard was the terrifying roar of the anti-orbital cannons as they fired towards space. Through the layers of clouds far up over the city, small flashes through the atmospheric haze and occasional booms that sounded like the destruction of hell were the only signs of a disastrous fight that was occurring over the planet as they waited. The lights and flashes from the battle could have been just a thunderstorm in the clouds had there been thunder, and a light rain. It was like a show of lights, on a more terrible scale of course, all shrouded from the true matter as it was from up in the fight, where distorted comm. chatter orally described the scene in his head as he knew it would look. He had seen it and lived through it too many times before in this failed war. There would be the great Aracahn ships, black as space, pinpricks of light showing windows dotting the massive hull of the pincer-like ships. And of course there would also be the fledgling force of defending ships and fighters, mere ants against an army of scorpions. And always intertwined against the background of space as the crisscrossed the sky with dazzling colors of red and orange- colors of fire and death.
Naturally, this would be the last time this scene would ever occur. Here, the last resistance would be crushed and Yavara would fall under shadow.

Jalûr thought back to times that now seemed to be only a part of the past, mostly those with Kirrin. He tried to picture Kirrin's face in his mind but it would disappear with every crash of the huge gun nearby. The day they were married, the times together, when their son had been born, they all seemed like hazy memories that were not really his. It was odd that he was having such trouble remembering. He thought that memories seemed to flash back when the end was near. Or maybe it was his fault. Had his joining the military separated him and Kirrin so much that he had forgotten their past together?
Something changed in the sullen moods of the men around him. Fear was now in their voices as they looked skyward and pointed. "There they are…"
Alarm and suspense filled him suddenly. Above in the sky, like a swarm of black beetles came a huge mass of ships toward the city. They were not large, but instead, troop carriers and gunships as they had been deemed.
"Stand ground," Jalûr ordered to the men around him. "Let us make our last times of life be in vengeance against these foes. I wouldn't lie and say we will live on to fight anymore. We must buy our friends time." He was replied to only with silence and a few nodded heads.

Organized battle was lost immediately, as it had been know to against their enemy. Above the city thronged the ships of both sides and in the streets, foes would soon be dropped off to fight them on the ground. He didn’t care to remember more than he had to of what happened, what he did. The will to live was nearly gone in him as the chaos mounted, but it seemed enough to be keeping him alive, spurring him on.
As more time was lost, the city fighting rose to its climax. The air was filled with Aracahn gunships and the remaining fighters the city had left. Missiles and beams of light crisscrossed above and inside the city. Huge buildings burned all around, some already collapsing, sending wave after wave of fume and dust through the battlegrounds in the streets and up into the air overhead. The sound of explosions filled Jalûr's ears. There was word of only terrible loss in the battle overhead, and many screams proved it was no better here.
It was all ironic. War… Ironic that a civilization that had taken millennia to build could be crumbled in hours. That was the way it was. The reality of life and death, he thought.
Minute after terrible minute, Jalûr had been forced to retreat and then fall back again as their enemy closed in around them. Yavara's final battle would soon be over, and though no word had come, he knew in his heart that the refugees had escaped Layam and were already headed for their new home. He knew Kirrin and his sons were alive.
These last desperate actions by the soldiers here and those overhead had at least accomplished what they fought for. All because of their bravery.
No, he finally reminded himself, because of our sacrifice.
The city was gone. The planet was lost. For all they'd fought these past years it was all about to end. He hoped, beyond anything that the people they would die for would at least escape to live in freedom. It was all that really mattered anymore.
Goodbye Kirrin, he thought in final contemplation. Bravely, Jalûr stood up from his hiding spot among the carcass of a bombed-out building and defiantly looked to the air just in time to see the fire begin to fall from the sky…

[Prologue ends]

[Exit Poem/thing for prologue]

I cannot understand the terror that began.
And it seems all so recent that this destruction was wrought upon us.
We were the last survivors, saved only by the gallant actions of others.
But unfortunately this was but the beginning of our troubles. The end of war it seemed, but inside our hearts the sorrow and sadness will never end towards those who died and the peace that we lost.
Seleniar, they told us was the name. It was said to be the last hope for us- a final journey to the greater good of humankind. For five years we traveled to this New World and now, fifty years later I write this as I near the end of my life. Already I seen change in the world, we've begun to build and recreate what we once had. But more and more I see that people are afraid of the truth about our past. I fear that the degeneration of this knowledge will be the end of us. Seleniar is a different world- a place to start over. In my age I will live to see, recorded in our Book of Records the timeline of this new civilization and the history of those before us. Maybe this will be a new life for us, maybe now we will learn the horrible truth about war.
And bless the souls who fought to prevent it from ever happening again.
Kirrin Amikara, 7-21-4557

[here begins chapter 1]

I bet no one will read this becasue it is so long but thanks if you do.

I enjoyed it. ✅

I'm jealous. You can come up with a better beginning than me.

hehehe

Great job! 😄

Why thank you. I might show you a more interesting part if I can later.

WHOO HOO

Ok heres a little snippet from later on in the story. Dont be concerned with names or anything because none of it will really make sense to you. This short scene takes place in a slave-driven mining facility near the end of the book where there seems to be trouble brewing among the underlings... 🙂

Chapter 14
Juggernaut

Silently, Lerad stood watching the spectacle as best he could from behind the crowd. Over the heads of hundreds of slaves, he could see very little but he admitted to himself that there was little to see anyways. Two hours or so had passed already since he had seen the guards plant the explosives at the bottom of the shaft and blow their way through to the hidden cave they had discovered beneath the surface of the rock. Only twenty minutes later, guards had begun rounding up slaves from nearby dig sites and bringing them over to the now exposed cavern beneath. Lerad didn't know how the guards had managed to figure out where this secret cave was supposed to be located but at the time it hadn't occurred to him that Degra might have had seismic analysis machines at his disposal.
Two teams of guards and slaves had been made up and sent down into the tunnels below of which lead to some place he could not imagine. He still could not possibly understand what was happening. From whispers spread through the crowd and comm. chatter he had heard exchanged between guards he had been able to pick out bits of helpful information. He'd heard all about the search teams but nothing on what they were looking for and where they were headed. He had first assumed then that the guards and the overseers didn't even know what they had found. Now he had reason to believe that wasn't true.
Other words had floated around by his ears about someone called "The Inspecter" and 'Cahj-Anamora'. He'd heard that word before, back when he was still under Salginn's command. Lerad had been led to believe that Cahj-Anamora was the military term for the installation itself but now he was beginning to think that Cahj-Anamora was what they had been looking for all along; and what they had now found. What it was, Lerad couldn't guess, hidden inside a buried cave- another minor detail Salginn had failed to inform him about. It appeared that Salginn trusted no one on the issue of what he was looking for under the earth here and why he needed to find it so badly.
He scanned the area for his targets. They seemed ready. Perfect, all the better that they were ready so soon. Stealthily, he inconspicuously meandered through the uneasy crowd towards a group of guards gathered around a guard leader who was listening in on a communications signal. Lerad moved as close as he dared go without causing any suspicion and listened.
"...Call is mission abort! Repeat we are pulling out!" he heard the communicator spatter out. Sounded to him like things weren’t going so orderly inside the caves they had found. Hopefully it would help cover what he planned to do and what he had been waiting for- for what felt like a very long time now.
The guards were talking in hushed voices to one another now that whoever was on the other end of the call had stopped talking.
"They sendin' anyone down to help them?" one of the guards asked to another.
The other replied quietly. "No, the ward thinks they can handle themselves. He doesn't know what's goin' on either I think. Just glad it's not me down there."
Lerad moved back into the crowd and eyed thee surrounding area. He counted maybe only twenty or so guards in the immediate area as to the seventy or so slaves by the tunnel entrance. He gave a quick nod to one of the slaves near the other end of the group. He nodded back an affirmative. He did the same with several others as well. It had been pre-planned as a signal that only he and the other four men knew.
He took a deep breath and waited, watching a man walk forward to the back of the group near Lerad. The old man walked up to a bored guard who was leaning against a rock wall and staring at his wristwatch with disappointment. The man stopped in front of him and the guard looked up.
"Get outta here!" the guard said with a grunt. Lerad watched with satisfaction. The man in front of the guard did not budge.
"I…need water! I need only water!" the man said with a stout face.
The guard shifted position with his legs and looked away from the man. "Go git' your own. I don't have any water."
"Can't you get some for me? Can't you see how old I am?" the aged man slave inquired.
The guard was starting to look aggravated. "No I will not. If you don't get out of here then I'm gonna make you wish you had more than water. You might want your limbs back too." Lerad stood watching from not far away. He had anticipated the guard responding in that manner.
"No, I will not!" the man said in a purposefully loud voice. The groups of slaves and guards began to look in the direction of the two.
The guard leaning on the wall, clearly noticing the attention drawn to him and the man, stood up to his feet and walked forward. He slipped a hold-out pistol out from its holster. "Move!" He waited several seconds but the man simply stood there staring at him with a blank look. The angry guard suddenly slammed the butt-end of the pistol into the man's shoulder and with a wide swing hit the man's stomach with his knee for good show.

The old man swayed backwards in shock, clutching his side. "No…" Lerad felt sorry for the poor man. To the onlookers, this man was ready to give his life to make his point. Of course, Lerad knew the real reason.
Apparently the guard wasn't finished and brought the gun up for another swing. The man watched it with both eyes, an expression of fear on his face. The guard swung his arm at him again, but this time, the man shot out his hand at what looked like superhuman speed and snatched the gun right out of his hands. Lerad was impressed, it had happened so fast that it seemed as if the gun had just disappeared. The guard hit the man anyway and the he toppled over with the gun still in his hands. The larger guard jumped forward and hit the man's arm, but not before the old slave had thrown the pistol across the ground. It landed, very conveniently, at Lerad's feet. And no one noticed him bend down and slide it under his slave's tunic.
By now, everyone had turned to watch the fiasco. No one, especially not the other gaurds who were watching intently at the show, tried to end the fight, which Lerad had predicted. The guard had already been thrown off the man by some unknown strength inside of the slave and was now staggering backwards. The old man risked a glance at Lerad who nodded back at him ever so slightly, but with a sense of sadness. Then the guard, who now looked at the height of his anger, sprang forward and began to furiously attack the man. This time though, the old man gave little defense and was beaten again and again until he was backed up against the wall where the guard had been leaning earlier. Finally, with a last punch to the head, he gave a last cry wobbling several feet in Lerad's direction before falling to the ground. It was very believable , Lerad thought to himself. Perhaps too much… The man had given his all for Lerad's plan. Lerad knew the man was still alive but he had to keep up the ruse in order to make his plan work. . The guard who had been fighting now sat down, catching his breath, a few of the other gaurds laughed. The crowd had fallen silent watching the man's body. No one moved to help him, but inside their heads swarmed many renewed emotions of fear, anger, and hopelessness. Emotions that, for too long now, had been restrained.
An overseer, who had been watching from a guard platform perched on a rock took the opportunity to say what was always said when the fights occurred or slaves were executed. "All of you watch and learn! Did you see? That is what happens to you if you ever dare to resist orders; if you ever dare to speak against what we tell you! Let this be a lesson to everyone here. And let none forget it! Is there anyone that does not understand?" he yelled firmly with a smirk on his face. The bottom of the shaft became deathly quiet. Light flickered off the walls of chafed rock in the pits where many digging tools lay abandoned.
"I do not!" Lerad shouted across the silence. His words were spoken with boldness and clarity, and obvious defiance. He had known his whole life was that when speaking, no matter what you are saying and how hopeless a situation you may be in, always talk with authority. That was exactly what he did. Another dead silence ensued.
The overseer stood speechlessly watching Lerad, trying to decipher what he had just said. Lerad leapt up onto a small rock and stood above the crowd. "I do also know that what you are saying is false! That-" he pointed at the old man's unmoving body. "That is what happens to those who do not resist, not those who do! And this is all to be blamed on those who did not resist before! You have seen this happen to countless people. Have you ever wondered if you will be next? To live for a day here only bring another where you will constantly think that question. You might survive for days, weeks, months; even years but eventually it will be your turn. We will all suffer that same fate if we do not stand up for ourselves now! To follow their orders means only to help the enemy!"
Uneasy guards and slaves around stood motionless. The overseer snickered. "I have dealt with your kind before as well. You realize you have already overstepped your life slave! Now everyone will see that you are mistaken. Arrogance will not be tolerated! Contradictory to your beliefs, you will live longer if you listen to what we tell you!" He motioned to a group of guards who began to move through the crowd towards Lerad.
Lerad continued, disregarding what the overseer preached. "For too long have some of us waited for a chance to be free and see the light once again, but for years no one had dared to act. Now we can act! Do you wish to live here forever! To abandon all of the rest of the world to the same selfish enemy who brought you here! No! But together, we can be free! We can escape bondage and death and strike back at our enemy once and for all!"
Cold murmurs arose form the crowd and Lerad could see the overseer reach down for his communicator. Lerad knew he was calling for extra security. He had to finish fast.
"I have committed myself to freedom! And I will not back down, on my life! Alone, we may not be able to fight. But together, we can fight more powerfully than ever! I stand for freedom! Who stands with me?" he shouted. At first, only several people responded with 'I do's or by small cheers but soon, others joined in.
Lerad repeated his question. "Do you stand with me?!" he yelled even louder. This time, a little less than half of the slaves shouted in agreement. Yes! He thought. He noticed he had begun to attract the attention of other guards and slaves from the opposite side of the shaft. Soon, more and more people were crowding in within the vicinity. A look of fear wiped the grin off the overseers face. By now, some of the guards the overseer had sent to stop Lerad had reached him but the strong hands of Lerad's assistants near the base of the rock held them back.
Near the other side of the crowd a man who had been helping Lerad shouted out. "I stand with you! I will have this be the last time I will ever raise a shovel for the enemy. I stand for freedom!" the man shouted. With several others, he made a dash forward ahead of the gathered group.
Lerad pulled the pistol from his tunic and pointed it straight up. He pulled the trigger, sending a short shot of white light towards the sky above the shaft. "The time has come to stand up! I stand for freedom!!!" Lerad screamed as loud as he could. A roar erupted form the crowd of slaves. Suddenly, it was like a floodgate had broken. A wave of slaves, driven by fear and freedom and led by Lerad's followers, surged forward at the confused guards.
"Freedom… " Lerad whispered to himself.

Maybe it sounds too much like what we've seen before in movies....

Does anyone have any tips or anything? Do you think I should I show any more or no?

Nice. I confess to having read only the first post, but I like it. I'll read the rest later. Try to post in smaller chunks, is my advice. So much, all at once.

Anyway, I'll get back to this.

Yeh I should definately have done that now that I look back. I guess Ive read it so many times Im used to spending the 15 minutes it takes to reading just that part. Sorry. thnx for reading a little of it though. 😉

*Would appreciate further comments from readers*