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Nik Banton

Author on Reedsy Prompts since Oct, 2024

Stories (10)

Comments

Library

13 Followers

26 Following

10 Stories

178 karma pts

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The Åströms' Chronicles: Trapped, Part 4

Nik Banton

The sunrise gradually matured, craving to bloom into noon – sharp blades of thickening, more and more vivid sunrays sliced the morning chill, quickly warming the air up.Brenda walked quickly, almost running, not letting her wound heal completely – even covered with a thick layer of the Fryktelig Uhyreis' blood, it still oozed.While his own wound had almost disappeared, Varg Åström still felt an overwhelming fatigue – it seemed that the beasts’ blood wasn’t a magic cure, but rather it contained a substance forcing the body to provide extra re...

2 likes

The Åströms' Chronicles: Trapped, Part 3

Nik Banton

Submitted to Contest #300

The night slowly gave up as the rays of light grew thicker and brighter, with the sun slowly yet inevitably rising above the horizon.Varg lay in the glade, looking at the trees above his head, their leaves swaying in the light breeze, his clothes soaking with dew.Varg was glad he was where he was – in the glade where Fiske would teach him swordfighting every single day before he passed away.Varg always knew that Fiske was going to leave him, as it was the natural course of things.Little did Varg know that the glade he was lying in after the ...

11 likes

The Åströms' Chronicles: Trapped, Part 2

Nik Banton

Submitted to Contest #299

"Will you join, human?" Brenda's voice appeared in Varg's mind as she looked back at him, smirking.The first Fryktelig Uhyreis howled and, ignoring his wounded arm, leapt forward, lunging with his claws for Brenda's throat.Despite acting cool, it was obvious that Brenda managed to dodge the lunge at the very last moment.Fryktelig Uhyreis seemed to notice it as they looked at each other and, without any further hesitation, attacked quickly and cohesively."Don't you think you owe me some help, human?" Brenda's voice, reeking with irritation, a...

7 likes

The Åströms' Chronicles: Trapped

Nik Banton

Submitted to Contest #298

The last rays of light sank into the horizon, proclaiming the beginning of night.Varg Åström adjusted the shortbow slung across his back and the sword strapped to his hip, then walked through the village gates, followed by the rare, bewildered stares of those not sleeping—Varg was the only one who hunted at night.Varg hated hunting.While he realized the necessity of it—what grew from the soil wasn’t sufficient to feed the village—he still ducking hated it.He especially despised it when Syvel and his sycophants went into the woods while the s...

10 likes

The Åströms' Chronicles: Eleanor

Nik Banton

Submitted to Contest #296

Dense fog filled the streets of Tromsø and refused to leave even after the day crossed its middle.Snowy-white, it looked thick enough to eat, reducing visibility to nothing, making it harder for the eagle to observe the people in the tiny apartment at 718 Vestregata Street.Finally, he sighed and took off—anyway, he barely heard or saw anything there.It was better to observe the area, to be prepared in case something bad happened.Which was often the case when it came to venstres and høyres.***Ari turned on an espresso machine and checked his ...

6 likes

The Åströms' Chronicles: The Notebook

Nik Banton

Submitted to Contest #295

The rain had stopped twenty minutes earlier, and the streets of morning Tromsø smelled wet and chilly—the smell of an adventure.Well, of course, it depended on the attitude—for some, adventure meant nothing but a mess they had to deal with instead of peacefully watching TV in a small, cozy apartment at 718 Vestregata Street.Ari sighed and stepped into his kitchen, mourning his calm life that, as he suspected, was gone for weeks to come.“Cheese?” Ari put on an old apron with a Viking torso print and looked at Bjorn, sitting at the kitchen tab...

12 likes

The Åströms' Chronicles: Before

Nik Banton

Submitted to Contest #294

Varg had always known that training had no endpoint, and that the moment you decide you’re good at something is the moment you stop being good at it.The day was dawning, with the sun slowly rising from behind the horizon, its first rays carefully examining the area, as if wondering if there was anyone to appreciate how beautiful the sunrise was.There was—Varg Åström stood in a clearing, Fiske’s sword strapped to his waist, watching several Arctic willow bushes without moving.Today's practice was fairly easy, as there was only a light breeze....

28 likes

The Åströms' Chronicles: An Arrowhead Stained With Blood

Nik Banton

Submitted to Contest #293

The sun slowly dipped into the ocean as the day faded into dusk.The island prepared for a Friday evening—calm, cozy, with a slight scent of fried fish in the air, sweet mead on the tongue, and warm songs sung by families after dinner.Well, Ari Kron’s reality couldn’t have been further from that.“They’re behind the Siste Mjød diner,” a tense female voice chimed through Ari’s earpiece as he rushed through the narrow streets of Sommarøy.Damn, this tiny island felt like an entire continent now.He pulled the handle all the way back, causing a lou...

5 likes

The Åströms' Chronicles: Fiske

Nik Banton

Submitted to Contest #292

This story is a work of fiction with no relation to historical or cultural events, taking place in a world resembling ours—equally flawed, yet still vastly different.***Varg rolled forward, avoiding another slash of Fiske’s sword, and jumped up, parrying a thrust that immediately turned into a narrow cut aimed at his hip.Varg jumped back in a clumsy attempt at a somersault and fell to the ground.Fiske stopped and gave Varg a long look.“Somersault? In a fight?” Fiske shook his head and sheathed his sword. “What am I, a hooker you’re trying to...

4 likes

The Åströms' Chronicles: Attitude

Nik Banton

Submitted to Contest #291

This story is a work of fiction with no relation to historical or cultural events, taking place in a world resembling ours—equally flawed, yet still vastly different.***Varg Åström sat on the highest cliff of the island, looking at the horizon where a tender pink sunrise was being born. He’d been coming here for decades, and the rock beneath him felt as if it had been shaped for his ass.Watching the sunrise was his favorite part of any day—Varg simply sat, letting his mind wander, thinking of nothing, inhaling the hundreds of scents the isla...

6 likes