Crimson Flags Novels & Stories

Ashley pulled her cloak tighter. They reached the crest as the sun dipped toward late afternoon gold. Below stretched the shadowed valley. Smoke rose from a distant camp. Figures moved among tents. Black anvil banners fluttered. Damien raised a hand. The column halted. He studied the valley for a long moment. Then he turned to Ronan. “Signal flags. Show them we see them.” Ronan unfurled two banners: one solid black, the other silver with the blackthorn sigil. They snapped in the wind, visible for miles.

“No sunlight. Only flames. It’s rumored that Mr. Consulate chose gold as his royal color to signify the Secondaries once again uniting with daylight. To walk amongst humankind beneath the sun. The red color makes it look like a flame, transforming what should be a banner of respect into a message of silent contempt.” “Or a silent threat.” “Perhaps.” I ponder the notion and study the banners more closely, focusing my hyper-vision into the stitching of the pattern. The careful hand of the golden flag becomes ragged as it bleeds into the red border. The flag was not intentionally made with this border. The sloppy work is evidence enough of that. It was done hastily, by an inexperienced hand, at

As long as there is at least one team flag uncaptured, teams of that campus can try to capture their flag back and other campus flags. Not surprisingly the flags of Black Forest are black, Red Hills are red and Golden lodge are yellow. Each team member gets a band in the colour of their campus around their upper arm. When a team loses their flag they have to hand in the band at one of the checkpoints. If they regain a flag of their own colour they can retrieve the arm band. Warriors will ensure that the handing in and taking back runs smoothly and that teams with a flag aren’t ambushed on their way back into the forest.

The eastern horizon bled with a crimson glow as Dawnspire stood tall against the morning mist, its white stone towers catching the first rays of sunlight. From afar, it looked like a jewel untouched by war. Up close, however, banners of black and crimson flapped in the wind, signaling the coming clash.

Thousands of sailboats were sailing on the West Sea. It could be seen from a distance that the boats were filled with people all in black. A murderous aura permeated. On the sailboats were three huge flags. The first red flag wrote, ‘Eternal Life Palace’. The second flag was a drawing of two axes crossing with two huge words written on it, ‘Flower Mountain’. The third flag had nine dragons along with ‘Justice for Mankind’ strikingly on it. These people were indeed disciples of the Elysium Gate, Eternal Life Palace, and Flower Mountain.

It emphasized its long and scattering roots and wide trunk that reminded Cent of the Ygdrasil. Nature. It’s the pompous nature-dwellers aka the Ambivalent beings and their twitching ears that need some piercing. The last one and the dreariest was the one that belonged to the Malevolent beings. Its color was black with embroidery made of red threads. The pattern was a combination of thorns and flames that it formed a big image of a screaming human that was scratching its neck from anguish. Yep, totally the flag for the dark dwellers. Cent nodded her head as she observed the three flags that reminded her that the Tri-world Tournament was only weeks away. Her eyes shifted onto the flock of stud

Her eyes are always working, scanning, plotting, I trust her brain more than I trust mine. Down below, boots scuff across packed dirt. Those Blood Fang banners? Black with a red fang tearing through, waving like they’re already celebrating. Dark Storm’s flag is there too, that deep red under Luca’s crest. Mira promised an army, and damn, she brought one. Enough to make a king sweat.

He was standing by the windows looking out at the horizon. I went to stand with him. Ronan put his hand on my back to protect me. We saw a big group of people coming up the mountain pass. It was way more impressive than the High Families carriages. There were three flags waving in the wind: the Golden Sun of the Southern Plains the Jagged Peak of the Western Crags and the Crimson Hand of the Iron-Claw which was really scary. "Xandra " Ronan said, his jaw clenched hard I could hear his teeth grinding.

Dragons are a rarity in Crimson, so seeing so many in one location is a bit overwhelming. As we draw closer I can see market stalls on avenues and taverns bursting to the seams with people of all shapes, colors, and types, carousing together, drinking, dancing and fighting in equal measures, filling the streets with laughter and song. In the center of it all sits a tall pale castle topped with high spires on an island surrounded by a deep, wide moat. Above this massive fortress flies flags of gold, a large green dragon with a red tongue at their center. “Where are we?” I yawn, readjusting my position to get a better view.

She raised the spirit-summoning flag in the air, and it turned bright red again, emanating a lethal aura. As she descended, the flag in her right hand was aimed toward Qasim. Qasim’s surroundings were shrouded in a red glow that was so dazzling it almost looked like fireworks. Clang! The crisp sound of metal hitting sounded. There was also a crackling sound around them. With a loud rumble, the ground instantly collapsed. Those who were unconscious from the spirit-summoning flag started waking up. They looked around them as if they were waking up from a dream, feeling embarrassed and shocked.