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Y'all, It's finally time! I'm on page 159, with 20+ chapters, and I'm here to tell you... The first chapter is edited and ready to be read! Please do bear with me, as this was written probably 2 or 3 years ago, but I hope you enjoy! Now, with no further ado, read on below!
@queen-of-hobgobblers @deadandgaysetanta @redkarmakai
Chapter 1
Florentine
"So, the wounded hero finally dares to stand, eh? I'm almost impressed" the sneer in his words is unmistakable, though my vision seems impaired. My muscles quiver as I rise to face him. Muddy droplets drip from some long-forgotten wound. A sharp, excruciating pain flashes through my leg, centering around my kneecap. I brush it off, because I have to. I have a duty, and what am I if not successful? Who am I if I can’t even protect these people who venerate me? I stand and turn to face my attacker, steel in my heart and fire in my eyes. Their smirk ignites a simmering mix of hatred and envy. Why should they be the one to walk away with their life intact? Why don’t they have to sit and suffer in silence as their other half climbs a ladder so tall that the gods in the sky must crane their heads merely to catch a passing glimpse? Rage pulses behind my eyes, begging for cruel release.
Everything's red. His hand. The ground. The blood red dagger, forsaken long before. The sky. I can't think, can’t hear, can’t see. All that runs in my head is what went wrong. It was fine, we were fine. Everything was good. We were peaceful. Until that day. That horrid day that ripped us apart and set us on our separate, yet morbidly entwined, paths. A voice drones in the background, that one that haunts my dreams and comforts my nightmares. The ground shakes, morphing the landscape. The sky turns black and the trees fluctuate with a wonderlandian determination. The ground twists and tumbles in my eyes, falling away as I attempt to push myself up. My hands scrabble against the softening dirt and I let a grunt escape my lips. His thunderous eyes pierce my heart when his head whips toward me. His mouth moves, but the words don’t register in my ringing ears at first.
I launch myself toward his misty figure. He's waiting, baiting me. I know this. But some things are more important than playing a game. My fist flies past its mark on my first try. A haunting chuckle infuriates me further. I press him, swinging my fists with less accuracy, but I fight harder and harder, I strike and coax more and more and more until he's backed against a wide-trunked oak, trapped between wood and flesh. Blood, beautiful, glorious, shimmering blood, floods down his face as I stand triumphant over theim. Their previous courage dissipates faster than the winds he tries to command. Finally, I hold all the cards. I can be the one to finish a fight, the one to leave them broken, cowering on the ground, weak and worthless in the eyes of the once adoring, now cautious public.
My eyes shut, as a way to preserve this perfect, wonderful scene in my memory. I open them, punching in front where he should be, but the scenery has changed. No longer am I in a mournful wood, surrounded by splintered trees and freshly slaughtered rodents, but rather a village. Run-down huts flood my peripheral, and a young boy looks up at me. He grins, and I stumble back at the mania in his eyes and the blood on his teeth. His golden hair is matted, but his shoes shine with care and polish and his hands have never known a day of work.
"Hey, mister! That was one nice punch you got there! Look, it even made me bleed!" The bloodlust in his eyes is unmistakable, and I collapse to my knees while my younger self drones on about my attack. It was all a dream. Just a dream. Always so close, and yet they’re always one step further. The town is still decrepit, the villain is still on the loose, and I'm still the one to blame for it all. The one who let him go, let him break me a thousandfold just for a sense of my past life. How?! How could I have been so blind?! So…
The sound of my voice breaks the trance of misery and I allow tears to flood my face, my all-too-real facial incisions burning. The sobs that wrench from my body surprise even myself with the desperate plea behind it. My screams are swirling and writhing with the pain that only a truly tortured soul can contain. Horrid, deep sobs wrack my body while thorny vines, red as blood, climb up my shuddering form. The pain cuts me to the bone, but I don’t care. It grounds me. No, what I beg for is a floundering force of strength who long since abandoned me. I scream, louder than I ever have, louder than I thought I could. Even when the tears stop flowing, dry, throaty sobs and screams rack my soul and the vines tighten, clasping at my throat. Air. I need air. There's no air. A name, unintelligible, shrieks out of my mouth. I cry for him, want him, need him. I need their kind eyes, the prim distaste they hold for everyone but me. I need his voice, his heart, his love and lust. My lone earring, a silver, triadic swirl, dangles. It shines as if a beacon might, glowing with false promises. The vines know what I want, what I need. They guide my hand, tearing the piece of jewelry down, flinging it, getting lost in the heartbreak of first love, first trust, and first pain. The screams have become comforting. I know them. I know pain, and I welcome it. Grey shadows creep into my sight, and I gladly welcome them, too. They encompass my vision, and I lean into the cold, slate shadows, reminiscent of stones chilled by a frosty winter air.
"USELESS!"
I've reached page 143, so the time to vote is nigh: once I reach 150, do you guys want
So, I officially reached 150 pages... I will post the first chapter, but should I post it completely as is, no beta read, no edits, or should i go in and refine it?
@deadandgaysetanta @queen-of-hobgobblers @redkarmakai @sherikookami
I've reached page 143, so the time to vote is nigh: once I reach 150, do you guys want
I think I'll post, like, the first five or so chapters once I hit 150 pages. What do you all think? Currently on page 130.
@deadandgaysetanta @queen-of-hobgobblers @sherikookami
You all voted and the most popular was... By decision of a random name generator due to a three way tie... ADIRA AKELDAMA!
WARNING!!! LONG POST AHEAD!!! PROCEED WITH CAUTION AND TIME!!!
Adira is the queen of the Syren Born Fae. She grew up with her triplets Ethan and Seraphina in the woods near Amalraum. She is close friends with Kaimanas Aurelius, though she'd rather Florentine, Kaimana's brother, die in a rather gruesomely violent manner.
When she was 10, she left with Ethan, her brother, to go to royal training in their respective kingdoms. She became the military leader and Queen of the Syren Queendom, Azura. Her brother went on to become King of the Dustborn kingdom, the Laurel Valley.
She resents Florentine and Zephyre for killing her sister. In fact, about three years after Seraphina's passing, she declared war on Amalraum. The only reason this war didn't come into fruition was because Kaimana asked her oh so nicely.
She is currently single.
Her most precious item is a black opal seraphina found for her when they were kids. Ethan set it into her Signet ring.
She was born on May 16th.
She's always losing her trident, she's a vegetarian, and she loves listening to classical music, whale songs, opera, and some death metal(but only Scandinavian and Indian).
Her deepest fears are harpoons, drowning, and losing the people closest to her.
She is 27 years old.
Below is her profiles⬇️
@deadandgaysetanta @queen-of-hobgobblers @redkarmakai @sherikookami
Y'all, I actually wrote for a bit today?! Like, what? Not me actually being creative 😂🙌 anyway... I swear the character post is happening soon, thank you to everyone for your patience 💞
@deadandgaysetanta @queen-of-hobgobblers
Hey, I am so sorry that my post for The Ones Who Hurt is taking so long! I'm working on another project right now, and I'm really trying to balance the two, but idk how well of a job I'm doing 😂
I'll try to post who won in a week or two, thank you for the patience 🙏 in the meantime, I'll share a snippet of what I'm currently working on 🤫
Teehee
It was. A fucking. FOUR WAY TIE?! WHY DO YOU ALL HATE ME???? I'm just gonna put the four names in a random generator and get back to you with what y'all are getting
Alright, attempt #2:
We got a three-way tie last time, so I'm hoping this one is gonna gain a bit more traction! So, for the second time: who do you all want to see first?
@deadandgaysetanta @queen-of-hobgobblers @redkarmakai
Alright, attempt #2:
We got a three-way tie last time, so I'm hoping this one is gonna gain a bit more traction! So, for the second time: who do you all want to see first?
@deadandgaysetanta @queen-of-hobgobblers @redkarmakai
Awesome, great to see this! Now that that's settled, who would you want to learn more about first?
@deadandgaysetanta @queen-of-hobgobblers @redkarmakai
@deadandgaysetanta @queen-of-hobgobblers
So, over the course of four-ish hours, I just handwrote 38 pages of a short story... My hand is going to fall off 😭😭😭
But I'm going to type it up soon, and I might link it to my profile... I'm not sure though.
It's a prequel to my long-term novel I'm currently writing. The short story is nameless so far, but the novel is called The Ones who Hurt, and it just recently hit 100 pages! It's a high fantasy novel about a cowardly superhero, an empathetic ex-villain, a bisexual human, a very sapphic queen, three undead-ish assassins, Fae royalty, a historic mystery, a suspicious cult, and a whole lot of family drama.
If anyone would be interested in reading the short story and potentially excerpts from the novel as it gets written, please comment or DM me. Please reblog this and interact with it, I really would love more author and reading friends! :]
@unmellowyellowfellow @queen-of-hobgobblers @deadandgaysetanta
"Only write to progress the storyline"
Complete and utter blasphemy. I will be writing entire chapters on the lore of why a character has died hair or why they only talk a certain way, and it will have absolutely nothing to do with the overarching plot. Because who needs the dark and creepy murderous Fae cult when you could read about GAY!!! :] :] :]
writing advice that doesn't work for you
my fellow writers, what is a piece of writing advice that never did it for you?
I go first: "don't edit, rewrite".
can someone pls tell me if it's that I used ai to help me creating the country my novel takes place in?
I tried my best doing it all by myself but me and geopolitics is the same as a trying to teach a whale how to fly, so I used an ai to help me figuring it out some stuff like economy and politics
I don't really think it is that bad anyways, Im already procatinating actually writing enough and learning how economy works would certainly not help
ALRIGHT!!! Ch. 12 :) i know it's been awhile since the last post, but this is where I've left off since the beginning of the semester! Everything post chapter twelve has yet to be written ajskakksks and may take a while longer... I'm hoping to keep the general motivation going for it though so !!! Wish me luck lmao
May and Oryn have decided it's time to end the siege, when Jonas makes an appearance.
Tags: @skidotto @idonthaveapenname
tw: mentions of death, abuse, murder, war, stabbing, blood, harsh weather
Ch. 12
“Open the doors, Demetrius,” May’s voice was sharp and clear.
“My Lady?”
“Get Alec,” she said, “and open the doors. Send him out in the camps to help gather and shift everyone indoors.” Their steps were in sync as they climb the stairs from the basement.
Demetrius nodded. “Whatever you say, My Lady,” he breathed out a light huff.
May stopped in her tracks on the next step, putting up a hand and turning to face him. “You only ever listen without complaint to my stupid plans when your vehemently against an even worse one I’ve hatched. Out with it.”
He moved past her, continuing up the stairs and gesturing for her to do the same. “It wasn’t smart to leave him down there.”
May’s jaw tightened as she followed, now in his wake. “He needs answers. There’s no one else who can provide them.”
“You don’t think he’ll kill the old sot?” Demetrius laughed, opening the hatch that led from the basement back up to the main manor.
May shook her head, rolling her eyes. “What makes you think I don’t already plan on doing that myself? Besides,” The two of them stepped out of the shadows and back into the torch-lit halls of the manor, “He need answers. I’d like some, too.” She pushed in front of him with a slightly faster pace and headed towards her office.
Demetrius nodded, letting the subject drop. “Tell Alec to start bringing in the men, and then what, my lady?”
“Meet me here,” she called down to him, “the siege needs to end. Tonight.”
-
“You remember me?”
The room was dank, full of moss that had started to overtake the forever damp stone floor and walls, creeping white vines pushing through the cracks to make homes amongst them. Oryn could swear they heard the scuttle of rats in the rooms beyond, but was too busy with the task at had to force themselves to look further.
“I remember,” they said, circling the man as if they were stalking prey. He sat upon a ratty wooden stool, legs bound to the legs and hands tied behind his back. May had requested that Oryn leave him here when they were done with him: she had her own questions to ask.
“Good, then,” he said, sighing as his posture sunk further in on himself. They had cleaned his wounds and dressed him in slightly cleaner robes, providing a meal of whatever bit of food they could had on hand. “I’m sure you have many questions,” he coughed for a moment before catching his breath, “and I hope to provide some semblance of an answer for you.”
Oryn stopped pacing to look Jonas up and down. With his face washed, feet bandaged, and beard properly braided, they could tell now that he must have been a man of status at one point. Alec had done well in teaching them the ways of local society and religion and they could recognize the symbols they saw floating amongst the books and scrolls; the large eight-point star representing the Siblings of Chaos was embroidered on his tattered undershirt, the same symbol with a circle enclosing it tattooed on the man’s chest. They hadn’t recognized that before, the one time they’d met that Oryn could remember.
“They branded you for making Chaos?” they said, motioning towards the tattoo.
He nodded. “But wouldn’t strip me of my status.” He shrugged his shoulder forward, once again showing off the pin. He’d carefully taken it off of the tattered robes he previously bore and attached it to the new ones provided him.
\ “You wear the High Councilor’s pin of the Sanctum,” they all but verbatim repeated from some thick tome or another.
“The Lady of Ilucia has been teaching you, I assume?” Despite the circumstances, the man laughed once again.
“The witches never told me,” Oryn muttered, eyes becoming slits as their jaw twitched. They didn’t want to defend those who had sheltered them from the world, and yet…
“They never told you much of anything, child,” Jonas said, looking up at Oryn from where he sat. “And yet, here you are. Making your way nonetheless.”
Oryn shook their head. “I’m not going with you.”
Jonas sighed. The look in his eyes suddenly became something dark and heavy, a deep pit holding all the answers anyone could ever seek and the horrors that come with them.
“You can’t change my mind,” Oryn’s voice was calm. They counted their breaths, steadying their heartbeat as it started to rage in their ears.
Jonas’s mouth hung open for a moment, his rotting teeth browning at the gums. “Your mother,” he whispered, his old and quivering skeletal body becoming still as his gaze bore into Oryn’s soul.
They felt the blood draining from their face as they contested his gaze with their own, taking another step further towards the precipice. “I want to know of her.”
He sucked in a fresh breath of air with force. “The Forgotten Princess, to be married to the Forgotten Prince. The stories they tell…”
The text they’d read said nothing about any of that.
Jonas could read the confusion clearly on Oryn’s face. “Not up to recent years in your lessons?” He choked on another short laugh, but his features remined hard and serious, his eyes lacking their jovial grandfatherly nature they’d carried before he’d mentioned…
Oryn shook their head. “Speak plainly.”
He sighed. “I find it a great shame,” he mumbled as he caught his breath once again, “that three women of such intelligence would keep such knowledge from you.” He hummed a bit to himself, scanning the small room he found himself in.
“My… Tutor,” Oryn started, “told me that knowledge is how average men hold power. How they cope with never being allowed to Mend the sewn Chaos.”
“Do you believe that?”
“Not completely,” they said, their gaze hard. “It’s powerful, yes. I am strong in knowing,” they started slowly stalking around Jonas yet again, one slow step being taken after another. “But men are strong in other ways. With swords, axes, bows… they are all so weak when they’re leaking blood.”
“The church,” Jonas mumbled, “the Sanctum. Do you think that’s power? Or the King?”
“It is so easy to die, so easy to kill,” Oryn mumbled, “that it’s hard to look at an old man in a chair far too large for him and decide that’s the image of power.” They shook their head, stopped their pacing.
“Men work in ways only the Gods may understand,” Jonas said, the legs on his stool creaking as he shifted his weight.
Oryn let out a sly laugh under their hot breath. “I am angry with the witches for never teaching me,” she laid a gentle hand on Jonas’s frail and bony shoulder, “And yet grateful to never have known. I can look upon the societies that man has built and see how uncouth it all is; how seemingly barbaric and unestablished.” She shook her head as she lifted her hand from the man’s shoulder and walked to be in front of him, crouching down to meet his gaze with her own. “And your Gods…” they scoffed.
Jonas looked upon Oryn with more than mere anger; the disgust was laid upon them with his unrelenting gaze. “You do not know of what you speak, child.”
Oryn eyes narrowed as they looked deeper into Jonas’s soul, into what he’s done and who he was and where he’s been. They swallowed hard and took a deep breath as the drone started humming at the back of their head.
He started to struggle against his restraints. “You don’t know what made you!”
“Then tell me, old man,” they spat, “for my patience is growing thin.”
His face contorted as the thrumming in his own skull started hammering harder and harder, begging to break free. “Demon!” He screamed, his hoarse voice echoing against the cold stone walls surrounding them while he strained against his restraints.
“What am I, Councilor?” Their skin crawled with the potential of another kill, more blood spilled atop old stones that would forget the death as it was washed away. And yet they continued to hesitate nonetheless. Although this man would never get the pleasure of taking them alive, he was possibly the only person left alive who knew what they were.
“Demon,” he repeated, his eyes still burning hot and wild as he coughed and caught his breath, trying to contain his fear.
Oryn shook their head yet again, standing and resuming their pacing. "I may not have a very deep understanding of your Gods, but I can tell you that if they’re real, they’ve either left your sorry lot or have died.” She scoffed. “I find it horrid how you all can believe in something so… untouchable.”
The man’s features changed, suddenly showing a deep and sudden pity for what must have been someone but a child in his own eyes.
“I hope, dearest Oryn, for your lovely mother’s sake, that the God’s choose to have mercy on your dying soul.”
He stoked the fire burning inside of them even more.
They stood behind the chair he was strapped to, gripping the back of the chair as they watched the wood crack beneath their knuckles. They leaned down, their neck creaking with the strain of their spine shifting inside of them, their skin pulling itself taught as the muscle shifted.
“Tell me of her,” they whispered against the skin of his ear, sending a shiver through his body as he mumbled a prayer, trembling in his seat.
The creak of bone on bone rang through the small room, mixing with the squeaking of dusting rodents and the soft drip of condensation running down the walls. Their breaths created a harmony, Oryn’s staunch snout spouting steam into the air as Jonas’s fear sucked it deep into his lungs.
He whimpered as the ropes dug deep into his wrists while he tried to break free and run from the beast lurking behind him, seeking answers only he could give. His eyes were shut tight as he felt the foul drool drip thick and heavy onto his shoulder.
“Leandra,” he whispered.
Silence.
The crack of a shot from a bow rang out, an arrow piercing Jonas through the heart.
Oryn’s face lifted quickly, standing on two hind legs and stretching themselves to reach against the stone ceiling, flexing against the restraint of their own skin.
May stood in the darkened doorframe, crossbow positioned at her chest, pointing towards the dead man’s body.
“Oryn,” she said, panting and wiping her brow. “We need you.”
Black Levitate I
(I would love to hear your thoughts...)
A third of the human race.
A third of all plants.
A third of all living beings.
Only a third was allowed to keep oxygen circulating through their temples. The only reason they allowed them to live is; if it all were to extinct, they would have nothing left to devour. The blood of earth dwellers is like nothing the whole of the universe has to offer. Sweet, succulent, and just the right amount of prickly bitterness as if they're made to be life stock for the ones whom slept in the skies. When the sky fortresses hovered above our heads, our eyes filled with wonders of worlds which exists beyond the reach of our telegraphic lenses. At long last, the question had been answer, we are not the only conscious bacteria aimlessly drifting about in the universe.
The militants had tried to break in, but its sturdiness made it impossible to get in. Its design is as such we could not tell wall from door, and scientists went on and ruled it off as an oddly deformed asteroid. Unlike the ones which hailed on dinosaurs till they went extinct, these asteroids didn't crash on our precious skyscrapers, no, they simply hovered above us for two years.
Should we had known of the monstrosity about to come out, we could have...no, not a single one of our weapons of mass destruction was able to leave as much as a scratch on the hovering asteroids. Not our modern day explosives which are far more devastating than nuclears. Not the advanced lasers capable of shooting targets years away. Not the underground developed, classified 'Alpha-Z43' radiation missiles. A sort of an invincible shield is protecting it, and our weapons couldn't even touch it, so sturdy, not a singular speck of debris fell off.
I used to stare off into the distant blue skies. Now there is a floating mountains casting deep dark shadows unto our livelihoods. My first day in the Knights Of Blue, or KOB for short, well it's more of a militia. We fight to clear the sky, to protect the blue, and the people who dwell on the brown beneath it. To become a KOB one must first undergo the intense training which pushes your body far beyond its limit, tests the psyche in such manner some minds have permanently went haywire. During the times we live in, this was a necessity, more so for people who worked in law enforcement.
'Wait a minute, I... I don't remember the streets being this narrow' said Uglor. Ava scouted him from top to bottom then bottom to top and responded 'Well, you've been away for almost half your years, and you did a lot of growing up.' She paused, then looked at him from the corner of her eyes whilst tucking in her underlip and proceeded to emphasize 'A, lot of growing up.' He turned to meet her eyes, then they both burst into laughter. 'You have to stop doing that Ave, I'm telling you that witch is going to catch you someday.' The witch he was talking about was young gal he befriended at the KOB Training Academy whom may have a thing for Prince Uglor, or every other handsome stud from the academy. Leah was part of the witching tribe called Volkar, they look the same as humans but the markings on their foreheads was a giveaway. A circle with lines across, the more lines you had the higher your ranking. She had two lines which wasn't bad considering she had never been on a real mission. She already had one line when I first meet her, and had received the second line after graduating from the academy. 'Speak of the devil' Ava muttered at the sight of Leah.
The three of them had been assigned on their first mission alongside two of the more elite squadrons, captain Juan Mulder and second in command Eon Louise whom where there to merely supervise. They walked into a lopsided building which reeked of the stench of corpses. On the hunt for a relic which supposedly been left behind as the sky dwellers made their escape in the midst of battle, 'Black Levitate'. Rumor was whomever had its possession could perform magic only limited to ones imagination. Plausibly the reason why the sky dwellers and their fortresses had such might and power at their disposal. Under normal circumstances man could only dream about victory against them, but there was only two of them against at least a dozen and twofolds KOB unit. No matter the might, these numbers ensured victory goes to the men dressed in blue. 'I don't know if we can call this a battle won, when only our men are laying here feeding the soil' said Leah. The captain responded to the comment, 'If these men didn't give up their lives we would never had known about the relics.' His tone of voice intensified. 'They were, no, they are the bravest of brave we done had in our troupes. This is what it means to be a warrior, I do not expect you to understand little dear.' The conversation was interrupted. 'Quiet!' Eon shouted in a whispering tone.
'We are not alone.' His eyes went wall-to-wall looking for any hint of movement. The curtains were moving, it could be the wind blowing he thought. No, that's the same direction as the noise he had heard. As if he could read his mind, Juan took a book from the table beside him, and threw it to curtains. 'Aah!' Ava jumped at the sight of a rat running to her direction.
If there was another presence inside, they definitely heard that scream, which would be the advantage of knowing were your enemies are. 'What I don't understand is why would they send us rooks to this place? To make matters worse, a unit of only five, unbelievable!' said Leah. There was a shine of tremor in her voice. Eon responded, 'It's very unlikely they would return to place, at least not at this moment. You see the dwellers of blue think very highly of themselves. Knowing what awaits them should they return meant they have to come back with a unit of their own. This meant they had to admit defeat against us. Dare those fiends share tale of their own defeat.' He grinned a smug grin at the end of his speech. They turned the house upside down looking for the relic. Uglor turned to Leah and asked, 'Do you not know of any find spells the like Gia uses?' Gia is her older sibling whom works in the investigation department. Leah did not respond. To use find magic one had to know what they are looking for, the size of it, the color, the weight, and in some cases the smell of the object. Needless to say, this was Leah's first mission, and she had never crossed paths with the sky dwellers, even less so a relic.
Leah's hair decor fell off, she took a step back to pick it up and bumped into statue of an elven lord. The statue tipped over shattering into pieces, everybody turned to look. Tough none of the rooks had ever seen a relic, everybody in that room knew this was it, a blind man would know. Sinister dark flumes came out of it. A shadow came out of nowhere and snatched it, Uglor swung his sword, the sly shadow duck by rolling unto the ground. Stopping his sword at Eon's neck, one could smell the disappointment on the face of his superior without even looking. Captain Juan took control, 'It's a night beast! No, a shadow crawler! Remember your training, get to your positions. Enchanter!' She spoke magical words in Volkar tongue, waving her hands like a dance. A bright light burst from the tips of her fingers, the shadow dispersed into black particles and smoke at impact.
The relic fell but this was not the end, shadow crawlers could not die in the dark, and the house was plenty dark. It made another attempt to get at the relic, then jumped into a shadowy corner when the captain slid the curtains open. From the other side of the room Uglor and Ava did the same. They had avoided opening the windows to prevent citizens from seeing the horror inside. Blood on the walls, almost like they were painting the room, decapitated heads, the corpses of their sons and daughters feeding the soil.
'Do not touch, do not touchhh.' A slithering voice said from the corner of the room. The shadow crawler was hiding from the sun. The captain was surprised, 'Yo, you can talk.' In his snake like voice he said, 'Only demon can touchh rrrelic. Man will die. Do not touchhh.'
Was the demon trying to save them, they thought to themselves. That's absurd, it's almost sundown, it was merely stalling for time.
The captain drawn closer to the shadow crawler, 'Fascinating, I've never met one of your kind who could speak, in man's tongue that is.' His face was like child about to get candy as a reward for completing a task. 'Tell me, what makes you so spe.' He stopped mid sentence, long ears... he stood face-to-face with the crawler and shook his head. 'A demon with long ears!' He raised his voice out of surprise. 'I've heard tales of demons sharing beds with man, but never would I have thought I'd live to see an offspring of such a wicked act. To think some of them call each other lovers.' He worn disgust on his face, the mere sight of this creature could make him vomit blood. The crawler paid no mind to his piercing words. Eon tapped the captain on the shoulder, 'Let's just be done with him. I'd like to get home early for a change.' The tenseness on his face morphed into a smile. Juan laughed, 'By home, you mean the tavern, right?'
...
To be continued
This is my first book, I would like to hear your thoughts? I'm also busy working on the artwork...
A New Saga: Hound of Ulster Prologue
It was a dark night in the town of Sawville. The streets are bare of any sign of life. The houses lining the streets were quiet, the windows barren from any light. The lamppost lit dimly, brightening only patches of the road and cement grounds of the pavements.
Not a single breath from any creature was to be heard. Not a single movement to be seen. Nothing but the chirps of crickets filled the cold air in the moonless sky. From around the block, a middle-aged man in a black shirts with a blood red skull was treading on the side of the road, his head almost covered in shadows from the lamplight. He was about to turn right to a red-brick house with a blue-tiled roof when suddenly, he heard a shrill wailing reminiscent of a woman's piercing the pitch black silence.
He swiftly turned around, startled by the sound, but couldn't see anyone through the shadows of the night. Before he could step to the direction he believed was the source of the screaming, a flying creature swooped down in a blur and flew away, the man's screams fading away in the distance.
Warming up engines, oiling the cogs. Wattys 2024 deadline: August. Back to writing. See u in wattpad soon friends.
An entirely new 1st part approaches.
I find myself lost in my own writing. I feel the wind on my skin and see flying beasts with eyes wide open.
If there has ever been anything true, is that I’ve always been one to get lost in words, when I can see them before they’re shaped.
I see it all so clearly. It’s like looking at a screen or a mirror. I dive into the projection and feel the breath of the world.
I’ve been writing a little every day, before I fall asleep. It’s when the ideas seem to be clearest.
Finally, today I felt like my first chapters are going in the right direction. The scene is being set. Connections are being made.
I hope the foundation is enough to make readers cry with what comes afterward.
I love writing fantasy. What I love so much about the genre is that there are no limits, no rules. Anything is valid. Everything is permitted.
I get to remake the world however I see fit.
I just updated my fantasy novel! (Still working on editing the 1 part cuz I’m not very convinced. Will probably edit this newest one more too)
Me writing the most traumatic experience for my protagonist:
Writer things
Me doing research/studying for my novel:
-I’m just gonna read this passage of this book
Three hours later*
-Oh fuck
This is the fantasy novel I’m writing! I’ve been developing this story since it first came to me when I was 14. Now, I’m making the effort to make this dream a reality.
If you want to read a fantasy story with diversity, conflicts, lots of characters, emotional growth, amongst other things, go take a look!
Because we’re on the 2 chapter, and things are about to kick off for real!
Me with my fantasy novel lmaooo
Sharing the beginnings of my fantasy novel here, hoping someone might feel drawn by the synopsis and take a peek inside.
As with any piece of writing, there’s still a lot of editing to do, but seeing it evolve and become something greater than you thought it could be at the beginning, is the lovely thing about the journey.
Copypasted synopsis from the wattpad version
In a war-torn world, the ancestral peoples of the Old Country are decreasing in number at an alarming rate, after two decades of war with the humans and elves. The Eagle-People have been pushed back so far from their lands they're going extinct, however there is the growing thunder of a rebellion in the West beyond the Athar Keep, where dragons lie in wait.
A lost eaglet torn cruelly from her family must now travel beyond the Keep, the only shelter left for those like her. However, what she'll find over the Wall will change the tide of the war.
All rights reserved.
I’ve been wanting to be a writer since I was nine, when I sat down and wrote my first story (I made drawings for it and was very excited haha).
Since then, I’ve evolved a lot, having up to 24+ novel ideas in my mind and written down that I want to write.
And now I’m taking the decision of writing one of them for real, starting with the 3rd story idea I ever had, the first idea I ever had with real potential to become a great thing.
I’ve decided to take it seriously now, because I realize I’m not getting younger. If I don’t do it now, when the hell am I going to? Just fantasizing about getting published or noticed by an editor but not doing anything to make that come true, WON’T make your dreams come true magically, with 0 effort from you.
So, I’m currently writing the first version of my first fantasy novel Initiation, in wattpad, with some illustrations! After I’ve finished it on there, I’ll self-publish it on kindle and ibooks with extra parts and the real illustrations with color and extra deets and quality!
I REALLY loved A Deadly Education by Naomi Novik and will probably have more art as I work my way through the books