LadyHestia
Planetoid
- Joined
- Nov 20, 2010
So I'm working on a piece I'm going to try and get published. I wanted to put up the first chapter because I'm very self concious and would like some helpful critism. Also that would help my nerves as well.
Rise of the Dragon King
Book one: Faith
Chapter one) The offer
In ancient times, the land known as Tiva was united and protected by thirty warriors. These warriors were chosen by the gods and other powerful immortal creatures and were given powers like the being whom the warrior served. The warriors were also granted immortality off the battle field so illness and age would never slow them down. They were heroes, praised by Alekori, the god of the sun, and guided by Masule, the goddess of victory. Each challenge and trail they face the warriors conquered in the name of the gods. Long lasted their life under the watchful eyes of the gods, yet one by one the warriors began to disappear, taken from the realm of the living while their gods turned their gaze elsewhere. A seer among the warriors, confused by the disappearing warriors barred himself away and asked for the voice of fate to deliver the answers, the news of the lost warriors. Fate did just that. With horrifying images and screams that pierced even the farthest corners of the world.
By day, by night, on land or in flight, your brother and sister fall from grace, as the blacken blood of greedy power fills their space. Should the last of the mighty fall, then darkness and death will claim all.
Fate had laughed while each word was whispered. The seer knew if nothing was done the last of the warriors would be hunted down and die at the hands of a demon thus Tiva’s golden age would end. With hasten steps the seer told the trees, the seas, and the wind to carry the call and bring the warriors together. The call flew across the lands, leaf to leaf, over the white foam of the sea, and around the clouds faster than anything before. To the fear of all only five warriors answered the seers call and gathered in the ancient temple of the dragon king. Many ideas were thrown about before the seer hushed them all. He lifted his voice and proclaimed they had one chance, one road to take. They had to stop the demon, brought here by a jealous and power hungry woman by force. Grabbing bow, spear, sword, axe, knife, and book, the warriors set out to face the demon and carve their names forever into history’s pages. The warriors and the demon clashed in the northern frigid plains of Pangoria. They fought long and hard but no matter what the warriors tried the demon matched it with just as much strength. As the gruesome battle raged on the warriors realized the only way to win was to force a stalemate. They would have to give their lives and seal the demon so its rampage would stop. With the hope of saving the world they loved the warriors combined their powers and gave their souls over to death to se4al the demon away from the mortal realm. These battles that destroyed so many lives became known as ‘Haruin Ona’ or Demon’s War. Let the truth be known the last sight of the seer, the chosen warriors will rise again when they are needed and they will bring peace back to Tiva.
~So the legend goes.~ The boy sighed closing the book. He fell back onto the dusty and torn mat that was his bed, holding the book to his chest. His creamy white skin stood out against the yellow stains of the mat. His skin bore the occasional scar of his past defiance as well as scratches and bruises from recent acts. The most recent bruises were just turning a sick yellow with dots of brown and purple trailing down his left side where he’d been kicked repeatedly the other day. His head was adorned with brown fluffy feathers. His eyes were a deep but soft shade of blue like the sea, or so he’d been told by the cook. His build was scrawny but he had enough muscle to do the work required of him, and the others who were deemed below the races. The room the owner of the inn had shoved him into was a small prison with bare walls. The only color to the walls was the black and yellow mold and mildew growing up around the bottom corners. The mat that was on his floor still smelled of piss and sour milk just like it had when they gave it to him. He’d also received a small wooden chest that was cracking and barely able to open anymore.
The book he held was the only thing in the room of value, and was something he would never let go. He had received the book as a reward for finding and handing over a lost ring from a patron of the inn. The patron told him that even the lowest of creatures deserved to look upon the elegant word of those who were of worth. Though the patron’s words angered him, he got the book and now treasured it. The book’s brown leather binding was very old and smelled of dust and wet leather. The pages were stiff and tore easily now, and they were stained with sweat, ink, and dirt. The binding cracked and groaned in protest anytime the book was opened. Yet the boy paid no heed to the moans of the binding and read the same passage every night.
The boy glared at the book feeling a small bit of rage towards the words he’d just read. He placed the book down on the mat and crawled across the wooden floor till the boards creaked and changed color. It was there he lifted up the second floorboard from the wall. Under the board was a small tag. The boy lifted the tag and read the words trying to ease his anger.
‘To Mamoru’ was all the tag said. It didn’t need to say more for those simple words had saved him from truly becoming nothing. He had lost his memories of his home and for a moment his name when he first came here, but the tag had been in his hand as it was now. A reminder that he wasn’t always treated like this, that he had had a home. Closing his hand over the tag he let his hand drop to his side.
“Where are you now? Oh mighty warriors?” Mamoru scoffed. His life has been taken from him and the famed warriors from that legend were nowhere. “I thought you were supposed to protect the helpless! So where are you?” Mamoru spat hatefully. He had been forced into servitude along with so many others in Pangoria. So where were the great warriors who were supposed to punish these horrible people? No where, that was where. They didn’t exist not now not ever, that’s why they didn’t help. Mamoru knew it was childish blaming something or one that didn’t exist for his woes and the actions of others. The reason for it, it helped ease the pain and misery he endured.
“Everyone get out here,” a voice screeched down the hall and through the closed doors. Mamoru scrambled to shove the tag back into the hole and slide the floorboard over it. He nearly fell down as he lunged to his feet and for the door all at once. The door swung open wide to reveal most of the servants already lined up with a few still moving. Mamoru slammed into a couple of the other servants in his haste as he tried to make his way to his spot in the line. He winced and mouthed sorry to the two other servants as he squeezed next to the woodcutter. Mamoru hoped that the owner of the inn wouldn’t notice that he’d been just a little late.
“Late as always. Can’t you do anything right?” the owner yelled in Mamoru’s face. Mamoru cringed as the foul breath and spit of the owner landed on his face. ‘He noticed’ Mamoru thought with an internal groan. He knew he was already on the owner’s bad side because of his rebellious actions the other night.
“Sorry my lord,” Mamoru mumbled through gritted teeth. His eyes had shut tight and he held his breath trying to keep his temper in check. Mamoru could still feel the hot glare of the owner and the cold stone of the floor. He could feel the skin around his eye twitching as he tilted his head down. Opening his eyes again Mamoru glared at the man’s feet and ground his teeth. How long was the owner going to stare at him? It was absolutely infuriating the way he treated them.
“I’ll deal with you later,” the owner said finally as though to answer his question. There was a soft tapping of the heels of the owner’s boots over the wood paneling. “Now all of you get upstairs and get to work,” he yelled flaring his wings to frighten many of the servants. “Pathetic no good Cantir,” the owner sneered as Mamoru walked by to go up the stairs.
Mamoru bite down on the inside of his check so hard that the coppery taste of blood rushed over his tongue. He wanted to turn and deck the winged man to beat him till he was unrecognizable. He hated being what everyone called a wingless, a person of the Arevian clans who had their wings cut off do to a crime or lack of social standing or born without wings. It made it easier for the two Arevian clans, Avian and Morenloes, to identify criminals and find free laboers. Without wings you couldn’t reach the sky cities on your own, thus you lost all personal rights. For the Avians most of their lower class was now wingless, and it was killing the country…. Or that’s what Mamoru overheard a guest who stayed two nights ago say. Yet more then he hated being wingless he hated when proper Arevians called him a Cantir. He wasn’t a godless scum, someone whose only purpose was to lick the slime off their boots.
Heading up the oak wood stairs Mamoru went straight to the back entrance and outside to begin his work. There were already piles of freshly chopped wood due to his tardiness. Even with being late Mamoru cast a lazy sweep over the edge of the land. The inn itself sat on the ground and was on one of the highest mountain points of the Frozen Iron mountain range. Surrounded by mountains, clouds, small rivers and plant life, it was an ideal place to live if you were free. The evergreen trees provided little wood that would be easy to get to, but the Redbell trees were prefect for quick access to wood. They didn’t have the needles that the pines had, and in the summer they bore a bittersweet fruit that was very popular with the locals. The name Redbell came from the fruit since it looked like a red bell with the middle filled in. Also the wood was a deep red color when split, almost like it was covered in harden blood.
“Hey kid you better get going if you want to eat,” the woodcutter told him. The man was old but strong and been one of the few servants to actually talk with Mamoru. Mamoru was quite well known for his temper and disobedience which meant most of the servants stayed away. Mamoru couldn’t help but smile at the gray feathered and wrinkled man.
“I know, I know,” he sighed heavily and walked towards the piles of wood. It wouldn’t take him that long to pile the wood. It was his other chores; most of which were being assigned after he stacked and delivered the wood, which would take him the rest of the day. Mamoru took his time stacking the wood, enjoying the calm cool breeze that ruffled his feathers every now and then. He knew it was going to be a rough day, so why not enjoy what little pleasures he had left in life. It was a nice day not to cold even though deaths breath would soon take siege on the land, yet there was one thing off about it. It was the same thing he noticed every day. Silence. Not a single bird cried, not a single bug buzzed, even the steady chopping of the wood had stopped. With the woodcutter gone, Mamoru turned to look out over the land again. He could see every peak vanishing into the white mist of the clouds and he could see the closest sky city. Well he couldn’t see the buildings but he could see the orange and yellow tinted clouds which held the city. Clouds that never moved for they were held in place by strong magics. The feeling of someone watching him pulled Mamoru’s nerves to a heightened state. If the owner caught him lally-gagging he would be in even more trouble. With his senses feeling more alive he searched for the source of the sensation. There in the distance near the valley of the mountain stood a figure to small to make out any details. Mamoru was sure though that it was looking at him. With his nerves calming down to a dull roar he turned his back on the stranger in the distance and went back to stacking the last four pieces of wood.
Heading to the far side of the stacked wood Mamoru piled five pieces into his arms and carefully made his way back to the back entrance which he had used to get outside. He set the logs by the door and knocked three times to signal the cook. She was a sweet woman who had insisted on making his life easier by having him just set the wood outside the back door and knock. Though it only saved him a few seconds it was the thought Mamoru appreciated. Walking back to the stacked wood Mamoru grabbed another arm load and headed to the side entrance of the inn. He made his way to the hearth in the restroom for travelers who weren’t staying the night or who were waiting to be helped.
The room wasn’t the best looking room in the inn but it was by far the comfiest. There were fur rugs, fine leather wrapped chairs and couches. There was a massive hearth in the center of the room with a crystal covering that had an enchantment to filter the smoke back to clean air. It also was nice to look at with the warm fire dancing underneath it. On the wooden walls hung pictures of nobles, gods, and heroes that no one knew the names too. Thankfully the owner was standing under one of the pictures whispering to the bookkeeper. Mamoru was sure by the look on the book keep’s face that the owner was threatening him with a beating or worse. Mamoru approached them but stayed back on the bear fur rug giving them their space while he waited for the owner to turn to him. The soft was no longer soft, it was more gritty and clumpy from the mud and dirt left on it.
“The wood is stacked, sir. What do I do now?” Mamoru said wasting no time when the owner turned around. He also quickly bowed momentarily forgetting that he was supposed to bow before speaking. There was a dull distraction of pain from him biting his own tongue. This had become a daily practiced to keep him self from saying anything or glaring at the owner.
“Go to the cellar and grab some new fire magon. I need at least five and fast,” the owner ordered. “They need to be taken to each bath house and once you’ve done that you can go collect the supoi from the forest. I want it as a rare treat for some guest tonight,” the owner grinned evilly. His eyes were alight with the cruelest of looks Mamoru had ever seen. Oh yes he truly had done it this time.
“Of course,” Mamoru gulped. He was terrified but kept his body from shaking by burning holes into the bear rug with his gaze. Mamoru wasn’t sure if the sever task was cause of his tardiness or because of what he did the other night.
Supoi was a very sweet root that came from the supoir bushes. That plant was also used a lot in medicines and some part of the plant were used for psychic visions. The bushes had very sharp thorns on every inch of its exposure. On top of that it was the favorite nesting place for supore snakes and sometimes kinju bugs. Mamoru wasn’t terrified of the thorns but of the snakes and bugs. The last servant who had to go collect supoi was swarmed by the kinju bugs. He had been stung by the kinju bugs and paralyzed by their poison. By the time anyone found him the bugs had completely removed the flesh from his arms and legs and were still feasting on his torso. The paralysis of their sting rendered their prey helpless while they stripped the flesh from it. The stripped flesh was taken into the hive where every one of those bugs could enjoy it. It wasn’t a nice fate, and a rather painful experience or so Mamoru had been told.
Rise of the Dragon King
Book one: Faith
Chapter one) The offer
In ancient times, the land known as Tiva was united and protected by thirty warriors. These warriors were chosen by the gods and other powerful immortal creatures and were given powers like the being whom the warrior served. The warriors were also granted immortality off the battle field so illness and age would never slow them down. They were heroes, praised by Alekori, the god of the sun, and guided by Masule, the goddess of victory. Each challenge and trail they face the warriors conquered in the name of the gods. Long lasted their life under the watchful eyes of the gods, yet one by one the warriors began to disappear, taken from the realm of the living while their gods turned their gaze elsewhere. A seer among the warriors, confused by the disappearing warriors barred himself away and asked for the voice of fate to deliver the answers, the news of the lost warriors. Fate did just that. With horrifying images and screams that pierced even the farthest corners of the world.
By day, by night, on land or in flight, your brother and sister fall from grace, as the blacken blood of greedy power fills their space. Should the last of the mighty fall, then darkness and death will claim all.
Fate had laughed while each word was whispered. The seer knew if nothing was done the last of the warriors would be hunted down and die at the hands of a demon thus Tiva’s golden age would end. With hasten steps the seer told the trees, the seas, and the wind to carry the call and bring the warriors together. The call flew across the lands, leaf to leaf, over the white foam of the sea, and around the clouds faster than anything before. To the fear of all only five warriors answered the seers call and gathered in the ancient temple of the dragon king. Many ideas were thrown about before the seer hushed them all. He lifted his voice and proclaimed they had one chance, one road to take. They had to stop the demon, brought here by a jealous and power hungry woman by force. Grabbing bow, spear, sword, axe, knife, and book, the warriors set out to face the demon and carve their names forever into history’s pages. The warriors and the demon clashed in the northern frigid plains of Pangoria. They fought long and hard but no matter what the warriors tried the demon matched it with just as much strength. As the gruesome battle raged on the warriors realized the only way to win was to force a stalemate. They would have to give their lives and seal the demon so its rampage would stop. With the hope of saving the world they loved the warriors combined their powers and gave their souls over to death to se4al the demon away from the mortal realm. These battles that destroyed so many lives became known as ‘Haruin Ona’ or Demon’s War. Let the truth be known the last sight of the seer, the chosen warriors will rise again when they are needed and they will bring peace back to Tiva.
~So the legend goes.~ The boy sighed closing the book. He fell back onto the dusty and torn mat that was his bed, holding the book to his chest. His creamy white skin stood out against the yellow stains of the mat. His skin bore the occasional scar of his past defiance as well as scratches and bruises from recent acts. The most recent bruises were just turning a sick yellow with dots of brown and purple trailing down his left side where he’d been kicked repeatedly the other day. His head was adorned with brown fluffy feathers. His eyes were a deep but soft shade of blue like the sea, or so he’d been told by the cook. His build was scrawny but he had enough muscle to do the work required of him, and the others who were deemed below the races. The room the owner of the inn had shoved him into was a small prison with bare walls. The only color to the walls was the black and yellow mold and mildew growing up around the bottom corners. The mat that was on his floor still smelled of piss and sour milk just like it had when they gave it to him. He’d also received a small wooden chest that was cracking and barely able to open anymore.
The book he held was the only thing in the room of value, and was something he would never let go. He had received the book as a reward for finding and handing over a lost ring from a patron of the inn. The patron told him that even the lowest of creatures deserved to look upon the elegant word of those who were of worth. Though the patron’s words angered him, he got the book and now treasured it. The book’s brown leather binding was very old and smelled of dust and wet leather. The pages were stiff and tore easily now, and they were stained with sweat, ink, and dirt. The binding cracked and groaned in protest anytime the book was opened. Yet the boy paid no heed to the moans of the binding and read the same passage every night.
The boy glared at the book feeling a small bit of rage towards the words he’d just read. He placed the book down on the mat and crawled across the wooden floor till the boards creaked and changed color. It was there he lifted up the second floorboard from the wall. Under the board was a small tag. The boy lifted the tag and read the words trying to ease his anger.
‘To Mamoru’ was all the tag said. It didn’t need to say more for those simple words had saved him from truly becoming nothing. He had lost his memories of his home and for a moment his name when he first came here, but the tag had been in his hand as it was now. A reminder that he wasn’t always treated like this, that he had had a home. Closing his hand over the tag he let his hand drop to his side.
“Where are you now? Oh mighty warriors?” Mamoru scoffed. His life has been taken from him and the famed warriors from that legend were nowhere. “I thought you were supposed to protect the helpless! So where are you?” Mamoru spat hatefully. He had been forced into servitude along with so many others in Pangoria. So where were the great warriors who were supposed to punish these horrible people? No where, that was where. They didn’t exist not now not ever, that’s why they didn’t help. Mamoru knew it was childish blaming something or one that didn’t exist for his woes and the actions of others. The reason for it, it helped ease the pain and misery he endured.
“Everyone get out here,” a voice screeched down the hall and through the closed doors. Mamoru scrambled to shove the tag back into the hole and slide the floorboard over it. He nearly fell down as he lunged to his feet and for the door all at once. The door swung open wide to reveal most of the servants already lined up with a few still moving. Mamoru slammed into a couple of the other servants in his haste as he tried to make his way to his spot in the line. He winced and mouthed sorry to the two other servants as he squeezed next to the woodcutter. Mamoru hoped that the owner of the inn wouldn’t notice that he’d been just a little late.
“Late as always. Can’t you do anything right?” the owner yelled in Mamoru’s face. Mamoru cringed as the foul breath and spit of the owner landed on his face. ‘He noticed’ Mamoru thought with an internal groan. He knew he was already on the owner’s bad side because of his rebellious actions the other night.
“Sorry my lord,” Mamoru mumbled through gritted teeth. His eyes had shut tight and he held his breath trying to keep his temper in check. Mamoru could still feel the hot glare of the owner and the cold stone of the floor. He could feel the skin around his eye twitching as he tilted his head down. Opening his eyes again Mamoru glared at the man’s feet and ground his teeth. How long was the owner going to stare at him? It was absolutely infuriating the way he treated them.
“I’ll deal with you later,” the owner said finally as though to answer his question. There was a soft tapping of the heels of the owner’s boots over the wood paneling. “Now all of you get upstairs and get to work,” he yelled flaring his wings to frighten many of the servants. “Pathetic no good Cantir,” the owner sneered as Mamoru walked by to go up the stairs.
Mamoru bite down on the inside of his check so hard that the coppery taste of blood rushed over his tongue. He wanted to turn and deck the winged man to beat him till he was unrecognizable. He hated being what everyone called a wingless, a person of the Arevian clans who had their wings cut off do to a crime or lack of social standing or born without wings. It made it easier for the two Arevian clans, Avian and Morenloes, to identify criminals and find free laboers. Without wings you couldn’t reach the sky cities on your own, thus you lost all personal rights. For the Avians most of their lower class was now wingless, and it was killing the country…. Or that’s what Mamoru overheard a guest who stayed two nights ago say. Yet more then he hated being wingless he hated when proper Arevians called him a Cantir. He wasn’t a godless scum, someone whose only purpose was to lick the slime off their boots.
Heading up the oak wood stairs Mamoru went straight to the back entrance and outside to begin his work. There were already piles of freshly chopped wood due to his tardiness. Even with being late Mamoru cast a lazy sweep over the edge of the land. The inn itself sat on the ground and was on one of the highest mountain points of the Frozen Iron mountain range. Surrounded by mountains, clouds, small rivers and plant life, it was an ideal place to live if you were free. The evergreen trees provided little wood that would be easy to get to, but the Redbell trees were prefect for quick access to wood. They didn’t have the needles that the pines had, and in the summer they bore a bittersweet fruit that was very popular with the locals. The name Redbell came from the fruit since it looked like a red bell with the middle filled in. Also the wood was a deep red color when split, almost like it was covered in harden blood.
“Hey kid you better get going if you want to eat,” the woodcutter told him. The man was old but strong and been one of the few servants to actually talk with Mamoru. Mamoru was quite well known for his temper and disobedience which meant most of the servants stayed away. Mamoru couldn’t help but smile at the gray feathered and wrinkled man.
“I know, I know,” he sighed heavily and walked towards the piles of wood. It wouldn’t take him that long to pile the wood. It was his other chores; most of which were being assigned after he stacked and delivered the wood, which would take him the rest of the day. Mamoru took his time stacking the wood, enjoying the calm cool breeze that ruffled his feathers every now and then. He knew it was going to be a rough day, so why not enjoy what little pleasures he had left in life. It was a nice day not to cold even though deaths breath would soon take siege on the land, yet there was one thing off about it. It was the same thing he noticed every day. Silence. Not a single bird cried, not a single bug buzzed, even the steady chopping of the wood had stopped. With the woodcutter gone, Mamoru turned to look out over the land again. He could see every peak vanishing into the white mist of the clouds and he could see the closest sky city. Well he couldn’t see the buildings but he could see the orange and yellow tinted clouds which held the city. Clouds that never moved for they were held in place by strong magics. The feeling of someone watching him pulled Mamoru’s nerves to a heightened state. If the owner caught him lally-gagging he would be in even more trouble. With his senses feeling more alive he searched for the source of the sensation. There in the distance near the valley of the mountain stood a figure to small to make out any details. Mamoru was sure though that it was looking at him. With his nerves calming down to a dull roar he turned his back on the stranger in the distance and went back to stacking the last four pieces of wood.
Heading to the far side of the stacked wood Mamoru piled five pieces into his arms and carefully made his way back to the back entrance which he had used to get outside. He set the logs by the door and knocked three times to signal the cook. She was a sweet woman who had insisted on making his life easier by having him just set the wood outside the back door and knock. Though it only saved him a few seconds it was the thought Mamoru appreciated. Walking back to the stacked wood Mamoru grabbed another arm load and headed to the side entrance of the inn. He made his way to the hearth in the restroom for travelers who weren’t staying the night or who were waiting to be helped.
The room wasn’t the best looking room in the inn but it was by far the comfiest. There were fur rugs, fine leather wrapped chairs and couches. There was a massive hearth in the center of the room with a crystal covering that had an enchantment to filter the smoke back to clean air. It also was nice to look at with the warm fire dancing underneath it. On the wooden walls hung pictures of nobles, gods, and heroes that no one knew the names too. Thankfully the owner was standing under one of the pictures whispering to the bookkeeper. Mamoru was sure by the look on the book keep’s face that the owner was threatening him with a beating or worse. Mamoru approached them but stayed back on the bear fur rug giving them their space while he waited for the owner to turn to him. The soft was no longer soft, it was more gritty and clumpy from the mud and dirt left on it.
“The wood is stacked, sir. What do I do now?” Mamoru said wasting no time when the owner turned around. He also quickly bowed momentarily forgetting that he was supposed to bow before speaking. There was a dull distraction of pain from him biting his own tongue. This had become a daily practiced to keep him self from saying anything or glaring at the owner.
“Go to the cellar and grab some new fire magon. I need at least five and fast,” the owner ordered. “They need to be taken to each bath house and once you’ve done that you can go collect the supoi from the forest. I want it as a rare treat for some guest tonight,” the owner grinned evilly. His eyes were alight with the cruelest of looks Mamoru had ever seen. Oh yes he truly had done it this time.
“Of course,” Mamoru gulped. He was terrified but kept his body from shaking by burning holes into the bear rug with his gaze. Mamoru wasn’t sure if the sever task was cause of his tardiness or because of what he did the other night.
Supoi was a very sweet root that came from the supoir bushes. That plant was also used a lot in medicines and some part of the plant were used for psychic visions. The bushes had very sharp thorns on every inch of its exposure. On top of that it was the favorite nesting place for supore snakes and sometimes kinju bugs. Mamoru wasn’t terrified of the thorns but of the snakes and bugs. The last servant who had to go collect supoi was swarmed by the kinju bugs. He had been stung by the kinju bugs and paralyzed by their poison. By the time anyone found him the bugs had completely removed the flesh from his arms and legs and were still feasting on his torso. The paralysis of their sting rendered their prey helpless while they stripped the flesh from it. The stripped flesh was taken into the hive where every one of those bugs could enjoy it. It wasn’t a nice fate, and a rather painful experience or so Mamoru had been told.