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Dawn of Life [Updated]

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I chose to make a new thread about this because it have changed massivly, and I have now threathed together some of my texts so that it might make more sence, or less sence, depeding on the reader, I suppose. Anyways, this thread contains my former released texts "Dawn of Life" "Rebirth of Nazrim" and "The Makeshift" all gone over some kind of overhaul, less or large. With the addition of a never before released text called "The Light of Day."

I hope you enjoy reading it, if only some of it, because I know its much. Nonetheless, any advice or grammar correction is MOST welcome.


Dawn of Life

edgeofanempire.png


Rebirth of Nazrim


It’s so cold.
He opens his eyes and gazes upon the world: so peaceful, calm and beautiful.
The birds are singing and the flowers are blooming.
He can see trees standing tall and proud, and the sky filled with the most wondrous clouds one could ever witness.
So tranquil, so wondrous, so disgusting…


He closes his eyes, whishing for it all to end.
He can’t look at the calm and peaceful world surrounding him.
Each happy bird song tears a scar through his soul.
His vision hurts when he gazes at the flowers, and his mind is constantly haunted by the image of the wondrous forests.
He is crying now, a small childish melody of weeping.
And as his crystal tears falls to the ground and freezes the mold under his feet, he lifts his head once again.


He is trying to get up, standing on his feet, his new and fragile feet.

As he rises to his feet: his legs shiver,
As he stretches his arms: his limbs creak,
As he imagines: The world changes…

He opens his eyes and gazes upon the world: so horrifying, chaotic and strange.
The birds are no longer singing, and the flowers are dying.
He can see trees bending over in pain, slowly rotting into rubble.
And the sky is freezing over with the darkest clouds one could ever witness.
The world is dying and the dead is rising.
It’s so cold…


The Beginning of Everything


Known only through legends, told in ages long forgotten by the flow of time is the Prothions, translated from old Nomadic, Creators. These beings have always been, always will be and shall never leave this plane of existence. But in ages past, these being were dreaming, and slowly, through time unimaginable, they gained their limitless powers.

As they awoke they started experimenting with their powers. They created vast and empty worlds, chunks of earth, gas and other materials. And once they had enough experience they created the one thing that could bring balance to existence, life. They are the fathers and mothers of planets, they are the engineers of existence and they are the Prothions, also known as Gods.

These beings do not judge upon good and evil, terms created by mortals doesn’t concern them. To them the entire galaxy, and the balance of all things, depends only on two things, order and chaos. To this point the Prothions are somewhat disagreeable, but the majority of them believe that without order, there will be chaos and with chaos comes destruction. These being are creators, thus destruction should be their greatest enemy.


There is only one codex that the gods cannot interfere with, one which was not made by them, but by their own creator. This codex is named “The Physical Laws.” The laws of the codex are many and vast, and among other things it states that gods cannot undo something that is already created, at least not directly. They were manufactured to create, they are generators of creation. To shape and create is their only purpose of existence.



- The Fallen Ones


In all there were seven gods. Each with their own specializations, and each different from the others, they were: Oll – The Wise, End – The Spirit Guide, Njin – Overseer of the Cosmos, Ranaar (Ran) – The preserver of Mana, Bhaar – Father of Mortals, Qyen – Keeper of Life and Kohr – The Shaper.

Bhaar is the father of mortals, lesser beings that exist in order to keep their world running. He watches over them and guides them when it is needed. Oll is the great lord of the gods, and thus his purpose is to lead them and help them on any way that he can. End sees to it that everything that dies, comes to the spiritual world, where they can serve a different purpose than that of which they did in life.

Qyen is the inventor of life; he shaped it as a form and worked with it until it became something more than just a substance. Ran is the preserver of Mana, the tool of creation. Kohr is the god that forges worlds; his mighty hands are those that create peaking mountains, steep valleys, vast oceans and dangerous landmass. Njin is the overseer of the cosmos, the home of the gods. His duty is to maintain it, and evolve it for better comfort to the other gods.

And as the gods worked, they experimented and left unfinished worlds everywhere. Planets were made, many and vast they spread across the Cosmos, large, uninhabited and extremely dangerous worlds. But the gods desire to create a world of perfection is what drove them into making the world of focus, one world where they used all their combined experience, one world to overrule them all. And over time, this world would gain the name “Origon.”

While the Prothions created this new world, Orion, a new desire awakened within their hearts. Like any being, they felt a desire to further their own legacy. Yes, Prothions have very long lives, but even gods die, eventually. And who would then watch over their world? And with this in mind, the gods started making children. But unlike mortals, there is no need of any physical interference or the fact that they need be of different gender.

Among many of the children that were made, there was one that never fit into the cosmos. This was the creation of End and Njin, a child called “Oompaar.” He was the god of greed, and his chosen alignment gave him a very large problem considering his hunger for always being the better one, something he could not achieve without millennia’s of experience, and like all greed hearted being, he weren’t that patient.

Oompaar tried many things, first he tried making a deal with End to let him absorb powers from the Spiritual World. But End were resilient and denied his son the opportunity. Then he turned to his mother, Njin, and tried to make her give him allowance to use the cosmos for greater powers, but he once again met a wall of strong will. In the end Oompaar saw that no other god would help him in his campaign for power, so the child turned to something controlled not by the gods, but by something unknown. He turned to the great nothing, and started absorbing its dark powers.

However, what the child did not know was that through his greedy absorption of power, he opened the gap between the great nothing and the living world so that the dark beings of nothingness could manifest and start tearing down what the gods had created. As soon as he noticed this, the great father of gods, the one being, was swift with his actions. He punished Oompaar with driving him down to the mortal world, never to return to the cosmos again. But in his dreary fall, Oompaar’s greed did not fail him; he was determined not to fall alone.

The child used all his gathered powers to trap one of the younger gods within his grasp, and with him Bhaar – The Shaper fell to the mortal world.


Godly Conflicts.

After the Prothions had created their world and their children the mortals, they sat back and watched with pride as their creation evolved and flowed on like a dream, everything was perfect. But it didn’t last… Before long it was obvious that mortals had the power to develop their own set of emotions, priorities and lusts. The mortals started to become greedy, hateful and superstitious. They started killing each other, turning away from the gods and most importantly, they started understanding how to use Mana.

In the beginning the Prothions didn’t see any harm in what was happening, they might not be as proud of their children as before, but there was no need for rash actions. But the mortals found new ways of using the Mana to their advantage, new elements were created and foul demons were summoned from the great nothing. Their world was no longer in balance, it was ruled by nothing but chaos and the gods saw that if this continued, chaos would engulf not only this world, but their entire cosmos. And thus, there was a public agreement that the Prothions had to destroy this world, before it destroyed them.

Kohr volunteered to carry out the task, as he was already a part of the mortal world and he was the only one of the Prothions that could physically interact with the world, and possibly destroy it. The other Prothions, however, did not see this to be very wise. Kohr was a Prothion as them all, and his love for this world would be far too great for him to be able to destroy it, and even if he could, it was not a risk they were about to take.
And thus the Prothions saw no other solution than to unite in the creation of a mortal being so powerful, so evil and so vengeful that it would stop at nothing before every inch of Origon was absorbed by the great nothingness.

Qyen – Keeper of Life, however, did not agree with the other Prothions. He objectively purposed that the mortals had no such qualities of being able to become strong enough to endanger the very existence of worlds, and thus meant that no interference was needed. His opinion was overruled by the fact that his obvious task made him too passionate about not destroying the mortals, that his greater judgment could not be trusted.

Disappointed with his fellow Prothions Qyen departed from the Cosmos, well knowing that there was little hope for him to be able to stop them, this however, did little to change his plan of opposing his brothers and proving his point. The Prothion searched far and wide in the mortal world to find a champion, a worthy mortal that he could devote himself to and guide into becoming a savior of Origon. His predilection towards his own created race, the Elves, which in his absence had united and renamed themselves “Life Elves”, made him chose one of them as his champion. He analyzed the patterns of fate and intervention of the royal bloodline, and found his champion in the newborn son of Lejian, Khaine Lifeheart.

Meanwhile the other Prothions had found the perfect tool for their task through endless search through time and space, they and brought back the spirit of a demon so strong and so powerful that nothing short of a million years ago had nearly wiped out their entire world, only to be reborn now with twice his old powers, and the blessing of the Prothions on his side. He was Nazrim, the Fiend of Death.


The Light of Day

Lejian stood upright helpless, watching nervously as his wife, Naori, was being stripped down and prepared to give birth to their first son. And if Lejian wouldn’t have known better, he would’ve sworn that the priest crouching in front of his wife was trying to assault her, let alone help her.

It was all so impeccably strange to him, how such a turn of events could occur, and how it so possibly all occurred in an even stranger way than Qyen himself, the god of Life, could ever have foretold. When Lejian found himself sitting in his private quarter, writing a letter to Bóno Cenjeavi Konstorno regarding finance concerning the renovation of his beloved Stratõ, his wife unexpectedly sang out in pain. He didn’t even have to spin halfway around in his chair to see what the problem was, in the white sheets between his wife’s legs; there was a dam of wetness. He arose with full force and flung himself out the door howling for help.

Upon response from his servants, he spun around on his heels and leapt back in to help his wife stand up. When they came out to the corridor there was several servants that took his place at helping Naori along, Lejian took upon him the task of clearing the way. They hurried out the door leading to the sky gardens on the roof. They would have to cross them to be able to take the quickest route to the chamber of forthcoming; the spiral tower.

However, the first thing that met them when they came out the door was a bright and shining light, unnaturally bright light. There was a Phoenix diving down, right towards them. Everyone screamed and tried to take cover, it was utter chaos. The bird spread its wings just above them and flew off. As Lejian took to his feet once again the only thing concerning him was his wife, and she was damaged. She had been flung to the ground, and in her fall her arm had been impaled by a Hookrose bush, she could not move. Lejian leapt towards the spiral tower with only one thing hammering in his mind, he had to get a priest to her wife as soon as he possibly could.

“Get some more pillows over here!” shouted the priest. “We don’t want her to die of discomfort, do we?!” He spread her legs to make sure she was not damaged, or if anything was otherwise blocking the route for her baby to come through. “It’s alright Naori, you will do fine.” He comforted her, while giving a nervous sign to Lejian. After some more intolerable moments of rearranging her position and getting her comfortable in the otherwise hot temperature of the day, he ordered her to push as hard as she possibly could.


It was a long and painful battle, Naori was fighting for her child’s life and with every push the priest ensured her that he could see more and more of the baby. And with one final push the baby saw the light of day, the priest quickly tended to the situation and held the baby up towards the sky, and everyone cheered. Afterwards the baby was placed in the hands of his father, while Naori was getting help calming herself down and limiting the pain she was still feeling. And as courtesy would have it, the priest bowed his head towards the baby, and blessed it with a prayer to Qyen, the god of life.

“Cora Qyen, ila barra o li vestar servvianto sona steto gerban Khai nithar.”
“Khai nithar.” Repeated Lejian. The words meant “under the sun” and when the priest asked him what the boys name was going to be, Lejian smiled warmly towards the man. “My son, Coranta, is going to be named Khaine Lifeheart.”


The Makeshift

The pinnacle of Celon’s great success as the capital city of the Life Elven Empire; is its powerful financial systems capacity. And this in turn is all thanks to the grand “Makeshift.” A trade route system devised by brilliant engineers and technicians and elaborated by professional craftsmen. The Makeshift is a colossal road, stretching all the way from the city’s main gates, right up front to the Palaza de Celor entrance. The road is split in half by a comprehensive wall made out of white marble and rare crystallized materials. At the head of the road there is a large round tower, where the road becomes even broader and the two separate sides of the wall becomes one.

When one is to enter the Makeshift, either by chart or wagon, one will have to do so by passing a just-as-grand bridge as the Makeshift itself. This bridge mounts itself atop the snaking river of Novena and is a contraption of awe-inspiring architecture and engineering. The clockwork mechanics in the bridge helps make order of the massive amount of traders that want entrance to the Makeshift. The bridge is built in several levels, the far above level for guard posts, towers and walls to patrol. The middle level for traders entering and exiting the Makeshift split in two by a large gap leading to nothing but a watery grave. While the lowermost level are completely without oversight, and is meant for walking passengers that seek to cross the bridge with other intentions than to sell their wares.

When one exits the bridge, which is also given the name “Gateway” due to its obvious use, one enters the massive chaos of the Makeshift. This is also referred to as the “current” because when one enters the Makeshift, one rarely stops moving. Along the road on each side there are built up plateaus which contain proprieties, also referred to as “docks.” Each of these docks are owned by the state, but is “loaned” out to the person, or company, that can pay the most for keeping it. They all come with a ware house to store cargo, and a massive crane built in wood and metal to unload the cargo necessary. This is the reason why the current in the Makeshift never halts, because it need not do so. A wagons cargo will be unloaded when in reach of the dock that have ordered its wares, and each dock has its own specific marking to ensure that one dock doesn’t pick up another ones cargo.


The rising sun did little to dampen the chilling breeze that calmly made its way through Celon this early morning. The fields were glimmering with dancing sparks of light as the sun was slowly melting the rime to the song of bird twitter. Though even at an hour as rare as the present, the Makeshift was ever industrious. Cranes were chirring and creaking about, while traders were cursing and shouting as madmen.

In the shadows of a worn out and hardly standing warehouse, two silhouettes were hiding among casks and spider web. One of them was peering through the cracks of a decrepit wall, observing the figurative character of the “Current” moving just beneath them, while the other was apparently trying to kill a spider with his dagger, clearly being unsuccessful. Quite suddenly there was a flicker of light in the air just outside the would-be wall. And with a short exchange of hand signal’s the spider killing silhouette disappeared.

Some instances later, the claw of a crane was moving along the side of the warehouse at a suspiciously low pace. At the very right moment, the one that had not disappeared jumped through the cracks in the wall and grabbed the crane by its rope, right above the claw. The man slid down to a wooden board which seemed to be conveniently placed right above the claw. He seemed to be comfortable with holding his position while the crane now was moving outwards, towards the “Current.”

As the man passed out into the light of the sun it was quite a lot simpler to make out his exterior than previously. The man was wearing a simple singlet over an orange shirt; he also wore a half-length cape, the kind simple thieves with a knife up their sleeves uses. He had silken pants kept on place by a bandana looking belt that would fit a much larger man than him, and thus half of it was dangling alongside his leg.

At first given opportunity the man flung himself towards another crane, grabbing it too by the rope just above the claw. This time, rather than sliding down, the man graciously climbed upwards and heaved himself over its wooden edge to the top of the crane. He sat down on his heels to get a better balance, and waited for the crane to start turning. As it did so, another crane was facing the one the man was positioned on, and with a daring gap between his and the other crane, the man jumped over and nearly lost his balance.

Tipping forwards and regaining his balance, with the plan to run over the top of the crane he suddenly made an unexpected and unwelcome acquaintance with an offensive fist. The man fell over the edge of the crane and barely saved himself by grabbing onto a rope hanging along the side. He could hear the throat of his would-be attacker being cleared.

“Pardon that inconvenient encounter dear fellow, I might have misplaced my hand there for a moment, are you alright?” the attacker said rather arrogantly. “Oh I’m perfectly fine, thank you.” The man hanging in the rope uttered with great effort. “You don’t say? I might just have to fix that.” The attacker said and unsheathed a knife from his belt, walked over to the edge and grabbed the rope the other man was so desperately holding on to. “You might want to not do that, you know.” “And why is that?” The attacker replied while toying with the rope. “Well, I am more than certain the crane maneuvers won’t be too happy about it!” “Ah… Seems that might just be an expense I’ll have to live with now, eh?” And as to enforce his statement, the attacker cut over the rope.


The man swung downwards with the rope in an angle, and with gracious style he pulled himself upwards and swung himself towards a cargo net carried by another crane. He grabbed it with both hands and struggled to keep a hold of it. He took a small peek over his shoulder to ensure that his attacker was sane enough to not follow him, and he could see no proof of pursuit. He stood up and leapt away to another claw, this time the claw carried nothing and the man cached the rope in such an angle that it started spinning around in circles, timing his jump thoroughly he let go and heaved himself at the right moment to hit the top of another crane.

And so it continued with elegance and grace as if the man was performing a work of art. Taking more daring moves at every turn, and maneuvered his way through this jungle of cargo, cranes and claws. In the end the man heaved himself onto a small wagon driven by only one man.

“Hands into the air where I can see them, you good for nothing wagon slacker.” The man just arriving fluidly whispered. “Oh you wouldn’t want to force your single Wagoneer to let go of his beloved ropes, would you, considering your safety and all, my majesty.” The Wagoneer replied. And then they both laughed for a brief moment. “Now then, Chance. Have you kept your eyes on the target?” The arriving man said settling down besides the Wagoneer. “No, for I have had such a delicate and complicated task of shadowing one single wagon moving among a hundred others, unlike yourself Khaine fleas-in-the-blood Lifeheart.” Presumed to be Chance replied.

Without a word Chance started moving his chart towards a larger wagon they had been so indirectly tailing. When they were nothing short of one wagon between themselves and their target, the opposed Wagoneer looked up and caught a glimpse of Khaine, as a reaction to this recognition he started stirring his wagon further away. “Shit, seems we’re not going to get to them the subtle way anymore.” Khaine said under a breath of curses. “Thanks to your baffling disability to keep a low profile, I’d say.” Chance hissed. “Now then, shall we?” He added, indicating with his head for them both to move.

Khaine jumped over to the wagon to their left, closely followed by Chance. This wagon was rather large and carried a cargo of barrels. Unluckily for them the Wagoneers son instinctively cut over the ropes that held the barrels on place, probably in fright of a robbery or worse. As a result to this, both Khaine and Chance lost their footing and went sailing out onto the road, desperately trying to keep their balance on rolling barrels to the rather dreadful sound of stampeding hoofs all around them.

They jumped from rolling barrel to rolling barrel until Chance made it to the closest wagon and grabbed a hold of the rail, desperately trying to regain his balance. He could hear Khaine cry out as his foot made it through the barrel he was currently trying to stick to. Upon turning around he saw Khaine roll along the road and just barely managing to hack his dagger into the side of a wagon, dangling alongside it with his feet only inches from the back wheels. Khaine then noticed that among the chaos an apple had made its way inside his tunic, and with some effort he managed to get it out. The apple rolled under the wheel and made the entire wagon bounce, giving Khaine an opportunity to heave himself over the rail and knock out the Wagoneer before he could do anything.

They grouped up and continued leaping across the deadly gaps between moving wagons trying to make it to the one they had been chasing. “Khaine, we’re never going to catch that wagon if we don’t come up with something and that quickly!” Chance spat out as they continued the deadly hunt. “I know!” was the only reply he got. And only seconds after Khaines answer, he threw a throwing knife up into the air, and upon following the knife with his eyes chance saw that it hit a rope that held a crane claw on place.

The claw loosened and swayed with tremendous speed towards them and as it passed them they both jumped into the air and took a hold of it, traveling with it for nearly 20 meters before dropping down right above the wagon they were chasing. Upon landing Chance conjured a small metallic card in his hand and graciously flung it right into the neck of the Wagoneer, killing him on the spot.

They disposed of the body by simply heaving it over the side of the wagon. Then Chance took up the mantles and Khaine took a last look around before he submerged into the private rooms of the wagon.

“Carto? Carto! What is this all about?!” The man sitting inside uttered franticly. “He is no longer of your concern, Jorealla. And you are going to want to choose your words wisely, unless your chosen words intend to give you the same fate as your compadre.” Khaine whispered while he walked in. “Khaine, by the…” Was all the man had time to say before a throwing knife hit him in his good arm, rendering him unable to draw blade. “If you intend to survive the last few minutes of your trip out from Celon, I suggest you start using them to your advantage.” Khaine hissed.

Jorealla growled at the injury, but did little more to express his dismay at the situation. Khaine sat down and folded his arms. “Now then, considering your willingness to live and all; tell me of your mistress: the duchess of thieves.” Khaine whispered.

The Illusionist

There was the sound of squealing wheels and dirt whirling up from the ground as the wagon came to a halt. Chance stopped just outside “The Rest,” of which is one of the shabbiest taverns there is at the main resting depot. Khaine emerged from the wagon, drying off a blood soaked dagger with a white tissue. Standing there to greet him was a small hooded man. “He knew practically nothing…” Khaine spat out as he threw the knife into the hands of the hooded man. “And thus we’re back to ground zero, alas.” The hooded man said calmly with a disappointing nod.

Khaine leapt down from the wagon, landing only inches from the hooded man, face to face. “However, what he did know, Santano, was that the Cathons used squid poison to kill Chertar Patellio and his company last night.” He said. Santano looked over at the stream of wagons trotting along in the Makeshift. “Yes, but we already knew that.” He replied. “No, we knew that they killed Chertar, but we never knew the means of how they did so, walk with me.” Khaine retorted with heavy gesticulation.

They strode off along High Street as casual civilians, Khaine looking more like a thief being escorted to the Judice Lawcourt, closely followed by Chance, who theatrically made himself look independent from the group. See, there is a limited source of known alchemists that deal with squid poison, considering its instability and harsh nature and all. What’s more is that we know what aerie of “The Slag” the Cathons deal in.” “Yes, but the Cathons wouldn’t be as stupid so to get their poison from the most local alchemists, would they? My personal belief is that they bought their poison from separate parts of the city, to avoid being traced.” “Or, did they?” Chance shot in.

“At that note, I would want to point out that we did some research on that matter some days ago, and it seems Enina Minatavi, the human alchemist in “The Slag” seems to owe the Cathons a great deal. And our scouts noticed a large shipment of crates going out from her studio just hours before the massacre.” “Could be entirely coincidence, I can’t believe the Cathons would be as stupid as to cut such a reckless deal, not even if they did get it for free.” Santano replied with a bothered voice. “Remember Santano, that if we’re doing our job as well as we think we are doing it, the Cathons don’t even know that they are threatened, besides it’s our only lead.”Khaine said.
As they walked into Seahorse Crossing they paused by a neat looking fountain at its centre, it was a large fountain portraying four horses galloping in different directions, representing north, south, west and east. Locals tended to use this fountain to point out those directions. “And a thin lead it is.” Santano commented. “Well, if it is our only shot at identifying the Queen, then we might want to make a plan of action.” Without saying a word, Chance directed them towards a wooden door at the corner of the crossing. What looked like a completely normal house from the outside, was a worn down and rather sluggish dump on the inside. When they entered, Chance closed the door and spoke “This place is secure: our scouts have cleared it out and are keeping it under surveillance as we speak.” “Good” Khaine replied and made for the table at the centre of the room.

They sat down around the table and made themselves comfortable: to the degree, you can say sitting on a wooden rickety chair is comfortable. “Right, Chance, what do we actually know about this Enina Minatavi?” Khaine started. “She is a rather lovely lady in her mid sixties, the exact age is impossible to tell. She specializes in dangerous poisons and always makes deals with scum like the Cathons. A rather senile and impulsive woman, probably easily deceived, she often get into trouble because of her bad memory and lust for cutting good deals, like she did with the Cathons.”
“Right, then a subtle reproach is the force of action, it seems.” Khaine observed, clearly looking thoughtful. “Yes, obviously.” Chance replied. “I’d also like to remind you that our men at “The Waste” might want to be notified about our latest discovery, and that you, Khaine, have a royal banquet to attend to later this evening.” Santano intervened. “Ah, yes, I had happily nearly forgotten about that, thank you for reminding me. Anyways, here is what we do: You, Santano, go back to “The Waste” and gather up our men, notify them and whatnot, then get them over to “The Slag” to Craven Hill, where you will eagerly wait for a blue flaming arrow coming up from the centre of “The Slag.” If that were to happen, you then know that our cover is blown, and that we are in deep shit.” “I and Chance will dress up as lividly thieves and go to Enina acting like customers, and try fishing out some information from her; from there and henceforth we have to improvise.”

Some moment’s later two dark clad fellows were swiftly moving along Pickwicker Road in “The Slag.” “There seem to be something large and sharp trying to cut itself into my left leg; I believe it is dangling from my belt in some manner of fashion, might I inquire as to why?” Chance whispered, clearly bothered. “Sorry Chance, but we have to look like we’re armed to make the impression “if you don’t want to deal with us, w slit your throat.” Khaine apologized. “Pardon me for thinking that thieves and bandits be smarter than walk around with huge, bulky and quite apparent weapons…” Chance complained. “Ah, well. My apologies for the fact that you might be the only Metalbender among the profession of “sneaky bastards” Chance.” There came no reply, Chance simply looked away.

As they walked onto a crossing, Khaine looked to his left towards Coinstanker Road, and froze momentarily. The entire road was flooded with white mist, and it was only covering that road in particular. But that wasn’t what was bothering Khaine, what bothered him was that in the middle of the road there stood a large bald man, dressed finely in a dark blue silken tuxedo, and his eyes was drilling heavily into Khaine. “Khaine, why… Oh…” Chance said while coming back. None of them dared move, for they were in the presence of the mythological man called

The Illusionist.

The Story

“There isn’t much I recall from my early days of the Heathing Magistrate Academy as a teacher in arcane magic. But there is one student; I believe his name was Maverick S… Something starting with an s. He was a bright little fellow, a calm lad too. He always had strange and weird ideas, and always wanted to do… New things.

I especially remember his fascination for Psyche magic, and how he always talked about how this magical pool never were used to its fullest potential. He spoke of an alternative for Psyche magic, not its counterpart Mania, of course, but something new, something he fancied calling “Illusionism.”
The poor lad, he thought that there could be a way of creating illusions with magic, out of thin air, to forge a fog that really wasn’t there, or to make himself look like someone else. He never really lost his desire to become an Illusionist. And that’s probably why it all happened…

When we were closing in on our last year of the first breathe of wizards, they were soon facing their final exam, and we were all excited, it was OUR first exam too. Anyways, as I was saying, when we were closing in on our last year, Maverick started changing. He didn’t want to take part in the exercises we had at school, and late at nights he snuck into the basement to work on something, we never really got an idea of what it was, before it was too late.

Nobody really suspected Maverick of anything, and besides, we all thought he was working on his final exam number, each wizard have to conjure something special for their exam to prove their individualism in the art. But one bright day in the spring something very strange happened, first there was a large bang, like a bomb going off. Then the sky grew together by a dark shadow, and everything around the school disappeared in a steep mist.
Then demons started appearing all over the place. We fought a hard and long battle against the demons, but they just kept coming. After a while we saw no other alternative than to retreat down to the basement and try to ward them off. Now, when we came down we saw the monster Maverick had been working on.

It was a large contraption of metal, a machine that housed both alchemy and magical pulses. But Maverick was nowhere to be found.
After some time we figured out that the source of this disaster was the machine, and the only way to end it was to destroy it, so we did. And as soon as the machine was gone, so were the shadows surrounding the academy. We later learned that we had been warped into the Shadow Realm, but we never understood what the machine was meant to do, seeing as we destroyed it.

Nothing short of some weeks passed before we heard the first reports of rain falling down that wasn’t wet, of mist covering only some streets and of places where odd, peculiar things were happening. Seems young Maverick found his way around the system after all, though it was at the expense of many lives, and the entire academy itself, seeing as it was shut down only some days after the incidence. I really hope it was worth it, Maverick…”

- Pentho Acendi’s Journal.


Deep Shit

At the blink of a second everything was gone, no mist, no man and certainly no myth. “Was that---?” Chance started after some minutes of silence. “No, no it couldn’t have been.” Khaine cut in. “Surely we were both seeing things…” Chance agreed. “There wasn’t a man and---“ “No.” Khaine cut him short again. “Let’s just… Continue walking.” Khaine reasoned, and with a slight nod from Chance they were both on their way again.
Enina Minatavi was a small town human woman. She had been raised at Shipwreck Cove, a small and strange bay like village made at the Isle’de’Catar, as the Life Elves liked naming it, or simply “Wreck Island” as humans referred to it as, and considering the isle was of human domain, that was the proper name. The village was one of many that were placed on the small islands making up a line that parted the large gulf of Inatara and the great open sea. The villages placed here was mostly scouting villages and military ones, to defend the gulf from invaders. Peaking it all was the “grand” city of Lion’s Isle which was placed at the head of a large landmass pointing out at the sea like a sword. Lion’s Isle was the official capital city of the humans, probably the only thing the race had ever managed to agree upon. Enina wasn’t very proud of her race, humans was generally ale drunken bastards that treated their women like shit and always talked about their great discoveries and battles at sea. However, she wasn’t very fond of the elves either, their sleek and arrogant behavior and their excessively, nearly obsessively, need of quality and detail in everything that they do. However, of the two mentioned the latter made better customers and was easier to fool, considering humans never got fooled, they just made dumb decisions.
The cling in the bell shook Enina out from her thoughtful state and immediately made her aware of the two “gentlemen” walking in her door. One was thin and tall, while the other was beefy, but not fat and somewhat shorter. The tall one had a dark leather cove covering his face; the only thing Enina could make out was the green eye color. He had a brown leather vest, with a checkered red shirt underneath, apparently some rugged cloth. Normal pants, brown in color and a pair of poor looking shoes. The beefy buy had a similar fashion of clothing, but where the tall one had a dark cover covering all of his upper face above the nose, this guy only covered his eye part, making his hair apparent. It was golden blonde; surely this was a local East Elf, the most arrogant of them all.

“Can I help you?” She said in the usual naïve voice she was so fond if. Khaine cleared his voice, twisted it a little to give it that North Elven feel “Yes, yes. We are looking for a dedicated alchemist to brew a rather… Ahh… Unusual poison, one that you don’t often come about.” “And what might that be? Loves” Enina answered with a warm voice. Chance crossed the floor from where he had stood staring out the window to give the impression of being slightly paranoid “One that can make a man drop dead within seconds, without any possible way of tracing it, the Octolus Kiss. We’ve heard from reliable sources that you might deal in such… Let’s say, dirty work.” Chance expressed with a business like voice, also twisting it to sound more dark and muttered. “Ah… Seems these reliable sources of yours might not be so reliable after all, you very well know that it is illegal dealing with… Such poisons in this city.” Enina answered. “Though I do know of some places where they do, the only problem is that their very far off.” She added.

Khaine turned around and made the impression of being very bothered. Then he took out a respectable amount of coins from inside his vest and slammed them on the table “look, alchemist. We know that you do these kinds of requests, and we’re willing to pay handsomely for ours.” He insisted. At that Enina suddenly looked thoughtful for some seconds, and replied “You know… Alright, alright, you got my attention, loves. The Octolus Kiss you say, quite a hard poison to brew. However it just so happens that I have the ingredients I need for it.” Enina concluded. “However, let me check at my storage just to be safe, I’ll only be a minute.” She added. Then she disappeared behind the silken curtains that made out the entrance to her storage. The room was a very standard store-like waiting room. There was some crates standing here and there, and there was the counter, of course. There was some chairs, a table and a couch standing in one of the corners, supposedly meant for customers waiting for their turn. There was two windows; the one facing the outside street, which was heavily crowded and a smaller one supposedly facing some dark alley. Chance made himself comfortable sitting down in the couch while Khaine stood at the counter, waiting for Enina to emerge. Some seconds later she did. “Yes, I do have the ingredients. But there is one little thing you might want to know about the poison you have ordered.” She explained. “For starters, of course don’t mention this to anyone anywhere, you probably don’t know what horrors await you if you do, and secondly I will need some help making it.” She said. “Could you fine gentlemen follow me into the storage and help me out?” She asked.

This went along more smoothly than they even had thought it would. They didn’t even need to talk themselves into getting behind her counter and into her storage, they were asked to do so without any obvious suggesting to the event. Chance and Khaine eagerly agreed to help the Alchemist and followed her into the storage. Upon arriving they were shocked at how large the storage was, much larger than the house would suggest when you looked at it from the outside. This was due to the fact that it wasn’t only the house that was in use, but there had been dug out nearly two lengths of houses downwards inside the construction, making for quite a dungeon down there. The whole thing was built in three floors, each built with such a fashion that you could see through the floor to the next one. And everywhere there were crates and other stuff. But the thing that shocked Khaine the most was that at the third floor downwards there seemed to be quite a large exit tunnel leading to, probably the sewers. “Well, this place seems to be larger than expected.” Chance commented as he entered. “Yes, I’ve had a great year in terms of funding; I managed to make my storage a little larger. But this place couldn’t have been built on findings earned as a simple alchemist, it was just too much. Not to mention that several of the crates had weapon markings on them and other, suspicious things. Khaine suddenly became somewhat nervous. But he didn’t do anything to suggest that he was, and simply did everything that Enina told him to.

When they were done, they walked out into the lobby again. And what was waiting for them was a large group of armed bandits, wielding the banner of the Cathons on their chests. Chance was quickly grabbed and held back by two large brutes while Khaine was thrown over the counter and upon getting turned around he was surprised that it was Enina who had so easily done it. She raised her hand and held it in front of Khaines face, there was a tube of rubber going along her arm from the inside her sleeve, spewing out some green liqueur. However it didn’t hit Khaines face, it was vaporized and made into gas right in front of Khaines eyes, held on place by a magical force in front of Enina’s arm. “Who are you?” She exclaimed. “What are you doing here? And what the hell do you know about last night’s operation?” She raged on. With that wild expression in her eyes it was hard to keep cold. “Wh… What the hell are you doing? We’re simple thieves asking for help, you know that!” He answered with clear desperation in his voice. At that note Enina pointed in the direction of Chance and one of the brutes unsheathed is dagger and held it to his throat. “If you don’t answer my question properly within the next two seconds, your friend over there will stop breathing.” She proclaimed in that same wild voice.

At that point both Khaine and Chance knew that there was no way of getting out of this through talking. Chance used his powers to smelt the dagger held to his throat, and then made three razor sharp wings of liquid steel that went directly towards the two brutes holding him and one towards Enina. The brutes didn’t stand a chance, but Enina let go of Khaine and sprayed acid at the blade, melting the metal before it could hit here. Khaine got just enough time to charge up the Dawn Crystal around his neck enough to make a force push, casting everyone around himself, including Enina, into the walls of the room. Chance made three other daggers from the belts of a random selection of bandits fly through the window, shattering it only seconds before Khaine and Chance jumped through it. This was the one that led to the alleyway, and there was a locked gate in the direction of the street. They didn’t have time to try and open it so the quickly made for the other direction; hearing the sound of barking commands and orders behind them. Chance quickly took out a pistol-crossbow from within his jacket and loaded it. With a stroke of the hand Khaine lit it on fire with the blue flame, and Chance shot the arrow into the air.

They cut corners and climbed fences like maniacs, while the sound of pursuers became more and more distant. Until they got to a clearing, a large space in between buildings that could look like a square, and probably was a popular place for black-market salesmen. However, in the midst of the day like this the place was completely desolate. They made for the center of the place, where a broken fountain was at. Once again the performed the act of the blue arrow, and barely just in time too. Jumping down from a roof not far away was Enina Minatavi, no longer dressed like a simple alchemist. She was wearing a green scruffy coat, filled with pockets everywhere and gadgets hanging all over the place. She had a backpack looking thing which was in truth a large poison container, probably many kinds of poison as well. And this time her face was covered up with goggles and a mask in front of her mouth, some wicked contraption surely meant for preventing her from breathing inn some dreaded stuff. “Like mouse and cat…” She simply whispered as she made her hypodermic wristband weapons appear from within her sleeves, walking towards them. “Seems this is the end of your road, loves. I do really hope someone will miss you.” She whispered with a clang of irony about it.

Chance didn’t hesitate. He was determined to strike first. Chance’s specialty is called Metalbending. The most basic of magician’s arsenal, however contrary to other magicians that went on with fireballs and other, more fascination stuff, Chance had specialized in this subject. And was probably the most talented Metalbender in existence. Besides, Chance wasn’t really of magician caliber; he was far too fond of shadows and sneaky business to ever become one. To always be prepared for battle, chance had two wrists entirely made out of steel, covered up with cloth to make them seem like normal wrists strapping’s. He seethed out threads of metal into his hand and formed it into razor sharp cards. Then he took them up and spread them in his hand while making a pose, like a poker player about to show his hand in triumph. Khaine, being a Dawnrider, had some of the equipment of his on him, most importantly his sword. He dragged off the leather cover that was over his shaft and armed himself with the revered Soulripper, the legendary sword of the Pheonix Warrior. Then he leaned back and tipped his blade towards the ground, in a stance called “The Waiting.” Chance made his cards fly, while jumping to the side of the fountain, while Khaine charged foreword to strike the wicked witch should the metal pieces fail. Enina used the same trick as previously to discard the--- cards, while not expecting Khaines strike she managed to throw down a small alchemical grenade like pot at the ground making a steam of green smoke around them. This made Khaine see absolutely nothing, and thus missing with his thrust.

However, the smoke didn’t only blind Khaine, it made him feel like there were a thousand daggers constantly slicing up his skin. He faltered and fell to his knees; unable to reach for his Dawn Crystal to dispel the smoke. Emerging behind him was Enina, which raised one hand to strike with the hypodermic weapon. Before she could strike, though, Chance appeared behind her and strapped a chain around her neck, strangling her. The woman abandoned all desire to strike Khaine and tried desperately to shake of the larger and stronger man, however Chance had no time to take care of Enina, he had a friend in need. With a simple kick to one of Enina’s legs he made her falter, and used the momentum to sling her away. Then he threw himself towards Khaine, kicked him in the side as hard as he could to roll him out from the smoke. When Khaine got out from the fog, he quickly took to his feet, ignoring all the pain, reached for the crystal and quickly made a shockwave of dispelling magic, vaporizing the green wall of smoke between themselves and Enina. Chance emerged at the side of Khaine just in time to see that Enina was now standing on the other side of the fountain, backed by a horde of bandits, smiling gleefully as she started walking towards them again.
“Now, now, My small little mice, you seem to be trapped with nowhere to---“ was all the Alchemist got time to say before an arrow hit her in the shoulder. Growling at the pain she noticed an army of armed warriors jumping down from the roofs all around Khaine and Chance, standing at the ready. This new force outmanned and out geared her small group of throat slitting scum, and it seemed her men knew the same. She was surrounded by retreating morons as she took a hold of the arrow, quickly remembering that she shouldn’t try to pull it out. “Inconvenient. This won’t be the last time we meet my masked little desperados.” She said with a pained voice, and then retreated with the rest of her useless “warriors.”

“Now that was a close one.” Khaine spat out as he turned to face Santano. “What the hell took you so long?” he exclaimed. “We did our best Khaine; you’re not simple to find when you’re running all around the place like damned mice in a maze. But we certainly do not have the time to discuss matters of efficiencies right now; you got a banquet to attend to!” Santano retorted with an agitated voice. “Oh, damn. Right, let’s get going then.” Khaine answered as he recalled this “banquet.” It’s important for a prince like Khaine to attend to what he promises to attend to, and even more important for him to not blow his cover as a leading agent of the Dawnriders, an operational force that works independent of the royal army and its… corruption. “You’re coming along Chance?” Khaine asked as he noticed Chance falling behind. “Yeah, sorry.” Chance answered as he covered up a cut he had gotten from one of Enina’s damned hypodermic weapon thing.



Interlude: The Sign.


Khaine was half sleeping while he slowly awoke from his slumber. He seemed to stare at the roof for minutes to pass, and this was not too unfamiliar, as he found himself doing so almost each morning. The roof was filled with carved figures and beasts; it was an artwork of carpentry which caught his eyes each morning. He seemed to always try to figure out the total meaning of the picture; on the far left side of the roof there was carved out two large armies fighting each other, one of the armies seemed to be elves, naturally, but the other race was unknown to him. They looked bestial, with harsh fur, nearly seeming to be spikes, skulls around their wrists and neck and big horns coming out from their heads.

Among the bestial warriors there seemed to be a commander, a large and scary giant of which Khaine had tried to avoid looking at for many nights, as it tended to give him nightmares. But at the morning it would be indifferent, after all; it wasn’t like he were going to sleep. On the other side of the room, just above the round table with his glowing magical crystal which Chrantor had made him, were the other halve of the carved picture. This was much more peaceful and it was this one he liked the most. It was a picture of an altar, large and glowing in the morning sun, with a shining orb at the top.
The orb seemed so beautiful with its smooth lines and sharp edges. Khaine often found himself thinking it was some kind of a crystal. There were robed elves gathered in a circle around an altar. And flying above the altar was a creature Khaine had never seen before. It was large and scaly, it had wings, and its pride seemed so complete that Khaine thought it would have to be a God or something along those lines.

And just as Khaine was about to close his eyes again there came an insanely knocking on his door. Seeming like thunder to his half-alert ears, and then the voice of his sister “Khaine, wake up! Wake up!” her voice was as always, even though she was screaming, a beautiful plays of melody. Though very irritated at the sudden and unaware knocking and screaming he answered her “What is it Aleya?”

“The sun is already up brother, and its dawn of the Seed.” She retorted with an enthusiastic voice. Khaine woke at that, she was right, it WAS dawn of the Seed, and they had no given tasks today. He were quick about his business, throwing his shirt and pants on, then he opened the door to let his sister inn.

He rushed the dressing, maybe a bit too much, and all along his sister stood watching him with a rather peculiar smile on her face. Finally she said “don’t rush it Khaine, we have all the day to play, here let me help you.” Khaine tried to resist the help she offered, but he knew his sister was very determined on details, and he couldn’t deny her help either, because he knew that would only make her mad at him. After what seemed like hours she finally approved of his appearance, after all, she couldn’t walk about with his brother looking like a civilian.

After that was settled they walked down the royal chamber to fetch his brother, Eonar. As they walked down the hallway Khaines eyes fell to the details of the art that covered the whole corridor once again. He could not understand how one could find it so joyful to make walls, chairs and tables, as well as windows and doors with so much effort, so much details in the woodwork, and to not mention the silver lines and the golden Mana crystal overhead, making the flow of magic go by like a dreaming song of which you didn’t hear, but could clearly see.

When they came to their brother’s chamber, it didn’t take long to figure out that Eonar wasn’t there. His bed was made, and everything was neatly ordered. “Nothing like your room...” Aleya pointed out ironically. Khaine let that one passes as they moved on, after all there was nothing to argue about; his brother’s room WAS cleaner than his own.

They figured their brother had already gone down to the family garden, so they moved down the stairs to find him. When they came out into the striking sunlight on the early morning they saw their brother standing with their mother, and she seemed to fixing a bit on his clothing, and their father was sitting in a chair by the dam feeding the fishes.

“Good morning, sleepy ones.” Their mother, Naori, said rather mockingly. Aleya were quick to defend herself “I awoke two hours ago mother, I had to dress myself and get Khaine up from bed!” she said rather wounded. Khaine drew up his shoulders and sighed “Yeah, it’s because of me she’s here so late, if it really matters” then he gave her sister a rather penetrating look. “I know, dear” Naori answered rather calmly.

Then Aleya went over to her mother and began talking about something that Khaine knew he had no affairs with. So he moved on, sat down on the rocks besides his father and gazed upon the little pond where the fishes fought about the small pits of food that his father was throwing out to them. “The day is rather refreshing, don’t you think?” Lejian said calmly. “Yes father, though it seems just like the day yesterday, and will most likely be like this tomorrow too.” Khaine answered indifferently. “You’re probably right.” His father answered with a little laugh to it.

Noticing his father’s eyes on him, Khaine turned towards his father, his eyes were penetrating and serious just for a moment, then they turned into those soft joyful eyes he was far too used to. “You’ve grown much lately Khaine, I am proud of you my son, you should know that.” He said lovingly to his son. “Maybe it is even time we began discussions about your training.” His father said thoughtfully. Khaine looked upon is father, his eyes widened greatly. “Training father, really? I can assure you, I am as prepared as I can be.” Khaine said very enthusiastically. “Sure you are.” His father said, his eyes gazing towards the pond again.

Then his brother called on him from over with the table. “Khaine, come along, we’re going to the lake!” his brothers voice sounded rather heavy on him. But nevertheless, he went along with his brother and sister. After they had all gone by their rooms, fetching whatever they might need they went on to the lake.

The lake was not far from the castle, even though it was outside the city; one whom wished could easily see them from one of the high towers. The water was rather cold compared to the fresh and cozy air above. But Khaine had some sort of personal thing to settle, he were never the last one in the water, which was final. Quite frequently he was also the first one to jump into the water. But not today.
Aleya was fist to jump into the water, close followed by Khaine and at last came Eonar. They splashed around, dragged each other under the water a bit and swam over to the little island in the middle of the lake where the large tree was located. But eventually they all calmed down, and sat at the edge of the water tipping their feet into the water and Aleya was splashing a bit on his younger brother.

Suddenly Aleya shouted “last one over the lake is a loser!” and she jumped into the water laughing, closely followed by Eonar which were determined to not lose. Khaine didn’t bother trying to follow, they had both gotten too much of a head start and it would only make him look bad if he came after them, trying to get over but failing critically. Better to just ignore it and let them play their little game.

Then, as he sat there alone, he could swear he heard some sort of song slowly growing around him. As if many people were gathered around him singing some beautiful song and the neat melody that filled the air were all so calming on him. But what scared him was that he couldn’t see a thing, there was no one around him, and his brother and sister was almost halfway over the lake, it couldn’t be any of them tricking with him. And then there was a voice, gentle and very noble, the voice said “I hail thee, Khaine Lifeheart, thou that art the savior of this world.”

Then the voice and music suddenly disappeared and his brother and sister returned. “Why didn’t you come?” her sister asked rather insulted. “I… Eh, I think we should return to the castle now.” Was the only answer he gave her, and without even waiting for an answer he turned and began walking towards the castle, leaving the lake and the mysterious voice behind.

Thanks to all that bother taking som time to read this in advance.

Origon. (The Map)

origon.png

_________________________________________________________________

Cosidering I apparently do not talk too much about the environmental perspect of this story, I will from here link every terrain that I have made for Dawn of Life with a short explanation to it, to give the most interested readers a... Ahh... Visual experience of Dawn of Life.

#Celon.

http://www.hiveworkshop.com/forums/terrain-board-267/great-celon-179708/

- These three terrains gathered in one thread is my visualisation of Celon as how it appears to the eye.

#Wreckcove Habor.

http://www.hiveworkshop.com/forums/terrain-board-267/wreckcove-harbor-173188/

- This terrain is essentially made to visualise how the humans of Dawn of Life build their towns, and what kind of people they are. As you can see the humans are not your typical knights in shining armor, more like drunken seamen that care little about their environment.

#Palace De Celor.

http://www.hiveworkshop.com/forums/terrain-board-267/palaza-de-celor-wip-162437/

- This is a terrain I made, which currently is a work on progress, to visualize the castle of Celon, where some of the story is taking place.

#Rivaan Ruins.

http://www.hiveworkshop.com/forums/terrain-board-267/rivaan-ruin-summit-122562/

http://www.hiveworkshop.com/forums/terrain-board-267/rivaan-ruin-dawn-chamber-119191/

- I dont really want to say too much about the Rivaan just yet, no spoilers and all. But I can say that the Rivaan will play a big role in the story and that they are an ancient race that hails from the world before this one.

#The Black Elf Capital City.

http://www.hiveworkshop.com/forums/terrain-board-267/road-118034/

- You will eventually get to know who the Black Elves are.

_________________________________________________________________

- Illustrations.

Pic 1-5: An overview of how the city of Celon is layed out.
Pic 6-7: First one is the old version of Origon, second one is a WIP new layout of Origon. (Including zone partings (Environmental zones))

For more Illustrations by me, both Dawn of Life related and non-Dawn of Life related visit:

http://www.hiveworkshop.com/forums/.../my-little-new-collection-180889/#post1732532

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Level 22
Joined
Jul 25, 2009
Messages
3,091
I absolutely love the fact that you added "The Makeshift" to this story. I did not read all of it but from what I did, I found it quite interesting, and quickly engulfing.

(I can't believe no one posted on this earlier! It's sacrilege!)

(I hope this isn't considered a Necro-Post o_O)
 
Level 9
Joined
Aug 23, 2007
Messages
465
Really well developed. Love the whole building up of the world, the conflict between the gods, the trial and error, and how it all comes down to a final refined product that isn't so refined after all. Conflict is good yes!

The writing was a bit rough at times, but otherwise it is very well written. The sense of finesse that you portrayed during the travels in the Makeshift were truly something to imagine. Created a great amount of excitement to the story with all of the twists and turns, the high flying acts and the edge of life and death feeling.

So far great story, and I love your world building skill in the beginning. Especially the way you include information on things like the Makeshift before the actual story in it occurs.

BTW don't feel bad if you don't get much feed back, normally lots of text scares people away ^^
 
Level 35
Joined
Nov 24, 2007
Messages
4,367
Thank you for taking the time :)

I would much prefer if you pointed out some of the "rough" parts, I do have my suspicions, but still. If you could point them out so I can improve in my writing, it would be most helpful. I might as well add the next two chapters of the story soon, just have to write and refine them first.
 
Level 9
Joined
Aug 23, 2007
Messages
465
Hmm alright I'll have another read through and find areas in need of possible improvement. There really wasn't all that much that was obvious, but at a few points it did seem to get a little, fast, I guess, just hard to follow.
 
Level 9
Joined
Aug 23, 2007
Messages
465
Evening, was on vacation for a while so I still haven't gotten a chance to go back over your writing in full but I did read over your latest addition.

In the first paragraph I did notice some simple mistakes like in the beginning, "still half sleeping while he slowly..." you should have it be when he not while he. Another area was on the forth line of the first paragraph you said was, there was carved, should be, there were carved, or even, there were carvings, then rework the sentence.

The writing is good that's true, just simple grammatical errors. I'm not sure if your first language is English but if its not that would explain the grammar mistakes. (not trying to offend you of course ^-^) Anyways good job so far, enjoy reading it.
 
Level 11
Joined
May 26, 2009
Messages
760
Greetings,

Read them. It sure took a while! Approximate dates on when they were written would be nice. Quality is based on comparisons of your texts only.

Overall I noticed you rarely describe environment and atmosphere.

Rebirth of Nazrim
Quality: Decent
The most poetic one I can tell. It is rather simple to read and thus makes it feel real.
He is trying to get up, standing on his feet, his new and fragile feet.

As he rises to his feet: his legs shiver,

Something that bother me is repeating words like this. The two first ones are good, the third one is good, but together - they just won't work. Variation is key.

The Beginning of Everything
Quality: Good
Slightly confusing, like all creation myths, so that's nothing to worry about really. I do like the dilemma with the Gods being only creators, could prove real nice storywise.

The Fallen One
Quality: Decent
You should have Oll last as he is the greatest and most important of the Gods.
Oll was the one who were to see to it that the other gods did what they were given a task to do. He was the great lord of the gods.
Try ending the paragraph with this or similar: Oll was the lord of these Gods and thus had he been given the task to watch over them.
While the Prothions created this new world, Origon, there was something that happened, something none could have foretold, a power so mighty and so vast that not even a god could have stopped its coming. This power made Kohr - The Shaper fall to the mortal realm. He became a mortal, yet he didn’t lose his powers.
Would need an explanation. If not then I suggest you say something like "Nobody knows what happend".

Godly Conflicts
Quality: Good
...the Prothions had to destroy this world, before it destroyed them.
and
...the gods can never undo anything they make.
After having read some more I guessed that they can order other strong forces to destroy things for them, I believe..?

Neat, I went straight back to reading Rebirth of Nazrim, this part gave it a new meaning.

The Light of Day
Quality: Excellent
Very good. One can surely tell this is one of your later works. Short enough to keep you interested.

The Makeshift
Quality: Very Good
My first thought: "Is this the same guy who wrote the texts above?". Very good.

The crane-swinging/jumping is neat, but I get a little lost in the conversations, who is who, etc. Maybe some restructuring would be useful?

Fairly much text and lots of things happening. I picture the scenes in this text like in a movie or action game. It somehow reminds me of Prince of Persia.

The Illusionist
Quality: Very Good
Well written. It gives a lot of background information. Keeps you interested even without too much action.

Interlude: The Sign
Quality: Very Good
Nice names in this one. Overall high quality. Nothing else to inquire.
I hope you can make use of some of my tips. I enjoyed reading your work. Good job :)

Yours,
Chizume
 
Level 35
Joined
Nov 24, 2007
Messages
4,367
Why thank you both. I will surely work with your advices, and yes, all the content regarding the gods and the creation and such, are fairly old texts, and I havn't used much time going through them or rewrite them. So expect an update to them comming sometime in the future to make them stand on par with the latter ones.

Also, when you say it, yes I have very little environmental descriptions in my texts, which is rather ironic considering the fact that what I do is Terraining :p
I'll see if I can't do something about that.

P.s: I'm Norwegian Hawk ;)
 
Level 35
Joined
Nov 24, 2007
Messages
4,367
Haha, thanks.

Anyways, watch out, here comes a small update:
(not adding this to the main post because this is only the first part of a chapter written in two parts)

Chances

The stench of drunkenness hang heavy in the air as the Coloni brothers entered the so called ”Wasted Life,” an inn that could easily be mistaken for just another lowlife, decrepit bar. Demin made a quick a glance at the people solemnly drinking their dark, greasy ale, and chose a table next to a gentleman with a large penny bag, while his younger brother scurried over the floor and ordered two glasses of water. “Ecco!” Demin exclaimed as his brother strode over to their table with the drinks. “Have I got a trick to show you!” “Really?” Ecco replied with obvious enthusiasm. They sat down, and while Ecco poured some colouring liquor into the water, Demin made a deck of cards magically appear in his hand, and started shuffling them with gracious style. That was about when the somewhat drunk gentleman got curious and looked over his shoulder to see what these youngsters were up to. After some moments of trickeries and exaggerated applause between the two brothers, the gentleman got provoked. “Hmpf, even I could’ve done that.” He commented with a hoarse voice. “And I’m probably more drunk than either of you.” He continued.

“Beg your pardon?” Demin retorted with a daring look. “Is that a challenge I am hearing?” “You bet it is!” The gentleman answered, while brutally making his way to their table. As he sat down Demin was already shuffling the deck once again, “Control Hazard then? First one to black out loses? No penalties.” Demin asked with a calmer voice than previously portrayed. Somewhat bothered by Demin’s sudden calmness he retorted “Yes, yes. Whatever floats your boat.” The two of them battled for supremacy in a card game which was neat in its simplicity, the only real rule in the game was that the losing party had to drink whatever remained in his opponent’s glass. And after some gulps, mostly on the gentleman’s side, Ecco came with new drinks, to all three of them. And only another loss after that it took the gentleman naught but 2 minutes to pass out. As a response, Demin leaned over the table and shook the person with theatrical worry in his eyes, exclaiming for him to wake up, while neatly disposing the man of his penny bag.

Shortly after that the two of them left the bar with a significant wealth compared to what they entered with. However, it seemed someone had noticed their little game, because instances after the two of them had walked out, they were followed by a large, dark and dreary person. Cheerfully spinning around in happiness Ecco noticed this person peaking around the corner, and instantly recognized him. The Coloni brothers took to their feet and ran as fast as they could, closely followed by the dark man. They zigzagged around the alleys of the night, dodged crates and climbed fences. But the dark man was determined in his pursuit. After a good 20 minutes of running around, the Coloni brothers met a dead end. And soon their only escape route was enclosed by the dark man following them. “Give it up, Coloni. You’re trapped.” The man said with quick exhalations. Demin sighed, turned around and eyed the man from top till toe. He was dressed like any normal male his age walking the streets of Celon, but it was impossible to hide the fact that he was Anathon Siergonavi, the only and most respected human commander of the Royal Force. “My apologies, Anathon.” Ecco simply whispered as two crossbow bolts flew through the air from somewhere behind the brothers, hitting the human in both shoulders.

Anathon growled and fell to his knees; he tried drawing sword but was rendered unable to. And with gracious style a woman came falling from the skies landing just aback the two brothers. She was wearing a dark cape, silken clothes and a hood covering her masked face. The brothers split as the woman made her way to the groaning man, walking with the style that only a noble woman could. Upon approaching the kneeling man a dagger instantly appeared in her hand and without a word to spare for the suffering man, she cut over his throat without any signs of remorse or pity.

She turned around from the man who had previously growled for life, but was now bleeding to death. Facing the two brothers, she said “My sincerest thanks, Coloni brothers. Only the two most known young thieves could’ve pulled such a stunt, to draw the attention of such an important man. I am pleased by your actions, the council will pray for your souls as End bestows his judgement upon them.” She said with a whispering voice, not because she was whispering, but because that was how her voice sounded. “Wait, our souls? You promised...” was all Demin got to say before the dark lady thrust her dagger into his stomach. Holding him in her arms she whispered into his ear “You are expandable, Demin. We wouldn’t want the information about such a murder run around inside your little head while you perform your little thefts, do we?”

Ecco was stunned by the sudden change of events, but even so his instincts did little to betray him. He darted off in the direction of the man who were dying; passed him and disappeared through a small hole in a large wall. Running and crying was not a very practical thing to be doing, but Ecco couldn’t help himself, after all he had just lost the one most important person in his life, not to mention the only person in his life. It was naught but mere chance that the Coloni boy managed to escape from the deathly, dark mistress of the night.

Hope someone will read through it and tell me what they think.
 
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Paragraph 5:
“You are expandable, Demin. We wouldn’t want the information about such a murder run around inside your little head while you perform your little thefts, >do we?<”
It should read like this "Would we?" because at the beginning of the sentence she says We wouldn't. We wouldn't doesn't mix with do we.

Paragraph 2:
"Demin asked with a calmer voice >than< previously portrayed."
Spelling error, that should be "Then".
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Now here are some recommendations.. Don't try and make words too fancy, but never make them too dull. Right now you're making them too fancy, like toward the end you described that she was falling with gracious style.. I'm not sure that is how someone would fall that's not so much being fancy as just a bad explanation of falling. I would have said something more like "She fell with swiftness." feel free to edit that in any way you would like, but that's just my example. Now second off don't over use words so much! I saw "Naught" twice, I didn't like that, and you said "Style" twice in 2-3 paragraphs toward the end. I think you should keep the part of her walking with style and get rid of the falling with gracious style, that would fix the over use of "Style" problem.
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I loved the beginning it was very good, I just found it fun to read from then until about the part where she fell "aback" of them, don't use fancy words like that, I would have just used behind in that case. By the way.. I giggled a bit at the drunken man challenging him lol.

I think you are a very good writer, and I enjoyed reading the chapter "Chances" up until the crazed she-bitch flying from above. :p

7\10. I think you can improve the ending of the chapter.
 
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Thank you for the feedback.

Fancy might very well be my middle name, in terms of writing, so it might be hard for me to adapt to what you are saying, I'll look into it though, and see if some of it might need some "repair."
- Yes, it might. (and I am very mighty.)

Still, that is the first draft though, so I am going to go through it a probability of 5 times before I get satisfied. So... Anyways, second part might be up soon.
 
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I was told the same thing by someone on a writing forum, "Don't be so fancy in your writing it doesn't make you sound prowess it makes the story hard to read."

By the way you wouldn't happen to know any good writing forums?
Also I love your signature lol.
 
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No, I do not.

And thanks ^^

Oh and for anyone that might be SLIGHTLY interested in my story, I have added links to all the terrains I have done that are somehow connected to Dawn of Life, visualisations if you want. You can see there what Celon looks like, how the humans build their towns and some other things, check it out! ^^
 
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Some illustrations are always nice!

EDIT: An idea is to make a world map, plus give it a cool texture etc (excuse me if you already have one and I missed it). I appreciate a good world overview, and I believe others do too. Cheers!
 
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There is plenty of illustrations.

I've drawn much of the world, weapontry and even some of the main characters.
However, I am in need of a scanner or a good picturing hardware to get them uploaded.
I'll see if I cant do something about it.

Edit: Well, this went quicker than expected, Illustrations of Origon and Celon is attached to the main post, while other illustrations will shortly be linked from the Art section.
 
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I've got a little new text that I've written, again in relation to Dawn of Life. It is meant to be somewhat confusing, so dont think about that factor. I would also like to warn you guys: This is not a text for children.

I hope for some constructive criticism on this one, I've not gone over it a single time myself and wrote it today, so it is most sertainly not the finalized product of a text, mostly like all my other texts :p

A sinister Meeting

The sun was setting; slowly creeping away behind the booming mountains of the horizon while casting a dreaded shadow over the cursed lands of Sinor: A place which had been defiled and corrupted by the captivation of the great Nileen decades ago. “This seems to have been inconvenient, ahh… Bothers” Said a man making his way out from a decrepit shed. Behind the man, inside the shed, were nothing short of a slaughter house. The remains of something that might have been a man just hours ago, were spread all across the room, beheaded and splattered his chest and arms lay on the floor, parted from one another.
Lying in a bed not far from the man, was a naked beheaded woman, defiled and destroyed. And sitting around a table were three children; two boys and one girl, all bleeding from what was once their eye sockets. The eldest boy and the girl was dead, with fresh cuts pouring out blood at their throats, while the youngest one of the boys was performing a melody of screaming, crying and weeping tears of blood. Still alive, bound and damaged, while the images of what had happened in this house would haunt him till the end of days.

The man was now walking in quite a strange manner along a road leading to no place in particular, muttering to himself. He wore a black top hat with a purple silken piece of cloth circling the base of it, just above the brim. Underneath the hat he was wearing a mask covering up half his face. The mask was white, and had the look of a happy face, with golden threads of details viewed into it. The mask ended halfway across his face; ending in a shattered fashion which made it seem like he had been hit with a very large mace on his non-mask side of the face. The shattered pieces that remained as a border between his masked side and his unmasked side was drilling their way into the man’s face. And the un-masked side of the man’s face looked completely destroyed: with scars and bruises everywhere. Around his neck he was wearing a long scarf, in the same manner of color as the silk surrounding his hat, continuously styled with a gray, ragged, two tailed jacket over a black, blood splattered, shirt.
In the same fashion he had breeches made out of the same fabric as his jacket, gray with a net-like pattern all over the place. However, the most distinctive thing about this strange and twisted character was his cane. In fashion with his otherwise very styled look he used a cane to steady himself upright, a very standard looking cane too. It had black leather embodied like a shaft right under a large ball of which he was holding on to while using the cane to steady himself, the leather was whirled around the cane in a downward fashion making for a very good handle, had it been a sword, while the very base of the cane seemed to be made out of black, or lacquered black wood.


He was walking in a manner that made him look excessively drunk, seeming like he would tip over to one side of the other at any given moment, while whistling on a seemingly very happy melody. As he rounded a corner at the first fork of the road, which was impossible to view due to the density of the wood at his left-hand side previous to the fork. He stopped short in his steps. Standing on front of him was something that at first eye cast would look like a very old and dying man. A person desperately holding on to his wooden staff to keep himself on his feet, with sheets of cloth just thrown around his body to keep him from looking naked, no style at all. But then, that wasn’t what made the whistling murderer feel a chill running down is spine, no it was the actual appearance of this old man. For as soon as the old man looked up from his hood you could immediately notice the fact that his skin wasn’t really skin, and that his face was made out by something that seemed to be shattered ice and decaying flesh. The old man had razor sharp teeth and eyes that wasn’t glowing, but dripping. His hands and other parts of the body that wasn’t concealed by the cloth was had the same fashion.

A sinister meeting it was, for it was at this peculiar night that a mass murderer and a psyche magician met the legendary lord of death, the destroyer of worlds.

This text is writen mostly as a means to describe a rather... Strange and important character later on in the story of Dawn of Life.

EDIT: I've also added another chapter to the main story, which can be found on the main post. The new chapter is named "Deep Shit" and gives much insight into what Chance and Khaine are capable of.
 
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Greetings Keiji,

I'm not sure how to put this without seeming like a vulgar and mentally ill person, but believe me when I say, I think I am not. The first paragraph was great, I liked it a lot. My mind instantly drew an image of what was just recently complete chaos and shivering fear, but now as hollow and mind-numbing as only the absence of life where there instead should be life could create. Ask me to clarify that sentence if it doesn't make sense. Anyway, best yet if I may say so.

Even as I was not in the right environment while reading, after the first paragraph I gradually lost interest in the story until it ended. It is of course normal for texts to have ups and downs, but I'd still enjoy a little more excitement towards the end. Other than that, well written. Inspired me to write some myself as always.

Yours,
Chizume
 
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Honestly, I'm not sure, it has become a habit. I think I began because it's beautiful and there is far too little of it nowadays.

I'll give your text a read in a few minutes!

EDIT: Read your Deep Shit. It was quite long so I won't point out every "error" that I noticed. I simply suggest you read through it and find them yourselves. None of them were major. Rephrase some sentences if you notice they are too long and messy; a few were. I got lost and had to read them twice to understand. Short is good sometimes. And finally I have to say; excellent conversations, they are very realistic.
 
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I'll have to read back through it haven't been on in a while and haven't been keeping up with it.

Anyways can I have some of that talent you have with making maps because You did an awesome job! My maps are normally consist of random blobs and small island blobs >.>.

Awesome job though with it especially with the idea of combining terrains from wc3 with your story. My hats off to you sir.
 
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Hey there, I've updated the end of "Chances" as well as changed the names of the characters, I hope you approve of the newly written ending as opposed to the former one.

Chances

The stench of alcohol hang heavy in the air as the Coloni brothers entered the so called ”Wasted Life,” an inn that could easily be mistaken for just another lowlife, decrepit bar. Deamyi made a quick glance at the people solemnly drinking their dark, greasy ale, and chose a table next to a gentleman with a large purse, while his younger brother scurried over the floor and ordered two glasses of water. “Shoun!” Deamyi exclaimed as his brother strode over to their table with the drinks. “Have I got a trick to show you!”
“Really?” Shoun replied with obvious enthusiasm. They sat down, and while Shoun poured some colouring liquor into the water, Deamyi made a deck of cards magically appear in his hand, and started shuffling them with gracious style. That was about when the somewhat drunk gentleman got curious and looked over his shoulder to see what these youngsters were up to. After some moments of trickeries and exaggerated applause between the two brothers, the gentleman got provoked. “Hmpf, even I could’ve done that.” He commented with a hoarse voice. “And I’m probably more drunk than either of you.” He continued.
“Beg your pardon?” Deamyi retorted with a daring look. “Is that a challenge I am hearing?”
“You bet it is!” The gentleman answered, while brutally making his way to their table. As he sat down Deamyi was already shuffling the deck once again, “Control Hazard then? First one to black out loses? No penalties.” Deamyi asked with a calmer, more controlled voice than previously portrayed. Somewhat bothered by Demin’s sudden calmness the gentleman retorted
“Yes, yes. Whatever floats your boat.” The two of them battled for supremacy in a card game which was neat in its simplicity, the only real rule in the game was that the losing party had to drink whatever remained in his opponent’s glass. And after some gulps, mostly on the gentleman’s side, Shoun came with new drinks, to all three of them. And only another loss after that it took the gentleman naught but 2 minutes to pass out. As a response, Deamyi leaned over the table and shook the person with theatrical worry in his eyes, exclaiming for him to wake up, while neatly disposing the man of his purse.

Shortly after this happening the Coloni brothers left the bar with significant wealth as opposed to their previous entrance. Even though they were comprehensively cautious in their method of robbing the poor drunkard, it seemed someone had taken note of their scheme. Shortly after the brother’s rushed withdrawal, there came a man strolling out from the bar, casually following them. Noticing the man in a spin of happiness Shoun were thoroughly alarmed by recognizing the character of the man following them. He subtly notified his brother of their stalker, and the two of them quickly took to their feet. They scurried about alleys and roof tops, zigzagging their way forth; dodging crates and climbing fences, closely followed by the strange man. After a good while of running about, the brothers hit a dead end, the alleyway they had followed were enclosed by open dark water, and none of them could swim. The man following them had been determined in his pursuit, rounding the corner at the very instant the Coloni brothers were about to reroute.
“Give it up, Coloni. You’re trapped.” The man said with a sharp, yet exhausted voice. Deamyi let a long sigh grow between his lips, and eyed the man in front of him. He was dressed like any commoner walking the streets of Celon: wearing a black jacket of some rugged clothing material, with a gray silken shirt underneath, making for some rather nice cuffs snaking their way out his sleeves, silvery en-buttoned. His pants were that of a black coloured silk-enclosed fabric and were fitted with shining black shoes. Though even for all his finesse, it was impossible to hide his true nature as a human, and not only a human, but the very Anathon Siergonavi; the utmost commanding officer of the royal army.
“My apologies, Anathon Siergonavi.” Deamyi simply whispered as two crossbow bolts flew through the air from somewhere behind the brothers, striking hard at both of the human’s shoulders.
Anathon growled while he fell to his knees; he tried arming himself but was rendered unable to. Instantly after that, a woman appeared behind the groaning man and with no words to spare for the suffering one, she cut over his throat and watched as the human fell foreword, bashing into the ground filled with his own blood. Then the woman stood up and she could be viewed in her full grace; she was wearing a black silken cape, fitted with a silver layered hood covering her otherwise masked face. Her cape blew aside as she started strolling towards the brothers, unveiling a tight sitting shirt with no arms, and buttons side by side all the way down to her waist. Her elegant legs were enclosed by tight sitting leather shorts fashioned with high heeled leather boots, making their way to her knees. “My sincerest thanks, Coloni brothers, only the two most known young thieves could’ve pulled such a stunt. To draw the attention of such an important person, I am pleased by your actions this evening. The council will pray for your souls as End, the Guide of Spirits, bestows his judgement upon them.” She whispered with a naturally hoarse voice.
“Our souls? Wait, you promised---“ was all Deamyi could say before his life ended at the tip of the dark lady’s blade. Holding him in her arms she whispered into his ear
“Did you really think we could let you live after witnessing all of this? My poor little Deamyi, you know too much, you’re expandable.”

In dreaded disbelief Shoun slowly backed away from the happening. Shocked he tumbled over the edge of the river bed, plunging into the water with pure fear shining in his eyes. For an instant, he were totally deluded and shot his hands in all directions, until sanity finally returned to him and he tried making for the surface of the water. Upon splashing his way through the surface he was merely hit in the shoulder by a bypassing boat, and with quick thinking he made a dagger appear in his hand and plunged it into the hull of the boat, dangling along it while it were moving up-river. It was naught but mere chance that the Coloni boy managed to escape from the deathly, dark mistress of the night.


Oh and btw, "Shoun" is prenounced like the french version of "Sean."
 
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