Monday, September 04, 2006 @ 10:05 PM


18 December (Chapter 1) Mass edited.

(Do you know my blunders when I made the first chapter of 18 December?

To start off, no good writer will ever reveal the plot.

The next point is, that, in contrast to roleplaying, novels do not describe their characters head on, like what I did.

Who noticed these blunders? If you did, well done. On to the story.)



Desrade was, not for the first time, summoned to the king's chambers. He stepped through the arched doorway and set foot on the red carpet that stretched from the end of the room to the other, trimmed with golden threads with an elegance that Desrade knew was done by the finest tailors from Dranguria. Fragdor was one of the many kingdoms that Dranguria makes home for. He lifted his visor to feast on the sights. The human race have grown. The pillars had carvings of angels and the gods, as well as magnificent stone gardens. Tapestries hung around the walls, trimmed with gold with portraits of great heroes throughout the ages. The ceiling stretched to a lofty summit that the knight thought was not possible to reach.

The human race had surpassed many other races. Their carvings were great enoough to compare with the Randoriber, a sspecies of dwarves whose hands were better to carve than to hammer. The human's hands could hammer the stone as well as the Hongurig, another species of dwarf whose muscular arms could hammer through stone within seconds. Another race they surpassed were the fairies. Their magic was powerful, but not powerful enough to match some of the wizards in Dranguria.

Aye. The humans have grown; better than some races, throughout the ages. They used to be looked down on for their inabilities to fight, to draw, to dance, to use magic, but no longer. They have worked hard indeed.

The backdoor to the throne room opened. "His Majesty, King Tresgonne De Tunge Las Gon III, Most Honoured Swordsman, Ruler, Paladin, has arrived." The announcer rambled. Desrade grew weary of His Majesty Tresgonne's titles. Does the announcer ever get tired of it? He often wondered, and he was positive that he would never get an answer. Desrade knelt, head bowed, pushing his visor down in respective silence. "Greetings, Your Majesty, King Tresgonne De Tunge Las Gon III---" He was cut off by a wave of the King's palm.

"You are Sir Desrade ter Edagon, are you not?" The King asked. "Aye, Your Majesty." Desrade answered. "You certainly are a cautious man. Take it as a compliment." The King watched him with amusement. "My thanks, Sir Desrade ter .....Edagon. " He cleared his throat. One of the guards by the door opened the door slightly, then nodded at whoever the person outside the door was. "Sir Appllo das Fathom, your royal Bodyguard, has arrived. Do you wish to see him, Your Majesty?" The King nodded and waved his black sceptre. Desrade has often wondered what the jewel at the head of his sceptre was, in a snake's mouth. It had runes on its body engraved in gold. His thoughts were cut off by the noisy sound of metal on stone. "Greetings, Your Majesty, King Tresgonne De Tunge Las----" The king thumped his sceptre on the ground to stop Appollo. It was as if he thought that his own name was too long for his own good.

"Where is the archer?" The King demanded, sinking back into the cushions. Nobody replied. Angry now, the King yelled," Where is the archer!" The guard guarding the main entrance shuddered, then replied in a trembling voice,"I am afraid we....did not find him in his room today. A ransom note was left behind." The King stared at the poor man, demanding more. Obliging to the King's silent request, he continued,"It appears that he has been....kidnapped, my lord. Forgive me for being the bearer of bad news." The King glared at the guard in anger, before breaking his gaze from the trembling man, who heaved a sigh of relief. "Sir desrade, Sir Appollo, I have called you here for a grave issue." The two knights looked at each other, dumbfounded.

"The Darkranancer. He has come. Dancing shadow." The King said with worry. "Have you heard about the destruction of Furgoth?" Desrade nodded. "Aye, sir. Dead bodies scattered around, and nothing was alive. Those are the only things that I know." The King sighed. "Yes. Nothing was alive. The work of the Darkranancer." Appollo and Desrade looked up and stared at The King. "You do not mean..."

"Yes, Sir Knights. As you know, Furgoth is only a boat's ride away. Dancing Shadow may strike." The King then unexpectedly lifted his head with a smile. "However, one of our scouts spotted a castle. Magic was at work in there. I went to see for myself, and I know that it is the Darnranancer's castle! Darkranancers can only attack a city from a high point. The castle is in an ideal place in an ideal spot. Go through the Forest of Asahriae, go past the Bidragon's cave, scale Mount Dresgott, and the castle will be yours to invade. Kill the Darkranancer residing in there. I expect the head of the Ne-- Darkranancer to be brought to me immediately. Understood?"

Appollo understood completely, while Desrade, with the slow mind of his, was still sorting out the facts. I understand, Your Majesty. We shall leave tomorrow." Appollo promptly replied. Desrade, pretending to understand, followed suit. "Aye, Your Majesty. We shall leave tomorrow."

*********************************

The two paced along the corridors, watching quires, knights, and guards, pass them by. Appollo looked inhuman, with his large full helmet, which was fashioned in the same style as a medium helm, only that It covered his head completely. Appollo was a strange man, indeed. Instead of choosing to fight with a sword, he fought with a mace and a shield, but still kept the tradition of the King's Bodyguards by having a sheathed broadsword clipped onto his back. Desrade looked like an ordinary knight, aside from his crimson red cape, instead of a blue cape, which represented his high rank among the Fragdorian Knighthood.

The duo did not match at all. Their ranks were far apart, and one was a miniature giant, while the other resembled an elf, only shorter and more muscular, compared to the tall, slim elves, who were strong despite lack of muscles. His swordplay was less fluent than the elves, and due to his armour, he was not as agile. Appollo was too used to being weighed down by the mass of metal, and felt unusually vulnerable without his suit of knight's armour.

"Sir Appollo," Desrade adressed the Bodyguard, making him flinch. "Yes?" Appollo said grumpily, opening the door to his cabin. He gestured to Desrade to enter. The knight was amazed at its size, and the amount of money the Bodyguard must have spent adorning it. Red carpets, chairs, a bed that resembled that of a king's, and many racks and stands filled with tricorn hats, jerkins, suits of old, worn out armour, shoes, and swords. Desrade's own cabin was smaller and less elegant. "Yes, the matter at hand. Where is the archer?" Appollo sank into a chair, then crossed his right leg onto his left leg comfortably. Desrade had to struggle to do what Appollo had just done. "I do not know, Desrade. And, call me Appollo from now on." He removed his helm and lit his pipe. Beneath the helm was a face that has seen much blood; suffered much scar. A stitch could be seen, stretching from his left cheek to his nosebridge. "Kript was kidnapped, according to the guard. I do not think so. I have seen the archer's skills for myself. Sharp hearing, good eyesight, lightning reflexes, and cautious, even more cautious than The King himself."

Desrade was starting to feel inferior to his comrades. He had a low rank in the Royal Castle, was clumsy in his armour, and could barely swing his broadsword, which was why he always used his longsword instead. Unlike Kript; an experienced archer, offered to join the army ranks many times, and Appollo, a trained warrior, who was agile even in armour. "We will have to hire a mercenary tommorrow night." Appollo said, blowing puffs os smoke from his pipe. He looked more like a nobleman than a Bodyguard, thought Desrade. "Aye," Desrade agreed. "For now, retire to your room and rest. We have plenty of work to do tomorrow." Appollo said, and the Knight left after a brief bow.

"Aye, we have," He whispered to himself, walking down the aisle into his own, little cabin.

~To be continued...

.::Epee::.
Departure
The poet


PS. Long winded? Yes. Quite. But all novels are long winded. This is at least 5 pages long.

Monday, September 04, 2006 @ 10:05 PM


18 December (Chapter 1) Mass edited.

(Do you know my blunders when I made the first chapter of 18 December?

To start off, no good writer will ever reveal the plot.

The next point is, that, in contrast to roleplaying, novels do not describe their characters head on, like what I did.

Who noticed these blunders? If you did, well done. On to the story.)



Desrade was, not for the first time, summoned to the king's chambers. He stepped through the arched doorway and set foot on the red carpet that stretched from the end of the room to the other, trimmed with golden threads with an elegance that Desrade knew was done by the finest tailors from Dranguria. Fragdor was one of the many kingdoms that Dranguria makes home for. He lifted his visor to feast on the sights. The human race have grown. The pillars had carvings of angels and the gods, as well as magnificent stone gardens. Tapestries hung around the walls, trimmed with gold with portraits of great heroes throughout the ages. The ceiling stretched to a lofty summit that the knight thought was not possible to reach.

The human race had surpassed many other races. Their carvings were great enoough to compare with the Randoriber, a sspecies of dwarves whose hands were better to carve than to hammer. The human's hands could hammer the stone as well as the Hongurig, another species of dwarf whose muscular arms could hammer through stone within seconds. Another race they surpassed were the fairies. Their magic was powerful, but not powerful enough to match some of the wizards in Dranguria.

Aye. The humans have grown; better than some races, throughout the ages. They used to be looked down on for their inabilities to fight, to draw, to dance, to use magic, but no longer. They have worked hard indeed.

The backdoor to the throne room opened. "His Majesty, King Tresgonne De Tunge Las Gon III, Most Honoured Swordsman, Ruler, Paladin, has arrived." The announcer rambled. Desrade grew weary of His Majesty Tresgonne's titles. Does the announcer ever get tired of it? He often wondered, and he was positive that he would never get an answer. Desrade knelt, head bowed, pushing his visor down in respective silence. "Greetings, Your Majesty, King Tresgonne De Tunge Las Gon III---" He was cut off by a wave of the King's palm.

"You are Sir Desrade ter Edagon, are you not?" The King asked. "Aye, Your Majesty." Desrade answered. "You certainly are a cautious man. Take it as a compliment." The King watched him with amusement. "My thanks, Sir Desrade ter .....Edagon. " He cleared his throat. One of the guards by the door opened the door slightly, then nodded at whoever the person outside the door was. "Sir Appllo das Fathom, your royal Bodyguard, has arrived. Do you wish to see him, Your Majesty?" The King nodded and waved his black sceptre. Desrade has often wondered what the jewel at the head of his sceptre was, in a snake's mouth. It had runes on its body engraved in gold. His thoughts were cut off by the noisy sound of metal on stone. "Greetings, Your Majesty, King Tresgonne De Tunge Las----" The king thumped his sceptre on the ground to stop Appollo. It was as if he thought that his own name was too long for his own good.

"Where is the archer?" The King demanded, sinking back into the cushions. Nobody replied. Angry now, the King yelled," Where is the archer!" The guard guarding the main entrance shuddered, then replied in a trembling voice,"I am afraid we....did not find him in his room today. A ransom note was left behind." The King stared at the poor man, demanding more. Obliging to the King's silent request, he continued,"It appears that he has been....kidnapped, my lord. Forgive me for being the bearer of bad news." The King glared at the guard in anger, before breaking his gaze from the trembling man, who heaved a sigh of relief. "Sir desrade, Sir Appollo, I have called you here for a grave issue." The two knights looked at each other, dumbfounded.

"The Darkranancer. He has come. Dancing shadow." The King said with worry. "Have you heard about the destruction of Furgoth?" Desrade nodded. "Aye, sir. Dead bodies scattered around, and nothing was alive. Those are the only things that I know." The King sighed. "Yes. Nothing was alive. The work of the Darkranancer." Appollo and Desrade looked up and stared at The King. "You do not mean..."

"Yes, Sir Knights. As you know, Furgoth is only a boat's ride away. Dancing Shadow may strike." The King then unexpectedly lifted his head with a smile. "However, one of our scouts spotted a castle. Magic was at work in there. I went to see for myself, and I know that it is the Darnranancer's castle! Darkranancers can only attack a city from a high point. The castle is in an ideal place in an ideal spot. Go through the Forest of Asahriae, go past the Bidragon's cave, scale Mount Dresgott, and the castle will be yours to invade. Kill the Darkranancer residing in there. I expect the head of the Ne-- Darkranancer to be brought to me immediately. Understood?"

Appollo understood completely, while Desrade, with the slow mind of his, was still sorting out the facts. I understand, Your Majesty. We shall leave tomorrow." Appollo promptly replied. Desrade, pretending to understand, followed suit. "Aye, Your Majesty. We shall leave tomorrow."

*********************************

The two paced along the corridors, watching quires, knights, and guards, pass them by. Appollo looked inhuman, with his large full helmet, which was fashioned in the same style as a medium helm, only that It covered his head completely. Appollo was a strange man, indeed. Instead of choosing to fight with a sword, he fought with a mace and a shield, but still kept the tradition of the King's Bodyguards by having a sheathed broadsword clipped onto his back. Desrade looked like an ordinary knight, aside from his crimson red cape, instead of a blue cape, which represented his high rank among the Fragdorian Knighthood.

The duo did not match at all. Their ranks were far apart, and one was a miniature giant, while the other resembled an elf, only shorter and more muscular, compared to the tall, slim elves, who were strong despite lack of muscles. His swordplay was less fluent than the elves, and due to his armour, he was not as agile. Appollo was too used to being weighed down by the mass of metal, and felt unusually vulnerable without his suit of knight's armour.

"Sir Appollo," Desrade adressed the Bodyguard, making him flinch. "Yes?" Appollo said grumpily, opening the door to his cabin. He gestured to Desrade to enter. The knight was amazed at its size, and the amount of money the Bodyguard must have spent adorning it. Red carpets, chairs, a bed that resembled that of a king's, and many racks and stands filled with tricorn hats, jerkins, suits of old, worn out armour, shoes, and swords. Desrade's own cabin was smaller and less elegant. "Yes, the matter at hand. Where is the archer?" Appollo sank into a chair, then crossed his right leg onto his left leg comfortably. Desrade had to struggle to do what Appollo had just done. "I do not know, Desrade. And, call me Appollo from now on." He removed his helm and lit his pipe. Beneath the helm was a face that has seen much blood; suffered much scar. A stitch could be seen, stretching from his left cheek to his nosebridge. "Kript was kidnapped, according to the guard. I do not think so. I have seen the archer's skills for myself. Sharp hearing, good eyesight, lightning reflexes, and cautious, even more cautious than The King himself."

Desrade was starting to feel inferior to his comrades. He had a low rank in the Royal Castle, was clumsy in his armour, and could barely swing his broadsword, which was why he always used his longsword instead. Unlike Kript; an experienced archer, offered to join the army ranks many times, and Appollo, a trained warrior, who was agile even in armour. "We will have to hire a mercenary tommorrow night." Appollo said, blowing puffs os smoke from his pipe. He looked more like a nobleman than a Bodyguard, thought Desrade. "Aye," Desrade agreed. "For now, retire to your room and rest. We have plenty of work to do tomorrow." Appollo said, and the Knight left after a brief bow.

"Aye, we have," He whispered to himself, walking down the aisle into his own, little cabin.

~To be continued...

.::Epee::.
Departure
The poet


PS. Long winded? Yes. Quite. But all novels are long winded. This is at least 5 pages long.