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Tales of Ilensia, (my book)


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I'm going to be straight with you, I think I'm a terrible writer. I'm honest I just can't think up a plot without other ones popping into my head and the end result is a terrible plot. But my mum says my book is good, I swear she's lying so I want some good honest opinions from all the awesome people on this forum.

This is the fourth book a have tried to write, the other three the plot collapsed around me like a skyscraper being demolished.

So anyway my mum made me do this and I'm sorry for wasting your time I just want some honest feedback so here it is...hopefully I've improved and remember it's the draft!


He fired once, that was all that was needed. One bullet to destroy the only obstacle in his way, it destroyed it alright, but at the same time it destroyed him. Never in all his life had he expected it to come to this, to come to killing one of his own…

Chapter One

Days Before

‘You! Order the third battalion to flank them and tell the advanced party to move to their rear!’ Aeodor bellowed one of his generals. The advanced party had to get behind the fleeing Ellendan’s or the plan would fail. ‘And you get this god damn corpse away from me! It’s starting to stink!’

‘At once my lord!’ a young banner by squeaked and scurried away dragging the corpse behind him. It was a good kill; the knight had charged Aeodor in a desperate attempt to kill the general of the opposing force hoping to shatter the morale of the Arinian army. Aeodor reared his horse sideway and at the very last second thrust his blade forwards severing the knight’s head from his body.

‘You’re right, that man was starting to stink…’ his best friend Iluador limped over him. He had dark brown hair that hung to his shoulders, and dark brown eyes. He had a strange limp that was very noticeable, no one knew why he had it. He never told anyone why, not even his best friend. He wore steel plate armor that shone in the midday sun.

‘We have them on the run Aeo- I mean my lord’ the man winked remembering formalities.

‘Good, is the advanced party ready?’

‘Yes I just got word saying so, they are just over the hill.’

‘Excellent!’ Aeodor examined Iluador’s face.

‘What…the hell have you done to your face?!’ he exclaimed regarding the black bruise on his friend’s left eye.

‘Yeah funny thing that…I happened to trip over and…well I hit my head on a dead man’s armor, it hurt.’

‘Yeah it looks like-’

‘Look out!’ it all happened so fast, Iluador roughly pushed Aeodor out of his saddle by doing so his head moved to where Aeodor’s was. Something blurred through the air and with a sickening thump hit the neck of Aeodor’s comrade. Blood sprayed and a heavy body crashed on top of him.

The prince lay there stunned, soldiers pulled his friend off of him and someone pulled him too his feet.

He looked down; lying on the ground with an arrow in his neck his best friend looked at him with blank uncomprehending eyes.

Aeodor stared back at those eyes hoping for some kind of hint, a hint that his friend was alive. He knew he was being naïve, he’d seen enough battles to know there was no way his friend could be alive but he could never bring himself to believe that.

Someone shook him ‘Sire, he’s gone. I’m sorry…’

The prince looked up at the speakers face. The man’s eyes were moist as well as everyone else’s around him. The truth hit him right in the face, Iluador was dead.

‘Bury him’ He whispered. ‘Bury him exactly where he is now, I’ll be back…’

The prince mounted his horse and looked over the raging battle. Somewhere in those ranks of armored men there was a bowman and that bowman was going to die.

The prince spurred his horse into a gallop speeding down the slope with his bodyguard trailing behind. Every soldier turned to look at him, awaiting his command.

‘Charge!’ Aeodor roared drawing his sword and running into the midst of his battered foes. It jeopardized the plan but Aeodor was to angry to think never mind think tactics.

But despite the crazy charge surprise was always an asset in battle and this time it gave Aeodor the edge.

Battalions, platoons and legions fell before Aeodor’s army. Their thick steel armor and sharpened swords enchanted or not couldn’t stop the prince’s army. The Ellendan’s were never military genius’s but in ten to one odds they should of won but the skill in which Aeodor’s men fought was uncanny, ever since the word charge left Aeodor’s lips every soldier seemed to fight with such precise skill that even the Ellendan battlelords couldn’t outmatch the lowliest of footsoldiers. And Aeodor himself in his gold lined steel plate armor was unstoppable, some called it magic and others called it inhuman skill but whichever it was it made him invincible. Arrows and blades didn’t hit him and bounce off they just didn’t hit him, he didn’t need to dodge the soldiers just seemed to give up and stare at him with their jaws at the ground waiting to be cut down.

That and the Arinians advanced technology, they were the only country to have discovered gunpowder and the first country to develop the crossbow which they eventually shared with the rest of the world. Muskets were invented soon after gunpowder was discovered and it has given Arinia the edge in battle for years.

Musketmen fired from all sides with bullets that ripped the Ellendan’s armor and flesh killing wave after wave of soldiers.

While the Ellendans were being ripped to pieces the advanced battalion came around the back cutting through the rear of the army with the same skill everyone else was somehow showing, the flanking forces cut through the sides like a dagger through silk. In an hour of mindless hacking, slashing and stabbing the Ellendan’s were destroyed. Not a single one stood and in the mass of Ellendan bodies not a single face of a dead Arinian showed.

The battle was over, now the great cleanup begun.

Bodies were thrown into carts and wheeled off towards Ellendan for the dead soldiers families to mourn, the living were taken prisoner save the gravely wounded who were quickly put out of their misery.

Aeodor squatted over a dead general, singing softly to himself, he wasn’t a bad singer but he didn’t have the confidence to do it one stage. He found though, that singing softly to himself when he was angry or sad it would calm him. He believed he got it from his mother who always used to sing to him when he was a child, whenever he was angry or sad she would be the one he would go to and she would always be the one who calmed him down.

‘P-Please sir, end it.’ A voice gurgled behind him.

The prince turned around to find an Ellendan soldier with a ruined chest staring at him with blood gushing out of his mouth. The wound was obviously inflicted by a charging horse, all his ribs looked broken, and a few were sticking out of his chest. His eyes were bloodshot and pleading, his chest was oozing blood creating a small pool of the crimson liquid. His face was ghostly white and slowly getting whiter as the life slowly faded in his eyes. By the looks of him he didn’t much time left.

‘What’s your name friend?’ Aeodor asked as he sat next to the dying man.

‘G-Gondolor or Gon a-as my friends call me.’ Aeodor noticed something then, the man had a bow.

‘I see you have a bow there friend, are you any good with it?’ the prince remained calm and quiet but inside his heart was beating and his mind was shouting “KILL”.

‘Y-Yes sir, best in my battalion.’

‘Do you know who I am?’ the prince whispered drawing his dagger.

The man’s eyes widened in fear ‘N-No sir, n-not at all.’

‘Ha funny thing that, it just so happens that I’m prince Aeodor friend of Iluador, do you know him?’

‘I’m sorry! I’m sorry!’ the man started to wail, tears streaming down his mud stained face. He tried to pull his broken body up. ‘T-They made me do it! T-They made me-’ he gasped as Aeodor’s dagger sank into his heart.

The prince knelt forwards and whispered ‘Sleep friend, I forgive you…’

The man’s eyes widened and froze, his body went limp.

Aeodor mounted his horse and shouted to his generals ‘Meet me back at Cynidor I have to go.’

‘Yes sir!’ the all replied in eerie unison.

Aeodor rode, he rode his horse for hours, pausing only to drink and eat from his pack. He travelled many, many leagues passing the green hills, valleys and plains. He passed farms and villages, towns and cities of wood and stone until he reached his home. Cynidor.

The city was made of white stone, a peculiar mineral called Xethite. It’s harder than your average stone but weighs much more making the construction of all the buildings in the city take much longer. It was a small city built more by a military mind than an economist’s mind. Every few hundred yards there was bound to be a guard tower or barracks and all along the wall there were catapults and cannons and guard towers giving the city more of a fortress look from the outside. No one had succeeded in taking the fort ever since it was built, many had tried though. Every house and shop had to have walkways with low walls by law for defenders to strike with cover wherever they were in the city. Despite the cities size there were many guilds and landmarks that made it unique. There was The Old Colonial’s tower a place that has inspired novelists since the first age. And the famous slab of obsidian, a marvel that was brought back by explorers thousands of years ago. It was said to be found in the mountains of sand at the very north western point of the known world. A place of immense mystery and a place where people would seek their fortune.

And of course there was the Royal Palace a large imposing feat of architecture. It was a huge castle sat on a hill the city was built around. It was made of the same white stone everything else was made out of except it had a dark blue roof bluer than the deepest part of the sea. Four towers (by Arinian custom) stood at each side of the castle, one in each point of the compass. The west tower was known as the tower of events, many things had occurred here. The discovery of gunpowder, the death of King Alidor and of course the murder of Queen Alice. It has served many purposes in its long life, an armory, a council room even an apartment but now it served as the royal study. Another interesting feature of the tower is it was built at the edge of the sheerest side of the hill making the drop from it almost double the drop from the others. The center of the building was hollowed out to house the royal courtyard informally described as the Garden of Eden.

Aeodor passed through open blue gate. He passed crowds of people staring and pointing at his bloodstained armor and muddy face. Fellbiter his sword hung at his side with fresh blood dripping from it.

Everyone looked at him fearfully; his expression was one of bleakness giving off a sign that he had lost the battle, he couldn’t let people think that.

As his horse trotted onward he raised his sword in a kind of confident salute.

The crowd cheered as he rode away, relieved that their loved ones would be coming home…

Aeodor was a tall well built soldier. He had just entered manhood and was already feeling the burden of being the son of a king. He had lightly shaven jet black hair and sky blue eyes. He had a flawless face, the unappealing feature of his face was the nasty scar in front of his ear.

His older brothers Vasilio and Petrano were twenty five and twenty seven. They had their own friends and despite the jokes they made and the nights out they never became best friends. Their relationship was more brotherly than friendly like they were tied due to their relation rather than actually liking each other, a forced relationship.

His only true friend was Iluador who was now gone taking Aeodor’s social life with him.

‘How could you be so stupid?!’ were the first words his father spoke to him. No welcome back, no well done for winning a battle in ten to one odds and no how are you.

‘All I wanted you to do was scout, that’s all and instead you sneak out a thousand of my men and attack an Ellendan army of ten thousand!’ his father shouted. ‘The nerve!’

‘Are you not proud?! Proud that I won a battle in insane odds and came back with my life!’ Aeodor’s voice rose matching his father’s.

‘And yet you lost Lord Iluador’s, if it weren’t for your disobedience I wouldn’t be one lord short!’

‘Like you cared about him! Like you care about me!’

King Thanodor III face blanched, he pushed back his long black hair and blinked his sky blue eyes. ‘Listen, I do care about you son. I was just worried that’s all.’

The King pulled Aeodor into a rough hug, but something was wrong. His father doesn’t get worried. Aeodor once went missing for two days and his father didn’t bat an eyelid.

Something was going on.

‘Now, you must go I have some things I need to do.’ Now that didn’t sound right either.

But still Aeodor couldn’t disobey his father again, he left the study and looked for his brothers.

Almost instantly they found each other.

‘There you are’ his older brother Petrano said. He was the tallest there hitting just above six feet tall. He was had the look of a Liodrian athlete; tall and skinny but the kind of person who can run eight kilometers without breaking a sweat. He had short black hair with the front pulled up giving the look of a Liodrian senator. The thing about his hair was he could put it wherever he wanted it, his hairstyles were the ones of wonder, any visiting lady seemed to go straight to him and say hello before greeting anyone else. ‘Have you noticed father’s a little bit off?’ his brother asked.

‘Yes,’ he said ‘He shouted at me for winning a battle.’

‘Usually he’d give you a slap on the back for that’ his eldest Vasilio said a large brute of a person, he was the smallest there but always took command over the three of them. He had huge arms and legs thicker than a troll’s (quite thick). His mid length black hair seemed to go perfectly with his immense body, if it weren’t for his eyes he would give off the air of someone intelligent but he was the complete opposite. His eyes had a kind of spark in them that showed he could do any sum or fix any steam engine in mere seconds. He did have a masters degree in mathematics and engineering. That wasn’t all, he was responsible for the mighty three, three battles one after the other against three opposing armies that were much bigger that the Arinian one. But using his tactical genius he pushed through and one the three battles without taking a single breather. He had one simple problem, if people didn’t do what he said he would get very, very angry. Fast. ‘But…well he’s been a little bit off ever since you went.’

‘Has anything happened?’

‘We were getting to that’ Petrano began. ‘Not long after you went he fainted on the spot! And then he started muttering things, something about the master and some other things we couldn’t make out, ever since he’s been on edge. He nearly killed one of his servants when she asked what he wanted for dinner.’

‘It gets worse, he’s taken to locking himself in his study and pouring over old books and writing notes about odd things.’ Vasilio told him. ‘And he sometimes doesn’t turn up for council meetings and hasn’t even been to a war meeting.’

‘Gods above, what the hell are we going to do? We can’t run the country!’ Aeodor exclaimed.

‘We’re going to have to…’ Petrano said distantly.

‘Alright’ Vasilio began putting on his commanding face one that his younger brother’s were quite used too. ‘I’ll act as his steward seeing as Beol can’t tell the difference between a trade agreement and a declaration of war. Petrano you manage our financial situation, I know what you’re like with money and Aeodor you manage the knights. We’ll all lead the war meetings together and I’ll handle the council meetings. Everyone happy?’

‘I wouldn’t say I’m happy but-’ Aeodor muttered.

‘Good enough let’s get to work!’

While Aeodor teaches his knights and his brothers manage the kingdom I’ll tell you about Arinia.

Most Arinian commoners are farmers. Higher up however it’s a bit different. Anyone can be a knight, if they have lots of money. So basically if you have rich parents in Arinia then if you want you can be a knight. The main expense is the schooling but once that’s over and you become a squire then you earn rather a lot and if you make it as a squire and be promoted to knight then you land yourself a wife, lots of land and lots of money. The only expense is your life which can be taken in battle and under no circumstances can you miss a battle, doing so results in loss of life in other words the chopping block. From knight you can move even further up the ranks until you eventually reach baron. Barons go to the war councils and basically have the rights of a general but way more money and land.

The Arinians are peaceful when they’re not fighting the Ellendans, another country that’s practically the same as Arinia apart from the people are a bit low on brain cells.

The other neighboring countries are Saracsin and Scandinia and of course Ellendan.

The culture is a bit more advanced than others, sexism is virtually non-existent while in other countries woman are traded like merchandise except without the money. Many woman from other countries go there escaping from their husband and enjoy a free life.

The country worst aspect is the fact it’s constantly fighting itself. The Lords and Ladies had families which work pretty much exactly like clans.

There was the boss who could be a father or grandfather. His lieutenants were his brothers, sisters and if they were old enough; children.

Families would fight over the land they were given like you would with your brother over the latest game.

In this situation it’s more about fighting over land and honor. The Ellendans are exactly the same except their fights are more about ‘You spilt wine all over my ten thousand Olothors during the last banquet!’ Ellendans take little things a lot more seriously.

Aeodor couldn’t sleep. He tossed and he turned but no matter what position he moved to he still couldn’t slip into sweet mindless unconsciousness.

‘Right that’s it.’ He muttered and pulled himself out of bed,

He left his room on the top floor of the palace and walked across the luxuriously soft carpet towards the dining room where he would do the necessary: Drink himself to sleep.

He strode down the corridor past his brother’s rooms and finally his parent’s. He then left the royal quarters and went down stairs and through the courtyard.

The castle courtyard was like the Garden of Eden. Vast oceans of multicolored flowers swept across the courtyard, long stone pathways shot through the ocean of flowers occasionally splitting into a crossroad or circling a tree or fountain. Every day gardeners could be found in the garden tending plants and planting new ones, it was Aeodor’s mother’s favorite place in the world.

He passed through the courtyard and up towards the west tower, he didn’t know why he just felt like it. The urge to drink was gone something else was nudging the back of his mind telling him he needed to go there, he didn’t necessarily want to go there but he had to.

He walked past tapestries of velvet and gold lined ornate furniture, through seemingly endless corridors covered in red carpet with crests of a hundred different variations printed on them and up steep stone steps that would crack your head open were you to fall onto them until finally he reached the west tower, his father’s study…

Aeodor stood there looking at the gold lined door staring at it examining the rare crease in the wood or the virtually invisible cracks in the gold.

He took a deep breath and entered the study.

The study was a busy looking room due to the fact that there were always paper and books everywhere; on the floor, on desks, on the walls and of course on the ceiling. Huge oak bookcases lined the walls with every book you could think of and there was one huge window opposite the door overlooking the kingdom.

His father stood facing the window examining his kingdom.

‘It’s beautiful isn’t it,’ his father called to him ‘even at night. I designed a lot of this city myself you know’

‘Yes…you told me father’ Aeodor replied uncertainly, it was only his father but he hadn’t relaxed, he felt as if something was very, very wrong.

His father grunted ‘They might call me Thanodor the Architect when I die. Ha! What a name that would be! Join me.’ It was an order.

Aeodor walked over uncertainly towards his father, he stood by him.

His father looked at him, his hair had more grey in it and his face was lined like crumpled paper. He looked like he had aged ten years in a day. The worst thing was his eyes though, there was barley any emotion left in them guilt, fear, anger. But it was all fading away as if a weed was entwining itself around his conscience and slowly destroying it.

He slowly turned back towards the window and looked at the city.

‘Look, there’s the mage’s tower rising above the streets like a shard of stone and glass. I designed it myself but they didn’t seem to be happy with it. The expansions they have made have changed the building entirely.’ His father said this bitterly as if he actually cared about how his city looked ‘And there, the Warrior’s guild! Living off my streets earning money from my people! Bunch of brutes the lot of them! And there, the merchant quarter where rich people trade and barter with the poor. Nothing is fair even in the fairest of kingdoms’

‘Father what’s wrong?’ the question was direct and deadly like a viper’s bite.

The king sighed and walked away from the window towards his desk. He rummaged around pulling out papers and books until he found something. As the object came into the light Aeodor realized what it was; his father’s custom made golden revolver.

Aeodor drew his sword ‘Father! What are you doing!?’

Thanodor began pacing up and down with the gun raised and loaded ‘I…had a vision, as you may have heard. I saw terrible things son, terrible, terrible things.’ He shook his head and kept on pacing.

‘What…what did you see?’

‘Worlds, lots of worlds dying, something is destroying them and it’s here right now! I…I am going to stop it, I have to stop it! The vision told me something else though, it told me there is but one obstacle in my way.’ His father cocked the gun and aimed it at him.

‘Father?’ the word spilled out his mouth like a leak in a ship spewing into his father’s ears.

His father looked at him, his face bone white but emotionless. He stared at Aeodor for a minute and finally said ‘I’m sorry son, I really am’ he aimed the gun and fired.

Time slowed down as the bullet left the barrel and flew towards Aeodor, this can’t be happening he thought over and over in his head, this isn’t real and then the bullet hit him.

His chest exploded into a flower of crimson blood and there was pain, white hot pain. He was knocked off his feet, smashing into the glass window behind him, it smashed into a million shards of moon lit glass cutting his arms, legs, torso and face ripping his skin to shreds. And then he was falling, zipping towards the ground faster than light travels through space. Then he hit the cold paved road and Aeodor’s body broke and his heart beat three times, four times then stopped.

It's rubbish isn't it? Ah well at least I'll get some feedback at hopefully some good tips ;)

EDIT: Changed my start a little bit

EDIT2: Fixed some errors I made, Chapter One SHOULD (probably not) be fine now

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Finally! Another writer, welcome to the Arts section :D

Now... you want to be criticized? Take my words with a bit of salt then.

The entire battle, it could have been a bit longer... describe the troops, both Aeodor's and his enemies. What armor, weapons were they equipped with? What was so special with Aeodor's army that made him win so easily against his enemy? A simple "Surprise attack!" doesn't cut it.

Also, you mentioned a revolver here... this makes the whole medieval feeling that I had change. Nothing wrong about it, it just changed.

Take it slooow when you describe the country, nation and stuff... I want to be hypnotized, transfixed by your words and imagine the hills, mountains and green fields. Don't rush, take your time.

Also, was Aeodor the main character... and did you just kill him? How can you continue without the main character???

Overall this is good, perhaps 7/10? You're a good writer and I would love to see more work from you.

Compliments to your mother for encouraging you to write this here.

Now, what are you waiting for? Make some more :)

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Oh my god you are the most awesome guy ever :D

And about the main character dying you'll have to find out ;)

I'll release chapter 2 soon and thank you you really have brightened my day (even though it's night here). I was thinking about making the battle longer so I'll probably do that tomorrow right now *yawn I'm a little tired so I'm going to play some technic and go to bed :)

Again thank you and I'll definitely carry on with this, I've done chapters 2-6 but I'm going over them and making them better. You really have made my day :)

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I don't like it, there's no plot at the beginning.


Thanodor began pacing up and down with the gun raised and loaded ‘I…had a vision, as you may have heard. I saw terrible things son, terrible, terrible things.’ He shook his head and kept on pacing.

‘What…what did you see?’

Worlds, lots of worlds dying, something is destroying them and it’s here right now! I…I am going to stop it, I have to stop it! The vision told me something else though, it told me there is but one obstacle in my way.’ His father cocked the gun and aimed it at him.

A quote from Wiki:

Plot was and is a literary term defined as the events that make up a story, particularly as they relate to one another in a pattern, in a sequence, through cause and effect, how the reader views the story, or simply by coincidence.

Now I usually dont clutter someone elses' thread with nonsense, but seeing as there are very few authors here (has anyone seen Twisted Voodoo?) I feel its my duty to criticize your bad critique. Try to be more constructive, this story is honestly good for, as far as we know, a new beginner.

And if the Prologue in the beginning wasn't a plot in itself, then perhaps the quotes, and especially the ones I bolded, would suffice?

A good story is one where the reader stops and asks "Why? How? When?". This is where a good author has succeeded in his job. To make his consumers customers fans wanting to know more.

Yes you are entitled to your own opinion Priest, but remember. This is OPs' first chapter, more and hopefully improved ones are coming...

Forgive me for ranting here, OP, and please continue with your work. Don't mind the blood and the struggle here...

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Lol no worries :)

It's always good to here other opinions though even when it has no backing to it.

I'll hopefully get out chapter 2 today and maybe even chapter 3 as I said before I have them done I'm just going over them and removing/adding things.

And thank you for the feedback hopefully there's more coming :)

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Got the next Chapter up and running :D still a kind of draft and I may change it in the future. I didn't do as much editing as I did in the last one but in this chapter as you will see you get a glimpse of the real enemy which still comes much later in the story.

Chapter two

Your time is not over yet, young hero…

Aeodor was falling, the tall tower above him was getting smaller and smaller while the ground was getting bigger and bigger. And then he hit it.

He opened his eyes, wait that can’t be right he was falling. He quickly got up and ripped open the cotton shirt he was wearing, a white circle was embedded in his chest. Of course the bullet had hit him there. But he should be dead! And why the hell was he wearing peasant clothes!

The bed was in a small, simple room. He regarded it with distaste but then realized that the person who brought him here must have meant good and probably saved his life. He shouldn’t be so disdainful. But even the most skilled of physicians couldn’t have healed him, he had been shot square in the chest and fell from a hundred feet high tower!

Someone opened a worn oak door to the right of the bed he was lying in, a big red faced man walked in.

He had blue twinkling eyes, a small beard and a rather large nose. His large belly bulged through his shirt and his shirt sleeves showed obvious strain due to his bulging muscles. He had the look of a man who works hard and eats plenty.

‘Whoa there young man!’ he said in a deep voice that matched his large body, as the prince began to get up. ‘Take it easy, that was a nasty fall you had and I don’t want you hurting yourself any more than you have too’

‘Food’ Aeodor moaned as he fell back into the bed.

‘Coming right up’ he winked and shouted ‘Gwendelar! The boy needs food!’

A high pitched voice echoed from what sounded like downstairs ‘What does he want?’

‘Summit that’ll fill him up! The lad’s starving!’

‘Coming right up!’

‘Sorry about that’ the man said to Aeodor. ‘That was my wife Gwendelar, she’ll cook you up summit real nice. What’s your name friend?’

‘Aeodor,’ he said weakly.

The man’s eyes widened ‘You don’t happen to be Prince Aeodor the first to you?’

‘That’s me,’

‘Well, well, well.’ He mused. ‘It seems we have royal company in our hands. I was wondering how you ended up falling from the west tower. But that doesn’t explain the bullet I found in your chest or how the hell you survived a hundred feet fall!’

‘I honestly don’t know and the bullet.’ He couldn’t tell the truth, the man seemed nice enough and if he meant him harm he would have caused it by now but Aeodor couldn’t afford to trust anyone, not anymore. ‘I fell that’s all.’

The man’s mouth and shut again, he could obviously tell the prince was lying. ‘How would you fall-’

‘It doesn’t matter, I barely know how I did it myself. But forget that, who are you?’

‘I’m Wallod,’ he said realizing the subject was closed ‘I farm and take the steam train to Cynidor to sell my goods. I go there once every three months to trade in the merchant’s quarter. Me and the hundreds of other farmers that live around here practically supply the whole city with food. My farm makes milk and cheese, the best around if I do say so myself.’

So he was with a farmer and his wife, could be worse and they were fell farmers by the sound of them, most of the farms were by the fells anyway, Aeodor never understood that. It must be the land or maybe something about the Tharad Mountains.

The door opened again and a large woman with long curly blonde hair walked in. ‘Foods a ready!’

She handed him the wooden plate, placed on top of the plate was a delicious cheese sandwich, and to top it off was a glass of unprocessed cow’s milk, a wonder Aeodor had never tasted before in his life. After seeing he was eating well Gwendelar walked out.

After eating ravenously Aeodor felt much better and he got up. The farmer had found him he explained, in the middle of the street with blood seeping out of his mouth and his broken body. He could tell that the prince had fallen and also due to his bloody torso, been shot. He checked for a pulse and after a minute he felt a beat which somehow steadily grew stronger and then even the pool of blood started to seep back into his body. So he carried the young man home and removed the bullet, the rest he explained was done by other means. His bones healed themselves at a remarkable rate and his heart grew stronger every day. He had healed from the fatal injuries in just a week!

Time past quickly at the farm, as soon as they were sure Aeodor was fully recovered he began helping with the work. He had never done manual labor before but he found that he rather liked it. It was relaxing and less tedious then trying to convince some ambassador into an alliance or making a trade agreement or fighting a war. He could really settle down here.

The farm was a nice enough place, it wasn’t grand or big but it was practical. There was a barn where they stored the milk and cheese and pen for the cows in the winter. There was a milk processing plant, a stable with two horses and the milking room where as you can guess was where the cows were milked. After a day or two Aeodor knew the place like the back of his hand.

The farmer and his wife were even nicer than the place, they were the nicest people he had ever met and even though they knew he was royalty they still treated him like a normal person. How the farmer managed to run this place with one pair of hands was a mystery to Aeodor but with two people jobs went past like a dream. Whether it was milking a cow or processing the cheese the job was always done with a quality you’d never see in a city. There were no such words as “that’ll do” in a farm.

The meals weren’t banquets but fresh cheese and milk as well as food the other farmers traded with them were better quality and had that fresh taste that makes them so much better.

One problem was constantly nagging at his mind though, what would he do about his father. The man who tried to kill him…

A month past of hard work, the biggest events in that month was a cow dying of illness and a farmer a few miles down the road dying of natural causes. They had visited the town market (where the trainstation was) and sold a lot of cheese and bread. It had been a successful month and they had earned a decent amount of money.

Next month was just as good and they had enough money for an extension which they really needed. So they bought wood and glass and began work on the extension. The progress wasn’t fast because of the other jobs they had to do so they used their spare time instead.

Carpentry and building was new to Aeodor but he quickly learnt the skill and the wood they bought soon ran out so he had to learn another skill: woodcutting.

Everything was perfect and Aeodor was in complete tranquility but nothing good lasts forever…

Late at night, Aeodor was thinking of how they would proceed with the extension seeing as a nest of termites had been found in it. Termite repellent was expensive and they can damage the wood and tearing the thing down wouldn’t do because they couldn’t reuse the wood.

He went over all the possible solutions in his head over and over again but no reasonable solution came to him.

Then all of a sudden there was a whooshing sound and something seemed to solidify outside the house. Aeodor quickly got up and he counted twenty figures with drawn swords walking to the house. They were odd though, their form seemed to shimmer as if it was barely there, who the hell were they?

One thing was obvious though; they were dangerous.

Aeodor quickly roused the snoring farmer and told him what he just saw.

The man grunted and got up ‘They were armed did you say?’

‘Yes’ Aeodor confirmed ‘Do you know where my sword is, we may have to fight them.’

‘No there was no sword, only a scabbard.’

‘Dammit! It must have left my hand when I fell! Wake Gwendelar I’ll hold them off, you too escape!’

‘Oh no, if they’re attacking my farm then they’re making it personal’ he woke Gwendelar ‘Come on hon, we’ve got heads to bash.’

His wife mumbled ‘That’s nice love, now go back to bed’

‘Argh she’ll be fine, let’s go an’ get em!’

‘Okay, there are some pitchforks by the door and that blunderbuss. I don’t know how to use it so I guess it’s yours,’ the prince said heading downstairs. ‘Where’s my scabbard by the way?’

‘In the stair cupboard’ the farmer grunted.

They got Aeodor’s scabbard and armed themselves. The soldiers were at the front gate when he last saw them, they should have got here by now. Sweat dripped down Aeodor’s face and Wallod’s legs shaked noticeably

Suddenly storage barn went up in flames like a firework except it was actual fire instead of multicolored fire. The flames spread across the oak blackening and destroying all in its path, after a few seconds the barn caved in on itself and all that was left was a pile of burnt wood and a few dying fires.

The old farmer cocked his blunderbuss ‘The little buggers! How dare they, let’s get em lad!’

‘Wait!’ Aeodor shouted ‘This is a more defendable position. You go upstairs and shoot at them through the window, when they’re all inside come down here and assist me’ he threw the farmer a pitchfork, ‘Just in case you run out of ammo’

The farmer caught the not to deadly weapon and winked. ‘They’ll be dead by the time I do’

‘Don’t get complacent!’ Aeodor warned, his inner commander showing itself ‘We don’t know what we’re up against!’

‘Ahh, we’ll beat em!’ the farmer said half way up the stairs.

Something was wrong though; the way the barn went up in flames and quickly burnt down was too fast to be natural. Magic was in use

Aeodor braced himself, dropping to one knee with his pitchfork aimed at the door. He had a knife just in case things got a bit crowded and a pitchfork can hurt.

Suddenly he heard gunfire and the same whooshing sound he heard before. Gwendelar must be awake by now.

Aeodor heard incredibly light footsteps running to the door and two seconds later the door was blasted down.

Aeodor dodged the flying door and quickly got into position, raising his pitchfork in an estimated neck height.

The first assailant ran through the doorway walking straight into the waiting pitchfork. The attacker was a black armored soldier wielding a sword and shield. What he did next was incredibly unexpected. Instead of falling to the ground with blood gushing from his neck like some sort of hellish fountain, he instead decided to burst into black smoke.

Another explosion and a rain of lead bullets hit one of the other attackers he too bursting into smoke. Then it came to him, these weren’t people they were some sort of conjuration or something but they definitely weren’t people.

Two of the shadows, he decided to call them ran into the room. With military precision he jabbed one in the chest knocking the thing back and piercing his body but for some reason not killing him. He then smashed the side of the pitchfork into the side of the other armored shadow’s head. This knocked his into the doorframe stunning the thing, Aeodor finished them both off with blows to the head which he quickly discovered was the only way to kill them.

Glass smashed and seven of the things clambered through four different windows advancing on him. He held them off killing three of the assailants and knocking down three more. The seventh one however came up behind him with a fatal sword stroke.


The monster exploded into dust. ‘Damn buggers, they burned my barn! Aeodor there are more of them and whenever you kill one another appears at the gate. You’ve got to run!’

‘No! I can’t leave you!’ Aeodor shouted. ‘You won’t be able to get away.’

‘It doesn’t matter you fool!’ he shouted back. ‘I saved your life, I broke my back helping you and I’m not going to see all that young life wasted. The gods have got plans for you , I can feel it in my veins. Now go!’

With one last look at a man he respected and loved he jumped through one of the back windows disregarding the shards of glass cutting his body. He got up and quickly looked back through the window. He saw his friend fending off two of the shadow warriors, more were advancing and a few saw Aeodor and went for him. It was time to go.

Aeodor ran, his lungs burned and his muscles screamed at him but worst of all his conscience felt like someone had used it as a punch bag. He was mentally and physically wounded.

Once he was at a fair distance away, at the other end of the farmer’s field, gasping for air he saw the farmhouse he loved so much go up in flames as fast as the barnyard had.

Aeodor saw red, he shouted every swear word he knew, curses that made the cows in the field look up startled.

He kicked the ground and flung his pitchfork to the side burying itself deep in the soft soil. And then he shouted a series of curses so vile the grass around him started to wither and then the shadows saw him, on top of the hill they screeched a signal to their colleagues and they raced down the hill towards him.

Aeodor ran, he ran so hard his lungs felt as if someone was slowly dragging a sharp knife across them, he ran so hard his muscles felt like someone was pouring white hot magma into each and every one of them.

His sprinted a mile, a feat he had never accomplished before in his life and nobody he had heard of had sprinted as far. But then again nobody he had heard of had had to run away from those things. Although they looked human, they definitely weren’t.

Four weeks with barley any food or water Aeodor travelled. He didn’t know where he was going but civilization didn’t seem to want him anymore, there was one direction he was travelling though; west, west towards the mountains.

He passed through villages, using what few coins he had on food, drink, a tent and a backpack to carry them in.

He passed sights of wonder; brooks, meadows and hills of beauty beyond human imagining. And rivers and lakes larger and longer and more beautiful than any in Arinia, for he wasn’t in Arinia anymore, he was in Artend,

Artend was known for being the most beautiful country in the world, the Arteneans were artists, musicians and scientists.

And they sure as hell knew where to pick a country.

But alas Aeodor couldn’t stay here, something was dragging him towards the mountains and although he thought he should be going west he was for some reason going south west, heading towards the Marshes of Irithor.

Two months past, two months of walking with a pack full of food and drink, two months walking under the baking hot sun.

Illensia, is very, very different to our world. The south, like our south is colder. But the north, unlike our north is hotter. This is because in the galaxy in Illensia, there are two suns. One is directly above the planet, stationary and much closer than our sun is to us. The very top of the planet is seventy degrees Celsius in winter and hundred degrees Celsius in summer. As you can understand, no humans can live in those conditions. The Saracs have to move further south in the summers, near their borders it is only just bearable. The other sun orbits the planet, a thing no one has ever seen before. This makes the mid part of the planet temperate, the summers are hot and the winters are cold.

And right now Aeodor was walking in the hottest part of the year on a trek that will hopefully take him to a place where he can relax away from the world, typical stubborn prince.

But despite the lung killing walk, he managed to reach the first major obstacle in his journey; the Marshes of Irithor. The story of the Marsh flooded his mind.

Long ago when humans were just entering Civilization a king decided to try and unite the world under one banner. The different villages and towns that formed up the countries we see today (Illensia timewise), he burned and pillaged them until they submitted. His empire grew till the point where the other primal countries decided to do something about it. They recruited and trained men, hammers could be heard throughout their cities as armor and weapons were crafted to fit the battalions of soldiers. After years of preparation they were battle ready. The countries brought their armies together making such a mass of soldiers that it could easily match Irithor’s great host.

The armies moved sluggishly towards Irithor’s home near Skel Tornath where the heart of his empire sat, hoping to destroy it and use it to their advantage.

Irithor was too clever though, he intercepted his foes and they fought the bloodiest battle the world had ever seen. Millions died at the fields of state as they were called then (because it was where the mountains met the plains and it acted as a natural border between Irithor’s country and the rest of the world) and there was no victor. Both armies stopped after they saw the sea of bodies around them and despite all the kings’ commands and shouts they threw down their weapons and walked home.

The other kings’ killed Irithor then and brought their army together and destroyed his country and ever since that day, no country as evil as Irithor’s ever stood again.

Despite Irithor’s campaign the golden statue of himself still stands. On top of a mountain near his what-used-to-be capitol was a solid gold statue of him sitting on a golden throne. The gold was said to of come from the mines in the mountains, the mines where filled with the stuff, there were other riches as well; diamonds, rubies, emeralds and not so valuable now but still greatly used; iron.

The battleground also stays and the soldiers also stayed. Loi goddess of the undead saw the place as a place where she can create her people. The other gods had theirs and she wanted hers.

She cursed the area, turning it into a marsh and raising the millions of dead. Now the rotten soldiers walk the lands, she placed a part of her soul in the empty heads of the corpses. And her soul is infective, each time a dead soldier bites the abomination’s soul is split in half, one of the halves goes into the victim; rotting its flesh and tainting the blood.

Over the hundreds and thousands of years they infected passing humans, animals, trolls until the population grew so much that there wasn’t a single part of the marsh where you couldn’t see an undead.

Loi also created a spawn of wraiths that fell under the command of the Queen of wraiths-Spherelel.

All these creatures of rot and death swept through the land killing and infecting humans and animals. The other gods raged at the plague that swept their lands and they told Loi to stop. They fought and argued with her until she grudgingly stopped, the gods made her restrict her minions to the marshes so any undead monster couldn’t leave the borders of the marshes. They were caged like animals.

Loi didn’t do one thing though, she didn’t restrict the wraiths. The wraiths were allowed to move throughout the world doing her bidding, they murdered and recruited humans too their vile race. The Marshes of Irithor were an evil place.

Aeodor stood shivering, a cold wind was blowing into his face. It wasn’t natural though, it was summer and it wasn’t supposed to be cold.

But then, this wasn’t a natural place because in front of him was the dankest, darkest place in the world. This place is cursed, no life can live here. The only thing that can live here is death.

The place before him was the Marshes of Irithor.

The border was a simple fence, it wasn’t used to keep the undead in, it was used to keep the living out.

Aeodor crossed the fence.

The change in the temperature and ground was startling. It was twenty degrees colder and the ground was uneven and soggy. It was like walking on something that was in between the solid and liquid state.

Ponds were doted about, some big some small and some practically invisible.

Suddenly Aeodor realized what he had just done. He had entered one of the most dangerous places in the world with no weapon and no help. Mile after mile of unsafe ground filled with bogs and zombies.

All the battles Aeodor had been in, all the scares he had as a child were nothing compared to this. Aeodor felt something he hadn’t felt in years.

Aeodor was scared.

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Alright buddy, you wanted my opinion, and you're like me, in the fact that you rather have someone tell you that your work is a piece of of shit that should not even be wrote, and be honest, as for someone to tell you that "Oh MA GOOD! ZIS IS DA BEST TING EVVAA!!!" and lie to your face about it. That I can respect more than anything, someone who can tell me the truth.

With that being said, please do not become angry with what I say. Now before you assume the worse, it was good, but I will give my opinion, and should you wish, I can go back and give proper reasoning for my actions, if this is okay with you. If you have any questions about what I have written, feel free to ask, and if at all possible, I will answer them to the best of my ability.

Oh, and before we begin, I need to tell you this:

You may not see too many replies to your story, and your constitution will suffer for this. You are an author who wants feedback for what you write, like me, and a lot of times you may not get it. I'm not going to tell you to ignore it either, as I have the exact same problem when I write. I like for people to talk to me and give me feedback and when there is nothing but silence on the thread, it is, to be put bluntly, disheartening. But even so, try to push through it, and keep writing and hone your writing skills and become great at what you do!

Also, another tidbit:

It is proven that more and more people are selling their T.Vs and cancelling Dish, Direct, and other cable subscriptions in turn for the internet, and other media. With this being said, Reading, E-books and other writing criteria seems to be making a comeback, something that has been somewhat lost to many of the masses. Now, on to my opinion.

The first and most important thing I must point out is your exemplary spelling! When I write, I get lost in a mood and in the story itself, and often times more than none, my grammar and spelling takes a turn for the worst, and I notice many grammatical errors in my works. Its no because I'm too lazy to spell check, but instead it's because the words have errors that are considered "correct." An example of this would be "From" often turned into "Form" due to my hastiness in writing. Unfortunate as that is, immersion is often broken when readers read what I have written. What I have noticed is the fact that you take so much time to make sure things are correct in your spelling, making reading much more easy for the reader. The time you have taken to make sure you grammar and spelling are correct are much more than what I can usually achieve, and for that you should be very, very proud of yourself.

Now, A negative. (Yes, I'm going stewie Griffin positive, negative, positive sandwich on you.)

The first thing I noticed is that you said that your mother thought this was brilliant and it was the reason you wanted to bring it to a wider, more mature audience, yeah?

That being said I strongly, STRONGLY believe that you are holding your own mind back and restricting what you truly wish to write. Or I could be entirely wrong and you write like this so that you can appeal to more than an adult audience. If the latter is true, forgive me, I am an ass. If the prior is true, I give you this advice:

Step up, and out of your comfort zone. Write in such a way that you read it and go, "Oh my god, what have I made?" Now before you take this out of context, I mean that you should be far more descriptive in your works. Now, as I was reading, the price comes across a fallen soldier in the battlefield. Apparently, this soldier has been trampled by a horse, as the wound is evident through his chest. Now let's take this idea and expand upon it, shall we?

Go into detail, the thick, grimy detail that you normally wouldn't push yourself to do. The bones have penetrated through his chest, yeah? You got the point across and being a visual reader, I can see the wound. I see the soldier, gurgling, being hardly able to speak, his teeth, crimson and shattered, blood pouring from his mouth, mixing with the saliva dripping from his chin and running down his neck, pooling behind his head while he tries to lift his head, failing to do so and continuing to choke upon his own blood. I look at his chest, a gaping crater, collapsing his chest, three ribs penetrating from within, tearing the skin, more blood oozing from the wounds. The soldier shudders with every breath and every word is a struggle (You got this part right by the way : ) )) for him to say.

Sure, its not much of a change, but truly describing what you are seeing helps more than you think it does. LIke mundus said earlier "Be more descriptive."

I truly believe you are holding yourself back on this part. Another thing is, as well, I don't know your moral/religious standing, but I also noticed, while the characters seemed to have a personality, in the end, I felt like I was interacting with a bunch of clones, but I will get to this later.

Now, another good thing:

The story itself is something I must say is original, something completely new, and fresh, and though the setting is something I would expect from the Fable series of games, That's not a bad thing since Lionhead studios fucked up with that part. Maybe you can improve on this part.

In essence, I love what I have read so far! Keep it up!

Now, another "YOU FUCKED UP!" moment: >.> I'm terribly sorry >.> :( XD

Now, back to something I was going to rant about earlier, and again this goes into the "You're holding yourself back part."

The characters in your story kind of infuriate me. Now this may be in part of my own stupidity, or my thick head, or maybe some figment of imagination in my head is screaming obscenities at me, but either way it goes I feel strongly there was no depth in between your characters, though I do get the like father like son aspect of this. Now before you scream at me and say "YOUR WRONG!" hear me out, then you can scream at me.



I'm not going to go into each character, but I will say this: When each person was talking, I kind of felt like they were all the same guys. You might as well thrown a bunch of stormtroopers into the room and put name tags on their chestplate to tell them apart, because that would have been the only way you would be able to do so.


Now, I don't believe this was entirely your fault. This goes back to "Mum thought it was good." Now I'm going to explain it because I come from the exact situation.

Back when I was fifteen or so and I was first starting to get into writing, I would often try to get mamma to read my works to see if they were any good. However because she was my main audience, I often found myself restricting my writings because of it.

Take for example, I would want to make a character, say a drunken bastard with a mouth of a flamethrower on him that was a pervert and had no regards to what anyone cared as to what rolled out of his mouth. I often found myself writing things like:

"That danged woman, I would hit her if she wasn't a woman." Now, its not bad, persay, but I often felt that was not my Bastard that I had created, and often times, because of this flaw, characters really began to blend in together, and because of my writing style, people often couldn't tell who was talking at the time.

Now what I truly wanted to write was:

"That stupid bitch! If she so much as looks at me with that stupid fucking grin of her's again, I'll grab her goddamned head and bash it on the first table I can fucking find!"

Shocking eh? That's the point. The first thought you have is "OH MY GOD!" how could you say something like that! Well the common person would truly react if they heard a man spit something like that.

At first, I truly did not want to write like this because I had boundaries myself. I still do, but each person is their own person, if you understand what I mean and should be treated as such. Sure, it may not be how you act yourself, but this character is not you when it comes down to it, and just because you are bothered to write like this, it doesn't mean you shouldn't write like that.

Believe me, when mamma first read one of my "mature writings" She almost slapped me, but didn't because she realized its no different than seeing it on T.V.

My advice to you is to break out of your comfort zone and really try to write out of your normal box. This makes for more unique and believable characters all with their own personality.

Try it, The results might surprise you!

Okay, I've stapled on enough shit for now. My rant is over and the short version of this is that you have something precious here, so don't stop it. embrace it and run with it! You have something great here, hold it tight and don't let go, and one day, you'll see this to frutition.

Hope this helps!

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I'm honestly speechless and kinda disappointed but the fact that you saved some time to write something as long as a chapter in your book makes me want to hug you and call you a brother.

The thing that makes me speechless is the things that I missed and I know I can improve on. The thing that makes me disappointed is that it's not that good...yet!

And also I have a deal for you ;)

You said that you weren't getting much feedback on your thread so how about every chapter you write and I write/edit (you won't need to edit yours ;) ) ill give you feedback and you give me feedback

Seeing as we're both writers our ideas will kind of ping pong and we'll hopefully (me at least) become better writers (not that you need any improvement ;) )

Thank again I can already feel that I've improved as a writer :D

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I've made some changes to the description of Aeodor's brothers, I have made some other changes description wise but I couldn't think up anything good other than change the description of the guy with the ruined chest. Here it is anyway.

Petrano's description

‘There you are’ his older brother Petrano said. He was the tallest there hitting just above six feet tall. He was had the look of a Liodrian athlete; tall and skinny but the kind of person who can run eight kilometers without breaking a sweat. He had short black hair with the front pulled up giving the look of a Liodrian senator. The thing about his hair was he could put it wherever he wanted it, his hairstyles were the ones of wonder, any visiting lady seemed to go straight to him and say hello before greeting anyone else. ‘Have you noticed father’s a little bit off?’ his brother asked.

Vasilio's description

‘Usually he’d give you a slap on the back for that’ his eldest Vasilio said a large brute of a person, he was the smallest there but always took command over the three of them. He had huge arms and legs thicker than a troll’s (quite thick). His mid length black hair seemed to go perfectly with his immense body, if it weren’t for his eyes he would give off the air of someone intelligent but he was the complete opposite. His eyes had a kind of spark in them that showed he could do any sum or fix any steam engine in mere seconds. He did have a masters degree in mathematics and engineering. That wasn’t all, he was responsible for the mighty three, three battles one after the other against three opposing armies that were much bigger that the Arinian one. But using his tactical genius he pushed through and one the three battles without taking a single breather. He had one simple problem, if people didn’t do what he said he would get very, very angry. Fast. ‘But…well he’s been a little bit off ever since you went.’

And the description of the guy with the ruined chest

The prince turned around to find an Ellendan soldier with a ruined chest staring at him with blood gushing out of his mouth. The wound was obviously inflicted by a charging horse, all his ribs looked broken, and a few were sticking out of his chest. His eyes were bloodshot and pleading, his chest was oozing blood creating a small pool of the crimson liquid. His face was ghostly white and slowly getting whiter as the life slowly faded in his eyes. By the looks of him he didn’t much time left.

Better or worse?

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The important thing here to remember is when someone gives you advice to take it, but to mold it to yourself! Create your own breathing, living thing, with your mind! Just remember this is your baby, not mine. Now as far as the descriptions go, those are fine, great in fact! Just remember, describing their body does not describe their traits, so when you go to write for this person, become him, and speak as he would, and act as he would. Now, I'd go into more of a rant but I just got up and i can barely see the screen, so forgive the typos.

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Oh my... I feel like a kid in a candy store... same candy, but NEW FLAVOUR! :D

I cant give any feedback as of yet, too dam tired after working late (read: double over-time in 2 days) but I will come back after I sobered up.

LIke mundus said earlier...

I went through this thread several times to find this invicible Mundus... I feel like a donkeys' ass now when I realized you misspelled my name...

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Oh my... I feel like a kid in a candy store... same candy, but NEW FLAVOUR! :D

I cant give any feedback as of yet, too dam tired after working late (read: double over-time in 2 days) but I will come back after I sobered up.

I went through this thread several times to find this invicible Mundus... I feel like a donkeys' ass now when I realized you misspelled my name...

And thank you mundus- I mean Munaus ;) You're an amazing help as well I really hope to carry on with this you two are amazing :D

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Hmm. With these two great stories floating around, it makes me feel like I want to write one. I have written some short stories before about 3 years ago, so I at least have a little bit of experience. Anyways, I enjoy writing, and if any of you would like me to write something, feel free to say something.

Now onto the actual story here. I enjoyed the story so far, would really like to see a chapter 3 soon, but take your time. Writing takes a while to come up with things, at least for me. The cliffhanger at the end of chapter two is really gnawing at me. Anyways, yeah, I can write something too, and if I do, I would appreciate it if anyone, especially you elmarko, would criticize it

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Hey mooseman

Thank you for showing interest I've just woken up on this side of the planet so I hope to get chapter three out today

And about writing--go for it!

My only advice I can give to at this stage is plan--always plan

When I began this I was on holiday in Greece and I literally spent two or three hours on a sunbed just thinking about my book

I wrote some notes down and when I got back to England I started planning it which took two days

So remember never jump into it, I did that on my first books and they didn't turn out very well

Another thing, I'm really sorry about this but you have too know--don't expect your first book to be lord of the rings, I'm on my fourth try on making one and it's still not perfect, no where near perfect

But still post your book when you can but don't rush it

The "thinking stage" as I like to call it you really have to take your time, think about the plot the characters etc and always find some nice scenery to stare at, when I was in Greece I was staring over the most beautiful beach I'd seen in my life and it really did inspire me

So best of luck and I hope to see your book on the forums soon but remember--TAKE YOUR TIME!!! ;D

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Here's Chapter three, it's a bit of a shorty so I'll post Chapter four in a bit. Two in one day! :o

Chapter three

Meanwhile, miles away in Ellendan a vast army of knights and footsoldiers marched across the land, burdened by the metal they wore. Formations of soldiers unsure of where they were or what they were doing. Their only command, do what they were told.

In the midst of this great host Aeodor’s father rode on his black warhorse, King Thanodor traveled with purpose. The main obstacles were gone, once he had one kingdom others will fall, one after the other until King Thanodor would become Emperor Thanodor and then he could face the father of all threats, the mother of all monsters, the Godfather of the Apocalypse.

The king’s army swept through the land, cleansing his countries lifelong enemy. Killing man after man, burning building after building and destroying castle after castle his host swarmed through the country like a swarm of locust. And he destroyed the country like a swarm of locust would destroy a common farmer’s crops. But no pesticide could destroy this swarm, the swarm of blade and blood.

Using precise tactics and desperate determination Thanodor brought Ellendan to its knees and the world gasped for the first time in this age a country had been invaded, something that hadn’t happened since the time of Irithor.

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Just done Chapter four here it is :)

Chapter four

Fear, desperation and determination. These emotions clouded Aeodor’s mind, they were black clouds. Clouds that were ready to break into a thunderstorm so terrible it could shake the universe, so terrible that Aeodor’s mind would break and all would be lost…

He had been travelling for an hour, he occasionally saw undead in the distance but they were watching more that stalking. The smell of death and decay blocked Aeodor’s nose, there was no sun here, there were no clouds either, there was only a fog that hung in the sky. As if some giant had thrown his cloak on the floor instead of putting it on a cloak hanger then forgetting it was there.

Wherever Aeodor stepped the ground moved with his feet, it was like walking on jelly. The ground responded to your footsteps with a kind of eagerness to swallow you up.

Something groaned, a pitiful sound that almost made Aeodor think it was a wounded traveler and then he remembered where he was.

He spun around and saw he had walked past an undead.

Aeodor realized the gods must be with him. The thing was trapped, a tree had fallen on him somehow. The thing was enough to make even the strongest of stomachs quiver and Aeodor didn’t have a strong stomach. Once Aeodor’s stomach was empty he looked back at the thing studying it more carefully.

It was rotten, as if it had been there for a hundred years, the little flesh it had left was brown and cracked like worn leather. Snapped bones stuck out of various places giving it a deformed inhuman look. A dagger protruded out of its shoulder, another traveler must of tried to kill it, the traveler was probably still around, but that doesn’t mean he or she was alive. The clothes the trapped creature wore were torn and mangled, brownish slush covered the rags, and crimson blood stains were all over it. Some tears on the rags looked animal like and there were bite marks all over it. A rusted sword lay at its side, not a single bit of the iron it was made out of showed, the weapon was old not just because of the rust but the design was about two hundred years old, the thing had been sitting here for two hundred years at least! The most distinguishing feature about it though was the glowing orange eyes, eyes that burned with a kind of hatred towards all things living. The spirit of Loi goddess of the undead looked through those eyes, part of a goddess was in that thing. An evil goddess though, a goddess Aeodor would never pay his respects to.

It reached for him as he crouched near it, it groaned and shouted but there was nothing nearby to hear it.

‘You poor, poor thing. I’m so sorry’ Aeodor’s looked at the thing. ‘From the looks of you, you used to be a traveler. An armed one as well. I wonder what you were doing, travelling across this accursed plain…the stories you must have, the adventures and achievements you might have accomplished and the family and friends you may have left behind. Life’s hard friend, ha! Look at me talking to a living corpse, my family at home would never believe this. But they won’t have to will they.’ Aeodor sighed ‘I suppose I’ll have to end this, it’s been nice having a chat with you Loi and yes I know it’s you in there. Or at least part of you…what an evil thing you are…’

He shook his head and began the deed he knew he had to do. He picked up a weighty branch that had broken off the fallen tree, he looked at the groaning skeleton and he thrust his wooden weapon forwards into the side of the zombie’s head, crushing it and making the glow in the corpse’s eyes fade into black non-existence. Instead of an explosion of blood and brains an explosion of dust broke out of the creature instead. The dust seeped into Aeodor’s throat tearing at his lungs, he coughed fiercely until he felt the dust leave his lungs.

Aeodor threw the branch aside and picked up the rusty sword, carrying on his journey a little bit more safely.

Two days past of restless travel and no sleep at all, it was impossible to sleep here. The constant whispering that had begun to grow in Aeodor’s ears kept his awake at night and despite the traps he set up around his camp he couldn’t feel safe.

He passed dead trees and the occasional walker. None of them strayed near him though, they seemed to be waiting with an intelligence Aeodor didn’t think they were capable of.

On the third day when Aeodor was near the center of the marsh the whispering grew to a climax that made the prince’s ears ache.

I’m near the heart of this hellhole he thought. This is where the wraiths live.

He couldn’t be more right.

He tromped on, stumbling and cursing the ground. As he stumbled he walked past bodies, they were little at first, appearing in groups no larger than three but then the mass of them grew thicker and thicker until there were no small groups of bodies, there was one, one huge mound of dead bodies.

Why aren’t they awake? Aeodor thought. A sound suddenly echoed through Aeodor’s head, it wasn’t just sound though, it was something else. Something that shook Aeodor’s living being, it echoed through his mind making him want to run as far as he could, dig a hole and hide in it.

Behind him an image of horror burned into his eyes.

A ghostly flying corpse flew around him, examining him and deciding when it wanted him to die. It was a human skeleton, only it was missing its arms and legs. Its bones were bright white as if they’d been picked clean by some cannibal then washed thoroughly under a waterfall. The thing was solid but the aura around it wasn’t. It was smoke, green glowing smoke that stunk of death and corruption, it gave off evil, hate and power. Lots and lots of power. The eyes of the skeleton glowed green instead of orange, the color wasn’t the only thing different about the eyes however, the eyes burned with a human-like intelligence, and the hatred in those eyes was stronger than a thousand walkers, this wasn’t blind hate though. The hate gave it purpose; purpose to convert everything to its undead army. This creature was the one thing Aeodor didn’t want to meet.

It was a wraith.

The wraith screeched again and there was groaning everywhere piercing Aeodor’s ears. The mounds of dead started moving and each and every one of the mangled walkers started to stand up their eyes beginning to shine with a fierce glow.

They ran like humans but with a kind of uncertainty like they weren’t used to their bodies, a couple stumbled and some fell over but most made it to Aeodor.

They surrounded him, looking at his with their cold, dead eyes. The wraith swept around all of them and it whispered one word kill.

The dead jumped at him, clawing and biting and hitting. But Aeodor was faster, he jumped up as they all dived at him. These were different; they all moved like synchronized swimmers do, one copied the other and Aeodor quickly realized their weakness. They were very predictable. The prince also realized another thing, they responded to the wraith, they woke up when the wraith screeched and they attacked when it ordered them to.

If Aeodor could kill the wraith then they would all die.

He had studied the little knowledge known about them at home, they could be destroyed by a sword stroke but they wouldn’t die they would go and find another host and possess it. But they had to do it far away from their old host as it gave off an aura that somehow scared it away.

So all Aeodor needed to do was destroy the host easy, if you call trying to kill something that can fly at whatever altitude it wants while you had a hundred undead biting your heels. Yeah easy.

But these things must be endured.

The prince ran, stomping as hard as he could on the heads of his assailants. With satisfaction he felt some skulls crack.

He jumped over the last few lines of the slowly rising zombies and broke into a run towards the screeching wraith. It bobbed up and down a meter from the ground until he was an arm’s reach away then flew up a meter.

Muttering he jumped up waving his sword like a mad man, the wraith screeched when his blade got close then swooped round knocking into his chest.

He was swept three meters back, the breath knocked out of him. Part of the wraith’s aura stuck to him and began eating at his clothes. Aeodor shouted and waved the smoke away, it dispersed instantly and went back to its master. One zombie jumped on him and behind him the other creatures jumped in unison landing on the boggy grass, the other lashed out at his throat attempting to bite him. Aeodor’s leg came up into its stomach knocking it back. He jumped up and thrust his blade into its head. Dust exploded out of its head and the light faded. The monsters ran at him again, with precise timing Aeodor hit one with the butt of his sword. Every one of the monsters was knocked back in line with each other.

Aeodor ran forwards towards the wraith stomping on their heads yet again. He lunged grabbing the thing, it flew up and before he could kill it, it screeched in his face. Startled Aeodor relaxed his grip a bit and using its chance the wraith knocked him with its fleshless head. White spots danced across his vision and he fell three meters to the ground. Searing pain shot through his body and his vision blurred. After lying on the ground for a few seconds regaining his breath he got up. This had to end, he had to get away. He could hear more coming, they were attracted to sound and Aeodor was making a lot of sound.

With a kind of inner understanding Aeodor realized what to do, he couldn’t kill the thing with melee so he should used ranged tactics. He had no bow or crossbow but it’s not as if things can’t be thrown.

He took two steps back then lunged forwards building his momentum, he twisted his grip until he held the weapon like a javelin, the rusty sword left his hand spinning towards his ghostly foe. Before the ghost could react the blade buried itself in the things chest.

With one last screech the wraith left its host, the skeletal body fell to the ground cracking into a million shards of now rotted bone and the ghostly aura flew away still screeching but much more quietly. One of the undead was right next to him at the time in mid lunge, the life left its eyes and its dead body crashed into him.

Aeodor pushed the rotten corpse off him and stood up, he brushed off the dirt and dust off his clothes than stood there in a stupor. A few minutes later he heard another screech in the distance and he quickly got his senses back. He pulled the rusty sword from the mound of bone shards and carried on to finish his journey.

He was still in shock, what had just occurred happened so quickly he didn’t have time to realize what was going on, if he had thought of this at the time he would of surely died. He’d just fought a small army of walking dead lead by a flying half skeleton. You just don’t get that in Arinia. Aeodor suspected this was only the first and most minor of the extraordinary things he will come across in time…

A week past of hard walking and constantly looking over his shoulder Aeodor ran into countless undead, they were never in groups larger than three and Aeodor guessed that his little fight with the wraith had alerted every one of the zombies in the area. They were easy to dispatch though, he discovered they were much more dangerous in larger numbers. If the undead under the command of the wraith were independent like the ones he kept coming across then he would very likely be walking around moaning and stumbling with the rest of them.

Still after four days he realized he was near the boundary of the marsh, the sky was clearing up and the grayness seemed to be slowly going. Not long after these signs he saw the border fence and even better the mountains shooting into the sky like great rocky teeth.

Aeodor hoped over the border and stepped out of hell and into heaven. Something in the deepest part of his being was nudging him towards the mountains, telling him that his destination was deep within the mountains.

The prince was now miles away from any civilization, no one built a village or town here because of the fact it used to be Irithor’s lands and no one would be able to trade or help them due to the fact there was the marshes of Irithor to cross.

This was a problem.

Aeodor was very low on food and there had been no signs of life for a few hours now. Mountain goats and bears were said to be around these parts and there were streams teeming with fish but Aeodor was no hunter or fisherman. His food had been made and caught for him his whole life.

He hadn’t eaten for two weeks.

The nobles of Arinia did do hunts but they had to be of age and Aeodor never had the chance due to the fact he had only just turned eighteen a few months before the battle.

He traveled for three more days until he found knew he was going to die. His vision began to blur and the boundaries between sanity and insanity started to crack. He passed empty mountains and rocks without a single hint of edible plant life. He saw a few goats as he was told and even a bear which kept its distance but he had nothing to hunt them with.

He stumbled towards a rock and sat on it staring out into the distance knowing this was where he was going to die. He had died before but he knew he wouldn’t be getting a second chance. He absorbed the scenery and saw one of the most breathtaking landmarks in Illensia; Skel Tornath the largest mountain in the world.

The reason it was called Skel Tornath was due to the fact that Skel means “up” in Dwarfish who were the first to see the mountain. Tornath another Dwarven word means “fiery one” because the dragonlord Azador lives at the very top.

Its full name is Skel Devor Tornath which means “Up there is fiery one” which were the words of one of the first Dwarven kings thousands of years ago. It was shortened to Skel Tornath and it had been called that ever since. The mountain itself can be seen from the other side of Liodria hundreds of leagues away. It is forty thousand miles high and at the very top the air pressure is so strong a boulder would be crushed into dust and the dust would be crushed into atoms. The reason the top of it still stands is because it’s made out of solid iron ore. The only life that can survive up there are dragons because of their scales which are said to be the hardest thing in Illensia making pressure no problem to them. Azador still lives strong, he made his home in the mountain by burning his way into it with his white hot breath. When the iron solidified he made his home there feeding off Irithor’s people, dwarves and mountain goats.

Aeodor while reciting this story to himself realized he was dying, his vision began to blur and his mind was filled with one feeling: hunger. Hunger that drove him to madness, he’d eaten nothing in over two weeks. He fell forwards his face cracking on the rocky ground, blood began to seep from his nose and his vision continued to blur. He heard footsteps moving fast, but he didn’t care, all he could think about was food.

Delicate hands lifted him up with surprising strength, everything was blurry but he could make out a young woman’s face looking at him despairingly, she spoke words but Aeodor couldn’t hear her but he did recognize the voice, from something…

Carefully the woman placed food into his mouth, Aeodor didn’t know what it was, he didn’t care he just ate.

And then everything. Went. Black.

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