Post by durriedog on Apr 19, 2009 22:54:13 GMT -5
I am writing novel. Critics welcomed! please reveiw first chapter. Been writing it scince grade 4.
The Story
Five tribes stood divided on rich land. Each of the six lands were connected together by one mountain called Kenass Mountain, which could be seen everywhere on the country but underground or inside a home or hovel. To the north, a large bulky land shaped like an apple that had been bitten into held various terrains; rings like those of a target were placed around a central city that belonged to all but the treacherous eastern tribe. This land was called The Wilderness: unconquerable, but with an ancient beauty that captured the minds of adventurers and bards. At the north-east point of the compass there was a dry land shaped like a lick of flame that was little more than one gigantic red dessert that was called Fire Territory. It was the smallest of the lands, owned by short tribesmen and women with browned skin and hair bleached golden-tan by the sun. Then there was a circular land surrounded by volcanoes and mountains that rarely saw the sun. This was the land of the treacherous eastern tribe, the Dark Territory. At the south-south-east there was a thin land that went out further than any of the other tribes, a land loaded with Mineraltear and water in all its variety of forms that was called Water Territory. In the south-west corner, there was a land shaped like a great hoof struck out into the ocean; but of course, as the whole country was raised hundreds of kilometres off sea level, the forest-covered crust of Wilds Territory with its famous jet cliffs would never touch the salt water that was unknown to this world. To the north-west there was a land rich in metals and stones of all values that was shaped like a handful of clay tipped onto the ground, called Rock Territory, owned by a tribe with feather-textured hair. It was very rare to find one of that tribe that was not decent and honourable.
All the people in their tribes were different, and they are not the only inhabitants of the land called Balema. They share their land with objects of myth, elves, dwarves, wyverns, dackodas, charlies, the Oremi and many more assortments of creatures.
This land was in the charge if what was considered the most beautiful and powerful goddess. She was not on her country, as she had been standing for the last 79 700 000 years at the right hand side of her father. She was the daughter of the King God, Zeahous, and was the eldest of three children. At the age of 300 000 she had designed this land, and now, at age 80 000 000, she was to take control of her land.
This goddesses name was Encarata.
Life was going on like normal in Balema. People at markets bustled, avoiding hakeen or horse-drawn carts and glaring at small pick-pocket boys that came near. It the Shrieking Forests in Wilds Territory hunters were being monitored by speckled hallows from above, should they forget to leave their customary offering to Now-or-Never, the Forest-god.
But then a great phoenix burst out of the sky carrying around its neck a pouch containing six horse-sized eggs. Its wings were of fire, its tail of water. Its feathers were of shadow flecked with purple. Tied around its neck and tail was a vine that reached down to stroke the land below and its head and legs were of stone.
The eggs it its pouch were of varying colours – one was a mottled green-brown, like the forest floor being struck by sunlight. One was a calm blue, and had a look of summer waves upon it. One was bronze, with a bird carved in it. One was changing from red to orange to yellow and back again, like an un-focused image of a bonfire. One was black with purple slashed mercilessly across it, glowing and static. One was silver.
People stared up at the bird as it began dropping the eggs, one by one, on each of the Territories. The green was for Wilds – the blue for water. In quick succession, the rest of the eggs were dropped on the appropriate land – all landed with a solid Thunk until there was only one left – the silver one. Every one was looking up at the creature as it circled Kenass Mountain with ease. With exaggerated delicacy, the bird gently paced its pouch – egg and all – onto the flat top of the mountain.
And then the egg cracked.
Everyone’s eyes were drawn towards the egg, as a slender figure stepped out. It shook its long red-tinged violet hair, its silver dragon wings, and its barbed silver tail. The figure tenderly touched the egg once she had stepped free from its discarded shell, for it was indeed a she – the silver shell seemingly melted, seeping slowly down the mountain.
With a great rolling of the wings, Encarata turned to face everyone on Balema at once – don’t ask me how, for I do not know, but at that moment everyone felt as if the goddess was looking directly into their souls. She had glowing red eyes, intelligent and all-knowing, placed under elegant, dark eyebrows. Her face was one of beauty, heart-shaped with plump magenta lips fixed in an amused smile and high cheekbones. At her temples, small, grooved, silver horns swept back from her brow to slightly curl themselves against her head, crowning her. She wore a dark grey dress that seemed to glow many other colours as well. It went down to her mid-shins, and was split from the bottom to around her knees, bordered with swirling silver patterns. On her chest there was an ornate breastplate and on her shins there were just as ornate greaves. Her long fingers were curled around the hilt of a sword, and what a beautiful sword it was. Along the cross-guard there were carvings of detailed dragon scales, tipped with a silver claw. The rain-guard and pommel was studded with sharp fire-opals. The blade was perfect, sharp enough to cut through a falling feather, strong enough to smash diamond like ice.
“Hear me.” Encarata commanded, lifting her regal chin. She sounded fierce for someone who looked like a seventeen year old. Her voice reverberated inside the heads of all, momentarily declaring them deaf.
“I am your goddess, Encarata.” She paused, and that scenic amused smile once again toyed at the corners of her lips. Her eyes changed; she turned from beautiful to gorgeous. Then she seemed to lean in towards us all, the smile teasing us as it raced across her face and over her eyes.
“Meet your maker.” She whispered.
After the explosion, the people of Balema began noticing many changes –
The Water tribe, as they guessed they were now called, screeched as their fingers were pulled together by blue, living webs and then loosened again to reveal their webbed fingers. Many collapsed as their very insides changed and blue-yellow tinged gills, three on each cheek, appeared. Their hair, which had once been blonde, now became transparent and willowy. They instantly threw water from their hands onto the fires, as they could not bear to be near their natural enemy,
The Fire tribes’ eyes became red, but not the red of Encarata’s eyes. This was the red of fire, the glowing red of a furnace. They threw fire into the lakes, dancing in delight as the water evaporated in steam. They had no need for water now; they had no need for any liquid, as they were Fire, and fire and water do not mix. They were never to drink water again! Their temperatures went up almost immediately to a level of warmth that would burn anyone not of their tribe if they held on to long.
The people of the Rock tribe grew until the adults were all above two meters, some surpassing three; they could coax shapes out of the rock with the merest touch. Any fingers, hands, feet, toes or limbs that anyone had lost in the past were replaced with living limbs of iron; any of those body parts that were lost in future would be replaced with living bronze.
The Wilds all grew a claw next to each thumb, and many warriors found that their hair turned red, the brightness of the red determined by how good they were. Many cheeky children found that their hair had turned blonde, their hair changing to match their personality. All the Wilds eyes brightened until they shone like gems. They could suck the life force from the trees around them – they feel a connection with the forest and do not know how they could have possibly gone without it before.
The whites of the Darks eyes turned black, their irises glowing purple. They can not bear the light – they hide behind their hoods, seeing out of shadows. They forbid themselves to smile – they are a deadly tribe, the Treacherous tribe. Their skin turned pale, their lips dark red, their hair darkened so they where little more than a dark, stealthy shadow of their former selves.
Then the other eggs cracked.
Dragons, all the same colour as their egg, mighty wings and powerful jaws, all unique creatures of extraordinary power rushed out of the cracked eggs, trampling people as they hurried to get out of the way. There was way more than the egg could ever have held, all rushing out in a deadly stampede. Some stopped to sniff palms and stood by their chosen human but some rushed off to forests, lakes, mountains, deserts, caves, under ground tunnels. The goddess spoke over it all, calmly, talking straight into the People’s minds.
“Fifth year, fifth month,
With crack of chaos and snap of jaws,
They shall rise, bred by the confusion,
The Dragons, creatures of war,
Valour creatures, arise by hand of the Goddess,
Arise to your fate,
Arise to the coming,
Arise to the Tenth Darkness
Arise in the hands of The Tigress,
The girl with powers beyond that of time,
Of Wilds,
Of Darkness,
Of Water,
Of Fire,
Of Stone,
Follow her to the greatness,
Follow her to the Five that shall take this world from Them again,
Follow the Cat Goddess.”
Thanks.
The Story
Five tribes stood divided on rich land. Each of the six lands were connected together by one mountain called Kenass Mountain, which could be seen everywhere on the country but underground or inside a home or hovel. To the north, a large bulky land shaped like an apple that had been bitten into held various terrains; rings like those of a target were placed around a central city that belonged to all but the treacherous eastern tribe. This land was called The Wilderness: unconquerable, but with an ancient beauty that captured the minds of adventurers and bards. At the north-east point of the compass there was a dry land shaped like a lick of flame that was little more than one gigantic red dessert that was called Fire Territory. It was the smallest of the lands, owned by short tribesmen and women with browned skin and hair bleached golden-tan by the sun. Then there was a circular land surrounded by volcanoes and mountains that rarely saw the sun. This was the land of the treacherous eastern tribe, the Dark Territory. At the south-south-east there was a thin land that went out further than any of the other tribes, a land loaded with Mineraltear and water in all its variety of forms that was called Water Territory. In the south-west corner, there was a land shaped like a great hoof struck out into the ocean; but of course, as the whole country was raised hundreds of kilometres off sea level, the forest-covered crust of Wilds Territory with its famous jet cliffs would never touch the salt water that was unknown to this world. To the north-west there was a land rich in metals and stones of all values that was shaped like a handful of clay tipped onto the ground, called Rock Territory, owned by a tribe with feather-textured hair. It was very rare to find one of that tribe that was not decent and honourable.
All the people in their tribes were different, and they are not the only inhabitants of the land called Balema. They share their land with objects of myth, elves, dwarves, wyverns, dackodas, charlies, the Oremi and many more assortments of creatures.
This land was in the charge if what was considered the most beautiful and powerful goddess. She was not on her country, as she had been standing for the last 79 700 000 years at the right hand side of her father. She was the daughter of the King God, Zeahous, and was the eldest of three children. At the age of 300 000 she had designed this land, and now, at age 80 000 000, she was to take control of her land.
This goddesses name was Encarata.
Life was going on like normal in Balema. People at markets bustled, avoiding hakeen or horse-drawn carts and glaring at small pick-pocket boys that came near. It the Shrieking Forests in Wilds Territory hunters were being monitored by speckled hallows from above, should they forget to leave their customary offering to Now-or-Never, the Forest-god.
But then a great phoenix burst out of the sky carrying around its neck a pouch containing six horse-sized eggs. Its wings were of fire, its tail of water. Its feathers were of shadow flecked with purple. Tied around its neck and tail was a vine that reached down to stroke the land below and its head and legs were of stone.
The eggs it its pouch were of varying colours – one was a mottled green-brown, like the forest floor being struck by sunlight. One was a calm blue, and had a look of summer waves upon it. One was bronze, with a bird carved in it. One was changing from red to orange to yellow and back again, like an un-focused image of a bonfire. One was black with purple slashed mercilessly across it, glowing and static. One was silver.
People stared up at the bird as it began dropping the eggs, one by one, on each of the Territories. The green was for Wilds – the blue for water. In quick succession, the rest of the eggs were dropped on the appropriate land – all landed with a solid Thunk until there was only one left – the silver one. Every one was looking up at the creature as it circled Kenass Mountain with ease. With exaggerated delicacy, the bird gently paced its pouch – egg and all – onto the flat top of the mountain.
And then the egg cracked.
Everyone’s eyes were drawn towards the egg, as a slender figure stepped out. It shook its long red-tinged violet hair, its silver dragon wings, and its barbed silver tail. The figure tenderly touched the egg once she had stepped free from its discarded shell, for it was indeed a she – the silver shell seemingly melted, seeping slowly down the mountain.
With a great rolling of the wings, Encarata turned to face everyone on Balema at once – don’t ask me how, for I do not know, but at that moment everyone felt as if the goddess was looking directly into their souls. She had glowing red eyes, intelligent and all-knowing, placed under elegant, dark eyebrows. Her face was one of beauty, heart-shaped with plump magenta lips fixed in an amused smile and high cheekbones. At her temples, small, grooved, silver horns swept back from her brow to slightly curl themselves against her head, crowning her. She wore a dark grey dress that seemed to glow many other colours as well. It went down to her mid-shins, and was split from the bottom to around her knees, bordered with swirling silver patterns. On her chest there was an ornate breastplate and on her shins there were just as ornate greaves. Her long fingers were curled around the hilt of a sword, and what a beautiful sword it was. Along the cross-guard there were carvings of detailed dragon scales, tipped with a silver claw. The rain-guard and pommel was studded with sharp fire-opals. The blade was perfect, sharp enough to cut through a falling feather, strong enough to smash diamond like ice.
“Hear me.” Encarata commanded, lifting her regal chin. She sounded fierce for someone who looked like a seventeen year old. Her voice reverberated inside the heads of all, momentarily declaring them deaf.
“I am your goddess, Encarata.” She paused, and that scenic amused smile once again toyed at the corners of her lips. Her eyes changed; she turned from beautiful to gorgeous. Then she seemed to lean in towards us all, the smile teasing us as it raced across her face and over her eyes.
“Meet your maker.” She whispered.
After the explosion, the people of Balema began noticing many changes –
The Water tribe, as they guessed they were now called, screeched as their fingers were pulled together by blue, living webs and then loosened again to reveal their webbed fingers. Many collapsed as their very insides changed and blue-yellow tinged gills, three on each cheek, appeared. Their hair, which had once been blonde, now became transparent and willowy. They instantly threw water from their hands onto the fires, as they could not bear to be near their natural enemy,
The Fire tribes’ eyes became red, but not the red of Encarata’s eyes. This was the red of fire, the glowing red of a furnace. They threw fire into the lakes, dancing in delight as the water evaporated in steam. They had no need for water now; they had no need for any liquid, as they were Fire, and fire and water do not mix. They were never to drink water again! Their temperatures went up almost immediately to a level of warmth that would burn anyone not of their tribe if they held on to long.
The people of the Rock tribe grew until the adults were all above two meters, some surpassing three; they could coax shapes out of the rock with the merest touch. Any fingers, hands, feet, toes or limbs that anyone had lost in the past were replaced with living limbs of iron; any of those body parts that were lost in future would be replaced with living bronze.
The Wilds all grew a claw next to each thumb, and many warriors found that their hair turned red, the brightness of the red determined by how good they were. Many cheeky children found that their hair had turned blonde, their hair changing to match their personality. All the Wilds eyes brightened until they shone like gems. They could suck the life force from the trees around them – they feel a connection with the forest and do not know how they could have possibly gone without it before.
The whites of the Darks eyes turned black, their irises glowing purple. They can not bear the light – they hide behind their hoods, seeing out of shadows. They forbid themselves to smile – they are a deadly tribe, the Treacherous tribe. Their skin turned pale, their lips dark red, their hair darkened so they where little more than a dark, stealthy shadow of their former selves.
Then the other eggs cracked.
Dragons, all the same colour as their egg, mighty wings and powerful jaws, all unique creatures of extraordinary power rushed out of the cracked eggs, trampling people as they hurried to get out of the way. There was way more than the egg could ever have held, all rushing out in a deadly stampede. Some stopped to sniff palms and stood by their chosen human but some rushed off to forests, lakes, mountains, deserts, caves, under ground tunnels. The goddess spoke over it all, calmly, talking straight into the People’s minds.
“Fifth year, fifth month,
With crack of chaos and snap of jaws,
They shall rise, bred by the confusion,
The Dragons, creatures of war,
Valour creatures, arise by hand of the Goddess,
Arise to your fate,
Arise to the coming,
Arise to the Tenth Darkness
Arise in the hands of The Tigress,
The girl with powers beyond that of time,
Of Wilds,
Of Darkness,
Of Water,
Of Fire,
Of Stone,
Follow her to the greatness,
Follow her to the Five that shall take this world from Them again,
Follow the Cat Goddess.”
Thanks.
