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Post by Ethan on Jan 31, 2007 19:39:26 GMT -5
Dragonlore: Betrayal
Chapter 1: An Odd Couple
By: Ethan Graham
In the vast and environmentally diverse land of Verdan, are six kingdoms, each inhabited by a dominant race. The six kingdoms are: Andaram, the human kingdom, Ithrim, the kingdom of the elves, Ferrith, land of the gnomes, Oran, the dwarven land, Thatcham, kingdom of the giants, and Transtar, land of the dragons. These kingdoms are divided, not so equally, among the world. Andaram is the largest of the kingdoms, and Ferrith is the smallest, but wealthier than all other kingdoms. Other life does exist outside of the six dominant races, but are forced into the forests, caves, tunnels, and other regions in which the kingdoms do not, or cannot, inhabit.
Andaram was the largest of the six kingdoms, and the kingdom dwelled in by the humans. Andaram was also the latest kingdom to be born in Verdan, dating back roughly a century. When it was initially formed, the kingdom was ruled by the Farrel monarchy. King Farrel was a fair man, who believed in equality and justice. He ruled for a half century, and then passed the Andaram onto his eighteen-year-old son, King Farrel II when he died. Farrel II was unable sire any children, so when he “mysteriously” passed away at the age of forty-five, the kingdom was leaderless. A man named Mortaran was the one who took the throne.
Mortaran was a ruthless leader, a very religious man, and some believed that he had committed regicide in order to come to power. But, it could not be proven. He was twenty-five when he took the kingdom, and, in his glory years, led many armies to victory, in the name of god with the cold steel of his blade, and the magic that he often dabbled in. He was also the one to initiate the war between the dragons and the humans, a war that will wage on for many years. Although his belly has grown, his face has sagged, and his hair has grown gray and balding, he still rules with an iron fist, and a silver cross.
The kingdom of Ithrim is of the oldest kingdoms, which has been around since the beginning of time. There live the elves, an elegant, intelligent, and graceful race. The recipe for an elf would be as followed: take one cup of agility, mix in three cups of grace, add a pound of intelligence, and a dash of magic. Elves are usually fair skinned, blonde haired, blue eyed, and wire framed. In a typical elven community, women are valued more than men. The elven ruler is always a queen, and currently Queen Rianna is ruling. The elves are a race that would be seen as snobby and arrogant, but they call themselves classy. The only other races that elves will socialize with are the gnomes and the dragons. An elven life span is three hundred years of age.
Ferrith is the smallest kingdom in Verdan, and it of average age. The kingdom has been around for five centuries. It is occasionally referred to the “Golden Land”, but is primarily known as the land of the gnomes. Gnomish people are the richest in Verdan, but also the cheapest. Being cheap may perhaps be the reason for their immense wealth. There is an old saying that goes “To separate a gnome form his fortune, is a feat considered a miracle, even to the gods.”
Gnomes are short, and fragile, but none the less a more than worthy adversary. What they lack in height and strength, they make up for in sheer magical ability. A council of seven gnomes, which are elected once every fifty years rule Ferrith. The average life span of a gnome is two hundred years, but in some cases, three hundred years is reached.
Dwarves are stubborn, short, bulky, strong, smelly, obnoxious, loud, and angry creatures. They dwell in a collection of subterranean tunnel systems, known as Oran. Above Oran are mountains, and around it, an ocean. Twenty dwarven people tunneled Oran out of the solid stone earth, seven centuries ago. A dwarf can live for five hundred years, but often do not. Most dwarves die in tunnel collapses. Oran can hardly be called a kingdom, since it has no ruler, but fit is considered one due to the fact that the dwarf army is a strong force that has won many wars.
There are two things that make dwarves unique: their diet, and their tunneling techniques. The, unusual, diet of dwarf consist of rocks, and the various animals they find while tunneling. This diet allows them to dine, and live, in the tunnels they are digging. Dwarven teeth are made strong enough to chew the rock, and their three stomachs allow them to fully digest their food. The tunneling method that they use it also described as “unusual”. When a dwarf goes into the tunnels to work, he-women did not work, they stayed at the homes their husband built for them-would bring with him only a small pickaxe, or hammer. Torches were not brought because dwarves can see in the dark. When a dwarf found the stone in which he would be tunneling through,-dwarves only tunneled through stone because it is a more dense, sturdy material-he would head butt the rock to make a crack, then use his pickaxe or hammer to further shatter his way the stone. Every so often, he would have to head butt the wall again to create a new crack.
A dwarf’s forehead bone is usually six inches thick, and causes the dwarf’s brow to stick out awkwardly. The forehead is able to crack solid stone with one hit without so much as harming the dwarf himself. The reason that they even use the hammers and pickaxes is that too many head butts repeatedly may cause dizziness. The stature of a dwarf is about the same as a gnome, but sturdier and more muscular, with a large head and, often, a slight under bite. Dwarves are not a very social race, due to the fact that they spend their lives underground, only coming up to fight in wars (dwarves love a good fight, it makes them feel alive). Also, dwarves have an aroma that is said to smell like a combination of rotting cabbage, manure, and sweat. The fact that they are obnoxious and rude doesn’t help their social life either.
Thatcham is a kingdom inhabited by the powerful, but unintelligent, race of the giants. The term “giants” is a just a category (much like snakes, or fish). Trolls, ogres, golems, and other large creatures (i.e. giant spiders) are part of the giant family. Thatcham is ruled under a dictatorship, leadership is not chosen, or assigned, it is taken. In the kingdom of the giants, a leader would be considered “lucky” to rule for more than three months. The average reign of a leader is so low that eighty percent of them are overthrown (killed) within one month of their becoming leader.
The giants are considered evil, and with good reason. A horde of giants, usually a mix of ogres, trolls, but occasionally golems and other giants will tag along, go on a killing spree throughout Verdan every year. It is a ritual that was created to show the raw power of the giant race. On their rampage, they end hundreds of lives and eat many human people (most giants are carnivores with a taste for human flesh). The object of this “holiday” is to see how many people can be killed before the horde is brought down. A team of six trolls, four ogres, and a steel golem holds the current record of nine hundred sixty-four deaths within two days.
Although giants are cold-blooded killers, they are a worthy adversary, and a sought after ally in wars. The giants have yet to participate in any war, but have had many offers to become temporary allies. Giants do not live very long, forty years seems to be the limit for the healthiest of giants. Giants have been around since the dawn of time, but the kingdom is only a century old.
Lastly, Transtar is the kingdom of the dragons. This is also an old kingdom, one that was formed around the same time as Ithrim. Dragons are described as winged, fire breathing lizards, but are much more. A dragon is the perfect combination of grace and power. A dragon can grow to a length of fifty feet, a height of thirty feet, and can weigh up to one and a half tons. The one trait that all dragons have in common is yellow eyes. It is the trademark feature of and dragonic creature.
Dragons come in one of six different types: red, blue, green, black, purple, or white. Each species have their own set of physical and mental characteristics. For example, red dragons are smaller than other dragons, and they are prone to excessive anger, While blue dragons aren’t as muscular as other dragons, and they are logical and arrogant. The different types of dragons also have one other thing that no dragon of a different colour has. That is what the dragons refer to “the dragonic birthright.”
The dragonic birthright was an ability that handed down to the dragons of a certain colour. The birthright for black dragons is strength, one black dragon has the strength of ten dragons. Green dragons have unrivaled speed and agility, while blue dragons have unrivaled intelligence. A purple dragon inherits psychic ability (telepathy, and sometimes telekinesis). White dragons have specialize in healing magic, and red dragons have the ability to go into a rage that increases speed and strength enormously, but block out all rational thought.
The dragonic society is ruled by a leader, male or female, which is chosen by the public to reign. This leader makes all the important decisions, but has a council of advisors that give him the options he/she has to choose from. Transtar is a peaceful land, with large cities, and a small population. Dragons can only produce an offspring every seven years, and even then, there is a chance that the egg will not hatch. This is because time is nothing to a dragon. An average dragonic life span is one thousand years of age.
There was a time when Verdan was at peace, but, sadly, the peace did not thrive for very long. Soon, natural resources were being depleted. Gold, silver, and bronze coins were created as a form of currency. The kingdoms grew restless, and greed took over. Everyone wanted land, gold, and/or power. And they were willing to kill to get it. So, after one too many arguments, wars broke out. Greed was not the only factor for the wars. Pure, undiluted hatred was another cause. Because different races had different religions and beliefs, people of other religions thought them to be blasphemous, and evil.
A loud thud tore the unusually still silence in the warm, dry, summer evening air on the outskirts of the small farming village, Saskarette. The noise was off to the north, but it was still audible from miles away. Another shortly followed it, even louder than the one before. Whatever it was, it was getting closer, fast. After a string of loud thuds, each louder than its successor, and each keeping a slow, rhythmic tempo, a shadow loomed over the furtive farmland. The eerie shadow stole up behind an old, weather-battered house, and engulfed it in its darkness.
It was a small house, pentagonal in shape, and in awful condition. The five windows on the house-two in the front of the house, and one on the other four walls- were small, rectangular, grime covered, and, in the case of two of them, broken. Most of the shingles that should have been on the roof, protecting the occupants on the house from the precipitation that would otherwise seep through the ceiling, were missing. They laying shattered on the ground below, and the few shingles that held their important positions were worn, cracked, and on the verge of falling to meet there fellow brethren. The outer walls were covered in a sickly yellow, much like the colour of urine, paint that was in the process of peeling, revealing the rotting oak walls beneath.
Coupled with an unkempt, brown-grassed, lawn, overflowing with weeds and crab grass, was a withered, foul smelling garden, and an air of poverty about the property. The owners of this house, if there were anyone in who would live in such filth, obviously did not care about how they were perceived by the public. This did not matter, mostly because the house was the only building, if it deserved to be called one, within miles. Saskarette was not too far off, two, maybe three miles at most, but that didn’t mean that the house got any visitors. Forest surrounded the north, east, and west hemispheres of the property, with Saskarette to the south.
As the far less than mediocre home was bathed in the shadow, a creature began to decline towards the ground. The mysterious creature was as large as two adult African elephants. Each time it beat its translucent red wings, the deafening thud roared through the dry air. The flying beast was covered in scarlet scales with the look of newly polished metal. Its dangerously sharp talons and ivory white teeth glistened in the evening sunlight. The massive, scarlet beast had long, thorn like spikes, running up its tail and ending in a large spike, not unlike a rhino’s horn, on its nose. This magnificent creature was unmistakably a dragon.
As the dragon landed on the weed stricken lawn, its talons dug into the earth. The surrounding grass was forced downward by wind created by the mighty fan like wings of the scarlet beast. Moments after the dragon landed, the large, ferocious beast was engulfed in thick black smog that smelled of ash and brimstone. Emerging from the smog was a tall, thin man with pale skin and light blonde hair. The man had yellow eyes, and a long, slender face. He was a handsome man, with no visible flaws in his appearance. He wore a purple, velvet coat over a white dress shirt. Along with his black slacks was a pair of polished, leather dress shoes. He looked to be a nobleman. When the smoke cleared, the lawn was as it was only minutes before. It seemed as if the man was the scarlet dragon.
The man walked towards the old, battered house with an air of unsurpassed dignity. It seemed that he ignored the obvious problems with the property, as if it was his own. When he reached the rotten wood of the front door, he pushed it aside and stepped into the front hall. The inside of the house matched the outside in almost every way. A dull, gray hall led off in three directions. The first led off to the immediate right of the transformed dragon, to a dangerous looking staircase that went to a second floor. The stairs did not look like they would hold more than sixty pounds of weight.
A bit further up the hallway was a room to the left. It was a grubby looking kitchen with grease stained floors and a dirty wood stove in the far right corner. There was an equally dirty table in the middle of the room surrounded by three wooden chairs. Then the hallway went straight and into a small sitting room with a dusty, black wicker couch and a water damaged table to its right. This is where the dragon went.
Sitting on the wicker couch was a pretty, young woman with brown, mousy hair and loving, hazel eyes. She was wearing a simple, gray nightgown with a pair of stained gray dress pants. Despite her lack of fashion she was a very beautiful woman. She had a small nose and an unmarked, pale face. In her arms she cradled a bundle of clean, sky blue sheets wrapped around a crying, baby boy. When the dragon entered the room she was singing a lullaby, frantically trying to get her baby to sleep. She looked up at him and a warm smile instantly sprung to life on her face. The dragon returned the smile in return.
“Oh good, you’re home,” she said in a cheery voice. “Kelmac is just getting to bed, but he doesn’t seem to want to go to sleep. Maybe you might have better luck with him Leon. I sure hope so because I need a nap more than he does. I haven’t slept since you left last night.”
“I’ll try Amanda,” Leon said smiling slightly. His voice was smooth and calm.
He walked over to Kelmac and scooped him into his arms. The baby fell asleep within moments. Amanda walked over to the dragon and kissed him on the cheek.
“My hero,” she said giggling slightly before sitting back down.
Leon’s voice adopted a more serious tone. “Amanda, are we actually ready for this baby?”
Amanda looked at him, a little less cheerful than before. “We’ll be fine Leon. We can fix this place up and raise Kelmac right. We can paint the walls, tend to the garden and lawn, and maybe even put a tire swing in the front yard.”
“I don’t mean the house. I mean Kelmac being a half dragon, as some call them. We cannot risk the villagers finding about us, or they will kill us and Kelmac. For the time being his half dragon features have not gown in yet, and will not for many years. It’s only that they can come as young as fourteen years of age. When they do appear, how are we going to explain to him that he is half dragon half-human, and cannot go into Saskarette anymore? The features of a half dragon are easy to spot and, you know as well as I do that the villagers will not hesitate to kill the “Mutant”, as what all half creatures are called. Especially a half dragon, what with the war raging between humans and dragons. What are we going to do?” Asked Leon, sounding concerned.
Amanda shifted to the side trying not to make eye contact with him. “I don’t know. All I know is that as your wife, I have to be with you and Kelmac. Through thick and thin. We’ll make it. If not, couldn’t we go to the dragon capital and stay there for a while until the war dies down, or until Kelmac can be excepted for what he is?”
Leon straightened up, also trying not to make eye contact with his wife. “That’s where I went, to see the elder dragons to ask just that. Unfortunately, Kelmac cannot begin his training from the dragons until his seventeenth birthday, after he has grown his half dragon features. And only then can we go to Sairan, the dragon capital. But you are right Amanda, as long as we are a family we will be all right,” he managed to finish with a broad smile, exposing gleaming white, slightly pointed teeth.
“I love you,” Amanda said, standing up and walking over to her husband’s arms.
“I love you too, Amanda.” Leon replied, kissing her gently on the forehead.
“You know, you are the most handsome and sweet dragon in the world. And you’re just as cute in your human form.” She said staring up into Leon’s yellow eyes. They made her feel warm, like everything was going to work out in their favor.
“I know,” Leon chortled, “I know.”
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Post by Techy on Feb 3, 2007 22:56:56 GMT -5
I like it! You have a really good imagination.
Okay, I have a hint. Try making the first half, where you're describing this world be the prologue. It may make it easier to read.
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Post by Ethan on Feb 3, 2007 22:58:49 GMT -5
that was a concern of many people who read it, but then my first ch. is only a few pages long
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Post by Ethan on Feb 4, 2007 11:08:12 GMT -5
Chapter 2: One Last Kiss
It took Leon and Amanda a little over two years to turn their weather battered house into an environment in which they could raise Kelmac properly. In that time, they repainted the outer walls of the house a peacock blue, put new shingles on the roof, and tended to the lawn. Amanda was even able to plant flowers and herbs in the garden. The inside of the house was also drastically changed.
The dull gray interior was now a combination of violet, yellow, and forest green. Leon replaced the unsafe, rotting stairs with new cedar wood he collected from a nearby forest. The dirty, grease stained kitchen was now a light pale green. They cleaned the wood stove, floors, and table, making the room much more cheery than dreary. The living room was now a pale violet that complemented the new furniture they found in Saskarette. The once grubby house was now a small slice of suburbia that they could call their own.
All was well for Leon and Amanda. They residents of Saskarette were blissfully unaware of the dragon living just on the boarder of the village. They just thought of them as a newlywed couple, too madly in love to leave their house for more that the necessities of life. Because Leon left the house so rarely that they had no reason to suspect he wasn’t human. At least that’s what they hoped.
Their half dragon son, Kelmac had so far lived a normal life. Amanda took him into Saskarette when she went to get food and other things that she needed to make a living. Kelmac was able to go into town because he was only three years old, and half dragon features were not going to show for at least eleven years. The young half dragon had a fairly normal life. He had dirty blonde hair, blue eyes, and a look of dignity that came directly from his father.
Kelmac had already learned to walk, and he loved to clumsily stroll around the house when his mother was busy, or had fallen asleep from a long day of tending to Kelmac’s every need. He had also learned his first words, and was now talking in crude sentences that usually came out as normal baby gibberish.
Every morning, Amanda would get Kelmac from his crib, which was in his sky blue room, and bring him down into the kitchen for his breakfast. Today was no exception. Amanda strolled into Kelmac’s room and over to his chestnut crib that Leon carved for him.
“How are you today Kelmac? Are you hungry?” She asked in a babyish tone.
“Hungry,” Kelmac said giving Amanda a broad smile and reaching his chubby arms out to her.
“Okay then, let’s go get some breakfast. Daddy is out catching some fish for dinner later tonight, so it’s just you and me today.”
She scooped Kelmac up in her arms and, after blowing a raspberry on his stomach, and hearing his cries of delight, walked happily down the stairs and into the kitchen. She placed him in a chair by the table and went to work making the meal. Kelmac fidgeted happily in his chair, looking all around the room. The brown haired woman set two plates of eggs on the table, one for her and one for Kelmac. Like most babies, Kelmac played with his food. When he was finished there were more eggs on the floor and his face than in his stomach.
“Kelmac, did you make a mess again?” Amanda said as she took the plated and washed them before cleaning up the mess on the floor.
“I make mess,” Kelmac giggled, banging his hands merrily on the table.
After she was done, she took her half dragon son out into the yard so he could play. While she tended to her garden, Kelmac played happily in the grass, rolling, laughing and otherwise having a great time. Just as Amanda was about to pull the weeds out of the soil of her garden, Leon came into view; he was soaring over the house, his scales glistening in the morning sun. The dragon landed on the opposite side of the house and confidently made his way over to Amanda, carrying a bundle if fish, tied together with twine, over his shoulder. He wore a proud look on his noble features.
“Hi honey,” Amanda said to her husband, “how did you manage to catch all that fish?”
“It was really quite ingenious, if I do say so myself. First I went over to the stream in the forest and blocked of a section of the stream that had fish in it with large rocks. Then, I heated up the water, killing, and partly cooking, the fish. After that gathering them up was a simple task. By the way,” he asked, pointing to the bundle of fish as he held it out in front oh himself, “where should I put these?”
“In the cellar dear, I’ll cook them later tonight.”
“Okay, I’ll be right back,” he said walking out of view.
After a few minutes he returned from the cellar. Leon looked troubled, as if he remembered something awful that had slipped his mind before. He knelt in front on Amanda, grasping her hand, staring into her eyes. When he spoke, he spoke in a low, quiet, serious voice.
“I have to talk to you, something happened on my way to get the fish.”
“What is it Leon? Is it bad? Please tell me it’s not bad.” She said, her voice full of concern.
“Unfortunately, it is bad, very bad. On my way to get the fish today, I was careless and…” he paused.
“And what Leon?” Amanda asked, staring into the dragon’s yellow eyes.
“And,” Leon continued, “I was seen, or at least I think I was. A young boy was playing out near the house, about a quarter of a mile out. When I left the house, he saw me as I was transforming and taking off, he looked in my direction, then ran off. He might not have seen me, but chances are, that he has. Chances are he has already told the rest of the villagers of Saskarette.”
Amanda looked utterly shocked. She pulled her hands away from Leon and ran them through her brown hair.
“What are we going to do?” she asked in a dream like voice.
“Well at the moment we can’t do anything. Because we don’t know for sure, all we can do is wait. If he saw, and told the villagers, they won’t come until tonight. For some reason humans like to form angry mobs at night. I think that the thought of having shear numbers, holding torches and pointy objects, I don’t know why, they just do. Anyway, I’m rambling now, but, as I was saying, for now we are safe. If they come, we need a plan. I’m going to have to figure one out. I think it’s best if we stay in the house.”
Leon headed for the front door. Amanda scooped Kelmac up in her arms and followed him silently. They spent the rest of the day in the house as Leon had advised. Amanda spent the day playing with Kelmac, while Leon spent the day sitting at the kitchen table trying to figure out a coarse of action they should take. By the time the sun was setting, and the moon became visible, the occupants of the house were filled with anxiety and sorrow.
Leon and Amanda were left to helplessly wait out the inevitable, while their son played happily in the living room. Long, silent hours went by, without any sign of an angry mob of villagers coming their way. After three hours of silence Leon let out a long, half-relieved sigh.
“I guess the boy didn’t see me. We were lucky Amanda,” he said, walking into the living room.
“Yes, we were. Very lucky indeed,” the brown haired woman said. Although she verbally agreed with her husband, she still sounded unsure. Leon apparently noticed this.
“Amanda, if he had seen me, and if he did alert the villagers, there would be an angry mob outside our door by now. They wouldn’t have waited this long. I know this because they wouldn’t want me to have left by now.”
“I know Leon, it’s just that…” she stopped talking. She sat quietly as if straining to hear something.
“What is it dear?” asked the red dragon.
“Listen.” She said quietly, putting her index finger to her lips.
Leon could see the terrified expression on his wife’s face and strained to listen also. In the distance was a faint yelling of ten or fifteen people, he could not tell exactly how many. He stood up so fast it made Amanda jump. He then rushed to the front door, and opened it a crack.
He could see the eerie glow of torches in the night. They illuminated a group of men, carrying crude weapons, mostly pitch forks and shovels. Some of the villagers were carrying bows and arrow quivers slung over their backs. They walked toward the house, shouting a sentence over and over again. As they approached he could make out their chant. Kit was faint but he distinctly heard.
“Kill the dragon! Spill its blood! Kill the dragon! Spill its blood!”
Leon’s face twisted into a grimace. He ran back through the hall and into the living room where Amanda was cradling Kelmac. When she saw the look on his noble face, she put her half dragon son onto the floor. He ran off to go play. Amanda stood walking over to Leon.
“What’s wrong Leon?” She asked sounding very concerned.
“The villagers. They’ve formed an angry mob and are coming this way.” He said quietly, trying to remain calm.
Amanda was holding back tears. “What are we going to do.”
“I am going to fly out of here and lead them away from you and Kelmac. When they ask you what’s going on, you are going to tell them that I forced you to let me stay here. You will tell them that I said that if you told them I would kill you and your son. You will cry, and make it as believable as possible. And whatever happens, you will not mention the fact that Kelmac is half dragon.”
Amanda could no longer hold the tears back. They streamed down her face as her lips quivered with fear. “No! I won’t do it. I’m your wife, and I will not stand by as you risk your life. You will hide in the house and I’ll deny everything.”
“That won’t work. They will certainly check the house. The only way for you and Kelmac to survive is if they chase me away from the house. They probably won’t be able to catch me if I fight back. It’s the only way that ensures your safety as well as Kelmac’s.”
“But what about yours? What if they manage to catch you? They will kill you!”
“Amanda, please listen. It has to be this way.”
“No! It doesn’t!” She yelled.
“Listen!” Shouted Leon. He then calmed his voice, “If I stay, they will burn down the house, with all of us inside. Out of us all, I might survive. But then what? My life would be ruined because the two people I love would be dead. If I die while fleeing, I’d know that you would be safe. That is more important to me. You and Kelmac are more important to me that myself. I would do anything to save you, even if it costs me my life. You must understand Amanda, without you my life is meaningless. So I will go, and if I live, I will be back in a week,” he rummaged through his pockets, and pulled out a beige envelope, “But if I do not live, give this to Kelmac when his half dragon features come in. It will explain everything. And most of all Amanda, remember that I love you more that anything is this world. The years I have spent with you have been the happiest years of my life. All three hundred of them.” By the time he finished speaking, tears were sliding down his face.
Amanda knew it was impossible to change her husband’s mind. She took the envelope, and wiped the tears from her eyes. She gave Leon a weak smile.
“You always have been stubborn,” she said trying to sound happy, but to no avail.
The villagers’ morbid chant was getting louder. “Kill the dragon! Spill its blood! Kill the dragon! Spill its blood!”
The house was soon bathed in the glow from the torches. Leon straightened up. “That’s my cue,” he said weakly.
He turned to leave, but Amanda grabbed him by the arm. He turned around and was about to speak when Amanda pressed her body against his and kissed him.
When she removed her lips from his she said, “One last kiss, just in case I don’t see you again.”
Leon smiled, “Don’t worry, I’ll see you soon,” and with that, he turned and left the house.
Amanda ran to the front door opening it to watch him go. Leon ran out of he house, and was soon engulfed in thick black smog. Emerging from the smog was the magnificent scarlet dragon with translucent red wings.
The dragon jumped into the air, ferociously beating his wings. He flew towards the villagers, who raise their weapons and armed their bows. A stream of red flames erupted from the dragon’s mouth, and headed for the angry mob ahead. Within seconds the mob was ablaze. The villagers screamed and writhed as the frantically attempted to extinguish the flames, but to know avail. The dragon hung a sharp right and headed east, away from the house.
Amanda gave a deep sigh of relief as her husband flew away. The dragon seemed happy also until a second group of villagers appeared in front of him. They were not carrying torches, only bows, so Leon did not see them until it was to late. The men post east of the house were only visible to Amanda when Leon illuminated the surrounding with a jet of fire that missed the men.
Suddenly flares began to flood the area with a pale neon green light, revealing a group of ten or so hunters holding drawn long bows, ready to fire and a smaller group of villagers holding the flares. Leon had not expected this team of more advanced archers. To make the matters worse the flares had temporarily blinded him, so he could not fly away. He was a sitting duck, and he knew the end was near. Although the hunters’ arrowheads were not of great make, Leon was close enough to the ground for them to be fatal.
The hunters’ arrows flew towards Leon, piercing his translucent wing and scarlet body. The dragon roared in pain as more arrows were fired into his wings. Leon attempted to fly higher, but was much too injured to allow him to do this. The red dragon gave a painful cry before plummeting out of the sky and landing limply on the cold ground. The hunters took this moment and, after pulling out long swords sheathed at their sides’, charged Leon.
It was a brutal scene to watch. The hunters mercilessly hacked at Leon’s neck, making sure he was dead. The dragon’s hide put up a good fight, but was soon breached by the concentrated steel of the swords. In a matter of moments, the once proud red dragon was decapitated.
Amanda started to cry. She felt so helpless. Her husband was killed in front of her eyes and all she could do was watch. Two of the villagers not burned by Leon’s first attack jogged over to her, breathing heavily.
“What happened ma’am?” One of them said as they approached.
“The dragon came into my home, and he said that if I told anyone he was here he would kill me and my son, Kelmac. I’m sorry for causing all this trouble by not telling sooner, but I feared my life and the life of my child,” she spoke in the most helpless voice she could make.
The second villager put his hand on her shoulder. “It will be alright, we have slain the dragon. He will trouble you know more.”
Amanda began to cry even more now, “Good,” she said, holding back tears. “Now I can sleep in peace.”
After many more questions, and a routine check of the house, the villagers were off. The next morning the charred remains of the first group were taken away and buried, and Amanda was left alone. Leon’s remains were simply burned, and then disposed of in a nearby river. It was hardly what he deserved.
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Post by Techy on Feb 4, 2007 11:27:19 GMT -5
Awe. Tis sad.
It's a really good story, you should keep working on it. And I've seen chapters that have barely been a page long before, so don't fret.
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Post by Ethan on Feb 4, 2007 11:29:13 GMT -5
well then, I won't fret...
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Post by Ethan on Feb 4, 2007 13:27:42 GMT -5
Chapter 3: Strange Markings
The next couple of years, after Leon’s death, were hard for Amanda. For the first two years, all she would do was mope around the house crying. Her garden died, and so had her zest for life. She even treated Kelmac differently. She stopped waking him up with a smile, and just let him sleep until he was ready to wake. She would still bring him downstairs and make him breakfast, but it was not in the cheerful way she used to.
She acted this way until Kelmac’s fifth birthday. She had been too upset to do anything special for him. So, when he found out he had no special anything planned for him on his birthday, the half dragon ended up spending the whole day in his room crying because he thought his mother didn’t love him any longer.
This is what made Amanda decide to change things in her life. The next day, she threw Kelmac a small party for Kelmac’s belated birthday. After that, her zest for life seemed renewed. Amanda replanted her garden, and began her morning ritual with her son again. For the first time in two years she was happy, and so was her son.
The next ten years of Kelmac’s life were happy ones. He had grown into his teenage body well. He had long, messy, dirty blonde hair and blue eyes. He had a thin muscular body, with pale skin. He had gone through a growth spurt and was now five feet, ten inches tall, and he weighed one hundred and thirty pounds. Luckily his half dragon features hadn’t started to grow yet, but it was only a matter of time before they did. * * * *
The day started out like any other for Kelmac. His mother woke him up from a particularly peaceful dream about meeting his father, and them having a good time together. He had this dream a lot. He was too young to remember his father before he died, and he often wondered about what he was like. His mother only told him that he was a traveler, and he died when he got into an argument with a villager, and the man killed him. Amanda never told Kelmac what really happened, mostly because Leon said that the letter would explain everything. Whenever the half dragon tried to find out more about his father, Amanda ended up crying, so he did not try too often.
After slipping on a pair of blue denim pants and a black short sleeved shirt, Kelmac walked lazily into the kitchen where his mother was already in the middle of making breakfast. At first the brown haired woman did not seem to notice him, so he decided to just sit at the table quietly. When Amanda turned around holding a plate of eggs, she jumped at the sight of him, almost dropping the plate.
“Oh my,” she gasped, “you scared me there Kelmac. I almost dropped your breakfast.”
“Sorry mom,” he said, half-laughing. His voice was calm and smooth, like his father’s.
“It’s ok honey,” she said placing the plate in front of him, “Here you go, eggs and bread. Not exactly gourmet, but good none the less.”
“Thanks mom,” he said, already starting on his food.
Amanda put her plate on the table opposite him. The two of them ate in silence until Amanda spoke. “Kelmac, today I need you to go the market in town and buy some herbs. We are almost out, and my herbs in the garden haven’t grown yet. And I want you to buy them and come right home, ok?”
“Ok mom, I will,” replied Kelmac through a mouthful of eggs.
“Oh Kelmac, don’t talk with your mouth full of food, it’s rude. I thought I taught you better than that.”
He swallowed his food, “Sorry mom.”
When he finished his food, the half dragon collected up his dishes and put them in the sink full of water by the stove. He then retrieved his leather shoes and put them on. After he collected the money from his mother, and kissed her on the cheek, he was off.
Kelmac’s house was about two miles out from Saskarette, and fortunately there was a trail leading to the village from the house. The trail was bare and clearly visible in the summer morning light. The half dragon knew that this way would lead him into Saskarette. Kelmac followed the trail without passing a single person, the reason for that was that no one came out this way because it was in the middle of nowhere and the trail stopped at the house. The half dragon walked energetically, and after twenty minutes he covered the two-mile distance and was entering Saskarette.
Saskarette wasn’t a glamorous village; it was simple and quite boring. The village was made up of small, old cottages spaced close together. Between the houses were small alleyways where the residents of the town dumped their garbage. Littered among the houses were various shops and an inn called the Prancing Leprechaun. Nothing to extravagant, just a blacksmith’s, a produce shop, a small weapon and shields shop, and a butcher. The houses, shops, and the inn were arranged in two parallel lines that went straight through the village from one end to another. Between them was a bustling crowd of villagers, going about their morning duties.
Among the crowd were: mothers buying groceries with their children following close behind, shop owners bustling about to get much needed supplies, villagers buying various items, and a mix of people not in those groups. Kelmac approached the morning rush with a sense of ever growing claustrophobia. Because he was raised in a house with just his mother and himself and got no visitors, he never got used to crowds and not having space to move around.
He walked past the first four buildings: two houses, the blacksmiths, and a weapon shop, and arrived at the herbalist shack. It was a small, dirty, shed like structure that smelled heavily of incense. In place of the door was a velvety red curtain drawn across the hole. Behind the house was a small herb garden. Kelmac pushed the curtain aside and entered the shop.
The inside wasn’t glamorous, but it had an air of mystery, which made it impossible not to look around. On the right and left sides of the small one room shop were covered in shelves, most of which holding strangely coloured plants and jars filled with thick cloudy gelatin. In the back of the room was a tall front desk with a bookshelf four feet behind it. On the shelf were an assortment of books from Eatable fungi of the Forest of Tirman to 1001 magical healing herbs and how to mix the potions.
While he was reading the titles of the books not covered in dust, an old woman came into the shop from the front door. Kelmac turned around when he heard her entering. She was tall with long gray hair reaching down to her knees. She had brown eyes and a dream like expression on her face. The woman was wearing a long, hemp gown that almost ran down to her feet.
“Hello there, sorry I wasn’t here sooner, but I was in the back collecting herbs for some healing potions I plan on making a bit later,” she said in a dreamy voice. The herbalist then walked behind the desk and placed her hands on the top, “Well, how can I help you young man?”
“I need a variety of herbs. Among them, I need dill, rosemary, and mint,” the half dragon said to the old herbalist.
“Coming right up sir.”
The old woman walked over to a shelf on the right wall and began collecting the various herbs that were ordered. Once, she had to walk around the room, searching for mint leaves. It took her a little under three minutes to get the necessary herbs hat Kelmac wanted.
“Here you are, sir. That will be two copper pieces,” said the old woman when she got back behind her desk.
She handed Kelmac a small, brown paper bag full of the herbs. The half dragon searched his pockets for the money his mother had given to him and reached out to give her two copper pieces. Once she took the money and thanked him she asked, “What’s that strange rash on your skin? I’ve never seen anything it before.”
Kelmac had no idea what the woman was talking about, that is until he looked at his outstretched hand. Kelmac’s once pale wrist was now covered in flaking, dry, wrinkly, pink flesh. The rash started at the base of his index finger, and continued down seven inches past his wrist. The skin was starting to change colour in some places, turning a pale maroon. The half dragon looked on his other arm to see if it had spread. On his left wrist was an exact, mirror image of the rash on his other hand, down to the areas where the colour was changing.
“I have no clue what it is. I don’t remember having it when I walked in. Maybe it’s an allergic reaction to something in here,” he said, staring at his hands, he was intrigued by the patterns and colours.
“Well, I have to get going,” said the half dragon. “My mom is waiting for these.” He picked up the bag of herbs and left the shop.
“Come again soon,” the herbalist said waving her hand in the air.
All the way home Kelmac examined his hands and watched the very slow growth of the rash. The dry, wrinkling, flaking rash was slowly creeping up his arm like an expert assassin stalking his prey. Kelmac wondered where he got it. He wasn’t allergic to anything, at least as far as he knew he wasn’t. By the time he reached his house, the strange rash had engulfed half of his wrists and hands. The skin had gone past Pink and was now a deep maroon. At this point the half dragon was getting worried. If it was just an allergic reaction, it would be getting better because he left the shop not worse. Kelmac walked into the house and over into the living room, where he saw a brown haired woman sitting in a rocking chair, knitting what looked to be a pink sweater.
“I hope that isn’t for me,” Kelmac joked.
“Not if you keep up that attitude it isn’t,” Amanda laughed, looking up. “What happened to your hands? It looks like you’ve burned yourself. Does it hurt?” said Kelmac’s mother, looking quite concerned
“It actually doesn’t hurt at all. I didn’t even notice it until the herbalist lady pointed it out. I thought it was an allergic reaction from the shop at first, but it has only gotten worse.”
Amanda’s face turned pale, and sweat began to form on her brow. “Kelmac, I think you should just go to your room and practice you reading and writing until dinner is ready, I’m probably going to spend the rest of the day in the garden tending to the flowers and herbs I’m trying to grow. Then around five O’clock I’ll start cooking the fish we bought in town the other day for dinner.”
“Ok mom, I’ll see you around dinnertime,” he said as he walked out of the room. Kelmac had noticed the distressed look on his mother’s face. So after he left the room, he turned back and walked to the doorway and peered in.
Amanda had abandoned the pink sweater, and was now standing with her back facing her son, and staring at a wall. Her arm was near her face, and Kelmac assumed she was biting her nails, which was something she did when she was very upset or anxious.
The half dragon teenager decided to do what is mother told him and went to practice his reading and writing. On his way up the stairs to his room, he couldn’t help wonder what had troubled his mother so. It was obvious to Kelmac that it had to do with him and his rash by the way she looked after he talked about it. But what could be so bad about the harmless rash? He glanced at his wrists, the strange rash had moved further up his arms and was changing colour to the deep maroon on the other parts of his wrists. Whatever it was, it wasn’t hurting, or even irritating him at all. He decided to not think about it and focus on his studies.
It was around three O’clock when Kelmac started to get bothered by the rash on his arm. It wasn’t a painful sensation, just itchy and otherwise annoying. Kelmac looked up from his studies and over to his arms. The maroon blotches on his arms had now started to grow small bumps the size of pinheads. Kelmac scratched the irritated arm, then turned back to his studies.
His mother had started to teach him how to read and write after his fourteenth birthday. She had learned how by her parents, who were wealthy tavern owners in Saskarette. Ever since the young half dragon started to learn, his thirst for knowledge was never quenched. He first learned basic writing and reading, but gradually worked his way up to more challenging material. Kelmac loved to read, it made him feel as if he was in a different world, watching events go by. He mainly read fictional books; most of them were epic tales about sorcery, dragons, and other mythical beasts. Of courses Kelmac did not believe any of this, he just liked the idea of a different world where things are not as they seem.
Sometimes he longed for the thrill of new things and adventures, but the closest he got to an adventure was fishing in the stream. Still, Kelmac wondered what his life would be like if he was destined to be a hero, but Kelmac knew that would never happen. However, that didn’t stop him imagining it.
Kelmac remained in his room reading a copy of Adventures in Sairan by Ethlor Gramming. He had received the book for his fifteenth birthday present, and had already read it three times. It was the chronicles of a heroic ship captain named Hugo Kiln. In the book, Hugo sailed to the legendary land of dragons called Sairan, located somewhere to the east of Saskarette. Kelmac had just gotten to a part in the book in which Hugo was fighting a horde of angry orcs, when Amanda called him down for dinner.
“Coming mom,” he said, closing the book and placing it on his bed.
He walked down stairs and sat at the kitchen table for dinner. While they were eating, neither Kelmac nor Amanda spoke much. Amanda still looked worried, but did not express her emotions in words. Kelmac was starting to think that the rash was more serious than he had originally believed.
The rest of the night was also full of silence for Kelmac. Amanda had spent the rest of the day knitting the pink sweater Kelmac saw her working on earlier. Meanwhile Kelmac finished his book, and then contemplated what he would do if the rash was serious. By the time his eyes were heavy with fatigue, he had come up with no better plan than to wait it out and hope for it to disappear. So, that is what he decided to do. Almost the second he slumped onto his bed, he drifted off to sleep.
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Post by Ethan on Feb 4, 2007 13:28:58 GMT -5
Chapter 4: The Letter
Kelmac had hoped that in the morning the strange rash would have long been gone. It wasn’t. Kelmac was awoken in the morning, not by his mother, but by very annoying itch on his neck. Kelmac grunted and tried to ignore it, desperate to get a few more undisturbed minutes of sleep, but to no avail. So he gave in to the itching and scratched his neck, but he did not feel his normal fleshy neck, his neck was now dry and rough. It was as if it was covered in scales.
Kelmac jumped out of bed in alarm and ran over to a mirror at the far side of his room. The reflection in the mirror terrified Kelmac. His old body was completely different than before. His hair had changed from its usual dirty blonde, and was now a deep scarlet. His eyes were yellow, and his fingernails were long and sharp. The most shocking part of this new change was the fact that there were shining scarlet scales on parts of his body. His arms were engulfed in the scarlet scales up to his elbows, and his legs were scaly up to his knees. He had irregular patches of the scales on his neck, and face. He tore of his shirt to see if anymore of his body had turned reptilian. Kelmac’s muscular torso was also covered with irregular patches of scales. He had a large spot that covered almost the entire front of his torso, and after turning around, saw that his back completely covered with the scarlet armor like scales.
In a last, desperate attempt at a logical reason, Kelmac pinched his upper arm. He wasn’t awoken from a dream, the only thing pinching managed to do was give him a quick shot of pain. Kelmac saw and heard the lizard like creature in the mirror say, “This can’t be real.”
As he spoke, Kelmac noticed some other changes in his appearance. His teeth were sharp and eerily white. Also he saw that his tongue was now forked and was slightly longer than before.
Kelmac fell onto his scaly knees, “I’m hideous,” he thought, sobbing into his scaly hands.
Tears streamed down into his hands. He closed his eyes and wiped away the tears. Sniffing heavily, he stood and tried to compose himself. He decided that he would go into town today and ask around. Maybe someone would know what was happening to him and knew how it could be cured. Unfortunately, he knew only to well that he would be referred to as a “mutant”. His mother had told him how most humans thought that anything not completely human was against nature. They also thought that anything only partly human was even worse, they referred to them as mutants.
Kelmac did not think this way though. He was raised to think that everyone was equal and should be treated with respect. Yet he heard the stories of what humans did to other races from books, and occasionally from his mother. The last thing Kelmac wanted to do was foolishly walk into the village and into his death. He heard the noise of approaching footsteps, and then a gasp of incredible fear.
Kelmac swung around to see his mother shaking, her mouth open in a vision of utter horror. She slowly looked him up and down, taking in every aspect of Kelmac’s new, reptilian body. He half expected his mother to scream and flee out the door, not that he would blame her. If he had saw some monster like himself sitting in his son’s room, he would do the same. But Amanda surprised the young half dragon by not leaving; instead she rushed over to her son, pulling him into her warm embrace.
The brown haired woman rested her face on Kelmac’s shoulder. He could feel her hot tears on his still human flesh. The reptilian creature returned the hug, rubbing his mother’s back in an attempt to comfort her.
“What’s happening to me mom?” Kelmac asked through choking sobs.
Kelmac’s voice sounded alien to him. It wasn’t its usual calm and smooth tone, but deeper, raspy, and somewhat primal.
Amanda tightened her embrace, “I’m not sure exactly. But I know what can explain it to you.”
“What? What can explain everything?” Kelmac asked, his new voice hacking every word with its raspy tone.
“Follow me son,” she said, releasing the scaly teenager and standing up.
Kelmac followed his mother out of his room and do the stairs. The whole time, Kelmac was wondering what could explain what was happening to him. And more importantly, had his mother, the only person he trusted, known that this would happen the entire time. This thought was too much to bear.
The two of them made their way down into the sitting room, where his mother gestured for him to sit. Kelmac sat on the couch and rested his scaly elbows on his thighs. Amanda walked over to a small desk in the far right corner of the room and opened one of the drawers. She removed a dust, beige envelope, walked over to Kelmac and sat next to him.
“This will explain things…I hope,” she said quietly, handing the envelope to Kelmac.
The young half dragon took the envelope. He looked at the front of the envelope. There was no address; no name to whom it was for or any name that said who it was from. He weighed the envelope in his hands. It didn’t weigh much, so it was only paper. Kelmac knew that he was only trying to delay the inevitable. Although part of him wanted to know, the other part was telling him not to. It was saying that the contents of this beige envelope would change his life, probably for the worse. All the while, the other part of him was egging him on, telling him that he needed to find out to get closure. It was saying that if he didn’t find out, it would haunt him for the rest of his days. There was an inner battle being fought in his mind, and whoever won would change his life forever.
He sat in silence for several minutes, simply staring at the beige paper of the envelope. It seemed that the battle in his mind was won by the urge to open it because he rapidly opened the envelope without any more hesitation. Inside the envelope, he found an old sheet of paper, inscribed with neatly written, black ink. Removing the paper, her began to read the writing.
Dear Kelmac,
If you are reading this letter, than my attempt to escape the villagers ended in my death. In case you are wondering whom this is from, I am your father, Leon Gladestone. What I am about to explain to you will change your life. Whether it is for the best or for the worse, I do not know. Kelmac, you are half dragon. Your mother is human, and I am a red dragon.
Where should I begin? Well, I guess I should start from when your mother and I first met. Your mother was about twenty-four years old, and I was around two hundred and ninety five. Now, that may seem old to you, but in dragon years that is an average peek of adulthood. We met in the forest around Saskarette. I was out for a flight to clear my mind, when I saw a doe grazing nearby. I hadn’t eaten that day, so I quickly swooped down on my prey and killed it for my lunch. While I was eating my catch, your mother came out from behind grove of trees carrying a basket of flowers.
At first, she didn’t even notice that I was there. She was busy picking flowers and placing them in her wicker basket. Immediately, I fell in love with her unmatched beauty and innocence. When she saw me, I expected her to run in fear, but, luckily for me, I was wrong. She simply walked up to me, and handed me a flower. I remember the sweet smell of her perfume even to this day. It was intoxicating, her charm, her looks, her sweet smell, and warm eyes.
After that day, we spent every minute together. She had never told your grandparents, so, when they died, she still inherited a large sum of gold, so we decided to expand our family.
After you were conceived, we found an old abandoned house, and settled down there. You may wonder how a dragon have a child with a human. Well, because dragons are so big, we had to adapt to a world that could not accommodate us. So, we learned how to transform or bodies into a human form so we could live in cities like the humans. We are still able to be our original forms, and we are, but only when we are flying, or in a wide, open space.
After you were born, we decided to fix up the old, battered house so we could raise you properly. Two years later, we had finished our little pet project. We finally had the house of our dreams, a place where we could raise you as a family. We were happy, but our happiness would soon be ended.
One day, the day I wrote this letter, I was spotted while leaving to go fish in the forest. When I got home, I informed your mother, and spent the rest of the day writing this letter. This letter was meant for the event that a mob came and I was killed. I had intended to tell you everything in person, but do to my death, I am not able to.
In this world, there are many creatures that you, being raised away from other people, would not have ever heard of. There is an assortment of races in this land, such as: golems, giants, elves, gnomes, dwarves, dragons, humans, and a large number of other species, that live in parts of this world. Because there are so many races, crossbreeding is bound to happen. You are a result of crossbreeding.
What is happening to you is normal for half dragons. Between the ages of fourteen and seventeen, half dragons become more dragon like, through physical, and mental change. Scales are grown in irregular patches, teeth become whiter and sharper, nails become long and sharp talons, and the eyes become yellow, which is a trademark dragon feature. Half dragons also receive dragon abilities and some that only half dragons can have. Abilities you will learn from dragon mentors.
As you are probably aware, from what your mother may gave told you, humans hate anything not human or not fully human, like half elves, half orcs, and other half creatures. This is due to their religion; they see half creatures as “impure” and “against nature”. You, a half dragon, will be treated one hundred times worse than the other “mutants”. This is because the humans and dragons are at war. I am not allowed to go into detail as to why, you will learn that from the other dragons. The main point is that you must not be seen by any humans. Most other races will not be so quick to judge you.
Well, now to the one of the more important points of this letter. When you reach the age of seventeen, if you are not already that age, you will have to travel to the Sairan, the dragon capitol. There you will start your training to master your dragon powers. After your training, the dragons will expect you to fight for them in the war against the humans. Fortunately you have a choice. If you do not want to fight in the war, you don’t have to go to Sairan. You can stay at the house with your mother and live a simple life. But if you do decide to go, a great adventure awaits you. Who knows, you may be lucky, the war may already be over, and you won’t have to worry about fighting. I doubt this though, both the dragon and the humans swore that the war would not end until one of the races was destroyed.
That is all you are allowed to know at the moment. You will learn much, more if you travel to Sairan. So I must go now, it is almost dark, and if the mob is coming, they will be here soon. Also, on the back of this letter is a map, a map that will help you find your way to Sairan if you choose to go.
I am sorry we will never get to properly meet son,
Love, Leon Gladstone, your father.
P.S. Do not blame your mother for not telling you sooner. It was my decision not to tell you too soon. If you found out too early in your life, it would have been much more devastating than finding out now.
When Kelmac finished reading, he paper was shaking in his trembling hands. He could not believe this. He half expected his mother to yell out “Got you!” and tell him that this was a joke, that the scales were a costume she put on him during the night. However, he knew this wouldn’t happen. He knew what he had to do.
He had to travel to Sairan at seventeen, and train with the dragons. He had to end the war between the dragons and humans. He had to avenge the death of his father. Kelmac was suddenly filled with a fiery determination. He was full of purpose and new meaning in his life. He was destined to be a hero, to go on adventures, to make a difference in this world. Kelmac had no regret opening the letter.
“Mom,” he said turning to face the brown haired woman, “do you know if the war is still going on?”
Amanda looked shocked, “Well, yes. The last time I heard, it was still very much going on.”
“Good,” Kelmac said, smirking slightly, showing his sharp, white teeth; “I plan to be a deciding factor in this war.”
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Post by Ethan on Feb 4, 2007 13:32:09 GMT -5
Up in Flames
Kelmac’s enthusiasm in the war had never subsided, even though his mother tried to talk him out of it at every possible moment. However, she did keep him posted about, if the war was going on still mostly, the gossip and rumors she heard in town. Amanda had been the only one in the house allowed to go into town because she feared that Kelmac’s half dragon form would be seen and attacked immediately. Kelmac had always told her that she worried way too much and that he would be very careful not to be spotted, but Amanda stuck to her guns and, since the time he last went into Saskarette, he never left their property.
“Cheer up Kelmac,” she would always say after she told him he wasn’t allowed in town, “there are lots of things to do here at the house.”
In a way she was right, there were many things to at the house. Unfortunately they were things like: counting the kitchen tiles, reading the same books over and over again, staring at walls, watching the plants grow, and Kelmac’s personal favourite, banging his head against the wall repeatedly. The scaly teen used to go into the forest near the house, but that stopped when he was almost seen by a backpacker entering Saskarette via forest trails.
Everyday for Kelmac was like a day in solitary confinement. Even though his mother was there most of the time, he longed to see other people, make friends, or even have a conversation that didn’t end in embarrassing stories from Kelmac’s toddler years. Amanda couldn’t resist telling him about the time he took off all his clothing and ran around Saskarette screaming “I’m princess Kelmac, fetch me a crumpet”, or when he spit up all over the innkeeper working at the Prancing Leprechaun. “He was so mad at you, he almost banned us forever.”
These stories, mixed with the boredom and the throbbing headaches, made Kelmac long for his seventeenth birthday. It wasn’t that he wanted to leave him mother, he simply ached to help meet the dragons, and interact with someone, but mostly, he wanted to help out the dragon army and avenge the death of his father at the hands of the villagers. Kelmac was unsure, though, if he could actually kill another living, talking creature. He often wondered what he would do if he were cornered by a group of savage orcs, or angry villagers screaming “Kill the mutant!” Kelmac liked to think that he would do the right thing, but he was unsure what “the right thing” was exactly.
And so, Kelmac continued his simple, dull little existence, anxiously awaiting his seventeenth birthday. He told himself that when he became of age, his life would be better, he could be happy and help the world. What he didn’t know was the immense sorrow that would come before he left his home. He did not know that before he could do any good, he would cause something bad, he would cause a death.
It was one day before Kelmac’s seventeenth birthday, one day before he would leave to go to Sairan. It was a midsummer morning. The birds were chirping contently, and a warm breeze rustled through the leaves or nearby maple trees. Chipmunks were busily scavenging for fallen acorn and chestnuts, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. It was by far the best day they had seen the entire summer.
Kelmac had been awake for about ten minutes now. Amanda had just came to wake him, and told him to be downstairs for breakfast in fifteen minutes. This gave the half dragon time to get dressed in a pair of gray pants, a pair of white cotton sock and a white shirt. Then relax until he had to start the day. He was busy watching a particularly jumpy chipmunk run around a tree, searching for nuts, when heard a loud crash coming from the main floor.
Kelmac jumped to his feet, and, after tripping slightly, bolted down to where the noise had come from. The stairs creaked frantically as Kelmac’s weight fell upon them. By the time Kelmac got down the stairs, he saw the reason for the noise. His mother was lying face down on the white tiled floor, surrounded my shattered glass and food from the plates she was carrying over to the table.
Kelmac rushed to his fallen mother and, avoiding the glass strewn on the floor around her, knelt beside her. He quickly brushed away the glass, ignoring the pain of the occasional scratch, and rolled her over so that she faced the ceiling. Amanda’s usually tanned face was sickly pale and lathered with sweat. Her eyes were closed, and her breathing jagged. Anxiety filled Kelmac’s thoughts as he examined her further. Her normally well kept hair was frizzy and drenched in sweat. Kelmac knew that she was sick.
With difficulty, he lifted his mother into his arms and carried her up the stairs to her room. After placing her on the bed and draping the covers over her body, he searched his mind for a course of action, but found none. He did not know how to deal with sicknesses, Amanda had always been healthy and she had taken care of him when he was sick. Then a plan hit him. It was so obvious that he wanted to kick himself for not thinking of it sooner. He had to go into town to the herbalist shop and ask her for some healing herbs.
It was risky granted, but what choice did he have? If he didn’t risk it all, he could lose his mother forever. The woman who took care of him was sick and might not make it, her only chance was for him to go into Saskarette, go and find something to help.
Kelmac ran into his room, and, after grabbing some gold from his dresser drawer, wrapped himself in a long, hooded black cloak that covered his entire body, giving him the appearance of a shadow. When he passed his mother’s room on his way down the stairs, he looked in the door. Amanda was sleeping peacefully, from this distance it looked as if she was fine.
Tears filled Kelmac’s yellow eyes, “Don’t worry mom,” he said, trying to hold back the tears, “I’ll be back to help you. And yes, I will be careful.”
Kelmac bolted down the staircase two at a time, slipped on a pair of leather shoes, and was off. Because of the urgency of his trip into Saskarette, Kelmac often switched from fast walking to running. He was determined to help his mother at all cost. Worried thoughts invaded Kelmac’s mind as he raced to save the life of someone he loved.
What would he do if he could not help his mother? How could he go on? How could he live with himself for failing the woman that raised him, that nurtured him, that loved him? The anxious half dragon pushed those thoughts out of his mind; he had more pressing questions to answer. If the residents of Saskarette saw him, what would he do? Run? Hide? Stay and fight? Kelmac ran through all these scenarios in his head, all of them resulting in the death of someone.
If he ran, they might not catch him. Unfortunately they knew where he lived and would not hesitate to burn down his house, along with the occupants inside. If he hid, the same thing would happen. He knew for sure that he could not stay and fight. He had no training in any kind of self-defense, that and the villagers greatly out numbered him. Not to mention that they had weapons, while he did not. Kelmac did not know what to do, no matter what he did, he lost. He had a sickening feeling of anxiety in his stomach. It made him want to vomit, to cry, to end his miserable life, but without him, Amanda might not pull through.
The village was fast approaching. He could see the houses growing larger and larger with every meter he traveled. He could see people wandering the streets, doing their daily routines. He could feel the claustrophobic feelings wrap around him. This was it, time to sink or swim, crunch time. He slowed his pace to an average walk as to not draw suspicion to himself. It was a shame that his shadow like appearance had already drew the attention of curious eyes. Old women, shop keeps, young men, children, and various others whispered as he passed them, his black cloak flailing in the wind, but, luckily for Kelmac, no part of his body was exposed.
The cloaked figure cautiously made its way throughout the crowd, desperately trying to ignore the eyes upon him. Kelmac walked fast, not stopping until he reached the herbalist shop. He stealthily ducked behind the curtains drawn across the hole where the front door should have been. The shop was void of any people, filled only with incense, jars, books, and dust.
Kelmac cursed under his breath. This was bad. If he didn’t find someone to help him soon, he might be too late. He quickly scanned the room for a sign, a letter, or something that might tell him where the herbalist was. The half dragon spotted a note scribbled messily on a sheet of paper, sitting on the front counter. He ran over to the front desk and read the letter out loud to himself.
“Out at the Prancing Leprechaun for lunch, be back later.”
Kelmac made tight fists out of his scaly hands. He couldn’t go to the inn; it would be too crowded. He might be bumped into and his cloak might fall off, or he might be asked questions that he couldn’t answer. And he certainly couldn’t wait, he had no idea when the herbalist would be back, nor did he know how much longer Amanda would stay alive without treatment
. Panic filled Kelmac’s mind, if he was found out he would be killed, just like his father was, but it didn’t matter to him anymore. If, by some chance, he were exposed, he would go down fighting. He no longer cared what happened to him, all he knew was that if he didn’t try, he might as well die. The half dragon would do anything for his mother, even if it meant risking his life.
Kelmac quickly stole out the shop door and across the market to the Prancing Leprechaun. He opened the door cautiously, so he could make a silent entrance. Unfortunately as he opened the door, it collided with a small string of bells hanging from the ceiling. There was a loud jingle as the door slowly opened. The people inside of the inn, turned to face the shadow like figure wrapped from head to toe in a black cloak.
Kelmac cursed under is breath; he hadn’t wanted to be seen by this many people. He scanned the room quickly for signs of the herbalist. He found her sitting at the bar, nursing a large glass of ale. Another silent curse word came out from underneath the black cloak. He looked around the room, scanning out other way out and weapons, if the need were to occur.
The inn had ten square, wooden tables, each with four wicker chairs around them, a bar at the far end, and a section of the wall where some people were playing darts. He looked at the more detailed parts of the inn. There was a moose head behind the bar counter; several coats of arms hung on the sidewalls, and ale barrels positioned behind the bar. He also noted that there were a total of seventeen people in the room, all of them male, except one, the herbalist.
The entire inn was quiet. Poker games stopped, men stopped playing darts, conversations ceased to exist, and it was so quiet that a pin could be heard dropping, while everybody regarded Kelmac with unwavering eyes. They gave Kelmac their undivided attention as he walked slowly, cautiously to the bar. When he approached the bar, he looked at the herbalist from within the shadow of his cloak’s hood.
“Yes?” asked the herbalist, “Do you need anything?”
Kelmac attempted to smooth out his voice by speaking clearly and silently, but to no avail. “I need you to open your shop,” he said, his voice making all of the syllables raspy. “It’s an emergency.”
“Is it because of your throat?” the herbalist asked curiously, “Because it’s terrible,” she added.
“No, it’s not that. My mom, she is very sick, and I need help desperately,” he said in hid low, growl like voice. “She passed out this morning, while making breakfast. She has a high fever, she is breathing heavily, her face is pale, and she is also sweating violently,” he said, thinking back on his mother’s condition.
“That sounds serious; come with me, this is obviously an urgent matter. I will have to retrieve some supplies and meet you back at your house. Where do you live?”
Kelmac hesitated; he didn’t feel right telling them how to get to his house. It made him feel uneasy, but this was and urgent matter, “I live two miles outside of Saskarette, it’s the only house out there, so it will be easy to find.”
“Ok, but come with me now, so I can give you something to tide her over until I get there, you can run back, but I can’t, so come on,” she said, grabbing him by the scruff of his cloak and pulling. Kelmac attempted to stop her, but was too late.
The black cloak slid off of him, and he was revealed. The herbalist dropped the cloak on the ground and stared in awe of the scaly creature before her. There was silence for a moment, and then gasps of disbelief filled the room. Kelmac could only stand there; the door was now surrounded by some of the occupants of the room, as they stared at his scales, his hair, and his eyes. The inn keeper suddenly yelled out, “It’s a half dragon, ‘e is! I’d recognize them yellow eyes ‘n scaly body anywhere!”
Kelmac raised his hands and frantically shook them through the air. “No, it’s not like that,” he protested, “I really need help, I mean you no harm, honestly!”
“Like we’d believe you!” said a man, who was sitting at a far table with three other men. He was not a tall person, but looked to be quite strong, while the other three were tall, bulky, and outrageously muscular.
“We were four of the hunters that killed that dragon almost fourteen years ago,” he said, pointing to the other three hunters, “I know what your kind can do. You are no exception, and I say we kill him, then stick his head on a pike to show dragons that we mean business.” There was a loud cheer of agreement from the occupants of the inn.
Kelmac felt rage bubble up inside of him, “So, it was you who killed my father?” Kelmac said, trying to suppress his anger.
The man grinned, “He was your father? Well, than that means that that woman was your mother. She lied to us, she did. Told us she was held hostage by a nasty dragon that threatened her and her baby. Oh well, I’m going to have fun killing her, if she isn’t already dead when I get there. But first, I’m gonna kill you,” he said, drawing a knife from beside his steak dinner.
Kelmac felt a mixture of emotions. He first felt angry, for the obvious reason that this man had killed his father and was now threatening his only other family member, but he also felt a strange contentedness that made his spine shiver, now was the chance to avenge his father ad save his mother.
But Kelmac couldn’t kill anyone, could he? Every passing second, as the rage built up, he believed that he morally could. After all, this man slaughtered his father, and was about to kill him, then go on and finish off his mother. After a moment or two, Kelmac thought that he could kill this man, and any other one that got in his way, and feel no sorrow about it. But, that was just the rage talking, or was it?
Ever since Kelmac read his father’s letter, and found out the truth, he had wished for an opportunity like this, to kill the people responsible for his untimely demise, and now he had one. The half dragon thought about all of the years that he had lived, not knowing his father for any of them. Not being able to bond with Leon, or even talk to him. This thought put even more fury into Kelmac. He was ready to burst out into a stream of unsurpassed rage, and kill this man, the three others, and anyone else in the room. So, as the man ran at the half dragon, knife raised in an attacking position, Kelmac snapped.
He let out a loud, primal like roar, as the hunter approached him, running. Kelmac moved to the side slightly, dodging the man’s knife easily, then, as the man stumbled forward a bit, he grabbed the hunter’s arm, the one holding the knife, and pulled.
The occupants of the inn gasped in horror, as the hunter’s are was ripped clean out of its socket. The man screamed in pain, then fell to the ground then was silent. A pool of blood began to slowly flow onto the floor from the man’s shoulder. Kelmac scanned the room for the other three men that aided in the death of his father. He found that they were already beginning to charge in his direction. Kelmac looked at the arm in his hand; the fist was still wrapped tightly around the hilt of the knife, why not?
He grabbed the arm at its base and, in one fluid movement, threw it at the man closest to him. The arm rotated counter clock wise in the air as it made its way to the running man, not unlike how an axe it thrown. The hunter had no chance to react as the knife hit his chest. The man cried out in pain when the knife hit, then fell to the floor, pushing the knife in deeper.
What happened next could be best described as morbid poetry in action. Even though the two other hunters saw how their companions turned out, they did not slow their running pace. As the fist of the two remaining hunters other approached Kelmac, he moved to the side and the man, who was too close to stop, slipped on the blood on the floor, and hit his head on the ground, hard. He then raised a foot and stomped on the man’s neck while, with his right hand, grabbed the last hunter’s neck. Kelmac squeezed tightly, his anger burning inside of him. His claw like fingernails sunk deep into the man’s throat, while he desperately screamed for help. His screams were turned into a gargled mess of sounds as, due the holes made by Kelmac’s claws, blood filled his throat. Kelmac held him there, with his hands gripped around the man’s throat, until he, slowly, drowned in his own blood.
Inside, Kelmac was fighting desperately with himself. He could see everything that was happening, but was powerless to put a stop to it. Anger ran through his veins as he dropped the man and charged over at a group of seven men sitting in the corner of the inn. His body seemed to be moving on its own as the half dragon violently attacked the men. He heard them scream for mercy as the scaly murderer tore them apart with his bare hands. Once or twice, Kelmac stopped to wipe the splattered blood off of his face, and then he resumed his slaughter. By the time Kelmac had killed the last of the seven men, the corner of the inn was littered with blood and body parts.
Kelmac turned to face the middle of the inn, he saw that four of the six remaining occupants were trying to run towards the door in an effort to escape. Kelmac, unwillingly, picked up a nearby table with ease and hurled it across the room, like a Frisbee, at the fleeing men. The table hit them with such force that it snapped three of their necks, and even managed to decapitate one of the men. Kelmac winced inside when he heard the sound of the impact. He then rotated himself so that he was looking at the bar.
Behind the bar was an awestruck innkeeper and sitting at the bar counter was the herbalist. Kelmac smiled evilly at the innkeeper who, after screaming like a schoolgirl, tried to stand his ground. Kelmac simply picked up a mug of ale from a nearby table and, with a flick of his wrist, whipped it across the room at the innkeeper. The mug hit the man squarely in the temple. The now deceased innkeeper slumped over onto the bar’s counter.
Kelmac had been desperately trying to stop himself and, after a moment or two of hard concentrating, had finally gotten control back. Kelmac shook his head and looked around the inn. It was a horror of a sight. Blood, limbs, bodies, and entrails were scattered around the inn. And the worst part of all was that it was his fault. He did this. He caused all this death, all this destruction, and all this chaos. Kelmac looked down at his scaly hands; they were drenched in blood, the blood of innocent people.
The half dragon looked over at the herbalist, who was watching him with horrified eyes. Kelmac could see the terror that he had put her through. The thought of it made him feel sick. Kelmac could bear to be there, in the blood-covered inn, no longer. He turned towards the door and ran out, towards the herbalist’s shop.
When he arrived, he quickly gathered up all of the herbs that he could in a brown paper bag that he got from behind the shop’s front desk. He then, after snatching up the bag in his hands, ran out into the street.
Because he had no cloak on to cover his body, the villager’s stared at him as they passed. It was, as Kelmac believed, the blood on him that the villagers from attacking him. He was grateful for this, in a way, and continued his trip home. It took Kelmac a little under ten minutes to reach his house, and he hoped beyond hope that Amanda was all right. He ran faster at the thought of her lying in her bed, motionless, lifeless. It was too much to bear. By the time Kelmac had reached his house, he was panting violently. He felt as if his lungs were about to burst, but that didn’t matter.
Kelmac ran through the front yard and up to the house. He pushed the door, hard, out of the way as he entered the house. There was a loud bang as the doorknob hit the wall behind it. Kelmac bounded up the stairs, two at a time, with the paper bag in his clenched fists. When he reached his mother’s room, he fell to his scaly knees, half in exhaustion, half in sorrow.
His mother lay motionless in her bed, just as Kelmac had pictured her. Her face was expressionless and pale. Her breathing was no longer ragged, but non-existent and her mousy, brown hair was a tangled mass of sweaty hair. She looked at peace in her final state, but this didn’t make it any easier for Kelmac. The scaly half dragon cupped his hands over his face and began to cry.
He couldn’t believe it, he couldn’t afford to. The woman that gave birth to him, raised him, and loved him even though he wasn’t completely human. He didn’t know what to do now, he could still go to Sairan, but what was the point, everything he had cared about was gone. He didn’t see the point in fighting for a future that he wouldn’t be happy in. But, after Kelmac had calmed down, he realized that fighting to stop a war wasn’t just about him. It was about all the innocent people that would be slaughtered if he didn’t help.
He thought back to what happened at the inn and shuddered; he wold not let any other innocent people be unmercifully killed, by his hands or the hands of others. He also knew that he would never do that to other innocent people ever again. He would have to control his temper, because that was the reason for his outburst, and it was the reason for the deaths of the people inside of the inn. All he knew was that, if the need were to occur, he would kill, but he would never again kill out of anger. If he had to, he would only kill for the over all good of the Innocent people in the world.
But what would he do with his mother? It seemed unfitting to just bury her, but what else could he do? Then it hit him. It was so perfect, a way that he could show his respect for her and keep to his dragon traditions. He had remembered reading something in Adventures in Sairan about dragon burials. He had read that dragons would dig a hole in the earth, usually near the deceased dragon’s home, and place them inside of it with them resting on a bed of hay. Then, after saying a few words, they would set the hay afire, and that it would set their souls free. It was a kind of burial that showed respect because dragons were born from fire and ash and, after the burial, they were fire and ash once more. This would be a sign of respect for his mother, mostly because humans were rarely given this honorable way into the afterlife.
(the rest is coming, next post)
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Post by Ethan on Feb 4, 2007 13:33:31 GMT -5
So Kelmac, after calming down some more, picked up his mother into his arms and headed out into the garden, in which Amanda would spend a lot of her time, caring for it and growing spices and herbs. He also grabbed a small shovel on his way out that was propped up against the wall nearest the garden. He walked around the garden until he had found the perfect spot. It was near the kitchen window, it had soft, loose soil, and it was covered in the shade of the house. It was, by far, the best place for his mother to rest.
So Kelmac set to work digging a hole big enough for Amanda to lay in. It was a lopsided rectangle that was three feet wide, seven feet long, and five feet deep. It took Kelmac a little over ten minutes to dig the grave and, by the time he was done, his face was smudged with dirt. This, coupled with the blood, made him look as if he was a stabbed victim that had managed to climb out of their grave while it was being dug.
When he had finished, he noticed that there was a problem with his plan, he didn’t have any hay. This problem was easily solved when he remembered that the mattress on his bed was a hay mattress. He ran up to his room to get it. It wasn’t a big mattress, but it was awkward to carry. Its lopsided form and weight didn’t help as he lugged down the stairs.
He carried it out to the hole he ad dug and sliced it open with one of his claw like fingernails. He hurriedly emptied the contents of the mattress into the hole and lowered Amanda into it.
Now he only had one more thing to get, fire. He selected tow dry sticks off of the ground and, after remembering how to do it, rubbed the sticks together. It took him a couple of tries to get one of the sticks to light, but, after many yells of frustration later, one of them burned gently. Kelmac held the burning stick in his right hand and walked over to the edge of his mother’s grave.
“I had never known my father,” Kelmac said, “so him dying affected me little. But,” he said, beginning to cry, “you were someone that I knew and loved for all of my life. You fed me, you made me laugh, you protected me, and you loved me. That is why this is so hard. You were the only person in the world that I loved,” tears were streaming down his face and his words were sounding more high pitched and squeaky, “I love you, mom, I always have, and always will. You shielded me from the evils in this world, but now, with you gone, I have no shield, I will now be able to see all the injustices that occur, and I will learn that I can’t do anything to prevent them. But, I do have a plan; I will go to Sairan and help in the war. This way, hopefully, I can prevent peoples suffering and maybe even be accepted for what I am. I just want to thank you, mom, for all you have done for me. And may your soul rest in peace, you’ve earned it.”
Kelmac held out his right arm, so that the flame was over the grave, and let go of the stick. It rotated as it spun to the hay below. It landed, flame down, in the hay. Almost as soon as it landed, the hay began to burn. At first, it was a small flame, but it turned, very quickly, into a blazing bon fire. Amanda was engulfed in flames, and Kelmac felt his sadness lift. He knew, or at least believed, that his mother would be going to a better place, a place where she could be happy, and a place where she could rest in peace. This comforted Kelmac slightly, yet he still wished that she could be alive. Kelmac watched as Amanda went up in flames, wondering if he would be all right.
He patted at his pockets while he watched the fire blaze. He heard the sound of paper crunching. He dug his hands into his pockets and pulled out Leon’s letter. He turned it over and studied the map of this land. He saw Sairan off in the top, right hand corner of the map. It was surrounded by, according to the map, the Elder Mountains, a group of nine mountains that surrounded Sairan, blocking it off from the outside world. He also looked at Saskarette, which was southwest of Sairan. It looked as if it was a long journey. There were many small villages on the way from Saskarette to Sairan, so he didn’t need to bring any provisions, this would make his trip easier.
He decided to take a last look at his house, so, after putting the map away, Kelmac walked to his house. He trotted up the stairs, after looking around the main floor, and walked into his room. This was his space, where he could go to be by himself, and now he had to leave it. He looked at the bed in the corner of the room, it was just the frame, a bare, wooden frame. Kelmac walked out of his room and down the hall.
As he passed his mother’s room, he glanced inside of it and saw something he had missed before. A small cubed package wrapped in brown paper with a small, red bow on top of it, sitting next to his mother’s bed, on a night table. The scarlet teenager Kelmac walked over to the table and picked up the package. There was writing on it.
Dear Kelmac,
May this gift, your birthday gift, guide you through the darkness, and on you way. May you be able to follow your dreams, and travel to Sairan. Happy seventeenth birthday Kelmac.
Love, Mom
Kelmac didn’t feel right opening his present early, but, seeing how it was only about six hours until it was officially his birthday, and he needed something to cheer him up today, he decided to open it. Kelmac tore into the paper like a wild animal, and, after opening the box under the paper, saw his gift.
It was a small, circular object, with a golden trim, and a clear glass surface. He picked it up in his scaly hands. It was labeled North, East, South, West, and there was a small, gold needle in the middle of them. At the top of it, there was a loop and, strung through the loop, was a golden chain. Kelmac rolled it around in his hands, noticing that there was something, inscribed on the golden back of the compass. I love you Kelmac, and always will. You are my life, my will to live. I would do anything for you, I love you, it said. Kelmac slipped the chain around his neck, and tucked the compass into the front of his shirt. He would wear it always, for it was the last thing he had of his mother.
Kelmac walked out to the front yard, and pulled out the compass. He positioned himself so that he faced North East and, after pulling out his father’s letter and turning it over to read the map, began to his journey to Sairan. Kelmac knew that as long as he had the compass his mother gave him, and his fathers map and letter, both of his parents would guide him through life and to Sairan, the dragon capitol.
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Post by Techy on Feb 4, 2007 20:35:09 GMT -5
That was a lot to read, but it's really good. Like reading a novel i checked out of the library.
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Post by Ethan on Feb 4, 2007 20:35:48 GMT -5
heh, thanks
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Duskglimmer
Rank 8 (Getting Moldy!)
Human Boomerang
McKay: Have you seen a guy? He looks like you, but with messy hair. I think I lost him somewhere...
Posts: 1,567
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Post by Duskglimmer on Feb 5, 2007 9:00:22 GMT -5
I started this crit last night while we were talking, Averon, but unfortunately, my fingers betrayed me and I accidentally hit the refresh button. I was almost finished, but my crit was forever lost in what is known as “what was typed on a proboards forum, but never submitted”. It happens a lot. Especially when you are working on something very long and very irreplaceable. So, now, I am going to do the smart thing, copy your story into word and try and piece back together what I had last night. Hopefully, it won’t take as long as the original copy. Now, I’ve only read the first chapter, so excuse me if there’s something that is explained later and I just haven’t read yet. I will read the rest of it at some point, but for now, this is all the time that I have. Also, I am a fairly blunt critiquer, so if this seems a little harsh, please know that it was not intended that way. I expected a bit of tough love when people give me crits and therefore I try to give it in return when I crit; I think it really helps us improve. Please don’t take offense at anything I say. You have some very nice pieces, you just also have places to improve. And everything I say here, is a suggestion, not a command. Consider what I have to say, be willing to listen and then make your decision about what you will or will not change. If you think that I’m wrong, okay. Be willing to defend your work, but also realize that I’m doing this to help and no other reason. So, if you weren’t looking for someone to pick this apart, then you can stop reading now. … Still here? Great. Then let’s get started. As a first chapter, I’m not very impressed. The first chapter should intrigue and draw you in so that you want to read subsequent chapters. This doesn’t do that for me. It takes too long to get to the main story and honestly, if I hadn’t just talked to you, I would not have bothered to read this past the first paragraph. Sorry. Your first twenty-one paragraphs are what is generally known as a “information dump”. Literally, you are dumping loads and loads of information on our heads and with it all bunched up as it is, we’d be lucky to be able to keep half of it in our heads. Obviously, this is bad for both reader and author: the reader gets overwhelmed and annoyed and stop “listening” and the author fails to impart all the knowledge and background that he intended to. In my opinion, the first twenty-one paragraphs need a great deal of reworking, if not entire rewriting. Personally, I would try to shorten it quite a bit. Think about what you want the reader to know RIGHT THEN and see if you can’t fit that into just a few paragraphs. If you can’t do that and absolutely feel that you need all of this, put in a prologue (think Tolkien’s “Concerning Hobbits”). The information is there and the people that care about that kind of stuff will read it, while giving the people that just want to get into the story the opportunity to skip ahead. You mentioned to someone else a concern about how short that would make your first chapter. Don’t worry about that. Never aim for a specific length. Your writing should be just as long as it needs to be and not a word more. Now, once again, I’m gonna apologize if this comes off a little harsh. I’m gonna start picking on individual sentences. Basically? The ones that jump out at me, I’m gonna grab. Then I’m gonna tell you why they jumped out at me. The six kingdoms are: Andaram, the human kingdom, Ithrim, the kingdom of the elves, Ferrith, land of the gnomes, Oran, the dwarven land, Thatcham, kingdom of the giants, and Transtar, land of the dragons. Lists are generally not a good idea, especially lists like this one. As a general rule, if you find yourself writing a list that is more than three things long, stop yourself. This list is unnecessary. No one (even if they had the memory of an elephant is going to remember all of that, and they don’t need to. Within minutes you will systematically go through each kingdom, tell us who lives there and what those people are like. All we get here, is an overwhelming list. These kingdoms are divided, not so equally, among the world. I like this sentence. It tells us that we’re not looking at blocks on a tic-tac-toe board, but actually countries, and it also gives a feeling that perhaps the inequalities extend to more than just the landmasses. You have a very textbook feel to your first twenty-one paragraphs, but things like this can break it up. Try to bring everything down to a more personal note. Other life does exist outside of the six dominant races, but are forced into the forests, caves, tunnels, and other regions in which the kingdoms do not, or cannot, inhabit. I’d like to see that last bit reversed. I’d rather see it as: “cannot, or would not, inhabit.” It gives the same information but has more character in it. Mortaran was a ruthless leader, a very religious man, and some believed that he had committed regicide in order to come to power. This sentence hits me kind of hard. And not in a good way. You seem to be explaining away Mortaran’s ruthlessness by saying that he is religious. Basically? You’re saying: Religion = bad. Coupled with the fact that you describe King Farrel as a “fair man, who believed in equality and justice”, and suddenly it becomes: Religion = enemy of equality and justice. If that was what you meant, congratulations, goal achieved. But it strikes a sour note with me. I would suggest a change like “Mortaran was a ruthless leader, obsessed with his religion…” That makes it so it his obsession and his specific views that are a problem, not religion as a whole. He was twenty-five when he took the kingdom, and, in his glory years, led many armies to victory, in the name of god with the cold steel of his blade, and the magic that he often dabbled in. Interesting. It’s not often that god and magic are put together. Usually, they’re as separate as possible. In keeping with the last comment, however, I would like to suggest that you make it “his god”. He was also the one to initiate the war between the dragons and the humans, a war that will wage on for many years. Tense disagreement! Might I suggest: “He was also the one to initiate the war between the dragons and the humans, a war that [/b]would[/b] wage on for many years.” Although his belly has grown, his face has sagged, and his hair has grown gray and balding, he still rules with an iron fist, and a silver cross. I like it. The silver cross is a nice touch. The “balding” seems out of place. “Balding” is an action, but here you use it like a noun. I’d rather see something like “sparse”. There live the elves, an elegant, intelligent, and graceful race. You’re getting a little Tolkien on me. Stylistically and structurally, you may copy him all you like, but here it seems like you’re borrowing ideas. I already know what Tolkien thinks the elves are like. What does Ethan Grahm think? The recipe for an elf would be as followed: take one cup of agility, mix in three cups of grace, add a pound of intelligence, and a dash of magic. Nice touch. Makes for an interesting description, but it doesn’t follow the sentence before it very well. The flow is off and it makes this seem a little abrupt. Elves are usually fair skinned, blonde haired, blue eyed, and wire framed. What? Like eye glasses? I was with you on that description, right up until “wire framed”, then all I could think about was how elves could twist themselves around to look like a pair of spectacles. After I knocked that image out of my head, I think I understood what you were trying to say, but there has to be a way to say it without conjuring the first image. The elves are a race that would be seen as snobby and arrogant, but they call themselves classy. “snobby” and “classy” seem out of place here. I’d like to see it more along the lines of: “The elves are a race that would be seen as snobbish and arrogant, but they prefer to say they ‘have class’.” Taking out the “would” makes your sentence stronger, and I think “snobbish” and “class” give more the feeling that you are trying to give. Think about your words. Really consider what gives both the meaning and the feeling of what you want. An elven life span is three hundred years of age. The “of age” at the end is unnecessary and feels out of place. Being cheap may perhaps be the reason for their immense wealth. I don’t understand. What meaning of “cheap” are you using? There is an old saying that goes “To separate a gnome form his fortune, is a feat considered a miracle, even to the gods.” Old sayings are usually pretty snappy. There has to be a snappier way to say this. Gnomes are short, and fragile, but none the less a more than worthy adversary. You use the phrase “worthy adversary” to describe the giants later. Can you think of another way to say it? Dwarves are stubborn, short, bulky, strong, smelly, obnoxious, loud, and angry creatures. This is one of the places where you can ignore the list rule I gave you earlier. Here, you use the long list to your advantage. We get the idea that they are stubborn, smelly people within the first few words and the rest of it is used to give a feeling of just how numerous their faults are. Good job. A dwarf can live for five hundred years, but often do not. Most dwarves die in tunnel collapses. Nice. Another personal piece. Lost in the middle of an information dump. If you made this more the emphasis of the paragraph, you’d hold us. Also, I missed this until I was going over this for my crit. Just reading it, my mind was skipping over sentences left and right and this got lost. You’ve got other little gems in here that I can say the same of. Another let down of an information dump. There are two things that make dwarves unique: their diet, and their tunneling techniques. The, unusual, diet of dwarf consist of rocks, and the various animals they find while tunneling. This diet allows them to dine, and live, in the tunnels they are digging. Dwarven teeth are made strong enough to chew the rock, and their three stomachs allow them to fully digest their food. Seems a little repetitive. Can you make this more concise? The tunneling method that they use it also described as “unusual”. When a dwarf goes into the tunnels to work, he-women did not work, they stayed at the homes their husband built for them-would bring with him only a small pickaxe, or hammer. Torches were not brought because dwarves can see in the dark. When a dwarf found the stone in which he would be tunneling through,-dwarves only tunneled through stone because it is a more dense, sturdy material-he would head butt the rock to make a crack, then use his pickaxe or hammer to further shatter his way the stone. Every so often, he would have to head butt the wall again to create a new crack. The textbook style of this, takes away from the oddity of it. You tell us its “unusual”, but you then state things so matter-of-factly that that’s lost. Put us in the cave with these dwarves while they are digging. Let us feel how odd it is. Describe it like we’re watching some maniac little dwarf digging RIGHT NOW. A dwarf’s forehead bone is usually six inches thick, and causes the dwarf’s brow to stick out awkwardly. Nice image, but it’s immediately got a note of disbelief. Six inches is just too thick. Make it two or three inches and then you’ll get the same effect, while helping us to believe you. The reason that they even use the hammers and pickaxes is that too many head butts repeatedly may cause dizziness. Nice touch. Make this line pop. It’s another of those lost gems. The stature of a dwarf is about the same as a gnome, but sturdier and more muscular, with a large head and, often, a slight under bite. Once again. Nice touch. The under bite is a great image. Dwarves are not a very social race, due to the fact that they spend their lives underground, only coming up to fight in wars (dwarves love a good fight, it makes them feel alive). That last bit would hit harder if you just left it at “dwarves love a good fight”. The reader will deduce that it makes them feel alive without you telling us and when you DO tell us, it takes away from the effect. Let us feel things. Lay your words down carefully so that we get it, but don’t tell us what we are supposed to feel. Also, dwarves have an aroma that is said to smell like a combination of rotting cabbage, manure, and sweat. The fact that they are obnoxious and rude doesn’t help their social life either. You’ve got a nice sense of humor. I like this piece a lot. Trolls, ogres, golems, and other large creatures (i.e. giant spiders) are part of the giant family. Why are the giant spiders mentioned? Do we really need an example of what a giant creature would be? And if you’re gonna mention them, then you have to make them real. Right now, what’s brought to mind is Tolkien’s Shelob or Rawling’s Aragog. Make your creatures different immediately. Don’t let us think about anybody else work for more than a word or two. In the kingdom of the giants, a leader would be considered “lucky” to rule for more than three months. The average reign of a leader is so low that eighty percent of them are overthrown (killed) within one month of their becoming leader. You don’t need both of these sentences. They’re repetitive. Choose one or the other. If you go with the second, then I think you should really make “overthrown (killed)” pop. Make it somewhat humorous. On their rampage, they end hundreds of lives and eat many human people (most giants are carnivores with a taste for human flesh). Too often, parenthesis are used as a way to put in information that you forgot to put in earlier. Whether that was actually what you did or not, that’s the way it feels. Give us this information earlier so that we can build up to this line and understand it even as we read it. The object of this “holiday” is to see how many people can be killed before the horde is brought down. A team of six trolls, four ogres, and a steel golem holds the current record of nine hundred sixty-four deaths within two days. Nice little factoid. But I thought that the object of the rampage was to display their strength to the other races. Perhaps a different phrasing? Although giants are cold-blooded killers, they are a worthy adversary, and a sought after ally in wars. The word “although” suggests that a contradiction will follow in the sentence. I see no contradiction. Anything that kills just to show off power is going to be a worthy adversary, and who wouldn’t want cold-blooded monsters to be on their side in a war? Giants have been around since the dawn of time, but the kingdom is only a century old. Why? It doesn’t take that long to set up a dictatorship. A dragon is the perfect combination of grace and power. Very nice. A dragon can grow to a length of fifty feet, a height of thirty feet, and can weigh up to one and a half tons. Seems a little repetitive. Can you come up with a different unit of measurement for the height? The one trait that all dragons have in common is yellow eyes. It is the trademark feature of and dragonic creature. I’d like to see these two sentences combined. Having a sentence just to tell you that “this is their trademark”, doesn’t flow right to me. Dragons come in one of six different types: red, blue, green, black, purple, or white. Each species have their own set of physical and mental characteristics. For example, red dragons are smaller than other dragons, and they are prone to excessive anger, While blue dragons aren’t as muscular as other dragons, and they are logical and arrogant. The different types of dragons also have one other thing that no dragon of a different colour has. That is what the dragons refer to “the dragonic birthright.” The dragonic birthright was an ability that handed down to the dragons of a certain colour. The birthright for black dragons is strength, one black dragon has the strength of ten dragons. Green dragons have unrivaled speed and agility, while blue dragons have unrivaled intelligence. A purple dragon inherits psychic ability (telepathy, and sometimes telekinesis). White dragons have specialize in healing magic, and red dragons have the ability to go into a rage that increases speed and strength enormously, but block out all rational thought. I’d like to see these two paragraphs combined as well. I think the dragonic birthright should be mentioned first without this little introduction to it. Explaining it, explains that each type of dragon is different, which renders the first paragraph void. Also, watch your listing. It works here, but it could be done better. And here: A purple dragon inherits psychic ability (telepathy, and sometimes telekinesis). I think it would work better to just say: “A purple dragon inherts telepathy and sometimes telekinesis.” Don’t use paranthesis any more than you have to. They give the feeling of an afterthought even here. Dragons can only produce an offspring every seven years, and even then, there is a chance that the egg will not hatch. This is because time is nothing to a dragon. This doesn’t follow for me. Why does an unborn dragon decide not to be born? He can’t have all the time in the world if he isn’t even born.
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Duskglimmer
Rank 8 (Getting Moldy!)
Human Boomerang
McKay: Have you seen a guy? He looks like you, but with messy hair. I think I lost him somewhere...
Posts: 1,567
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Post by Duskglimmer on Feb 5, 2007 9:00:39 GMT -5
An average dragonic life span is one thousand years of age. Once again, you don’t need “of age” on the end. Soon, natural resources were being depleted. Gold, silver, and bronze coins were created as a form of currency. The kingdoms grew restless, and greed took over. Everyone wanted land, gold, and/or power. And they were willing to kill to get it. Again, the sentences don’t follow each other in my mind. What does resource depletion have to do with making currency? Lay your sentences down carefully. You jump around a lot and it makes the reader’s mind go through loop-de-loops. Make each thought follow the last. It will help considerably with your flow. Pure, undiluted hatred was another cause. Because different races had different religions and beliefs, people of other religions thought them to be blasphemous, and evil. There we go with Religion = bad Again. And now you’re adding Religion = source of hatred If this is a main point in the story, then you need to make it a little more subtle. If this isn’t a main point, then it really needs to get weeded out. A loud thud tore the unusually still silence in the warm, dry, summer evening air on the outskirts of the small farming village, Saskarette. There needs to be a transition here. There’s nothing to tell the reader that we’re switching from textbook explanation to talking about an actual character. That, and you have too many adjectives: warm, dry, summer, evening… it reads like another list. Cut out what’s unnecessary and choosing your wording carefully to make it more concise. The noise was off to the north, but it was still audible from miles away. Another shortly followed it, even louder than the one before. Whatever it was, it was getting closer, fast. After a string of loud thuds, each louder than its successor, and each keeping a slow, rhythmic tempo, a shadow loomed over the furtive farmland. I still don’t understand what the thudding is. Footsteps? Wing beats? The five windows on the house-two in the front of the house, and one on the other four walls- were small, rectangular, grime covered, and, in the case of two of them, broken. This is wordy. Most of the shingles that should have been on the roof, protecting the occupants on the house from the precipitation that would otherwise seep through the ceiling, were missing. We know what shingles are for. Why not just say that “protecting the occupants of the house” and leave it at that? They laying shattered on the ground below, and the few shingles that held their important positions were worn, cracked, and on the verge of falling to meet there fellow brethren. Wait… I thought that they were missing. Now they’re laying on the ground? Rework this with the last sentence and tell us where the shingles fell in the first place. Have a separate sentence talking about the few shingles that were still on the roof. It’s a nice touch, but it needs to be popped. The outer walls were covered in a sickly yellow, much like the colour of urine, paint that was in the process of peeling, revealing the rotting oak walls beneath. “urine” brings up more of a smell than a color for me. It also brings up a gag reaction. I’m not sure that its what you want. And “rotting oak walls”? And you expect them to fix up this house? If the house is rotting, you tear it down and rebuild it. Coupled with an unkempt, brown-grassed, lawn, overflowing with weeds and crab grass, was a withered, foul smelling garden, and an air of poverty about the property. We already get that this isn’t the home of some filthy rich person. You don’t have to tell us that. Let us feel it. The owners of this house, if there were anyone in who would live in such filth, obviously did not care about how they were perceived by the public. Doesn’t follow for me. Nobody lives near rot by choice. If someone lives here, it has nothing to do with not caring what other people thought, it has everything to do with not having anywhere else to go. As the far less than mediocre home was bathed in the shadow, a creature began to decline towards the ground. The mysterious creature was as large as two adult African elephants. Each time it beat its translucent red wings, the deafening thud roared through the dry air. Ah, so it is the wing beats. Rather loud, aren’t they? Hyperbole is nice, especially in trying to describe mythical creatures, but don’t overuse it. This magnificent creature was unmistakably a dragon. If it’s so unmistakable, why are you telling us? We already knew. Moments after the dragon landed, the large, ferocious beast was engulfed in thick black smog that smelled of ash and brimstone. Watch your adjectives. Emerging from the smog was a tall, thin man with pale skin and light blonde hair. There was no time lapse here. It feels like the smog is still appearing and there’s a man walking out of it. The reader has no time to put together that the dragon is disappearing and the man appearing. We don’t understand that the dragon is shape shifting. Make it easier on us and give a time lapse. The man had yellow eyes, and a long, slender face. He was a handsome man, with no visible flaws in his appearance. Why the heck not? Why is it that a dragon translates so flawlessly into a human form. Shouldn’t there be something just out of the ordinary that would alert you that maybe he’s not everything he seemed to be? He looked to be a nobleman. You keep telling us things. Why bother describing him to us if you’re just going to tell us what he’s supposed to look like? Let your descriptions stand on their own. It seemed as if the man was the scarlet dragon. You’re telling us again! Stop! *falls down on her knees and begs* It seemed that he ignored the obvious problems with the property, as if it was his own. If that were MY house, I would be cringing at the sight of it. Looking at the windows in shame, wishing for something different, holding my nose against the stink of the rot. Home owners are more self-conscious of their homes than anyone else. The people seem not to care are the strangers that have seen it before and don’t want to offend or embarrass their hosts. Think about what you’re saying. When he reached the rotten wood of the front door, he pushed it aside and stepped into the front hall. More rot. Living in those kind of conditions will get you sick. No one would keep a baby in that house. Not unless that only had two brain cells and wasn’t using either of them. A bit further up the hallway was a room to the left. It was a grubby looking kitchen with grease stained floors and a dirty wood stove in the far right corner. Why not tell us that it was a kitchen right off the bat? I’d like to see something along the lines of: “A bit further up the hallway, a kitchen jutted off to the left. It was grubby looking with…” There was an equally dirty table in the middle of the room surrounded by three wooden chairs. Why are there three? This is where the dragon went. Can you tell us that differently? That sentence glares at the reader like you wouldn’t believe. And it shouldn’t. Sitting on the wicker couch was a pretty, young woman with brown, mousy hair and loving, hazel eyes. Shouldn’t we hear about the pretty girl before we hear about the couch. If you can see the couch before you enter the room, you should be able to see the girl. And people generally notice other people before they notice the furniture. When the dragon entered the room she was singing a lullaby, frantically trying to get her baby to sleep. And wouldn’t we hear her as we come down the hall? Tell us about that. Make us feel like we are walking into the house along with our dragon friend. The dragon returned the smile in return. He did, huh? Don’t use the same word twice in the same sentence. The way you have this worded, it’s like saying some one did something over and over repetitively. You already said it, don’t say it twice. “Oh good, you’re home,” she said in a cheery voice. “Kelmac is just getting to bed, but he doesn’t seem to want to go to sleep. Maybe you might have better luck with him Leon. I sure hope so because I need a nap more than he does. I haven’t slept since you left last night.” First she’s frantic, then she’s joyous, now she’s just “cheery”. How many emotions does this girl go through every minute? You like using adjectives and that’s okay, but make sure they agree with each other. Give us the same feel all the way through. He walked over to Kelmac and scooped him into his arms. The baby fell asleep within moments. Now dragons have magic powers that allow them to put a fractious baby to sleep in moments? Amanda walked over to the dragon and kissed him on the cheek. How big is this room? Why did she have to walk to him since he just picked the baby up from her arms? “My hero,” she said giggling slightly before sitting back down. And magically the couch traveled with her and she is able to sit back down without moving at all! Leon’s voice adopted a more serious tone. “Amanda, are we actually ready for this baby?” It seems a bit late for him to be asking that. The baby is already born, what’s he gonna do with it if she says they’re not ready? Isn’t there any other way to instigate this conversation? Amanda looked at him, a little less cheerful than before. “We’ll be fine Leon. We can fix this place up and raise Kelmac right. We can paint the walls, tend to the garden and lawn, and maybe even put a tire swing in the front yard.” The tire swing seems out of place. What kind of era are we living in? “I don’t mean the house. I mean Kelmac being a half dragon, as some call them. We cannot risk the villagers finding about us, or they will kill us and Kelmac. For the time being his half dragon features have not gown in yet, and will not for many years. It’s only that they can come as young as fourteen years of age. When they do appear, how are we going to explain to him that he is half dragon half-human, and cannot go into Saskarette anymore? The features of a half dragon are easy to spot and, you know as well as I do that the villagers will not hesitate to kill the “Mutant”, as what all half creatures are called. Especially a half dragon, what with the war raging between humans and dragons. What are we going to do?” Asked Leon, sounding concerned. We already get that he’s concerned by the time we get to the end. The “said” tag would work better somewhere in the middle of this passage while we’re still trying to decide what his tone is. And you’re doing a bit of an information dump again. It doesn’t sound very natural. Okay… that sums up my nit-picking of the sentences. There’s just one thing left to discuss: the characters: You’ve introduced three people: Kelmac, Leon and Amanda. Just from the names I have a question: Why is it that Kelmac is the only one with an unusual name? “Amanda”, I can understand. She’s human; she should have a human name. But why did you name your dragon father “Leon”? Just something to think about. Then, I have to wonder… Why did Leon marry Amanda? Why did he choose to have a human wife rather than a dragon one? The two races are at war with each other. How did they end up together? And what drove them marry? And THEN what drove him to have a child that is half and half when its so dangerous for him? Either there’s been some interesting circumstances and he’s been pushed into this situation, or he’s got some nerve. Whatever is going on, you leave a lot of questions about him. Moving on to Amanda – She seems a little too perfect. The red dragons are characterized by anger according to your descriptions of them, or at least that was the feeling I was left with, so how is it this little pansy ended up married to him? She’s either hiding her strength of character or she doesn’t have it, neither makes sense. Anyone married to some one with a temper needs to have a temper of their own, either that or she needs to have an unwavering coolness. I see neither in this her introduction in this chapter. I know you called them an “Odd couple” in the chapter title, but I don’t see any oddness about them. I just don’t see how they actually work together. As for Kelmac… I can’t say anything about him, because all I’ve seen him do is cry and then fall asleep in his fathers arms, then magically not get mentioned for the rest of the chapter. Well, that’s it. Once again, I’d like to remind you that everything I’ve said is a suggestion. If I seem to pushy or too harsh, I apologize. I hope I helped in some way.
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Post by Ethan on Feb 5, 2007 11:13:37 GMT -5
Wow, I had no idea that I sucked so much as a writer... Duskglimmer, I want to thank you for your crit/review/personal attack (last one is a joke) . You are the first person to give me a good review. All of the points you made were valid, and I am about to go through and edit where it was necessary. Although, at times, you came off a little harsher ( ) than necessary ( ), you justified your points well. Just one question: what do you think of it as of now, or what it could be? I'd ask you to be honest, but I know better
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