Greetings Again,
I just thought I would post a sample of writing from the novel I am working on. I suppose you could say it is a prelude. I am looking for a publsher for it of course Also, here is another art sample from my upcomming rpg book A Roar in the North: A Guide to the Ursicaen of NIth. http://i226.photobucket.com/albums/d...kovmantage.jpg This project needs a publisher as well. As always, I would be happy to send more samples of writing or artwork to any interested parties. I am also currently selling an older painting of mine on Ebay. The link to it is: http://cgi.ebay.com/Original-Fantasy...QQcmdZViewItem
Thanks to eveyone for their support and I look forward to chatting with you!
At Your Service,
Jason Ludwig
Writing Sample:
I have always hated flying. For a thousand winters and twelve I have loathed it. While it is more tiring than anything I can think of, (especially with my miraculous girth) my bones aching with age, and my wings twindging at their frays with every beat.. It is not for these reasons. It is that I do not belong there.
Intrusion into the sky is for the braggarts of my kind who believe that its expanse is our true domain. Admittedly, beings such as us can impose our will to contradict out nature, thrusting our ponderous bodies into the air on great sinuous wings, insisting for a time that a stone which is thrown will in fact not immediately return to the ground.
I once heard an illiashut shaman explain to a kenling pup that the sky was more like a court of sorts, like those of the southland kenling kings. He claimed its rulership was constantly contested, faught over by great wind and storm spirits and by the four siblings, a term given by them to describe the seasons.
Come to think of it, that shaman did taste rather wise for a kenling.
It has also been my experience that the sky is inhabited by a number of beings, that the winds and weather do have a personality not unlike what a kenling might call a spirit. The more I am subject to their capricious nature, the more I understand that creatures born on the ground should remain there.
And why shouldn’t we? The sky grants no cover or shelter, there is very little food to be found there, and the ground often seems rather bitter when he greets you upon meeting him again.
And of course there is the skylord’s challenge, a grandiose title given by my kind to the our desire to be the only beings allowed to be in the sky at any given time. Though they aren’t aware that anyone is listening, I have heard some of those wind spirits admit that they purposefully set conditions in their vicinity just right to allow dragons to become aware of each other’s presence. They must delight in nothing as much as watching us tear each other apart in the sky.
I remember how a group of arrogant greens, a common trait amongst their kind I have found, had once laid in wait in a tall storm bank and again... not knowing who they were foolishly bursting forth to challenge, attempting to nibble me to death I suppose. I had to admit that I was caught off guard for an instant and was actually concerned as they scrambled all over my back like arctic weasels across their snowy mounds on route to their borrows. They gnawed and snipped and clawed but of course my scales were far to thick for them, even then. In the end they fell from the sky, frozen solid from my great breath. The last who clung charmingly to my tail I hurled after them with a snap. And then as I watched them plummet to the ground with satisfaction, I actually heard a nearby thunderhead start to chuckle, a deep regular sonorous sound like a boulder shifting. Within moments, the sky thrummed with a bass chorus of chuckling as others of the blackish purple clouds joined in the mirth.
That is what I think of whenever I fly, which is very very seldom.
While it eludes the minds of many of my kind, in truth we belong to the world into which we were born, that of the earth. Down below me, I can see the snow glistening and the trees sparkling with their gowns of the season. Like an elven painting, its beauty misleads from the truth, seeming calm and serene with all of its charms captured in a sweeping glance . But the earth, the realms beneath the sky are so much more vibrant and tumultuous! The mountains offer a labyrinth of passes and valleys, the forests are cool and dark, and even the tundra is rife with boulders, copses, and lakes. And life! The ground is infinitely more populated with a myriad of beings from the minuscule to the gigantic... such as myself for instance.
That is my tundra: harsh, beautiful, and eventful. It has made me what I am and that is a terrible force of nature that none will survive.
But tonight flying is a necessary evil.
I have often found that kenling cities are a lot like the young of my kind. They may start quiet enough at first but as soon as they become larger than a few earthen huts they feel that they alone have the right to exist on that miserable patch of dirt. They expand quickly: building, farming... attempting to conquer everything larger than themselves that they happen to meet while scratching out their short miserable lives.
Kenlings breed like tundra rabbits, dropping litters of their pink screaming young where ever they please. Their lives, or course, are laughably short, but they multiply so rapidly that one can scarcely keep track of how many generations live in one settlement. I believe that these reasons: extremely short life span, obnoxious need to consume their surroundings, and their extreme vulnerability to the elements that always made them favorites to the gods.
Oh yes. The gods have gone now but it was not long ago that they championed the kenlings. Their causes were always kenling causes and the gods built them up with favor after favor. It was the gods that gave them the right to squat on my tundra, the gods that insisted that they be able to survive my winter.
No more.
The gods are gone now, some fifty winters ago. They left my kind to reign over the kenlings as we should have been given liberty to even as they watched.
But I am not much of a king really. I am more like a benefactor. For centuries I allowed them to be my guests in this land asking only that they remember their place as guests. I am sure you can sympathize with me when I say that no host, however gracious, enjoys ungrateful and self-righteous guests. It simply will not do and has caused me great annoyance.
Tonight, I go to inform my guests that they are no longer welcome in my house, so to speak. I will expel them from their little nest without mercy. If any survive, they will most likely be the better for it if not after some amount of hardship at first.
I certainly was.
I just thought I would post a sample of writing from the novel I am working on. I suppose you could say it is a prelude. I am looking for a publsher for it of course Also, here is another art sample from my upcomming rpg book A Roar in the North: A Guide to the Ursicaen of NIth. http://i226.photobucket.com/albums/d...kovmantage.jpg This project needs a publisher as well. As always, I would be happy to send more samples of writing or artwork to any interested parties. I am also currently selling an older painting of mine on Ebay. The link to it is: http://cgi.ebay.com/Original-Fantasy...QQcmdZViewItem
Thanks to eveyone for their support and I look forward to chatting with you!
At Your Service,
Jason Ludwig
Writing Sample:
I have always hated flying. For a thousand winters and twelve I have loathed it. While it is more tiring than anything I can think of, (especially with my miraculous girth) my bones aching with age, and my wings twindging at their frays with every beat.. It is not for these reasons. It is that I do not belong there.
Intrusion into the sky is for the braggarts of my kind who believe that its expanse is our true domain. Admittedly, beings such as us can impose our will to contradict out nature, thrusting our ponderous bodies into the air on great sinuous wings, insisting for a time that a stone which is thrown will in fact not immediately return to the ground.
I once heard an illiashut shaman explain to a kenling pup that the sky was more like a court of sorts, like those of the southland kenling kings. He claimed its rulership was constantly contested, faught over by great wind and storm spirits and by the four siblings, a term given by them to describe the seasons.
Come to think of it, that shaman did taste rather wise for a kenling.
It has also been my experience that the sky is inhabited by a number of beings, that the winds and weather do have a personality not unlike what a kenling might call a spirit. The more I am subject to their capricious nature, the more I understand that creatures born on the ground should remain there.
And why shouldn’t we? The sky grants no cover or shelter, there is very little food to be found there, and the ground often seems rather bitter when he greets you upon meeting him again.
And of course there is the skylord’s challenge, a grandiose title given by my kind to the our desire to be the only beings allowed to be in the sky at any given time. Though they aren’t aware that anyone is listening, I have heard some of those wind spirits admit that they purposefully set conditions in their vicinity just right to allow dragons to become aware of each other’s presence. They must delight in nothing as much as watching us tear each other apart in the sky.
I remember how a group of arrogant greens, a common trait amongst their kind I have found, had once laid in wait in a tall storm bank and again... not knowing who they were foolishly bursting forth to challenge, attempting to nibble me to death I suppose. I had to admit that I was caught off guard for an instant and was actually concerned as they scrambled all over my back like arctic weasels across their snowy mounds on route to their borrows. They gnawed and snipped and clawed but of course my scales were far to thick for them, even then. In the end they fell from the sky, frozen solid from my great breath. The last who clung charmingly to my tail I hurled after them with a snap. And then as I watched them plummet to the ground with satisfaction, I actually heard a nearby thunderhead start to chuckle, a deep regular sonorous sound like a boulder shifting. Within moments, the sky thrummed with a bass chorus of chuckling as others of the blackish purple clouds joined in the mirth.
That is what I think of whenever I fly, which is very very seldom.
While it eludes the minds of many of my kind, in truth we belong to the world into which we were born, that of the earth. Down below me, I can see the snow glistening and the trees sparkling with their gowns of the season. Like an elven painting, its beauty misleads from the truth, seeming calm and serene with all of its charms captured in a sweeping glance . But the earth, the realms beneath the sky are so much more vibrant and tumultuous! The mountains offer a labyrinth of passes and valleys, the forests are cool and dark, and even the tundra is rife with boulders, copses, and lakes. And life! The ground is infinitely more populated with a myriad of beings from the minuscule to the gigantic... such as myself for instance.
That is my tundra: harsh, beautiful, and eventful. It has made me what I am and that is a terrible force of nature that none will survive.
But tonight flying is a necessary evil.
I have often found that kenling cities are a lot like the young of my kind. They may start quiet enough at first but as soon as they become larger than a few earthen huts they feel that they alone have the right to exist on that miserable patch of dirt. They expand quickly: building, farming... attempting to conquer everything larger than themselves that they happen to meet while scratching out their short miserable lives.
Kenlings breed like tundra rabbits, dropping litters of their pink screaming young where ever they please. Their lives, or course, are laughably short, but they multiply so rapidly that one can scarcely keep track of how many generations live in one settlement. I believe that these reasons: extremely short life span, obnoxious need to consume their surroundings, and their extreme vulnerability to the elements that always made them favorites to the gods.
Oh yes. The gods have gone now but it was not long ago that they championed the kenlings. Their causes were always kenling causes and the gods built them up with favor after favor. It was the gods that gave them the right to squat on my tundra, the gods that insisted that they be able to survive my winter.
No more.
The gods are gone now, some fifty winters ago. They left my kind to reign over the kenlings as we should have been given liberty to even as they watched.
But I am not much of a king really. I am more like a benefactor. For centuries I allowed them to be my guests in this land asking only that they remember their place as guests. I am sure you can sympathize with me when I say that no host, however gracious, enjoys ungrateful and self-righteous guests. It simply will not do and has caused me great annoyance.
Tonight, I go to inform my guests that they are no longer welcome in my house, so to speak. I will expel them from their little nest without mercy. If any survive, they will most likely be the better for it if not after some amount of hardship at first.
I certainly was.
