Cedric
First Post
I am possibly going to write a book. I was thinking since you guys would be my target audience, I would post my first chapter and see what people had to say....please leave me some feedback good or bad.
Please be honest, I would hate to waste my time writing a book if people don't think I can write.
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Introduction
Assuredly the wound was mortal. The strong, overhead blow had caught the villain solidly in the chest, not to make mention of the follow-up slice to the throat. Hmm, of course the scoundrel was taking his own sweet time about dying. "You there, hurry up and die, don't make me have to stick you again." The villain coughed; trying to gain his breath...he would speak it seems.
"Craenor, if you hit me with that practice sword again, you won't have to worry about what Dad will do, cause I'll whip you myself."
The five year old swordsman, villain slayer and all around hero frowned, "You can't talk that much, you're s'posed to be dead. Not fair saying a lot when you're dead."
The "slain villain" stared back at him, but couldn't help to chuckle. With a wry smile Cedric Stormcrow consented to his kid brother, "I have been vanquished oh great swordsman....ughhhchh." Cedric slumped to the ground feigning death. After a slow count to 5 he cracked an eye to look up, "Think I can get up now?"
Craenor seemed to really ponder this for several seconds, then nodded his agreement, "Yah, you can git up." Working his wooden sword back into it's place under his simple rope belt, Craenor wandered off in search of other villains, dragons or beasts from which to save Storm Castle on that bright, chilly mid-spring day.
Walking into the shadow of the castle walls gave an immense sensation of just how big it was. Normally you can't build a castle that large, but with the mountainsides of the narrow pass for support; Storm Castle's walls stood over 200 feet high.
Some would say those walls cast a shadow that darkens the wastelands and hangs ominously over the Kingdom of the Crescent Vale to the south as well. Of course, that's an exaggeration, but then again it has an element of truth to it.
Hmm...without some history that doesn't really make any sense though does it. Let's see where to start...
---
Ilyan Crow was not an impressive looking man from a distance. At just under 5'8" he was on the taller side, but not remarkably so. His broad build and thick shoulders had a tendency to give the impressive he was overweight or out of shape. Anyone who believed that impression would be wrong. The closer you got to Ilyan Crow the more impressive he became.
His eyes, more then anything else, set him apart from other men. They had the thick, carved lines, in the tanned face, of a man used to squinting against the sun-brightened snow covered fields of the North Country. Undoubtedly, something else was in those eyes as well. Some would call it wisdom others experience. A rare few recognized it for what it was...death.
Knight-General-Appointed of the King's Armies, Ilyan Crow rode at the front of a column that stretched into the distance behind him. With lead elements and follow-up elements just as large nearby as well. The bulk of the Crescent Kingdoms forces marched with them and they marched north.
North to the wastelands, north to the barbarian armies invading, north to the cold winter, north to the Storm Mountains, north to the very death reflected in Ilyan Crow's eyes. Seven years men had made this march, to help hold the pass and seven years they had barely stopped the rushing tides, breaking them upon the hastily constructed battlements in Storm Pass.
However, each year fewer men would march. This year the armies were not lead by a Baron, a Count, a Duke or some other man of noble birth and training. A simple Knight appointed to the title from acts of bravery and intelligence, but never born to the nobility lead them. He made an odd leader, he didn't even warrant the title of Sir in most courts.
But lead he did...and well at that. Each man who followed him would follow all the way. He bred trust in those near him. Trust that they would either live to win the war, or die a good death for their kingdom. Ilyan Crow would waste no man's life. For this reason, men followed the commoner General and for this reason, there is a Crescent Kingdom to write this story about.
Needless to say, the war was won. The surprising part was that Ilyan Crow lived through the remaining six years of the war and continued to lead the Kingdom's armies until victory was assured. Many were angered to see one of the Duke's of the Kingdom arrive in the waning weeks of the war to "take over" for the commoner General.
But if that angered them, then the response from the King shocked them. I could go into more detail, but this is another story. Suffice it to say that after months of political in fighting and power plays, Ilyan Crow had the last laugh.
The Kingdom of the Crescent Vale had absolutely no history for people joining the peerage who were not born to it. One simply did not "become" nobility. You were noble by ties of family, or you weren't. This made the King's efforts to declare Ilyan Crow a nobleman almost impossible. At least until he officially adopted the commoner General into his family, though not his direct line.
Baron Ilyan Crow made his obligatory trip to the Capital City to be accepted into his new family and to accept his new lands and titles. For his proud years of service in their defense, the Northlands were granted to Baron Crow. Upon the orders of the King a Castle without equal would be built in the pass to the north in the Storm Mountains. Baron Crow was charged with the rulership and defense of Storm Castle and from that day forward was known in the history books and by men as Baron Ilyan Stormcrow, Ilyan the General, 1st Baron of the Northern Storms.
Storm Castle saw it's last stone set in the summer of Ilyan's 53rd year. Time would wind on beyond that point with the walls occasionally growing a bit higher or a bit thicker. Life returned to normal in the Kingdom of the Crescent Vale and children and mothers slept peacefully at night. War was a thing of the past. In the minds of most, as long as Storm Castle stood, there was no threat from the North.
As hard and hearty as the castle itself, were the indomitable men who would rule it. The Baron's of Storm Castle were a rare and strange group of men. Each of them directly descended from Ilyan Crow and each of them a warrior. At young ages their eyes held a quality that would avert the gaze of many a strong man. They were the eyes of age and experience. They sat atop the world behind the walls of that castle, looking out with those eyes, and death looked with them.
-------------------------
Like I said, please let me know what you think.
Cedric
Please be honest, I would hate to waste my time writing a book if people don't think I can write.
---------------
Introduction
Assuredly the wound was mortal. The strong, overhead blow had caught the villain solidly in the chest, not to make mention of the follow-up slice to the throat. Hmm, of course the scoundrel was taking his own sweet time about dying. "You there, hurry up and die, don't make me have to stick you again." The villain coughed; trying to gain his breath...he would speak it seems.
"Craenor, if you hit me with that practice sword again, you won't have to worry about what Dad will do, cause I'll whip you myself."
The five year old swordsman, villain slayer and all around hero frowned, "You can't talk that much, you're s'posed to be dead. Not fair saying a lot when you're dead."
The "slain villain" stared back at him, but couldn't help to chuckle. With a wry smile Cedric Stormcrow consented to his kid brother, "I have been vanquished oh great swordsman....ughhhchh." Cedric slumped to the ground feigning death. After a slow count to 5 he cracked an eye to look up, "Think I can get up now?"
Craenor seemed to really ponder this for several seconds, then nodded his agreement, "Yah, you can git up." Working his wooden sword back into it's place under his simple rope belt, Craenor wandered off in search of other villains, dragons or beasts from which to save Storm Castle on that bright, chilly mid-spring day.
Walking into the shadow of the castle walls gave an immense sensation of just how big it was. Normally you can't build a castle that large, but with the mountainsides of the narrow pass for support; Storm Castle's walls stood over 200 feet high.
Some would say those walls cast a shadow that darkens the wastelands and hangs ominously over the Kingdom of the Crescent Vale to the south as well. Of course, that's an exaggeration, but then again it has an element of truth to it.
Hmm...without some history that doesn't really make any sense though does it. Let's see where to start...
---
Ilyan Crow was not an impressive looking man from a distance. At just under 5'8" he was on the taller side, but not remarkably so. His broad build and thick shoulders had a tendency to give the impressive he was overweight or out of shape. Anyone who believed that impression would be wrong. The closer you got to Ilyan Crow the more impressive he became.
His eyes, more then anything else, set him apart from other men. They had the thick, carved lines, in the tanned face, of a man used to squinting against the sun-brightened snow covered fields of the North Country. Undoubtedly, something else was in those eyes as well. Some would call it wisdom others experience. A rare few recognized it for what it was...death.
Knight-General-Appointed of the King's Armies, Ilyan Crow rode at the front of a column that stretched into the distance behind him. With lead elements and follow-up elements just as large nearby as well. The bulk of the Crescent Kingdoms forces marched with them and they marched north.
North to the wastelands, north to the barbarian armies invading, north to the cold winter, north to the Storm Mountains, north to the very death reflected in Ilyan Crow's eyes. Seven years men had made this march, to help hold the pass and seven years they had barely stopped the rushing tides, breaking them upon the hastily constructed battlements in Storm Pass.
However, each year fewer men would march. This year the armies were not lead by a Baron, a Count, a Duke or some other man of noble birth and training. A simple Knight appointed to the title from acts of bravery and intelligence, but never born to the nobility lead them. He made an odd leader, he didn't even warrant the title of Sir in most courts.
But lead he did...and well at that. Each man who followed him would follow all the way. He bred trust in those near him. Trust that they would either live to win the war, or die a good death for their kingdom. Ilyan Crow would waste no man's life. For this reason, men followed the commoner General and for this reason, there is a Crescent Kingdom to write this story about.
Needless to say, the war was won. The surprising part was that Ilyan Crow lived through the remaining six years of the war and continued to lead the Kingdom's armies until victory was assured. Many were angered to see one of the Duke's of the Kingdom arrive in the waning weeks of the war to "take over" for the commoner General.
But if that angered them, then the response from the King shocked them. I could go into more detail, but this is another story. Suffice it to say that after months of political in fighting and power plays, Ilyan Crow had the last laugh.
The Kingdom of the Crescent Vale had absolutely no history for people joining the peerage who were not born to it. One simply did not "become" nobility. You were noble by ties of family, or you weren't. This made the King's efforts to declare Ilyan Crow a nobleman almost impossible. At least until he officially adopted the commoner General into his family, though not his direct line.
Baron Ilyan Crow made his obligatory trip to the Capital City to be accepted into his new family and to accept his new lands and titles. For his proud years of service in their defense, the Northlands were granted to Baron Crow. Upon the orders of the King a Castle without equal would be built in the pass to the north in the Storm Mountains. Baron Crow was charged with the rulership and defense of Storm Castle and from that day forward was known in the history books and by men as Baron Ilyan Stormcrow, Ilyan the General, 1st Baron of the Northern Storms.
Storm Castle saw it's last stone set in the summer of Ilyan's 53rd year. Time would wind on beyond that point with the walls occasionally growing a bit higher or a bit thicker. Life returned to normal in the Kingdom of the Crescent Vale and children and mothers slept peacefully at night. War was a thing of the past. In the minds of most, as long as Storm Castle stood, there was no threat from the North.
As hard and hearty as the castle itself, were the indomitable men who would rule it. The Baron's of Storm Castle were a rare and strange group of men. Each of them directly descended from Ilyan Crow and each of them a warrior. At young ages their eyes held a quality that would avert the gaze of many a strong man. They were the eyes of age and experience. They sat atop the world behind the walls of that castle, looking out with those eyes, and death looked with them.
-------------------------
Like I said, please let me know what you think.
Cedric
