Thread: Short Stories to Share
Leelee, this thread is perfect. I'm not much of a writer, I'm not cut out to be an author. I tell stories, and rarely write them down. I have it all in my head, and what gives them charm is the telling. But the way of storytelling the way it was once done is gone, so if any of my tales are to be shared, they must be written, and written well. That means practice, and this thread is perfect for it! Thanks.
This one is more of a historical recording, as it is a prologue of sorts to another story.
This tale begins many years ago, in Pellbuldur, the continent, when Argalion was king in Ballinder, and the most powerful king on the land. It was at the end of the most prosperous time of Pellgal, the region over which Argalion reigned, when the queen, who had been ill for many months, breathed her last. And the king was left, without his queen, and without an heir. So great was the sorrow of the king, that the entire country felt the pain emanating from the city of Ballinder, and from the very palace of Argalion. King Argalion called to his side all his greatest friends and advisors, summoning them from all the corners of the continent.
One of these, was a man named Erildior, who was an Orinthian, not of Pellgal, who was at the time of the king's summoning, living in the city of Yren, in Nurend, the country on the eastern border of Pellgal, with his wife and his young son, Tosandik. Upon hearing the news of the queen's death, Erildior moved his family to Ballinder, so that he could serve there in the king's court. There, small Tosandik lead a very different life than in Yren. The people of Ballinder were separated into three classes, the highest being the nobles and royalty, the middle being the citizens, merchants, shopkeepers, and so on, and the lowest consisting of the thieves, beggars, the slaves and those who had no home or money, or means of getting it. These poor, Tosandik saw, and tried in every way he could to help them, But often, he was chased away, hated bacause of his father's position. In this way, Tosandik grew older in Ballinder, and in wisdom and compassion, and a longing to change the world. It was after Tosandik had become old enough to be called a man, that his father grew ill, and, though he was strong, he was unable to pull through, and he died.
Tosandik, though distraught, then filled his father's shoes, and took his place in the king's court. The King Argalion had dearly loved Erildior, and so greatly loved Tosandik, for the boy's visage was very similar to his father's. Tosandik proved to be wise and full of good counsel, and observant, learning quickly. And with his ability, he pleased the king. For many years, Tosandik served faithfully the king of Pellgal. But his happiness was scarred, when his mother, who had never recovered from the death of her husband, followed and shared his fate. Tosandik could stand not in the presence of the king and his officials, for his grief was great, and so he took his horse and rode for many hours, hiding not his tears. It was here, that he saw a great and terrible sight, one that would forever change him, and his world. On the horizon, far to the north, Tosandik saw what no man before had seen.
Sorry, I can't finish it now, but I will. There is much more! and it gets way better.
Hmm, sounds like a sort of a plan, this thread.
Anyway, this weekend was over, before it even started. Meh, I want more free time.
I've been getting awfully lazy with writing too. ^^
A bad habit, if one can say, but since Leelee used her magic to create this thread, I guess I've no choice, but to contribute my last two parts of 'Vorelfos: A boy who became a wolf' to this thread.
After that, I'll visit the site every now and then, but I've to quit this laid-back mode of mine, so I can focus on my novella. For the first time in ages, I'll have to create a lot of names, places and stuff, so it will probably be an exodus for my empty head, since I hate to use my mind too much. That's why some of my friends call me 'Icehead' (It's a long story)
Anyway, that's that. By the way, Rukain, all of those names, my head's rolling back and forth, but it's a good tale so far. Keep it up.
See you all due to evening. I shall join the wind and play with leaves once again.
Rukain I was immediately struck by the fact you almost make your work like a documentary and that in turn reminds me of Tolkien's Unfinished Tales. I very much like your style, all those names and the feeling I got of the family, the ruler and the boy. I already felt in touch with them and am as well already fearful now for their welfare and sad that the father died and left mother and son bereft. Well well done. Take your time and add to it as you think it out. How proud I am of you.
And my dear Oerath, Prince of poems, can this be true, can it really be you would venture into the prose section? What a guy. This novella of yours is already a best seller on this site and we have not even turned a page!
Lady, if you see this, please try me again on the chat thingy. I think it is working again. I have been talking to someone and my chat actually got through. I am so sorry i could not read your chat.
I wish this had been done sooner, then I would have put my New Beginning story here instead of creating a whole thread just for it. Oh well.
Nice work Rukain, that is quite a lot of nice names! I am looking forward to the rest.
Oerath, please, post something....we haven't had anything substantial from you in awhile.
Wen, Wen, once in a while, it's good to sit down, lean back and just think about things further. And as I've said, I post stuff whenever I want, and considering that matter, I've decided that there will be no more deadline's or strict days to post things, 'cause I tend to have this and that more than often, which can cause some absence and longer days.
But, I just posted a short, little piece into the realm of poetry, and once I get to finish what I started yesterday, there will be even more.
I guess I can reveal the entitle: The Black Horn (Story of Mógrah Dórmiel)
It's a very old work, which I remembered just a day ago, and it will consist of 2 older works of mine.
It's a Arcadian one!
Before I post the last parts of Vorelfos-saga, may I represent to you all.. A sort of comeback
Let's see if I can post that one later on.
Considering Darbeian poetry/lyric versions, those can wait too. Novadays, I'm not so often online, so I'll keep posting these 'more like prose' pieces most likely in place of poetry.
The World of Arcadian
Stories about The Guardians
The Black Horn (Story of Mógrah Dórmiel)
'When The World of Arcadian was created from shards of a fallen star, the gods of north (as the people of Arcadian know them), created four guardians, who would protect and oversee this new world in their absence. First of them came to be known as Oerath Windsoul, a master of all spellcraft and magic and a guardian of life and nature. Second of them came to be known as Vael Nemathrel, a gatekeeper of dreams and a guardian of daylight and dreams. Third of them came to be known as Loremaster Xaié, a watcher of all that is part of the sky and a guardian of night and it's stars. And the last, fourth of them came to be known as Mógrah Dórmiel (later, Mógrah Blackheart), a lord of shadows of the night, a guardian of death and afterlife. Along with them, the gods created three demigods and a being, who came to be known as The Mother Earth (Oerath's mentor and adoptive parent).
Each of the four guardians were granted the age of eighteen, as it is said that when a mortal one reaches the age of eighteen, he or she is finally capable of taking care of himself/herself.
And so, they all knew who they were and what abilities and powers they possessed, but they didn't know how to use and control them. They had to learn it all by themselves. Such was the will of their creators.
Three of them lived their lives in all peace and happiness, but not Mógrah, he wasn't like the other guardians. His destiny was to become a god, who would eventually bring chaos and destruction upon the whole world of Arcadian, if not stopped in time, but when he was younger, his heart wasn't yet stained by all of that hate and the lies of his creator, so he had hope, but his time was already running out.
And this story tells about the events, proud moments and tragedies of his life, and how he lost everything and became the enemy of all that is and will ever be.'
Act I : Neara, a woman of royal blood
One day, when Mógrah was wandering in the woods of Fergalon, he came to a forest lake. Feeling very tired and weary of his journey, he wanted to wash his face and his hands, but only a few brief moments later, a woman walked to his sight from behind the trees, and Mógrah was so confused and surprised that he fell on his back. And when that woman noticed him, she started to laugh, asking from Mógrah: 'Oh, my, did I scare you, traveler?'
Feeling a bit ashamed, Mógrah arose back to his feet, cleaned grass and mud off his clothes and said: 'Um, hmm.. No, it's not that.. I.. Anyway, I am Mógrah. Who are you, mi'lady?'
Laughing and still smiling, the lady opened her pun and Mógrah watched as her long, silky and brown her swayed in the morning wind. And Mógrah, well, he was more than stunned, he was fascinated at this woman's beauty, and with an open mouth, he watched as she cleared all of that hair off from her face and said: 'My name is Neara. Neara Dórmiel. Pleased to meet you, Mógrah. May I ask do you've a surname?'
He was still shaking a bit, but he soon realized that he had to say something, but all of the words seemed to get stuck into his throat, but finally he managed to put himself back together and said: 'I.. I don't know. I wasn't given a surname. I'm just Mógrah..'
Looking a bit confused, Neara asked: 'Well, Mógrah, where are you from? These woods belong to The Kingdom of Ithalon, a kingdom that my father rules. Are you from around here, or from somewhere else?`
'Ithalon.. Your father?'
Realizing that he was talking with a lady of noble blood, he knelt before her and said: 'Forgive me, mi'lady. If I only knew who you are, I wouldn't have spoken to carelessly..'
Now in place of Mógrah, she was feeling ashamed and so she reached her right hand and placed it on Mógrah's left shoulder, saying: 'Please, rise up. There's no need to do that.. I'm tired of the fact that people bow when they see me, just because I'm a daughter of the king. In this forest, in my father's lands, we're all worth the same.'
Smiling a bit, Mógrah said to her: 'Forgive me, Neara. Hmm, how should I begin. Well, I've been traveling from forest and land to another for nearly three years. I've seen a lot and I'm very tired of my journey. I was supposed to go to the town of Ordaellon to meet three others, who are traveler's, just like me, but now, it seems that I'm lost after all.'
And after they had sat there, talking for hours, Neara rose up, and since she was feeling compassion and something else towards him, she said something to Mógrah that would change everything:
'Would you.. Would you come with me to Ithalon . I could introduce you to my father and ask if you could stay in our castle for a while. After hearing what you've gone through, I feel that it's the least I can do for you.'
Mógrah now noticed that she gave him a pleasant smile, and so he thought: 'Is this.. fate?'
Accepting silently, he nodded, and so the two were off, but as they were finally out of the forest, Mógrah suddenly remembered something important: 'Oh darn it.. I forgot one of my bags. I must have left it on a stump of one tree near the lake..'
He started by saying: 'Neara, could we turn ba..' - but before he could finish that sentence, Neara took a hold of his hand and said: 'We can return to this forest later, now, let's go on, Mógrah.'
Nodding, he thought: 'Ah, well, I guess that can't be helped then.'
And only seconds later, a magnificent sight opened before them. The Kingdom of Ithalon and it's gates, countless of houses, great and red flags and the castle and all of it's towers, pillars and gardens.
Suddenly Mógrah seemed to understand why people referred to Ithalon as 'The Kingdom of Dreams'.
And feeling so overjoyed and certain, even Mógrah knew that he was about to turn a whole new page in his life.
Written by: Otto 'Oerath Windsoul' Timonen
Original story/serie of tales: The World of Arcadian by Oerath
To be continued..
Thanks all, for being so encouraging, and Oerath and Wen, I take pride in my many names. Hope they're not too overwhelming though, and once you see a map, they all make perfect sense(mostly). Oerath, you're story sounds like one of those that I'd go to bed with, thinking, "I've a lot of work tomorrow, so I'll just read a little," and when it's morning and I have to get up for school, I'm still reading! I'm dying to know what happens, please keep on writing it here!
Tosandik looked out to the horizon, and saw a great cloud, yet not a natural cloud. It was dark, not like a storm cloud, but far darker, as if it held in its center a void, a nothingness, from which it drew strength, and from which spawned the every fear of man. This he not only saw, but he felt, in the innermost part of his being. The evil, the malice, growing, convulsing in the cloud of darkness. Under the cloud there was nothing, not as a barren land, or a desert. There was nothing, eternal nothing. Tosandik felt the pulsing emnity that was destroyer of all. He turned round his horse and fled, racing with every ounce of his strength. He must tell the king.
Ariving at the city of Ballinder, he leapt from his horse, his legs not for one moment stopping, as he ran to the palace, and into the throne room of Argalion. Once he had entered, he stopped, heart racing, gasping for breath to speak,the terrible image still clear in the forefront of his mind. There before him, sat the aged king on his throne, his white beard hanging to his knees, and a rich crown upon his brow. Beside him stood a man of the court, a Modeneel who had long lived and served in Ballinder, who was called Sieldiriovan. He was older than Tosandik by many years, and had for far longer served the king. He stood now, beside the throne, watching Tosandik as he struggled for words.
"Majesty!" finally gasped Tosandik. King Argalion acknowledged the boy with a nod of his head. Gaining back is strength, Tosandik declared, "Majesty, the king, I have on this day witnessed the death of my mother, who has raised me with love even after the passing of my father. I had gone, with my steed, for many hours outside the city, when I saw, on the horizon, far to the north, a cloud. The greatness of it is indescribable, my lord, but that it was terrible and evil beyond the reckoning of even the wildest imagination. It was, my king, as though every evil, every sin, of every man was gathered there in the form of a cloud, which fed the nothingness in the center of it. Below it, there was that nothingness, simply nothing! It was no wasteland, no desert which we would call nothing. It was true, utter nothing, a darkness and destruction that is terror to every thing that lives and breathes. It is evil, great king, and it is coming."
After he had finished recounting what his eyes had beheld, a silence fell upon the three that were there in the room. This silence was, after time, broken, by the man Sieldiriovan. "My good and noble king," quoth he as he glared at the boy standing before him, "This young man has been through much today, and he is tired, and in need of rest and guidance. I am sure, my lord, that he has seen only the creations of his troubled mind." The king Argalion then turned from Sieldiriovan to Tasandik, studying him with concern. Sieldiriovan, now behind the king, stared at Tosandik, eye to eye, and grinned, a sly, crooked grin. Rage filled Tosandik, and he cried, adressing the king, "My lord, you must listen and believe me! Please, your majesty, this-this thing! It is coming, and it will devour the entirety of the kingdom, not just this, the world, if it is not stopped!" Chuckling, Sieldiriovan stepped out from behind King Argalion, and spoke, "My good young sir, please, listen to my sense. There is nothing out there. You are safe, and have nothing to fear." Tosandik straightened his back, glaring at the older man. "You have spoken the truth, once, and for one thing. There is nothing out there. There is nothing, and there will be nothing here, if nothing remains out there!"
Then, the king rose to his feet, and held his hands out, saying, "Men of Ballinder! There is truth in the words of only one. I have heard your speech, and to both I pass my judgment." There for one terrible moment, stillness. After this, the king's words fell on the ears of both men. "Tosandik, I have for many years watched your growth in my palace. I have taught you the ways of the court, and you have learned well. I loved your father dearly; he was one of my greatest and wisest friends. But I must act on what I deem true. You are faint, my boy,and distressed. I cannot trust your words. So young are you, to be so troubled. I hereby release you from my personal service. You may now leave the palace. May you be well, and prosperous, as you grow older, and may you have rest and be satisfied. You have my blessing." With this, the king resumed his position on the throne, signifying that he was finished. "You have made a mistake, my king. I hope, for your sake, that you will see sense." Tosandik declared, then left the room.
Before doing so, he felt an evil, so familiar, too familiar an evil. But what made this all the more terrifying, was this fact: this evil malice, emanated from the man who had the king's trust, the king's confidence. Sieldiriovan.
I felt that by doing this, it will get a more complete feel to it, once I finish all of the three parts.
So, here it is. Re-reading isn't that bad after all?
'Vorelfos was barely two year's old, when his parents abandoned him and left him to a forest, far in the north. He thought they would leave and come back for him afterwards, but his hopes were all in vain. Now, lost in a forest, with no chances to survive on his own, what fate will befall him?'
Vorelfos: A child who became a wolf
Part I : The Call of Wilderness
He was left all alone with nothing, but a gift of the nightfall..
No parents to protect him.. He was without care and love..
He had nothing at all..
And being not able to rise on his feet, he cried and cried..
Asking for someone to save his life..
He didn't want to die, his only wish was to survive..
And when he saw the first of his nights, he feared for his life..
But at the arrival of morning light, his existence would no longer be denied..
Salvation.. It was finally in his reach..
And when he opened his grey and sad eyes..
He saw the mother wolf, sitting by his side..
She howled and howled, asking for him to climb to her back
Vorelfos saw no evil in her eyes, so he did as she asked..
Together, they rode through lands and great forests
And Vorelfos fell asleep, before they even reached the den of wolves
But once they were there, he cried no more, and as he looked at all of those wolves around him
He felt no fear, only comfort and love.. He had been given a second chance.. A new beginning
And as the years passed, he finally reached the age of ten
He was ready to fight for his clan, but he still had to grow more in size and strength
And then one windy day, whilst riding on the back of mother wolf, they encountered a wanderer
He looked at him and asked: 'What are you doing here, child. Where are your parents?'
Vorelfos understood him, but he wasn't capable of speaking, so he said the only word his parents had teached to him:
'Is that your name, lad? Why are you with the wolves, answering to the call of wilderness?'
He laughed, but Vorelfos looked confused and asked: 'Wil.. Wilder.. ness?'
'Look around you, boy, this is the wilderness.'
By lighting his pipe, he said:
'It seems that you cannot speak, but you can understand what I'm saying?' asked the man, and Vorelfos nodded
Then the man took a pointy hat off the grass and placed it on his head, saying: 'Mind if I accompany you two?' Then he said a few words in a tongue unknown to Vorelfos, but suddenly, the mother wolf howled and lowered her head, as if she was bowing to this wanderer.
Who is this man, he thought, but then the man placed his hand on Vorelfos's shoulder and said:
'Do not worry, lad. I know what you're thinking. I was sent here to protect you, and I will teach you how to speak. I can also write and sing songs, but we should be going already. Night is at hand.'
But then he saw a mystical mark on Vorelfos's forehead, and by pointing at it, he said: 'How.. How is it possible that you've the mark of nightfall. It is said to be a rare gift of birth. It symbolizes one's eyes being able to see completely in the dark. And according to the legend, someone who has this mark, is able to become one with the shadows. But I don't know, it's a myth after all.'
Vorelfos touched his forehead with his hand, and thought: 'A gift of nightfall.. What.. could it.. mean?'
But he was too tired to think about such things, so instead of that, he only smiled and nodded. It was surely getting dark, but his heart was somehow at ease. And soon, in warmth of the mother wolf's fur, he fell asleep again. And in his dream, he saw his parents, just like every night before that. He didn't saw their faces, but he still knew they were his parents. He just knew.. And in that same dream, he saw the wanderer smiling at him, he smoked his pipe and kept singing something about journeying to the ends of the world. And at that moment, Vorelfos wished he could speak and sing too, but in time he would learn how to, and that thought was enough to calm his mind.
'Who is that man.. Is he.. a guardian?'
Those were the words he said aloud, while he fell deeper into sleep.
The wanderer looked at the mother wolf, and suddenly started to laugh: 'A guardian.. Hmm.. What a strange mortal child. He's already looking more wolf than a human should, but I can see it in his eyes. He wants to be a wolf, and who knows.. Any dream can become true, after all.'
Looking at the moon, he blew smoke rings out of his mouth, and said with a grin: 'This wind surely is biting, but I feel that there's something more to this night than meets the eye. Don't you agree, Frelath?'
Howling to the night, the mother wolf silently agreed, as they kept walking towards the den.
To be continued.
Written by: Otto 'Oerath Windsoul' Timonen
Oh my, 500's post from me. Yosh!
But it's just an update post, since I like to do these (a lot).
I've written 1/3 of 'Vorelfos: a child who became a wolf' - pt.2 and it's going to be quite something.
Entitled such as: 'Rite of the Full Moon' (By the way, in this story, it's not about werewolves at all. You shall see.)
Let's see when I shall post it. Today, tomorrow. Who knows.
Congratulations on the 500 Prince of Poems. And,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,,wow. I have to read and reread to take everything in,. I am thrilled you are on this thread and each one of you is giving me a great deal to read and learn and it is wonderful. thank you.
Thanks, Rachel. It's not much in general, but it's much for me, since I am not the kind of 'do loads of posts' person.
Most of those posts are dedicated to the poetry thread, and that's how it will always be.
But, I've thought about it, and though I don't usually bother, I could take part in some Tolkien discussions. I've knowledge and memory to store it, but I lack the will to share.
Anyway, I feel like taking a beer or few, after doing such a wonderful re-make. And if fates shall be kind, you'll get something new by tomorrow. Some story, I mean.
I think I haven't written anything this long for a while, and it's a pure story piece. As I've said to some of you, my writing style, when writing story, is quite different and maybe even strange at times. And while my true skills lie in poetry and lyrics, I still enjoy of writing some story from time to time. I hope you like of it and about the plot.
Vorelfos: A child who became a wolf
Part II : The Rite of Full Moon
It was past midnight already, and they were still far away from the den. And suddenly Vorelfos woke up, shaking his head forth and back, and then he looked to the sky and saw a large swarm of crows flying above the trees, croaking loudly. He covered his ears first, for so loud were their croaks, but then he took hands off his ears and thought: 'Crows.. Isn't it a.. Sign of death?'
The old man looked at Vorelfos and saw fear and confusion in his eyes, and almost as if he was reading the boy's mind, he said: 'Do not fear the crows, they're not here to warn us. They're here, 'cause they've found something.. Something.. Interesting.'
Vorelfos turned to face the old man and asked: 'What it could be?'
Then his face went pale as the old man looked him into the eyes with a grim look and spoke with a low voice: 'It means that.. There is a corpse.. Lying somewhere near us!'
Vorelfos didn't see that coming. He got scared and almost fell from back of the mother wof, but luckily he managed to take a firm grip of her fur, and well, the mother wolf turned her head, wondering what was going on, but then Vorelfos placed his right hand behind his head and smiled, as to say that: 'It's nothing, really..'
Then he looked at the old man, who was laughing and taking gulps from his flask, and Vorelfos thought: 'Damn that old man.. Telling things like that.. But I wonder.. What does a real corpse look like?'
Again, he looked at Vorelfos and said: 'Well, you might see soon enough, boy. There's something behind those bushes over there.' - Pointing at the area ahead, Vorelfos suddenly got chills down to his bones, as he smelled something horrible. It was a scent of death, but what concerned him more, was this man's ability. It almost felt like he could be able to read minds, by simply listening to thoughts around him. Fascinating, but scary.
And as they came to the area, they beholded a horrifying sight. It was corpse of a female wolf, and upon seeing it, the mother wolf began to cry, shouting to the night. Then the old man said to Vorelfos: 'I know that you're old enough to know something. Can you see that mark on the wolf's back. It's a symbol of her clan. She belonged to the same clan with us.'
It was a shock to Vorelfos. He wondered how the mother wolf must've felt, but since he couldn't speak, he started to cry too, as to express his own feelings, and then the mother wolf calmed and howled at the man. Nodding, he said: 'She says that for now, we must leave her behind. We'll continue to head towards the den and come to retrieve her corpse afterwards. I will hide it behind these bushes.'
After doing that, they were off.
Six hours later, Den of Wolves
And as they finally reached the den, other wolves were waiting for them at the entrance gates, and as they saw the old man, all of the wolves suddenly bowed before him, as if he was their king. This confused Vorelfos even more: 'I wonder who this man truly is.. There's even something familiar about him, but I cannot tell what it is.. I wish I'd remember..'
The man noticed Vorelfos's confused look, and once again, he smiled at him and said: 'I know this all must be very confusing, but without anything else said, I'd finally like to introduce myself. My name is Vaelfos, and I..' - the mother wolf suddenly looked at the man with doubtful eyes, and then he continued by saying: 'Oh, well, let that be for the moment being. We're now here, and now, Vorelfos, you shall come with me to the forest that lies beyond this den. And there, your training begins. I've discussed this with the mother wolf, and she agreed that it is time for you to learn how to speak, and among other things, more about this world itself.'
Vorelfos nodded in agreement, but he still kept thinking about it all: 'How those two know each other, and how they've been talking, since the mother wolf has never spoke to me during these past eight years.' - But then again, his desire to learn how to speak was so great, that he entirely forgot about those thoughts and hurried after the man, and so they left the den.
And as days turned to weeks and months turned to years, Vorelfos learned and learned. Vaelfos taught him to master combat skills and some spellcraft that he was capable of casting. He also taught him about history, common knowledge and most of all, how to speak, by using human tongue and wolf tongue. And on his fifteeth birthday, after five years of training with Vaelfos, a long awaited night finally arrived.
They were sitting at the fire, talking about things, and Vorelfos, now being able to speak like any human being, asked a very odd question from Vaelfos: 'I am grateful for this all, but since I met you in that forest five years ago, I've longed to ask something..' - Looking serious, Vaelfas said: 'Well, what is it, lad?'
Suddenly, Vorelfos seemed to doubt for a moment, but then he said it: 'Back then, one evening, you called her.. Frelath. Is that her real name? Is that the name of the mother wolf, 'cause my mother's name was Frelath.'
The old man dropped his mug to ground, spilling his ale on the fire, and looked down, as if he was either looking surprised or sad, and then he revealed something to Vorelfos that would change everything: 'I.. Well, I guess it's no use anymore. I wasn't aware you had overheard that conversation..'
He stopped for a brief moment, as if to gather more courage to go on, and then he continued: 'During these past five years, you must've thought that why there's something familiar about my name. My name is Vaelfos, and your name is Vorelfos. And the truth is that.. I am your father, Vorelfos.'
It was something that Vorelfos didn't expect to hear, it was a shock to him, and as he took a few steps back, he suddenly got angry and shouted at the man: 'No.. No, you're lying! You cannot be my father.. My parents abandoned me over thirteen years ago.. They left me alone..'
'No we didn't, Vorelfos.'
Upon hearing that voice, Vorelfos turned around and then he saw the mother wolf, coming from behind the trees. Pointing at her, with his body shaking, he said: 'You.. You spoke.. What.. Do you mean with that?'
Sighing, the mother wolf looked at Vaelfos and said to him: 'Did you tell him the truth?'
'Yes.. I did tell him.' - 'Fine, well, then there's no need to hide anything anymore.'
By speaking a few words in wolf tongue, the mother wolf/Frelath howled at the moon and Vorelfos watched in fear and amazement, as he fur, tail and all features of a wolf disappeared, and she transformed into a woman. Then, after finishing her transformation, she started to walk towards Vorelfos. Thinking that what she was up to, Vorelfos kept yelling at her: 'Don't.. Don't come closer to m..'
But to his surprise, Frelath took Vorelfos to her embrace and hugged him, by saying: 'Vorelfos.. I'm your mother.. I'm Frelath.' - He couldn't be angry anymore, instead, he started to cry, 'cause of happiness and hugged Frelath, stepped back a little and said: 'I.. I don't know what to say.. I feel so confused, yet so happy.. But is it true.. Are you my parents?'
Sighing loudly, Frelath smiled and swept tears from her face and said: 'Yes.. It is true. We cannot even guess, how you must've felt during all this time, and we cannot do anything to make up for something like that, but will you listen to our story, if I tell you the truth about that day?'
He wasn't sure about it, but then he said: 'Alright, I will listen.'
Then he sat down and Frelath and Vaelfos sat to front of him, and then Frelath began to speak:
'Alright.. Where should I start? Oh yes, thirteen years ago, when me and your father were summoned to an urgent clan meeting, we first left you at home with Dariel, the woman who used to take care of you, when we were away from home. Do you remember her, Vorelfos?'
'Yes, I guess so.. A young woman, dark brown hair, big staring eyes..'
Laughing a bit, Frelath said: 'Oh, so you do remember her.. Anyway, I shall continue now.'
'Then at the meeting, we learned of something terrible. Our enemies in the north were gathering their forces, and would be ready to start a war against our clan. We were told that we would have to take part in this war and leave our homes for months or years, none of us were sure about it back then, but since you were just a child, barely at the age of two, I rose from my chair and protested against the idea, and asked from them, if could I stay here and protect you, while Vaelfos would go to war and be there as long as it would take. And they agreed, but under one condition. I would have to remain in disguise for as long as possible. And then we agreed with your father that we would leave to that forest, so you could partially activate your gift, by spending a night alone. We also agreed that I would come back for you later, being transformed into a wolf, and your father would leave and come back, when the war should be over..' - Crying, Frelath continued: 'It.. It was the toughest decision we've ever had to make. And I truly regret it. The war lasted for nearly eight years, and then in secret, I went to a nearby country to meet your father, Vaelfos, and there we agreed that he'd come with us, disguised as an old man and that he would train you by himself. I guess you know the rest, but you still do not know one thing.'
'What is it?' asked Vorelfos, and then Frelath arose to her feet and uttered the same words she had spoken earlier, and in moments, fur started to grow from her skin, and her eyes and head changed. His ears grew longer and Vorelfos was still so amazed about it that he fell from his chair to the ground.
Then as he arose, Frelath transformed back, sat down and said to Vorelfos: 'This is our gift, my son. This is the gift of nightfall. Me and your father, we're both shapeshifters. We were born with the ability to see in the dark, transform into form of a wolf and be able to master spells and use of energies of nature. As our child, you possess the same gift and abilities, and only in a few days, you will be granted a chance to learn, how to use your gift.'
Looking ever so confused, Vorelfos asked from her mother: 'What.. What will happen in a few days?'
She looked up to the sky, pointed at the moon, and then turned to face Vorelfos and said: 'In three days, a complete full moon will occur, and it hasn't happened in over fifteen years. That is what we've been training and preparing you for. That is your greatest challenge, and your greatest gift that we could ever give to you. It is called 'The rite of full moon.'
Upon hearing this, Vorelfos smiled and ran into his mother's embrace, and said to her: 'Greatest gift you two could ever give to me.. You already gave it.. You're alive and we're now together.. It is all that I need.'
Even Vaelfos, who had remained silent until now, took his true human form, dropped his flask to ground and said: 'I'm so glad that the war ended five years ago. And I'm even more glad that you've grown up, son. You're a man now.'
And by saying those words, Vaelfos hugged Frelath and her son, and together, they watched at the moon, and all of the wolves back at the den heard three howls, and even though none of the three were using their forms, they all still howled. Three howls of joy and love..'
To be continued.
Written by: Otto 'Oerath Windsoul' Timonen
If I notice some spelling mistakes, I'll correct them as soon as I get to it. With that said, have a good evening, all of you. I'll start out with some beers and then I'll be off. I will post some poetry later on, or by tomorrow though.
I've now corrected some, hopefully most of the spelling mistakes. If I write too quickly, then that's what I get. Always.
Anyway, do read and leave some feedback about it, since it's one of my few stories not to include any poetic stuff.
Rukain, I am very much loving your work, i like the feel, I am happy to go there as it were and walk along side the characters. Wonderful
Oerath,magnificent, how proud I am of of your work.
Thank you, Leelee. By the way, could we try to keep this thread a little more active, yes?
I realized today that I had not posted anything in a while, and let me say something, before I do.
'The Last Flight of Rey'lith', as I call it, will probably evolve into a story.
There's so many things I want to add, and less things I want to leave out of it, so I guess there's no other way.
I already posted a poetic work, being based on an old idea, and I wrote it with an intense working time of one hour. It was pure pleasure. This day has been an inspirational shock of thunder.
Now, for a newly written and edited version of: 'Forgotten Kingdom of Heaven's Light'.
I bet you're going to like of it. I added many twists and some new story bits and new poetic lines to match those that already existed.
A woman who is both druid and true-sworn servant of the spirit gods meets a man, who is too lost to see that his own mistakes and errors have brought him to the edge of his past and future. And as madness slowly drives him forward, he may indeed abandon the very gift of life. And she sees something promising and strange in this man, and thus she decides to help him. She wants him to open his eyes, and see all of the truths about this world, but will he be able to return back from the realm of darkness and despair?'
The Forgotten Kingdom of Heaven's Light
The Ghostly Entity
I am so lost, there's no roads to follow
I am too weak, nearly a ghost, the core of my soul is empty and hollow
My eyes are frozen from inside, I cannot no longer feel neither sorrow or pain
Is it my time to leave this world behind? Is it my time to open the final door of dooms, and become one with the rain..
The Druid of Stormfire
I was flying high above in the form of a crow, when I saw him sitting down below
So I soared down from the darkened evening skies, to save him from the cold fate of demise
And so I asked from him: 'Why are your eyes so dim? What is the darkness that is silently burning you from within?'
The Ghostly Entity
'I did not know could it be true. There she stood in front of me, a being more beautiful than any angel, a woman in the robes of midnight blue. And as I looked at her, her beauty made me to wonder.. It was enough to tear my chains of grief and misery asunder.'
And then I asked from her: 'Who are you, and why are you here? Can't you see that I've come here to die, my soul is beyong any help or aid. I feel that the real me died long time ago, and that my death was rewarded with yet another spark of false hope. But if your beauty is enough to break the lies contained within that spark, will I be freed of my sins and of my past?'
The Druid of Stormfire
'Listen to me, oh broken one, your only hope is to stand and fight on. Best the shadows of your tormenting past, throw them out of this reality, our of this time. Lead them to the edge of your never-ending nightmare, and then vanquish them with the powers of the light. Your life must go on, I'll help you to survive through this dawn. Just close your eyes, and take my hand, and we shall leave this barren land far behind.'
And so he looked at the woman once more, and stretched his hand towards hers, and at that moment he felt the magic of beauty and love. And those two feelings filled his mind with calm thoughts and hope.
And so he arose and watched as the woman transformed into a crow, taking a hold of his hand, and in only a moment, he noticed that they were flying in the air.
And so he closed his eyes, and he started to cry.. For the first time in his entire life.. And then she started to sing, about a kingdom and about his misery, and he just listened, as they kept flying onward..
The Lament of Forgotten
By the blood of the goddess of stars
By the tears of the goddess of moon
Oh why his eyes are shut..
Why he is so blind to the truth..
If I won't be able to show him the right way
He may not live long enough to see the light of a new day
I've to take him beyond the borders of this world, beyond the limits of this sky
He'll see a place of magic and purity.. A place where even dragons are alive
I'll take him far beyond the reach of day and night
I'll take him to the forgotten kingdom of heaven's light
It is a place of true power, home to the ancient spirit gods
Fly freely my friend, and explore the heights of this sky, see all of the colors of the promised dawn
'And then she opened an ancient portal, and as they entered through it together, they found themselves floating in space. And then she said to him: 'You're now a spirit, mortal one. Open that astral door and see what lies behind it. It may be your past, it may also be your future, or it may be something that you've ever even dreamed of.. Open the door of redemption and see the truth!'
The Spirit of A Man
'And so he took a few steps closer to the light, he knew what he was leaving behind. Nothing, but torment and ghostly thoughts, he wanted to have a better life without any worries and doubts.'
And as he got closer to the door, his heart began to pound for excitement and love
He had already fallen in love with this druid, he wanted to follow her even to the depths of the great void
And as he opened the door, he saw a bright new dawn, and thousands of dragons flying high up in the blue and cloudless sky..
And then he thought: 'Is this truly the forgotten kingdom of heaven's light?'
So many castles and gates to see, so many great runic stones and fulfilled dreams
Is this the paradise? Is this the land of evergreen and life?
I hope this is not just a part of a long dream, I want to break these chains, I want to be free
None can stand in my way anymore, I am now the guardian of my own soul
And then he turned to face the druid, and said:
'I cannot ever thank you enough for bringing me to this place
And I now know that it's not my time to pass away
I'll silently wait for the hands of judgment, may they come and end my days
But that time isn't yet at hand, a time has come to break free and fly away!'
'And so he took her hand once more, and she looked in amazement and wonder, as he started to transform into a scaly and gigantic being. And there he stood before her, now as a mighty dragon, with great wings and will to breath fire.'
And then he asked her to climb to his back, and so they flew across the skies, and joined with the other dragons, and their cries of freedom were heard everywhere in the forgotten kingdom of heaven's light.
The Druid of Stormfire
I am glad that you decided to live on, mortal one, and from now on, I'll aid you in your quests
May the spirit gods protect us and give us more will and strength
Now we must fly across this sky to meet the others, and together we shall cry..
But not tears, it will be a cry to remember and fear
And our battle cry will tell to everyone that the spirit gods are still well and alive!
Now let us sing..
Do we all remember those days, when the skies used to be stormy and grey
The Great Stormfire gave birth to dragons and creatures of old
And they all were raised and taught by the spirit gods, so it has been told.
We all know that The Forgotten Kingdom of Heaven's Light truly exists
It's not just a part of our own dreams, it's as real as any of the star streams
And one day everything shall be revealed to the rest of us
So we all may seek for this magical kingdom out of curiosity and trust
Even a man with no will to live.. Can become the guardian of thoughts and dreams..
And so the two walked away, hands crossed, waiting for the night to turn into a beginning of a splendid new day..
And that was their tale, and now there isn't anything else to tell..
So let us say goodbye, but not bid farewell..
Written by: Otto 'Oerath Windsoul' Timonen
Such a dream land you give to us Oerath.
As for keeping this thread more active dear Otto, i have no control over that. It is the same as your the journey that never ends, it will only be as active as the people who show up to share in it. I myself cannot for reasons you know well do this, but maybe you can beguile the others here to take the plunge and follow you into the crystal clear waters of the Middle-Earth imagination.
Yeah, I'm sorry for speaking out such words. I was a bit boozed away that day. Of course I understand that many of us do have daily things and cannot contribute as much as, for example, I do. I don't have much to do with my free time, so I either use it to writing, to play games or to just hang out with friends or to do something musical.
Anyway, I'm glad you liked of my new edition of that work. It's quite good now. Full of great imagery and lots of new twists and poetry to read.
While I haven't been working much on Darbeian or some finnish poems I should re-write or modernize, I've been thinking about writing something new about Mógrah and maybe something new about Vorelfos, who knows. I've started to think that by raising my writing activity, which would in some cases, even mean 1-2 story pieces + 1-2 poetic works per week, it would probably spark my interest to write more storiously (That's not even a proper word ^^).
Let's see if that works out.
I haven't written a second part to my latest work, yet, but this time, before going back to sleep, I thought I'd share one of my own experiences, which I decided to turn into a little story. This is a real experience. I've even thought about writing a piece of work about this experience, but until now, I've been too afraid to do it.
Let me tell you all a little story: 8 years ago, when I was 13 or 14 years old, I saw a very, very haunting dream. And I still remember it, almost like I'd seen it last night. And in that dream, I awoke in my room and arose to my feet, took a candle and went outside, then I heard some strange whispers coming from the forest, and I just knew that I had to go to that forest. And as I climbed the cliffs and walked down those dark and windy paths, I could almost hear chanting of some sort. It almost felt like there were black robed men all around me, singing some forbidden and ancient words as I kept walking on.
Then I arrived to an open area, where I had been earlier that day, and then something unexpected happened. The sky darkened completely and the whispers grew louder and closer, and then, as I was about to turn around and leave, a shadowy stepped forth from behind the trees. He had a long black robe and it's color was much more darker than night itself. He also had a torn hood and a horrifying scythe in his right hand, and in his left hand, he carried an ancient tome of some sort.
And then I tried to run, but I found myself to be frozen physically. I couldn't move even as much as I tried, and as he came closer, I could feel unimaginable pain only by looking at him, and then, he pointed his scythe at me and spoke these words: 'When you hear voices that are not your own, what do you do.. You follow.. Because you've no other choice.. You're a mortal.. Curiosity.. Yes.. It is your weakness.. And here you are.. You don't know why.. But I do..'
And so he opened his book and as it started to glow and float in the air, he hit his scythe to the ground, sending forth a wave of energy that forced me to fall to my knees, and then he started to speak again: 'You're not here for the first time.. Why do you seek me.. I'm not a god.. I'm not a messenger.. I'm neither life or death.. For I'm everything that has ever existed, everything that now exists and everything that will ever exist.. Now.. Do you know the truth about life and death? Do you know what lies beyond the gates of this world?'
Trembling, first, I couldn't come up with an answer, but then I answered yes. And after a moment, he dropped both his book and scythe to ground and walked to front of me and took his hood off. Revealing his face. And in a flash of thunder, I saw his face.. The other half of it was skeletal and rotting and the other half of it was.. Still alive.. Just like any normal human face.
Then he placed his right hand upon my head and I felt as he began to drain the energies of life itself from my body, and as all skin and flesh started to burn off from my face, I screamed in agony, more like ever before, and then he suddenly stopped, stepped back and said: 'Your mind.. It holds the truth.. But you do not see it yet.. You must learn the truth.. Only then.. You'll be able to walk through the gates.. Only then, you'll be able to enter a realm.. Where life, is nothing more than just a dream that can be given to any mortal being.. Where death, is nothing more than just a nightmare that ends, once you finally awake from a dream that is called life.. And in that realm.. We're the gods and we're the servants.. We're love and we're hate.. We're broken and we're eternal.. We're the wind and we're the rain..'
And after saying those words, he gave back all that life he had taken away from me and as my wounds kept healing, he departed and then disappeared into the shadows, but then a lightning bolt hit a nearby tree and it burst into flames, and as that tree fell down on me, I heard him shouting: 'Learn the truth.. Or you do wish to perish.. Here.. And now!?'
Then I awoke, shivering and feeling terrible, and then I went to to the bathroom, drank water and as I looked into the mirror, I could see his face, and that really frightened me. Then I dressed up, went outside and stared into the woods as wind kept throwing my hair from one side to another. It was still night and I felt like I should go up there, to that same place, but I just couldn't..
Instead of that, I sat to the ground and wondered what did he mean. Was it just a nightmare? Was it a symbolic dream? Or was it a mystical sign? One day, I hope I'll learn the truth, just like he said.
And that is one of the most detailed and terrifying dreams I've ever seen. I hope there aren't any spelling mistakes. I'm about to go to sleep, so let's say it was a quick write, but certainly something very different.
Oh Oerath, that was dreadful, but i think it was just your mind working some sort of sense to all the strange things you might be reading or watching on teli or hearing. Hugs to you dear one.
I smiled my dear friend when you asked me if we could keep this thread more active. I have no control over who writes what , just like you don't on your the journey that never ends. sigh. But at least they are there for any who may be interested. All of our lives are so complex and busy, the fact that anyone ever takes thirty seconds to post is amazing in view of all that really.
But just because you are so dear to my heart, here goes. Ahem, attention any reading this. You are seriously needed to contribute a line, two , a paragraph, whatever you can and will to add to this site. We long to know your thoughts, we would delight to read anything by you. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeze.
When I was much younger, I would've said the same, but as you may know, I believe in kind of supernatural things, and some dreams are very special in my eyes, and that was one of those.
So, I think it holds some greater meaning. I believe that one day, I'll dream a dream, where I shall encounter that shadowy being once again.
Have I ever revealed that I have an 'alter ego', called: 'Vórdrem, The Lord of Whispers'.
Well, now I have done that, I guess.
He's one of my oldest Arcadian related characters, and in the overall story-line, the right hand of Mógrah, The Dark One.
I once even considered Vórdrem as my artistic name, but I chose this name instead.
I'll now give you a foretaste of Vórdrem and his personality, since he'll be included in my upcoming Arcadian + Norse inspired tale. Yes. I decided to put some other stuff to hold, since I got a massive spark of inspiration a few days ago. An idea to write something dim, heroic, epic, dreadful and sad. Good combination of elements, ye?
I haven't abandoned any of my story stuff, like: Darbeian or TSOTG etc; but I just feel that I should write this, something good may come out of it, and besides, these kind of tales suit me the most.
'Záelthrim, Forged With Ash and Fire' is the working title. This time, I ought to write more than just a few parts. In fact, I've already figured out some key elements and stuff, and this is going to be awesome. I haven't been this excited, since I started the whole Arcadian thing.
Oh, my apologies, here's something short about Vórdrem.
Crows are my only friends, Shadows are my only servants
Night was the beginning, and it shall be the end, I've foreseen it all..
Silence follows me everywhere I go, and whoever dies by my hand..
They'll corpses shall never be found, as long as I am the greatest shadow of this land
'Those that have faced the grim death.. Know that ice is eternal, and fire has no spirit or will..'
'Those that have vanished without a chance for one last breath.. Know that death isn't the end of everything..'
'It is told that once Vórdrem ventured into the darkest dungeons of The Hollow Halls, to meet a man who had become a black wolf, and when he arrived to front of his dungeon cell, the man ran towards the bars, shaking them and crying fiercely at Vórdrem.. But.. When he took off his silky and dark hood, Vórdrem looked the man deep into his eyes, and at that very moment, the man took a few steps backwards, his whole body trembling of fear, and collapsed into the ground, gasping for air. And then a guard saw Vórdrem's hand, and as he moved one of his fingers, the man cried in anguish. Could he possess such powers? The guard remained silent, he didn't dare to think further. Then Vórdrem stopped and grabbed the man from his long hair, and started to drag him upstairs. The guard didn't dare to speak out a single word, he just stood there, in his position, waiting for him to get out of sight, and once he was gone for sure, he took a very deep breath.. For he feared Vórdrem more than anything or anyone. It is said that none has ever harmed him in battle, and it is also said that in addition to his otherworldly strength and knowledge, he is able to hear all thoughts, all voices, close and distant, and when he whispers, his dark and venomous voice echoes everywhere in the world. It is said that such is the power of Vórdrem, The Lord of.. Whispers..'
Written by: Otto 'Oerath Windsoul' Timonen
Vórdrem's first real night
Edit: This tells about the day, when Mógrah killed Vórdrem and took everything that once belonged to him. And by doing so, Vórdrem became his servant, and his right hand.
He ran for his life, as a shadow kept chasing him. By using the light of moon and his eyes, he ran steadily through the darkening woods. He was very quick, but he feared that he wouldn't be quickly enough to escape that shadow, but then he saw something that most men would call a salvation. A forest lake.
There it waited for him, fairly in the distance. Clear and refreshing water, ready to take him to it's embrace, but suddenly, a question arose in his mind. Would that be enough?
Unfortunately, he didn't have time to focus on that matter. So, without hesitating, he called upon his inner powers, and increased his otherworldly speed, now running faster than any animal ever could. I can do it, he thought, and so he ran and ran, and then, when the lake was close enough, he stepped on stump of a tree and jumped. He had never jumped that high during his whole life. And as he dove into depths of that lake, the shadow stopped.
There it was, waiting in front of that lake. But why it didn't follow him into those cold waters? It felt almost like it didn't even want to chase him there. Why..
Maybe it knew that Vórdrem couldn't hold his breath for long. In any case, when he thought to be safe, suddenly, he witnessed something that erased all of his sane thoughts. That shadow.. It transformed into a black robed man.. And there that man now stood, reaching his hand below the surface.
Vórdrem was barely able to hold his breath. Panicking, he tried to calm himself. He cannot reach you, you're out of his reach. None could ever do it. It is impossible!
But then he heard as the man muttered some dark and ancient words of power and then his arm stretched into the depths, taking a monstrous hold of his neck, strangling him. Vórdrem tried to resist. He kept hitting the man's arm, kicking in the water, trying to break free, but none of it helped. And as he started to lose his eyesight and all light that once had shone so brightly in his dark blue eyes, he suddenly remembered his home, family, friends and even his enemies..
Then he died in the embrace of those dark and cold waters. In the depths of a large forest lake. And that lake was supposed to be his salvation, but instead of that, he achieved something that the black robed man desired him to achieve. He died, and death would become the greatest salvation and grace that none ever granted to him in real life.
Then he suddenly awoke. And as he lifted his head from the cold and stony ground, he suddenly felt ill, and then he threw up, emptying his lungs off water. The man stood right beside him, laughing darkly at him. By seeing him, Vórdrem arose and tried to run, but the man was much more quicker. He stretched his arm and took a hold of Vórdrem's right hand, and without any effort, he threw his body against the wall, back first. Then there was a sound of backbones breaking, and after that, Vórdrem cried a horrifying scream of torment.
Then the man looked at him, and said: 'Look around you, you weak and foolish mortal! What do you see? Where are you? Who am I!? You know all of the answers to these questions!'
Vórdrem did as he was told to, and suddenly, he was amazed by what he saw. Then he arose to his feet, strangely, it didn't hurt so much anymore, almost like he hadn't even broke any of his bones.
Then he looked at the man, and suddenly, he knew what he was supposed to do. He knew where he was, he knew who that man was, but there was something he didn't know. He didn't no longer remember, who he used to be.
'You're Mógrah.. The Dark One.. These are.. The Hollow Halls, right?' he said.
'Yes, you're correct, mortal one. I killed you and took your soul as my own, so now, you're nothing more than a puppet. You cannot no longer remember anything of your past life, but let me tell you something about yourself..
You're not really dead. I just killed your physical form. Here, you exist as a spirit, and if you join me, you may choose whatever form or body that you desire the most.. Become my right hand, Vórdrem. Yes, that is your real name. Use it to break those that once knew you!'
His voice echoed like thunder itself, and Vórdrem knew that he wouldn't have any other choice, but to serve him. That's not why he did it though, for you see..
Vórdrem didn't understand some of it all, but he had always wanted to meet Mógrah, and just like any true sworn servant would do, he accepted his offer.
'I accept your offer, and from this way onward, I shall fulfill my duties as your right hand. Whoever I slay, whoever I imprison, whoever I lay with and whoever I take as my slave, I shall do it all in your name!'
And after saying that, he knelt before Mógrah, but the dark one told him to rise up and follow him to the front yard. And once they were there, Mógrah spoke once more: 'Back in that forest, you moved more faster than any other mortal I've ever seen or met. I don't know how did you do it, but I'm impressed. Go, In this realm, night never fades, morning never comes, sun never shines and moon and it's light are only for those that are weak. This is your first real night, Vórdrem. Disappear into the shadows! Show me your true power!'
'Yes, my lord.'
And so, Mógrah watched as his new apprentice ran into the woods, and he just stood there, smiling. Death is so beautiful, he thought, and then he told the gatekeeper to open the gates, and so he returned back to the castle.
Vórdrem just kept running, and this time, he was able to run more faster and silently. Almost like a shadow. He laughed, as he kept thinking about his death. Just some hours ago, he had been a mere mortal, and died like one, but now he had become something so much more. He had become a part of death itself.
Written by: Otto 'Oerath Windsoul' Timonen
I'm sorry for my lack of posts, but life's been well, life, and we all know how that goes. Another goodbye, another look around, and we are never the same.
Concerning the story I had been writing on here, it's turned out to be nothing so short as to fit it on this thread! I might continue it in journals or something at a later point, if you want it. Oerath, your Arcadian myths and legends are so extensive and full of detail, it's sure you've put a lot into it all. I promise I'll post when I can, I love spending time on the site, and with you all. I'll not have a ton of time for a while, but I'll keep up here as much as I can, reading if not posting. I sincerely hope you are all well.
I may have promised some story stuff, so let me start a new one.
Edit: I forgot to say that it will be posted in a few days. I'll have a busy weekend, I bet, so let's see how I'll manage.
'Rise of Lord Saerloth'
I've always wanted to write something about vampires and undead, in my own strange way.
So, it will be a horror tale. I've thought about some background details and how to shape the story, and it will probably contain a page or two full of stuff.
Some story to fill up on the character and to tell about the events, and some poetry to chill the atmosphere.
Lord Saerloth Melrethis II was originally a character I created for Dungeon Defenders (a popular tower defense game).
I hope it will turn out to be a good experiment. By the way, 4th chapter of The Graves is on the works again. I hope to complete it sometime during this week.
- Story Information of Oerath -
Oh dear , Alonzo, and hullo by the way, I cannot see your text and I long to do so. It is too faint in color. Can something be done?
Rukain, are you alright, is there anything we can do to walk along side you? I miss you and yes, I should like very much to read the rest in your journal, when it suits you. Hugs to you.
Okay I don't like that fellow, choking others, it bothered me terribly. He needs a bunch of fivers on the nose.
I liked the words but would that be enough. I fear not. I always like the pace and action, even if after I read a piece and have to hide under the bed. You have grown in skill and stature and I scarce know you anymore Prince of poems. well done.
This is just something i wrote. I do not know if it will be good and my spelling is horrible.
Narook, the old man, said "Travel beyond that mountain right there and you will find everything you ever wished" Then he put the book down. "That is the beginning of Shaldires adventure. We will read more tomorrow children"
All the children got off the damp grass and waved goodbye as they scattered back to there houses. A few minutes later there was a loud roar and the wind picked up rapidly, almost instantaneously. Throwing things around, knocking some huts clean over. All the towns people ran out of there houses, now struggling to withstand the strong wind, carrying there children in there arms. Clutching them to their chests, ready to do anything to keep there children alive. Most of the towns people were screaming at this point.
Johan, leaning on the side of the old run down bakery, woke up startled. He jumped up from his sleeping spot. To his surprise when he looked in the sky he saw a black dot moving in what appeared to be circles. It seemed to get bigger until he could make out the form of what looked like a bird.
That can not be a bird. It is far to big. Thought Johan.
The moment came when all the villagers saw the shadowy bird lurking in the sky, they ran petrified and screaming. Johan could not move he seemed to be hypnotized. When the moving black shape got closer he realized it was a dragon out of story books. There had been myths but none seemed to be true . Now at this very moment Johan remembered as a kid, his mom reading him storys about dragons who came and terrorized the villiage.
"But this can not be" whispered Johan to himself.
The dragon landed all but two feet from Johan. It was the size of a house. Its tail big enough to be a tree. The dragon was blue with golden spikes linning its spine and emerald eyes that bore into your soul.
I used to be able to write several short stories in one weekend. Somehow lately I can't seem to produce anything at all. In the last 3 months I've only been able to write 3 short poems.
I have a feeling that my problem is connected to the fact that I can no longer play the guitar. Playing the guitar was a sort of "release valve" for most of my creativity for a long time and I used to have sessions every night. (I am angry with myself for never recording any of these sessions!) With the loss of the guitar I was sure I would be able to write much more but it has been exactly the opposite. Sometimes I feel really restless and I will pick up a pen and a notebook (I've no computer at my house currently and I am using my friends computer for all my internet needs :P) but I cannot get anything actually written.
Long story short: How does one overcome writers block?
Well, my cure for writers block is actually music. You really want that block gone, pick up an instrument, any one, whether guitar, piano, flute, mandolin, fiddle or any other of those really fun ones like a harmonica or panpipes. Music is the cure for a lot of things. A vent for all the tanghled feelings and ideas and plans and dreams, where it can all fall smoothly into place. I actually play 2 instruments, the piano and the ocarina, which is a kind of flute that I believe originated in ancient Mongolia, or Tibet.
That's how I dispel the writers block that I so despise(and am in the middle of) It might take some time as well, but it really works. Also, getting advice from other writers and poets is a good thing for anyone's tales or poetry.
Speaking of which, I'd really love some feedback and suggestions on some of my tales that are in the weaving, and was wondering if anyone here might like to oblige? Should I post my questions and story bits and such here, or make a separate thread.
Thanks, and I hope you find some way to tap your imagination, Arath.
Hmm, lot of stuff going on here. I've a terrible headache, so I'll keep this visit short.
@ Arath: Good to see you. A cure for writer's block.. I do not believe a proper one even exists. The human mind is very complicated, and thus, it is possible to run out of ideas, or not be able to gain inspiration anymore.
Just like Rukain said, music might help, also, seeking for various sources of inspiration might help too.
But my own cure is that never write too much. One can have winning streaks and sudden inspirations, but good ideas should be handled carefully. That is what I think.
I, by myself, write things, when I feel like up to it. At times, it is safe to write multiple times a week, but what's the hurry?
For me, good sessions are those that last for long enough, but for not too long.
I hope any of this helped.
I find writer's block tends to occur when you feel pressured to write something or get stuck in the middle of a story that you have lost a bit of interest in. I find the best way is to forget about writing for a while and do something else. That is perhaps why music is helping. I find a walk in the woods or along a rocky coast helps. I listen to the sounds, take in the smells, observe the colours and try to notice something I have not noticed before. That seems to stimulate descriptive ideas that I can then insert into stories. As most of my stories are based around Tolkien's work, I tend to look for gaps in his work for my inspiration. I then try to fit my story around his timelines. Several of mine have also been based around requests from other people for a story about certain things.
I find the worse thing to do is to try to continue writing through a block. The writing is never good or enjoyable.
Alonzo that was so brilliant, I love the way you just throw the audience into a conflict and we don't know why. Brilliant. Please consider making this into a full length novella perhaps.
Arath, I feel terrible for you . i can relate. I have a family member who honestly is one of the most brilliant Celtic poets i have ever read. He was accidentally pushed at work, he is a chef and his finger was sliced to the bone. He plays left handed slap base. The physician told him he had to have immediate surgery to correct the nerve because he had no feeling now in the finger. The problem was the surgery had to be done in another city about an hours drive away. And once you got to the hospital it would be on a first come first serve basis. He also had to fast six hours before, so that meant he had to work so hard with no food or drink. His brother took him over and over and into the night they waited and finally he would have to return home, starving, exhausted and with no surgery and now it is too late. He stopped playing and stopped writing. It took a year, but slowly he is coming back. He is ignoring his finger and making himself play and he is brilliant. His writing, if anything, is deeper and more crystal clear.
And I was walking along and just hit some tiny little thing with my right foot on the pavement as i headed to a beautiful park. I thought nothing of it but it started stinging a bit and then felt weird. A strange numb and painful at the same time feeling began to move from the foot to the ankle then up the leg and the pain in my knee was unbelievable. i had xrays and it seemed it was some rare form of trauma that went into the bone. Not only could I not teach dance anymore I could not walk at times. It was the beginning of years of horror. But little by little, as I faced the depression I began exercising and that was about it. The horrible thing was I am a writer by trade and now I was dry as parched ground, empty as a bottom less pit. What i did and Clayton did that ultimately turned things around was get terribly involved in helping our community. We already had a street ministry but now we branched out. Seeing others pain and worries helped us forget ours and then just like that the well was full for creativity.
When I was able again , like Val i walked and listened and just relaxed. You cannot make your mind do what it refused to do, so doing other things that are valuable and beautiful will help heal and motivate and the thing is one has to LIVE in order to have things to write about. Live, experience and read, read, read the works of others one admires. Then there is something from which to draw. Val's very job affords much to be turned into print. And i am sure Arath that your life does too. Your new job is so fairy tale to me, drink it in . And I thought you said you had a new instrument , a little one. Try it and let it carry you away. The guitar is beautiful but it is only one instrument of thought and beauty.
Rukain, I would help you if you like as I can. Oerath, good advice.
I hope you guys liked of Saerloth pt.1.
I've had some difficulties with getting into the right rhythm lately, which is quite normal in my case, since I suffered from a rhythm disorder, when I was younger, and after all this time, it still affects to my daily life.
I'll write some of Saerloth pt.2 tonight, but I better leave it for tomorrow. Funny, delaying seems to be a crucial part of my writing. ^^
And it sure does work for me, since I've never suffered from a writer's block.
@ Rukain: Ya requested some feedback, and even though I recall giving some in the past, why not. You've some potential, and your short tales are quite nice, so, keep it going, girl!
I started my journey at your age, but oh, I sucked back then, 'cause in Finland, they don't teach english almost at all in comprehensive school's early grades. It all begins at 7th grade, at age of 12-13. That's why I decided to learn english on my own. Schools are so damn boring, with a sole exception of musical schools.
But ey, that's all for now. And Rukain, don't let those little writer's blockies block your way. Give 'em some boot!
Dear Otto, I am telling you the truth when i say I cannot read horror, certain things from my childhood and other reasons, I would if I could but I cannot. So, perhaps one of the many other devotees of your work can step up and say how they feel after they read it. Sorry love.
I have never heard of a such a disorder, what sort of thing is it , neurological, physical? How terrible. What do you do for it? A hug for you.
It's alright, even though that part wasn't that spooky.
And oh, I forgot to add: It was a sleep rhythm disorder. Something like that.
It caused me to sleep and stay awake in very strange ways. At times, I stayed awake for more than 24-30 hours a time, and then I just slept during daytime, skipping all daily things. And at times, I just slept and slept and then woke up to stay awake through nights and so forth.
I dunno what it was in those terms, but I went through weekly therapy to get rid off it.
Worst in it all was a time, when I got hooked up to one game, and played it for over 48 hours straight, without sleeping at all, and then after that, I slept for over 24 hours. That whole thing stressed my mother a lot. After that, it was therapy for me.
That sounds more like obsessive compulsive disorder that prevented you from sleeping instead of what you said. But whatever , as long as you recovered. Just please take care of yourself, you will be happy you did .
I wouldn't say obsessive. It was just that one time + it wasn't always about playing games through day and night. It was more like sleeping randomly, since at times, I spent hours, just lying on the bed, trying to get some sleep, but I just couldn't. And then, snap, at times, I just fell asleep in a flash, sometimes in the morning, during the day, or towards the night. In other words, in terms of sleep and rest, it was quite messed up.
But that's that. Novadays, I sleep well, but at times, I want to sleep more, but if I sleep too much, I end up to suffer from minor headaches. This, of course, doesn't matter, if I'm on the booze, or recovering.
And now, time for the actual post..
More story inc. this weekend + something new to add to the poetry sections.
You just take your time and be well and rested now that school has started. hugs.