Post by EISADA SHIGEMATSU on Aug 16, 2010 4:24:00 GMT -5
Well, I'm not good at novel making. So I decided to try once again and see if I can be dedicated enough to get, at least, to the tenth chapter. This will also be an ongoing assignment for this semester in school. I don't know what to call it, but the important character to the main character is named Naldar. Be sure to critique this, be as harsh as you want and as honest as possible. And know that I came up with this in a dream and write my best when I'm laying in bed in darkness.
Anyways, this is the firstish chapter- at least a sneak preview of it. If people like it, I'll continue it and see how it goes.
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With the sounds of chaos ringing outside of the dainty destroyed cobblestone and wood house, a small huddled family of Shura hide away from the damage of war. The night air ran cold through the blood of the prey running from the predators of war. In a time of darkness and medieval callings, it was not out of place. It was not rare. To hear the familiar last screams of those whom are impaled by the metal rod, justified to act beyond the king of another nation. So vile a reason to cause destruction- to take the life of a living human being. There was not justifying the taking of another’s life.
This upset the young man huddled there with his family, which it was apparent he was adopted. As Shura were citizens of the Shiranuai country. Their skin in colors of tan and with bold colors of hair from purple to blue- even white! All of them were sinfully handsome and gorgeous beyond belief, being perfect in appearance in every way. Even if they had their personality quirks or were out right jerks. Shiranuai was a nation of trade, a nation of riches and traders and people of wealth. The region most well known for their desert like atmosphere, while the capital was surrounded by grassy plains and a large well of water to support the entire city, as well as other cities. But this boy was not of their kind. He had pale skin, blemished by visible scars on his chest barely hidden by the torn shirt over his body. His hair was long, reaching well past his waist and the color of clear water, the aquatic silver color accented by the vivid purple color of his beautiful innocent eyes that held all the experience of a young boy yet to venture out into the world.
It was clear he was adopted into the family, whom were traders but in poverty. Their house, much like a shack, destroyed from previous raids of the war that had recently broken out in the city. It was havoc. And the city was in ruins, all accept for the kingdom that was as perfect as it was the days before the raid. The area was heavily protected by the knights and guards who refused to help the citizens to protect their greedy king. It had gotten so bad that they had set up open slave areas from evacuated inns that had recently been shut down and raided. Taking all the food and drink from the kitchens and taking all the coin hidden behind the front desk.
Eisada, the poor young man huddled between his sister and mother, flinched when he heard the strike of metal against metal so close to the house. A slave opposing capture. Whom soon was killed, virtually known by the loud scream and thud in the dirt paved street outside. Eisada looked up, his purple eyes glazed with fear and anger. The room he found around him was completely empty except the destroyed beams and the debris scattered across the floor. There were no windows, only the holes in the roof that streamed hollow pale moonlight into the destroyed house as the dust particles from the recent caved in wood danced past the beams of moonlight, further contrasting their position in the room as they illuminated the three family members stuck there in hiding.
When the sound of scuffled footsteps of heavy armored boots came to their ears, Eisada’s older sister, Attune, and his mother, Marumi, ushered him to get up. With a heavy and racing heart, he did so. Standing up swiftly and silently as his bare feet pressed against the cold splintered floor with agony and ache. His pale skin marred with the lashes and previous assailants and dried over with old blood. Bruises and cuts were covered by smudges of dirt. His body ached, screamed at him to stop, begged him to give up. But his heart was not willing, wishing to resist and survive whilst avoiding the cruel fate that many were suffering right this moment at the slave base camps they recently set up for temporary hold. He wouldn’t stop until he could fix this…
Anyways, this is the firstish chapter- at least a sneak preview of it. If people like it, I'll continue it and see how it goes.
___________________________
With the sounds of chaos ringing outside of the dainty destroyed cobblestone and wood house, a small huddled family of Shura hide away from the damage of war. The night air ran cold through the blood of the prey running from the predators of war. In a time of darkness and medieval callings, it was not out of place. It was not rare. To hear the familiar last screams of those whom are impaled by the metal rod, justified to act beyond the king of another nation. So vile a reason to cause destruction- to take the life of a living human being. There was not justifying the taking of another’s life.
This upset the young man huddled there with his family, which it was apparent he was adopted. As Shura were citizens of the Shiranuai country. Their skin in colors of tan and with bold colors of hair from purple to blue- even white! All of them were sinfully handsome and gorgeous beyond belief, being perfect in appearance in every way. Even if they had their personality quirks or were out right jerks. Shiranuai was a nation of trade, a nation of riches and traders and people of wealth. The region most well known for their desert like atmosphere, while the capital was surrounded by grassy plains and a large well of water to support the entire city, as well as other cities. But this boy was not of their kind. He had pale skin, blemished by visible scars on his chest barely hidden by the torn shirt over his body. His hair was long, reaching well past his waist and the color of clear water, the aquatic silver color accented by the vivid purple color of his beautiful innocent eyes that held all the experience of a young boy yet to venture out into the world.
It was clear he was adopted into the family, whom were traders but in poverty. Their house, much like a shack, destroyed from previous raids of the war that had recently broken out in the city. It was havoc. And the city was in ruins, all accept for the kingdom that was as perfect as it was the days before the raid. The area was heavily protected by the knights and guards who refused to help the citizens to protect their greedy king. It had gotten so bad that they had set up open slave areas from evacuated inns that had recently been shut down and raided. Taking all the food and drink from the kitchens and taking all the coin hidden behind the front desk.
Eisada, the poor young man huddled between his sister and mother, flinched when he heard the strike of metal against metal so close to the house. A slave opposing capture. Whom soon was killed, virtually known by the loud scream and thud in the dirt paved street outside. Eisada looked up, his purple eyes glazed with fear and anger. The room he found around him was completely empty except the destroyed beams and the debris scattered across the floor. There were no windows, only the holes in the roof that streamed hollow pale moonlight into the destroyed house as the dust particles from the recent caved in wood danced past the beams of moonlight, further contrasting their position in the room as they illuminated the three family members stuck there in hiding.
When the sound of scuffled footsteps of heavy armored boots came to their ears, Eisada’s older sister, Attune, and his mother, Marumi, ushered him to get up. With a heavy and racing heart, he did so. Standing up swiftly and silently as his bare feet pressed against the cold splintered floor with agony and ache. His pale skin marred with the lashes and previous assailants and dried over with old blood. Bruises and cuts were covered by smudges of dirt. His body ached, screamed at him to stop, begged him to give up. But his heart was not willing, wishing to resist and survive whilst avoiding the cruel fate that many were suffering right this moment at the slave base camps they recently set up for temporary hold. He wouldn’t stop until he could fix this…
