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Post by Tismri on Sept 14, 2009 13:16:21 GMT -5
So for my senior english project, my mom has assigned me to write a novel. For the last couple of weeks I've just made some preparations, like the plot outline, characters, setting, etc. I finally started writing it today. If it ever gets published, I'll let y'all know. Reading it, you're probably gonna recognize a lot of names, such as Jeriah and Ismalia. I may even mention a character a bit like Marola, though she won't be one of the main characters. I'm writing the prolouge now and will probably post it here once I finish it, just to get y'all interested. Hehehe!
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Post by elvenmaiden3 on Sept 14, 2009 13:19:23 GMT -5
thats awesome! hope it goes well!
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Post by Tismri on Sept 14, 2009 13:25:29 GMT -5
I hope so, too. And I hope I actually finish it. My brother is still doing his, and he's been working on it for, like, three years now. I think it's something like 200 pages and he hasn't even gotten to the main plot yet...and he won't let me read it until it's finished. Makes me sad.
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Post by elvenmaiden3 on Sept 14, 2009 14:29:50 GMT -5
haha, is your brother older?
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Post by arwyn on Sept 14, 2009 15:13:27 GMT -5
I'm working on two. I've gotten stuck in both. One is an allegory that is similar to LotR (they travel in a large group). The other is about a christian vampire.
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Post by Tismri on Sept 14, 2009 15:49:12 GMT -5
My brother's older. JB, did you make an outline of what would happen in your book? That might help a lot. If you already have, ten I'm sure some ideas will come soon.
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Post by nerasa on Sept 14, 2009 16:21:25 GMT -5
Thats awsome news. Welcome to the club. I have been working on my novel for 4 years now. I am editing it right now and it has been taking me a while but I plan on getting out and published soon.
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Post by elvenmaiden3 on Sept 14, 2009 18:12:18 GMT -5
thats so cool you guys! i started a book, but i kinda lost my inspiration....so i havent seen thta thing in years...lol
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Post by blodhgarm on Sept 14, 2009 20:11:46 GMT -5
Any crazy guys in this book Tismri?
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Post by Tismri on Sept 14, 2009 21:33:19 GMT -5
Well...the bad guy is just a little bit crazy...there's teenage drama-type insanity...there's a weird old man who seems kind of crazy at first...but I don't think there are any Kaylayns in there. Hehe
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Post by Backabuth on Sept 15, 2009 20:45:25 GMT -5
Haha, teen-drama insanity as in Jeriah-Lathem insanity? *winkety wink*
I have this idea about a book about pirates (Hardy Har) that I think I'm going to get to. And yes, writing the ideas you have for the beginning, the middle, and then end helps a lot. Then you can just fill in the details. Kind of like plotting on here and then actually making the threads with everything in it.
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Post by Tismri on Sept 15, 2009 21:18:35 GMT -5
And don't be afraid to follow rabbit trails that enter your mind. Just make sure you can get back to the main plot sometime.
Not really Jeriah-Lathem insanity. No one all-out falls in love in my book. The teen-drama insanity is more like...the cool kids beating on the wimps, ya know?
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Post by Backabuth on Sept 17, 2009 20:22:44 GMT -5
Ohhhh. I hate when that happens. It makes me mad.
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Post by Tismri on Sept 17, 2009 21:39:01 GMT -5
Yeah, and of course the "cool kids" are the bad guy's favorite soldiers. Hehe.
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Post by Tismri on Oct 26, 2009 21:35:11 GMT -5
Prologue:
The city seemed silent, nothing stirring on this still night. There were no dogs barking in the street, no children crying in their homes. No wild animals were howling. Everything was unnaturally still. Too still for the king lying in his bed. To him, the silence was disturbing, and he listened for the slightest noise. Nothing in the castle seemed out of place. No alarms, no warning shouts, nothing out of the ordinary. He tried to go back to sleep.
He couldn’t relax. No matter how much he wanted to believe that nothing was wrong, he had instincts screaming at him. Perhaps the Vrentian army was about to spring a surprise attack on the city. They had been at war for five months, so it was possible. But that didn’t feel right to him. There was no way the Vrentians could have gotten this close to Freia yet. The battles were being fought clear on the other side of Ismalia. He knew this; he had been planning to join them in a few days’ time.
No, it wasn’t the war that was bothering him. It was the dissent among his cabinet that had him worried. He recalled how some of them eyed him early that evening, their gazes so inscrutable. Few of them said a word beyond what was expected. The only one who seemed himself was Daros. If anything, the middle-aged lord had been quite jovial, not his usual solemn self. The more he thought about it, the more the king was troubled by their behavior. Maybe it was just the war getting to them, the reality of it finally sinking in.
He heard a noise and started. It was hardly noticeable, like a door opening somewhere on the lower levels.
“Guards,” he called, not in a yell, but a calm commanding voice that concealed his unease. The guards posted outside the door entered his room.
“You called, Majesty?” the captain of the guard asked.
“Yes,” the king said, coming to his feet, “I want some of you to search the castle. I feel ill at ease tonight and would like to know that there is nothing to worry about.” The guards glanced at one another, wondering what could have the king disturbed on this night. They turned to leave and fulfill their king’s bidding.
Before they had gotten a single foot out the door, four hooded figures appeared and shot the guards with crossbows. They then rushed into the room and searched for the king, pointing their loaded crossbows at anything that moved. The king was nowhere to be found; it was as if he had simply vanished into the air. They looked behind every curtain, tapestry, doorway. One of them looked out the window, but the king would have had to commit suicide to have jumped from there, and there was no sign of anyone climbing either up or down. As the person pulled his head back into the room, he heard a series of muffled cries and turned quickly. The instant he did, a blinding light seemed to appear in the middle of the room. He was unable to see the source and shot wildly at the light. Nothing happened and the light didn’t diminish. But he then heard a noise from behind him and as he turned, he vaguely caught the sight of the face of an angry old man just before he died.
The king wiped his bloody sword carefully as the light died down to the normal darkness. He looked at the four men he had cut down. Assassins obviously sent by someone, but whom? His mind ran through a quick list of faces and names, but he couldn’t pinpoint any one of them. He sheathed his sword and dressed quickly, knowing he would be unable to sleep any for the rest on the night. He pulled on a white linen tunic and placed his armor over it. Then he went through the door, which was still open from the murderers barging in.
As he hurried down the halls and stairs, to get to the main level, he heard a familiar laugh behind him. Except it wasn’t friendly or jovial this time. It seemed to ring with a wicked glee that the old king had heard from no one in many years. He turned and faced Lord Daros. The man’s deep black eyes stared at him with hate. In his hand was his long sword, gleaming in the light of a torch nearby, the only provision of light in that part of the castle.
“I should have known better than to send those bumbling fools to do away with you, Corran,” he said, quickly stepping toward the king, who was drawing his own blade. King Corran blocked Daros’ first blow and gave him one in return, swinging his sword down in the direction of his opponent’s leg. Daros blocked, their swords scraping against one another with a loud screeching noise. Back and forth they exchanged and blocked each other. Once Corran was certain he landed a strike on Daros’ shoulder, but the man hardly even flinched, and the blade bounced off the armor. It seemed Daros had some sort of magical protection on his armor, and Corran wished he had thought of as much. Daros finally struck the king in his chest, slicing through the breastplate and digging greedily into flesh. Corran grew pale with pain. Daros saw that he had injured the old king, he smirked with a dark gleam in his eyes. Corran was powerless before him now, and they both knew it. He swung his sword upward, ready for the finishing blow.
Suddenly, the room went completely dark. Daros couldn’t see a thing. He let loose a string of curses as he groped for the wall. Then he made a light appear and searched for Corran. The king was nowhere to be seen, and he hadn’t even left a trickle of blood behind. Daros hit his fist against the wall, knowing the king was still alive and would probably be hiding now.
“No matter,” he said to himself, walking up the nearby stairs as he rehearsed his explanation about where the king had gone, “My plan will still work. As long as he keeps hiding and doesn’t appear again, I can still rule Ismalia.”
Meanwhile, outside in the silent streets, Corran continued to run. Now that he was away from Daros, he let a light follow him, allowing him to see where he was going. He took his hand away from his chest for a moment, observing the dark, sticky blood that covered his hand. He needed to stop the bleeding soon, before he became too weak to do so. But not yet. His first priority was to get away from the city and hide from Daros. Where could he go though, that he would not be recognized?
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