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Member
Join Date: Sep 2004
Location: state of Misery
Posts: 10
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ok Mr. Pawn sir. Spank me, I'm new.
This is a high fantasy novel that I have finished. Here is the beginning for review. Thank you for your time.
Creation of planes and the worlds that inhabit them is a process beyond mortal comprehension. To even explain the process to a mortal is impossible, or rather it is to have the mortal understand without being driven mad. So either one lets the mortal be driven mad by the whole process or one explains it in simple terms that leave out large parts of how things actually come into being. The powers that created the planes and universes and keep the worlds spinning do not simply explain this to anyone. It was done once, and to a being that was intelligent enough to write it all down.
The hard leather bound book was passed down through the ages, from father to son, hardly ever opened, simply kept. The men knew not what was within the book, nor did they care, it had become a status symbol, a mark of being the ruler. The language was ancient and difficult to read, the text blurred by age, and the words disjointed and confusing.
It had started as a practical joke, something that made him laugh. Teaching his sister to read! No female in the clan knew how to read, it was a waste of time to teach them. Still there was something different about his sister, she was small, but within her the wise men said was a power untapped. She would be a mage of unheard of proportions among their kind, a female that would work the stone like none before. She would make a stunning wife and peace offering to the neighboring clan.
She had a curiosity about her though, even with the hard rules the members of her sex had to hold too. So in the end her brother began to teach her the letters of their language, scratched into the sand by the river that was near their home. Then he moved on into teaching her how the language was formed properly into words, and then sentences. He was impressed by how quickly she grasped it, as females were made out to be slow and dim witted.
He pressed her then with the book and dared her to decipher it while the clan slept. Night was the only time she could get to the chamber that held it and read over its pages. She did though, every night she snuck into the chamber and careful formed first words then sentences out of the blurred script. The world opened up to her even more as she poured through that ancient text. It was years of long careful study in secret, but finally she could understand all of what was written.
“I’ve finished it!”
Merion looked over his shoulder as his sister came bounding towards him and smiled at her.
“What is it, little Madger, that you finished?”
She frowned up at him, “That isn’t my name.” She continued on though, not seeming too disheartened by what he had called her. “The book.”
“Ah, then you are smarter than anyone here, because no one else would read it.”
Kharick wasn’t a good swimmer, few Dwarves were. Their body mass just didn’t allow for it, neither did the armor that most where fond of. He had survived the flood and the crashing river that had swept away the caravan that he had been escorting through his mountain home. Now he was in some sort of swamp, covered in dark slime and blood from his wounds. He didn’t recognize where he was, the river had been swift and had carried him far from the mountain he knew so well.
Kharick pulled himself further up onto the shore; surprised he had no broken bones. His ax and hammer had even stayed attached to his belt, and he gave a silent thanks to his god. Kharick looked around himself a bit more, the smell of the swamp made his nose wrinkle in disgust, but it was weaker from the fresh water that had pushed him into the swampy area. A muddy road was barely visible through the rough shrubs that he laid behind, and he knew that if he could follow that to some town he would be able to get his bearings and get back to his home and wife.
Kharick suddenly heard the sounds of a creaking wagon then, and looked back over to the road to see a few ragged Humans pushing a cart behind a bone thin ox. The possessions in the wagon were meager, and smelled of smoke. A few religious artifacts that were charred could be seen in the cart, but nothing that Kharick could tell had real value.
Then the sound of armor and shouting came, and the ragged Humans cried out and tried to hurry the starving ox faster. The battle cries and sounds of rattling weapons and armor came closer and the ragged Humans began a frantic chant as the small contingent of armored Humans bore down on them.
Kharick muttered a curse, this would be a massacre, and he was not one to simply allow that to happen, no matter how badly off he was. He stumbled to his feet, slime and water dripped into his eyes and he stumbled a moment.
“The Harbinger has come!” cried one of the ragged Humans. “Our god has sent his Harbinger of Doom to kill our attackers!”
Kharick blinked through the slime and limped towards the road, pulling his weapons free from his belt as he did.
“His message is death to you who would attack us!”
Kharick grumbled something under his breath and prepared to take on the five armored humans, he would explain later. He judged the fives approach, they were not trained properly, their armor was mismatched and ill fitted, they didn’t even hold their weapons properly. Kharick had trained himself and learned from the warriors in his clan how to wield the favored weapons of his race, a hammer and ax, and was considered a master with them.
“Go back!” Kharick warned in the common language of all races, and the five slowed slightly, and the rear two turned away but the three in the front charged towards Kharick.
“The Harbinger will save us!” Came the human’s voice from behind him again.
Kharick was swift in his blows, the adrenaline masking his aches and wounds from his trip down river. The three were quickly laid out, two dead, the third dieing, and Kharick turned to the ragged Humans.
“Harbinger of Doom, take this as a gift.” The ragged Human held out a hollowed horn that was capped. “This wine is what we can give you in gratitude, please accept this minor offering.”
Kharick grunted, and took the horn. “I no be this Harbinger of Doom. Me name be Kharick and I just got washed down the river.” He took a long swallow of the wine, found it weak compared to Dwarven ale, but it was something.
“We prayed and you appeared, you are the Harbinger of Doom to our assailants.” The Human insisted.
Kharick shrugged. “Fine Lad, where’s the nearest town.”
“Two days travel ahead it is where we were fleeing to. Will you guard us to that town?”
“Aye,” Kharick answered with a shrug with made his shoulders ache.
Kharick never lost the name Harbinger after that, and so simply adopted it. It took him a year to orientate himself and finally make it back home, taking odd jobs along the way to feed himself. His clan home was small and nearly unheard of outside of the mountains. Although he could follow the river back into the mountains, it was still a three-month journey back to his home, and that was in good weather. The winter forced him to make camp and wait; otherwise he would end up frozen, dead in his own mountain range.
Upon his arrival home, his wife promptly accused him of running off because she was pregnant, and leaving her alone to raise the child. Kharick never got a word in edgewise, and was forced to leave his home. He vowed to return one day for his son though, when the boy would be old enough to decide for himself if his father was a worthy man. Kharick fully took on the name of Harbinger and set out into the world to find a new life for himself.
Harbinger made his way south towards the Unclaimed Lands, looking for work, and often finding it as a mercenary for protecting caravans, towns, or raiding goblin caves. It was on his way back to a small town with the ears of goblins from his most recent raid tied to his pack that he came across a Stone Giantess in the road.
Stone Giants were only called that because of their appearance and preferred place of living, not because they were made of stone. Their skin was gray, matching the rocks of their mountain cave homes. Their faces angular and their bodies lean, which allowed for them to blend in well with the stone, and they were naturally attuned to it. They even seemed to be able to climb sheer cliff faces with ease.
Dwarves and Giants were not known to get along with each other, often competing for caves to call home, and ranges for food. They detested each other’s sizes; the two races were nearly perfect natural enemies.
The giantess that Harbinger had just happened upon was no average giant though; in fact she was far shorter. Most Stone Giants averaged twelve feet, but this one was barely ten. She was still more than twice Harbinger’s size, his height barely that of four and a half feet tall, so it made little difference to Harbinger if she was considered a runt by her people’s standards.
Harbinger watched her for a few moments, her black clothes were ragged and she was a muddy mess, her gray skin nearly brown, and her blue gray hair a knotted mass. She turned in a circle looked to the sky, turned another direction, stopped.
“Hey there Lassie, you lost?” Harbinger called, but kept his ax in hand just in case she didn’t want him around. Harbinger began to feel this was a bad idea, calling out to a giant like that, but he couldn’t just leave her when she was like that. He knew what it was to be lost and he didn’t want anyone else to be forced into that.
The giantess whirled toward the direction that the gruff voice came from, knowing it surely had to be a Dwarf for few spoke the common tongue with that accent. She spotted him as he stepped out from behind one of the pine trees of the mixed forest.
“Get away from me unless you want to try and kill me.”
Harbinger took off his helmet and laid it on the ground at his feet, his hair now gone from the grease fire that his ex-wife had thrown on him to drive him away, and wiped the sweat from his scarred skull.
“Not be interested in a fight right now Lassie. Just curious as to what you be doing here.”
The giantess glared at him for a moment, but the fear in her eyes was evident. She was obviously alone, weaponless, and lost. “I… I’m lost.”
Harbinger nodded, “It can easily happen, I’ll help you out if you want Lassie.”
“Why?”
“A conversation with someone who enjoys rocks and caves as much as I if nothing else. I be tired and I don’t want you to be stumbling in on me camp once I get to sleep. What do you say Lassie?” Harbinger held his weapons out and placed them on the ground.
The giantess watched the Dwarf warily for a few moments and sighed, “Alright then.”
“Good Lassie. People call me Harbinger, what do they call you?”
“Madger.”
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A good day is when the stuff hits the fan and I have time to duck.
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