howoriginal-author

[howoriginal-author]

i’ve just realized that there is an unending number of grammatical errors in everything i write.

perhps it wiold be bettar to leanr hwo to type correltly and maybe learn osome garmmar so i don’t have ot quatrouble chck eveyr thing i write. 

[howoriginal-author]

chapter 1 revised!!!!!! wow its so clean an shiny!

Joel's life began when he finally managed to make Ren angry. 

The Sun had rose as it always had, Joel had fulfilled his duties as heir to his father by brushing down the horses, oiling saddles, sharpening Leone’s sword. He did no feel like an heir to a powerful camp leader. 

Yet the world continued as it always had, and Joel continued with it. Fixing his eyes on the not so distant prospect of manhood, when he could put the duties of boyhood behind him and ride to battle with his father and uncles. 

Despite the brightness of the day there was a chill in the air. Joel had finished sharpening Leone’s sword and trying to sneak return it to Leone without being noticed, An endeavor which depended entirely on Leone’s sobriety. The master of the boys had been, regrettably, sober. He had sent Joel on patrol with Ren. Joel cursed under his breath as he saw Derin gather boys and heading south at a gallop. Probably to climb the gorges. He was left to patrol with his half brother. A task which he normally won’t have minded, and yet Joel was annoyed.    The older boys seeming enjoyment of the day peeved Joel to no end. 

Joel was more than content to ride in silence but Ren had constantly been talking. Talking about father, about Leon about, his prospects, about the weather, about anything that seemed to enter his fool head. Joel had rarely seen him so talkative. It rankled. 

The annoyed lead Joel to suggest they spar. He was getting tired of hearing Ren’s voice knew the other enjoyed sparing enough that he would accept without question. 

 Alass the match, instead of working out  his frustration, as he had hoped, had only turned  it to anger. Normally he wasn’t so outpaced by Ren in skill. Ren was stronger and quicker too. In Fact he was just better all together except that he lacked guile. Joel would feint and lead and coax and trap. Joel had won a majority of the matches since they were young.  However, Ren was learning his tricks. There were only so many ways to feint, and only so many times Ren would fall for it.  Joel had avoided sparring with Ren for almost a month.  Preferring fights he was sure he could win. However,  His annoyance had given him Confidence, and he had said they should spar.  

“ Here?” Ren had asked surprised. They were on the plain alone. Miles from their camp. 

“ I’ve been getting rusty, and  Leone will have some task for us if he return now. We’ve seen no sign of anything out of the ordinary so far and won’t see anything out of the ordinary today. Now is as good a time as any.” he had said.  “look there’s a tree. We can tie the horses and spar in the shade.” Joel maintained his facade of jocularity, hiding his annoyance. 

No boy carried a blade before he earned it and  neither Ren nor Joel had earned their blades. but as all boys their age they both carried wooden swords. They both dismounted and tied the horse to the a low limb of the sica tree, unstrapping their wooden swords and taking a stance.

  Usually when sparring with Ren he detached himself from any desire to win. It helped keep him from making stupid mistakes. Patience was what won him bouts, his constant testing and probing of his opponents defence. The the desire to win was secondary, wining came from others mistakes.    But this time he wanted to win, wanted it bad. 

  So he lost. Bout after bout he lost. Three bouts Ren batted aside Joel's own stick and  gave him three stinging welts. That was when things took a turn for the worse.

 After asking for yet another bout Joel’s annoyance had turned to anger and was burning inside him and he was having more and more trouble hiding it. As they began he tried to focus. He tried for that calm detachment, simply defend wait, Ren was good but he would become overconfident with each victory. But as before there was something in Joel that didn’t want to be clever. Why wait for victory, that is no victory at all you should be able to take it.  Then, as before, he abandoned the strategy that worked. Abandoned feints and traps trying for brute strength and speed. To be faster than his opponent, to be stronger,  to be Better.  That was what he wanted to gain victory, not through a combination of luck and patience, Simplifying waiting for Ren to make a mistake, A mistake that might never come,  but to win. On his own terms. To beat Ren. To be strong. 

It didn’t go that way. Again Ren knocked Joel’s underhand cut aside and used the motion to drive his own stick into Joel’s side. It should have ended there. Joel should have swallowed his pride and smiled and laughed it off. But there was a rage in him. Even as he knew Ren had him, even as he felt the stick smack his side he was driving his own stick  straight towards Ren’s shin. Joel felt the impact even as Ren’s own softer strike bruised his side. Correct etiquette for a bout dictated that the loser concede and then either leave the ring or ask for another challenge.  Etiquette was ignored as Ren limped in a circle silently cursing while Joel stood considering the repercussions for what he had done. 

When he met Ren’s Eye’s he knew he was about to be in pain. Ren advanced toward Joel with a slight limp then planted his feet and raised his stick. 

“Again.” Ren said.  Eye’s like chips of stone. 

“ I must decline.” Joel replied licking his lips, “I’ve satisfied my need to practice for today.” 

“Ten bouts.”  Ren said. “ To satisfy to a challenge. You’ve only fought four so far.” Ren smiled his angry smile. “Are you so easily satisfied or just a coward?”

  Why? why did I inflict this on myself? He thought.

 There was no choice. He had challenged Ren and Ren had the right to demand ten bouts, he couldn’t walk away. All he could do was defend himself.  Joel raised his stick into a low guard. 

Now my heads clear, just when it’s too late to begin making wise decisions. He thought wryly.  

 He and Ren had been sparing as long as he could remember. The children of the Sureshi were taught to ride before they could walk and to fight before they could speak. As half brothers Ren and Joel were raised to compete to see who would take their father’s standard. Ren was better, but Joel had always assumed he was just a step behind physically and that mentally he  was far superior. He was wrong.

 Ren lunged into a feint then attack with a sweeping blow. Joel barely managed to block the first strike. The second he had no hope of blocking. Pain lanced up Joel’s shin as Ren’s stick slammed into it. Joel silently cursed himself. 

Why? Why did I allow this to happen. Why can’t I even defend against my brother. Why am I weak? 

Two more bouts and and it was clear that Ren had been holding back in all previous fights. Each bout Joel meet a strength and speed he hadn’t previously encountered in his brother. Each time Ren struck at Joel’s shin. On the seventh bout Joel’s left leg was going numb, the calm that had replaced his earlier anger  had been torn away. 

Why can’t I win? 

He had tried his best. He was clever, he was quick, but Ren was better. Why? Even as he asked the question Joel mocked himself for the foolishness that lead him to this. 

Again Joel took his stance left leg shaking slightly.  

Bhale if you let me win I will give  my blood to you. Just let me win. 

Such pleas to the god of battle rarely worked. After all Bhale was a god of the strong not of the weak. Still Joel prayed, he would need all the help he could get. 

When Joel raised his sword into a readyguard Ren attacked. Joel parried the first blow, but the second knocked him off balance. Ren’s third blow was aimed at Joel's shin again. The petty nature of his brother infuriated him. His own stupidity and lack of skill infuriated him. 

No No, No! 

The word rose in him, in his head, through him. He realized he was yelling it, and as he yelled he felt the word leave him. He had never felt anything like it. It was as if something had taken shape from his mouth. He was reminded, inexplicably of carving a wooden horse as a child. The feeling of making, shaping the wood. At the same time he felt as if something was being drawn forth from him. Time seemed to slow as these feelings and memories passed over him. He felt, rather than saw, his brothers stick shatter. 

It was like nothing he had ever seen. The wooden sword split into a thousand shards. Like a rock dropped from the top of a canyon.  The rain of splinters that followed  battered his face. He stepped back involuntarily, lost his balance and fell on his back. Ren took the explosion of the practice sword better. Managing to stay on his feet. He looked at the hilt of his stick. (now the only thing left that wasn’t  splinters.) Ren’s expression was one of minor perplexity. He looked up and met Joel’s eyes. 

“Well now.” Ren said. “.... You’re a battle mage.” 

[howoriginal-author]

chapter 6 wow I’m actually writing dialog. this is almost giving me enough confidence that i can dialog with really people.

Chapter 6. I’ve decided to quit switching characters. While it makes it a little more interesting for me it doesn’t make it convenient. I think I’ll just write joel first and then move onto Ren and the third mystery character DUM DUM DOOOOOOOOM. Anyway it will all be great. Enjoy joel's life.

Enoth led Joel up a trail to the south of the waterfall. There was no more discussion between them. It was a different silence he shared with his father. The path climbed through the mountain forest. Weaving between trees and brush, Joel noticed that it forked several times. However Enoth never hesitated in choosing a path. “Is the monastery far?” Joel asked. Finally braving the silence. Enoth didn’t slow his stride. “No.” He answered. Joel was left to wonder how far was far. They had been walking for quite some time. It had been past midday when they started and now the light was beginning to fade. Walking was not something the Sureshi did very often. They were horsemen not fools who would waste their time running or walking. The blisters on Joel’s feet only grew, and it was completely dark by the time they exited the forest and came to what could only be the monastery. Enoth turned and spoke for the first time in hours. “ It is dark now.” “How astute.” Joel observed dryly. The frustration of walking till dark had made him surly. He regretted the comment, as Enoth gazed at him silently. Joel was unable to fully read his expression in the dark. Enoth let the silence stretch for a while. Finally shifting uncomfortably Joel said. “ I’m sorry. It's been a long day.”   Enoth was silent for a moment longer then sighed. “You may be a fool but, for whatever reason, I have decided that I want you to live. Now come. ”  Enoth started forward before Joel had a chance to ask what he ment.  Enoth moved quickly while talking over his shoulder.“ the others will be either meditating or eating. We go to see Kiel.”  Joel had to trot to keep up, the blisters on his feet sending pain shooting up his legs. He tried to ignore it limping quickly after Enoth.  The monastery, as far as Joel could make out in the darkness was a collection of stone huts scattered among three or four lagers buildings. He followed Enoth directly to one of the smaller huts, built on the side of the larger buildings. Enoth raised the leather flap that served as a door and motioned Joel in. The interior held about as much excitement as the exterior.  The was a small fire smoldering in the center that gave off some weak light. The hut was spartan only pallet to sleep on. On the pallet sitting cross legged was an old man.  He was the oldest man Joel had ever seen. His gray grizzled hair hung down to the floor. He too was naked except for a loin cloth. He seemed emaciated. Behind the thin beard that he wore Joel could see ribs standing stark against his withered flesh. “ This is Joelliehm of Dharuh.”   Enoth spoke behind him. The old man glanced at Joel. “So the power is making fools of the young now.” he said in voice that didn’t quite match his frame. It was full rich. The voice of one that inspired. It only had a hint of the age that so often accompanied the voices of the old.   “Men are fools whether they have power or not. It is discipline that makes a man wise. You know this as well as I Kiel.”  Enoth said. . There was a smirk in the eyes of the old man. “As I said before. The power makes fools out of men. however...” He turned his eyes on Joel. “Will the power make a fool of a boy? What say you boy?”   The strangeness of the situation was wearing off and weariness and frustration where creeping back into Joel. still the eyes of the old man seemed to demand some sort of answer. I only want to sleep.  Was what Joel wanted to say. He had heard enough mystic’s speak to come up with something suitably mystical on the fly.  “I have lived without the power and now I will live with it. Is a boy made a fool once he carries a sword?” Kiel  laughed heartily. “Not all the time. But the number of young who died believing that their sword gave them power make up the larger number of the Lord of Death’s slaves.”  He stopped laughing abruptly and motioned with his hand. “ Sit.”  he said. Joel sat crossing his legs. Enoth joined them. They sat silence for a moment.  Kiel rolled a piece of beared between his fingers idly studying the fire as he did so. “ Did Enoth explain your predicament to you?” Kiel said. Joel glanced at Enoth uncertainly.  Kiel snorted. “Typical.” Enoth’s expression did not change. Kiel drew a small ember from the fire and absently rubbed it between his fingers. “ I suppose will have to explain it to you….. Where to start.” he paused. Then began to speak quickly the whimsical note in his voice now gone. “At the moment there is strain between the magi. Enoth when he encountered you, assessed your strength and saw that you are no more than a needle to a sword, when compared to a majority of the magi.” Joel got a sick feeling in his stomach. “ It is likely that you would be made an example of. Probably torn apart in some farce of a trial to prove yourself worthy to join the order.” the sick feeling in Joels stomach got suddenly worse. “ Why?” he asked. Kiel chuckled. “Why not, they have nothing to lose by killing you and manage to intimidate my followers and by doing so. It sends a strong message. The weak shall be killed there is no room for weakness.” his expression grew serious. “I, however have qualms about killing boys for politics, as does Enoth.” Kiel paused to glance at Enoth, who nodded in confirmation. “ This monastery is not without its own customs and even Nebuk will honor certain tradition.” “Shall we do it tonight or in the morning?” Enoth broke in. beginning to stand. “The morning I think.” Kiel said.  Enoth nodded and left the hut. The old man turned his eyes to Joel. “ are you tired boy?” Joel nodded. “Good. the power show’s itself best when the body is weary. I will train you in a shield.”  Joel’s expression told just what he thought of that idea. “ Fool boy. if you want to survive tomorrow’s trial you will learn a shield. Enoth will be the one to initiate, however he cannot be seen holding back. He will make a bloody mess of you.” Kiel smirked “It will be up to you weather you want to be a living bloody mess or a dead one.”  

[howoriginal-author]

Here Have some sarcasm mixed with a poor attempt at humor. READ MY BITTERNESS.

How to write to no one.

Dearest reader you have sought out this article in order to learn how to better write to no one.  Why you would attempt to better yourself in such a trade is beyond my reasoning but I am sure you have your own reasons. I will not disappoint you dear reader. I have written to no one for almost 2 weeks now and I consider myself the foremost expert on the subject.

The trickiest part of writing to no one is that there is no writing (that was successfully written to no one) that has ever been read. Such examples, chapter in my own fictitious novel are examples of slight failure in writing to no one. They have been read by 1 person aside from myself.  While anyone can write to no one there is a certain art in correctly conveying the message you want no one to read. The most ham fisted efforts of writing to no one are easily accomplished by anyone will simply write out their message on a paper and burn it. But there is no art in such clumsy attempts to write to no one. The real art of it is to write something that no one wants to read. This in itself is difficult but not impossible. I will continue this guide in a later post.

[howoriginal-author]

welp time for chapter 5. don’t worry dear nonexistent reader. i will not disappoint you!!

Chapter 5. Joel. They rode for nearly three days. During those three days. Neither Joel nor his father spoke hardly a word. It was a companionable silence. An understanding between two men who knew each other and, knew that nothing need be said. Knowing that the world offered its wonders more readily in silence. The mountains that were in the distance slowly grew larger. The rolling hills of the plains gave way to rockery terrain, the hill becoming steeper and more rocky. They found the path obscured in a canyon entrance. They pauses at the entrance his father looking up the steep incline of the trail. “ In a mile or so it will become too treacherous for the horses.  Keshi said that you will have to make the rest of the way on foot.  We have some things to discus until then.” his father paused. Then goaded his horse forward. Joel followed. The path was one of steep switchbacks loose natural gravel. The horses didn’t fare well on it. Joel watched his father’s back knowing he would speak eventually. “There is much to tell., and there is no easy way to put it.” he spoke abruptly as if having made a decision.  “ You are a man now and so I will spare you any kind lies. You are a battle mage. Do you know what that means?” he looked over his shoulder at Joel. Joel had nothing to say. All he knew of battle magi was legend, he had no understanding of his own power or what it entailed. His father continued reading his expression. “As a mage you are sterile. You will have no children no matter how many women you  lay with. Keshi says the power of a mage burns out the ability to create life.” His father paused again letting these words sink in. “ As such you have no rights of inheritance in the family anymore. I am sorry my son.” Joel felt a lump in his throat. But he understood the logic of it. A leader of a family who could not produce heirs would be a loadstone to strife. Still was this what he had wanted? Power at the price of everything he knew. In the days leading up to his departure he had only thought of the monastery and the other magi, how he would learn to be something other than a minorly talented son of an influential family leader. Now the harsh reality was beginning to set it. “ there’s something else.” Jraul said. “ Keshi talked to me. She said that magi don’t manifest their powers until much later in life. Usually not until their 30th year.” Joel has a flare of hope. Was he a prodigy then? And boy who found his powers at nearly half the age it took most to. His fantasy was cut short by his Jraul’s next words. “ Keshi said for the power to manifest so young is rare but not unheard of. She said that you are like a babe born to early. You will never be as powerful as other magi.” again his father paused, waiting until they navigated a switch back to begin again. “ you will be looked down upon, and perhaps even despised. Men can never respect someone they do not view as an equal, and your age will not help you.” The pit in Joel that had been there when his father began now deepened. “ I tell you this to prepare you. Your life now will be different and perhaps it will be agony. You may be looked upon as nothing more than a slave, or you may simply be ignored.” The path had widened and Jraul now slowed letting their mounts draw even. He meet his father eyes and saw something there he couldn't define. Sadness? Anger? Jraul spoke. “ You are my son. Whether you are a mage or not. Do this as a honor to me the last thing I will tell you before you're a Man of your own. Honor those in authority above you. You may be weak in power but you are not weak. Whatever you do, do it with excellence.” Jraul held out his hand. “will you do these things for me?” Joel reached for his father's arm and clasp it speaking past the lump in his throat. “Yes.” they held arms for a moment their looking into each others eyes. His father broke the grip. “Good.” Jraul reached down and unslung his sheathed sword from his back.  “ I have called you son for to long. Now you are a man.” He tossed the sword to Joel.  “Keshi said to follow the river to reach the monastery. Journey well brother. Our ways part here.”  Joel nodded. He slung the sword on his back and then dismounted. He undid his saddle bag in silence while fighting down the lump in his throat. Slung the bag over his other shoulder then looked his father in the eyes. “Journey well brother.” Jraul nodded. Turning his horse he pick up the reigns of Joel’s mount and rode back the way they had come.  Joel watched him go until he passed from sight.  

[howoriginal-author]

chapter 4.... do you even know what i had to do to write this?

Chapter 4

“ why are we wasting our time?” Ren’s cousin Bourin muttered under his breath. Ren grunted noncommittally. It was cold, the dawn light just beginning to show. Winter had been a long time in leaving, and even now it was trying to fight off spring. Bourin stamped his feet in the cold. “ Waste of our time and a perfectly good goat if you ask me.” Ren glanced at the animal. It was being led to the altar, blissfully ignorant of its fate. He wondered idly  if the goat would graze in the pastures of death or be tormented for all eternity. If you were sacrificed as a goat was this a great honor or divine punishment for breaking the taboos of whatever deity claimed the goats souls.  Did goats have souls? “ what a waste.” bourin said again breaking Ren’s reverie. “Careful.” Ren said. “You don’t want to offend the lord of death.”  Bourin smirked. “You think the lord of death cares the second son of some sheep herder.” he scratched his nose absentmindedly. “The lord of death has better thin-.”  Bourin was cut off as his older brother elbowed him in the ribs. Ren listened to him silently curse. Perhaps Bourin was right but what was one goat when you could avoid the wrath of the gods?  He turned his attention to the shaman who had begun to  speak to the gathered people. “We are gathered here to witness a boy becoming a man.” The shaman pause for dramatic effect, looking through the family. “ It saddens me to say the we as we witness, Joelliehm son of  Jraul of the Dharuh, pass from boyhood to manhood we, we also witness his departure to become something greater than a man.  We will remain strong, despite this loss.” Ren wondered if there had ever been a time that wasn’t trying or a loss or tragedy. It seemed that the old woman was always calling the tribe to strive through their hard times. Whether in plenty or famine woman always spoke as if they were in famine. He looked at Joel.  his brother would be leaving for the monastery. He would apparently become a battle mage. Remaining at the monastery training for times of war. In all probability he would outlive Ren by hundreds of years. Ren felt as though his brother was effectively being exiled from the family. Though no one said it. Ren found that the he thought about it the more it  made sense. The Clan leaders didn’t want to risk a tyrant rising from some boy who could turn them into a bloody pulp with a thought. The clan’s weren’t ruled by strongest, but there were always those who tried. Better the one who tries not be able to command the earth to open and swallow you and all your men. How the clan leaders managed to convince enough of the magi to leave their homes and families and go live in the mountains with half a dozen other men was beyond Ren.  His thoughts were interrupted again by the shaman as she raised her voice. Ren refocused his eyes on the shaman to see her with her Arms raised. Keshi shouted to the sky “ Meshin we offer this creature as a sacrifice to you. Protect this boy in his travel to the monastery, give him your power so that he may fill your halls with slaves. May he deliver your gift to all the enemies of the Dharuh.”  with these words the chopped down with her hand. There was a spurt of blood from the goats neck, as if an invisible blade had been drawn across it. Ren smiled.  The old woman wants to remind us that men aren't the only ones with power.  The goat slumped to its knees then fell to its side as its life drained from its neck. The goat remain on the altar until it rotted or, more likely, scavengers came to claim the body. The crowd began to disperse.  Ren looked to where Joel and his father were standing a few paces away.  Made his way over catching the end of their conversation.  “ I never had any use for they gods but your mother insisted.” their father glanced at Ren.  “ I’ll be traveling with Ren to the monastery. When I return it will be time for you earn a blade.”  Ren felt a flutter of excitement. He would be taking the trail a year earlier than most. The Trial would be held in a month. His father was given him warning to prepare.  “ I’ll saddle the horses, say your farewells to your brother Ren.” with that he walk off leaving Ren and Joel to themselves. Joel held out his hand and Ren grasp him firmly by the forearm.   “ We will meet again, as men.” Ren said. Joel nodded. Ren wondered if there was anything else to say. You were by brother now may as well not be. What was family, and why should blood matter? They were taught from a young age that their loyalty was to family first. Then to tribe, followed by clan, and finally to the people of sureshi. But was Joel still family? Yes.  Ren decided. He is. They released their grip. Ren shifted to Joel’s side. The sun was now rising. Winter was over, Ren decided. Spring was finally here.

[howoriginal-author]

chapter 3 wow i haven’t quit yet that’s surprising!!!

Rendarad son of Jraul of the Dharuh looked out over the camp from the small hill where he sat. The fires made strange shadows play across the sides of the tents. If he unfocused his eyes he could  see creatures dancing through the camp. The spirits of our people dance. He thought. He focused his eyes glancing at his father’s tent as Joel pushed pass the flap followed by their father. Ren couldn’t see their expressions from this distance but he could see a slump in his father's shoulders. The events of the day had left Ren confused. Being a battle mage was an honor. But he had never seen a battle mage among his clan or any other clan’s camp that he had passed through. They were said to reside at a monastery in the north at the base of the mountains.  The older men said that the mages only came to great battles acting in the place of siege engines during attacks on cities. So did this mean his brother would leave? Joel was the son of their fathers favorite wife, he had always been their fathers favorite son. Ren felt the small core of bitterness grow in him. He tried to push it down. He liked Joel, his brother was smart. Quicker with words than Ren, and he had never treated Ren as anything but a brother and friend. Today during their sparring match was one of the few times Ren had let the bitterness get the better of him. He had clearly won and then Joel had lashed out even as he lost. The petty strike shouldn’t have provoked him so much, but he had known Joel was frustrated. He may have even been enjoying his brother frustration, then his brother lashed out and caught him by surprise. With real swords he would still won. Joel would have been left with cut exposing his innards to the light, but Ren would have been crippled for life. The the pain and anger that had rose in Ren at that moment had then solidified like glass. With that cold calm anger in him he had decided Joel need to be taught a lesson. Then his lesson had been interrupted.  Now his brother was something he could never dream of being.  The turn of events left Ren confused as to how he should feel. Angry that his brother had avoided his lesson? Exaltant that this brother was something of legend? Sad that his brother was leaving? He signed tearing a handful of the tough grass out of the ground. It was all pointless, and it didn’t matter what he felt. He began to shred the grass methodically.  What mattered was how this would change things here. Joel would no longer be a candidate to replace his father as leader of the family that would be Ren’s responsibility. He had known for a long time that, despite him being Joel's elder, their father would choose Joel as his successor. He had come to terms with it years ago. Then despite his bitterness he had vowed that he would not let this tear their family apart. He had seen what happen when other families allowed rivalry between sons to extend into manhood. If often ended with  a bloodbath or, if the family was lucky, a break in the family, weakening the family as a whole. He had decided that he would train to become the best. Joel would be the head of the family. A leader was not one who fought but who planed. Ren vowed he would be the best sword and shield Joel could have. He had been the best with sword of spear among the boys, but now it was useless. He would have to change his plans. He would have to learn to think not just about how to kill but how to lead. He stood up from where he had been sitting, dropping the handful of now shredded grass. He took a deep breath of the cool night air. Things would be different but life would Go on, there were rumblings of another great battle to come. Glory awaited. With these thoughts he started down the hill back towards the camp.

[howoriginal-author]

chapter 2!!!!!!!!! It’s proof read and everything!

Chapter 2.

Joel and Ren had mounted up and rode their horse back at a run. The elation Joel had felt for a moment were soon quashed by they jeers of Leone and his fellows.

“ A battle mage are ya, well I’m Bhale’s sworn sword.” he laughed uproariously.

“ you’ve certainly got the face for it.” Joel quipped.  Despite his words Joel was stunned. He hadn’t even considered that he wouldn’t be believed. He had Ren’s word to back him up.  He glanced over his shoulder at his brother for support. Ren frowned but spoke up.

“It’s true. My practice sword shattered. It wasn’t a simple break.”  Ren spoke with confidence making eye contact with Leone  

“Oh  really?” the master of boys said. Apparently unaffected by Rens words.  “ Boy do you know how many times I’ve had some fool child come to me saying he’s the avatar of Bhale or the sword of Meshin or even just a lowly battle mage? Too many to count, thats how many.” He turned back to the the horse he had been saddling  apparently done with the conversation. “ Now unless you can start throwing things around with the will of your mind we’ve got nothing to speak on.” Joel's throat tightened, this had been the first question he was asked, “ well if you’ve got some magic in you let's see it.”  He of course had no idea how to use the magic or how to control it.

“ Take me to Keshi, she’ll be able to tell.” he said, hoping that the shaman would be able to tell.  The master of boys turned with a smile on his face.

“Ohho! I was hoping you’d ask that. The last boy, he was so sure of himself spent a week under her wrath having to wait on her every whim. But we’ll give you a chance after all it could be true.” Leone gave Joel a wicked smile.  

The master of boys was immediately disappointed Keshi met them at the entrance to her tent.

“Ah, good the mage boy.” get him in here so I can look him over.” Leone’s face fell.

“But he’s too young to be a mage. The magic doesn’t show itself till later.” the master of boys protested. Keshi gave him a withering glare.

“I wasn’t aware that you were made a shaman.” she barked, “or perhaps you’ve plumbed the depths of the 7th mystery. Tell us now, exactly how does power work?” Leone grumbled under his breath and turned making his way back towards the  the outskirts of the camp.  “Good that sorts him.” Keshi said, turning her eyes on Joel.  “Now to sort you.”  she turned and hobbled inside the tent. Joel was left standing awkwardly outside. Rumores of shaman planting curses on those foolish enough to enter their domain started to enter his head.  He banished the thoughts. I’m no longer just a boy I’m one of those rumors and legends now. He mustered his courage and entered.

The tent was filled with the scent of smoldering herbs and incense that Joel couldn’t identify.  The scent made his head spin. The old woman had disappeared into the shadows in the back corner of the tent. Looked around, he hadn’t ever been in the shaman’s hut and found the experience lacking. There were no bones or feathers hanging from the ceiling as had been rumored.  The only difference between this tent and his families was that it was smaller and there were three shrines to the three deities his people followed. Bhale, Meshin, and Arolenth. Battle, Death and Fertility.   A handful of herbs smoldered on a flat rock at the base of each of the shrines.  Joel looked towards the shrine of the god of battle. I did promise to give you my blood if I won didn’t I. But is making your opponent's sword explode and then falling on your ass a victory? His thought were interrupted by Keshi as she hobbled out of the conner now chanting under her breath while stirring a past in a small bowl with her fingers. Without preamble she reached up and smeared some of the past one his forehead the repeated the action on her own forehead.  She stopped the chant for a moment. “ lean down.” She said her words sharp. Then took up her chant again. Joel obliged leaning forward.  Without looking up the old woman reached and clasp his head between her hands. There were a few heart beats of silence. Then Keshi spoke. “Battle mage indeed.” Keshi sniffed.  “ you have the spark alright but that's all you’ve got.”  she broke her grasp on his head turning back towards the corner. Joel stood expectantly. Waiting till she returned from the shadows to face him. She looked up as if surprised to see him still there. “Well what are you still here for?” Joel glanced around wondering if the woman was really going senile as the rumors suggested.  

“What am I supposed to do now?” he hated the question even as it left his lips. Why did he have to sound like a spoiled child.  “ what do I care what you do now. You are no longer of the tribe, if you go to train with the battle magi you’re clan-less. If you stay here you could be the next shaman. But a man’s power if different than a woman’s so I wouldn’t teach you anything worth while, and as weak as you are you probably won’t amount to much of a shaman.” She was already pushing him out of the tent. “Go talk with your father, he’ll tell you where he needs you the most.”  With one final shove he was pushed from the tent. He was left standing in the waning light of dusk. He couldn’t help but laugh. That was it. He was a battle mage. He didn’t feel stronger or more powerful. He felt more confused than ever. One of the rumors and legends indeed. He though. He turned and made his towards the outer fires where food was being cooked. His father should be back from scouting the eastern clans by now

[howoriginal-author]

this is my writing blog outside of tumblr check it out if you so dare!! it has my own insites and narcisistc coments on life and my own writing you get to see my process, and why wouldn’t you want to see my process after all I’m known for nothing I’m actually pretty bad at writing i have all these perks and more to offer you so by reading my blog perhaps you to can me almost as bad at writing at me!! anyway check it out.

[howoriginal-author]

The first chapter in all its rough draft glory!!!!!

yes i’m an ass hole, why do you ask? oh you say what kind of asshole doesn’t name his story and presumes that it is good enough that it claims the title of “THE STORY” well me obviously. thats what kind of ass whole. also i’m lazy and havent though up a real title yet. here’s the story you’ve all not been waiting for.  

The story begins

Chapter one rough draft

and maybe never a chapter. Who can say. Want some more needless jabbering?

Joel’s life began when he finally managed to make Ren angry.  He and ren had been sparring, sparring of their own accord. It had been one of those days. A day that didn’t seem so bad at the start and then through a series of minor mishaps and annoyances turned into a minor annoyance itself. All of it culminated in a head at this moment. It had started as he and Ren were sent out on patrol by Leone, the head of boys.  He was not a little annoyed by the older boys seeming enjoyment of the day. Joel was more than content to ride in silence but Ren had constantly been talking, talking about father, about Leon about his prospects, about the weather, about anything that seemed to enter his fool head. Joel had rarely seen him so talkative.  Ren’s happiness peeved Joel to no end. Ren was simple and Joel was clever. But Joel was not clever when it came to swords and Ren was. Joel had forgotten what even lead  him to suggesting a sparring match. Apparently I’m not that clever after all. He thought to himself meditating on his own his foolishness. The match instead of working out  he anger as he had hoped it would it had only inflamed it. Normally he wasn’t so outpaced by Ren in skill. Ren was stronger and quicker too. In Fact he was just better all together except that he lacked guile. Joel would feint and lead and coax and trap but the problem was Ren was learning his tricks and had been and there were only so many ways to feint.  Joel had avoided sparring with Ren for almost a week.  Preferring fights he could win. Which meant never sparring at all. Every fighting man was trained with the sword and spear and Joel was in the awkward transition between boyhood and manhood, and was in the even more awkward position of being the weakest among the boys about to pass into manhood.  Still he could fight,  His anger had got the better of him and before he knew what was doing he was suggesting they spar.

“ Here?” Ren had asked surprised. They were on the plain alone running scouting at Loene the master of boys had commanded them to. Miles from their camp.

“ I’ve been getting rusty, and  Leone will have some task for us if he return now. We’ve seen no sign of anything out of the ordinary so far and won’t see anything out of the ordinary today. Now is as good a time as any.” he had said.  “look there’s a tree we can tie the horses and spar in the shade.”

He never let his anger show, no gritting of the teeth and no harshness to his voice. That was his way, never show weakness, and Joel considered anger a weakness. Which is why you don’t let yourself be controlled by it. He had thought wryly as he rode his horse towards the tree. No boy carried a blade before he earned it and  neither Ren nor Joel had earned their blades. but as all boys their age they both carried wooden swords. They booth dismounted and tied the horse to the a low limb of the sica tree, unstrapping their wooden swords and taking a stance.  Usually when sparring with Ren he detached himself from any desire to win. And so when he one a bout or two he was pleasantly surprised.  But this time he wanted to win, wanted it bad, and so he lost. Bout after bout he lost. Three bouts Ren batted aside Joel’s own stick and  gave him three stinging welts. That was when things took a turn for the worse. After asking for yet another bout  Joel’s rage was burning inside him and he was having more and more trouble hiding it. As they began he tried to focus. He tried for that calm detachment, simply defend wait, Ren was good but he would become overconfident with each victory. But as before there was something in him that didn’t want to be clever. Why wait for victory, that not victory at all you should be able to take it.  Then as before he abandoned the strategy that worked. Abandoned feints and traps trying for brute strength and speed. To be faster than his opponent, to be stronger,  to be Better.  That was what he wanted to gain victory not through a combination of luck and patience. Simplifying waiting for Ren to make a mistake. A mistake that might never come,  but to win, on his term. To beat Ren. To win! It didn’t go that way. Again Ren knocked Joel’s underhand cut aside and used the motion to drive his own stick into Joel’s side. It should have ended there. Joel should have swallowed his pride and smiled and laughed it off. But there was a rage in him. Even as he knew Ren had him, even as he felt the stick smack his side he was driving his own stick  straight towards Ren’s shin. Joel felt the impact even as Ren’s own softer strike bruised his side. Correct etiquette for a bout dictated that the loser concede and then either leave the ring or ask for another challenge.  Formal etiquette was ignored. As Ren limped in a circle silently cursing while Joel stood considering the repercussions for what he had done. When he met Ren’s Eye’s he knew he was about to be in pain. Ren advanced toward Joel with a slight limp then planted his feet and raised his stick.

“Again.” he said

“ I must decline.” Joel returned licking his lips, “I’ve satisfied my need to practice for today.”

“Ten bouts.” Ren said. “ To satisfy to a challenge. You’ve only fought 4 so far.” Ren smiled his angry smile. “Are you so easily satisfied or just a coward?”  Why? why did I inflict this on myself? There was no choice. He had challenged Ren and Ren had the right to demand 10 bouts, he couldn’t walk away all he could do was defend himself.  Joel raised his stick into a low guard. Now my heads clear, just when it’s too late to begin making wise decisions.   He and Ren had been sparing as long as he could remember. The children of the Dharuh were taught to ride before they could walk and to fight for they could speak. As half brothers Ren and Joel were raised to compete to see who would take their father’s standard. Ren was better, but Joel had always assumed he was just a step behind. He was wrong. Ren lunged into a feint then attack with a sweeping blow Joel barely managed to block the first strike the the second he had no hope of blocking. Pain lanced up Joel’s shin as Ren’s stick slammed into it. Joel silently cursed himself. Why? Why did I allow this to happen. Why can’t I even defend against my brother. Why am I weak? Two more bouts and and it was clear that Ren had been holding back in all previous fights. Each bout Joel meet a strength and speed he hadn’t previously encountered in his brother. Each time Ren struck at Joel’s shin. On the seventh bout Joel’s left leg was going numb, the calm that had replaced his earlier anger been torn away. Why can’t I win. He had tried his best. He was clever he was quick but Ren was better. Why? Even as he asked the question Joel mocked himself. You’re sad that you can’t win a practice fight against your own brother, what a hard life you lead. But you need not worry when you fight a real enemy there will be no reason so mourn losing, you’ll be in Bhale’s embrace after all. Again Joel took his stance left leg shaking slightly. Bhale if you let me win I will give  my blood to you. Just let me win. Such pleas to the god of battle rarely worked. After all Bhale was a god of the strong not of the weak, but Joel needed all the help he could get. When Joel raised his sword into a guard Ren attacked in the space of a breath. Joel parried the first blow, but the second knocked him off balance. Ren’s third blow was aimed at Joel’s shin again. The petty nature of his brother infuriated him. His own stupidity and lack of skill infuriated him. No No, No! The word rose in him, in his head, through him. He realized he was yelling it, and as he yelled he felt the word leave him. He had never felt anything like it. It was as if something had taken shape from his mouth. He was reminded, inexplicably of carving a wooden horse as a child. The feeling of making, shaping the wood. At the same time he felt as if something was being drawn forth from him. Time seemed to slow as these feelings and memories passed over him. He felt, rather than saw his brothers stick shatter. It was like nothing he had ever seen. The wooden sword split into a thousand shards. Like a rock dropped from top of a canyon.  The rain of splinters that followed  battered his face. He stepped back involuntarily, lost his balance and fell on his back. Ren took the explosion of the practice sword better. Managing to stay on his feet. He looked at the hilt of his stick now the only thing left that wasn’t a splinter. Ren’s expression of one of minor perplexity. He looked up and met Joel’s eyes.

“Well now.” Ren said. “ you’re a battle mage.”

[howoriginal-author]

The first chapter in all its rough draft glory!!!!!

yes i’m an ass hole, why do you ask? oh you say what kind of asshole doesn’t name his story and presumes that it is good enough that it claims the title of “THE STORY” well me obviously. thats what kind of ass whole. also i’m lazy and havent though up a real title yet. here’s the story you’ve all not been waiting for.  

The story begins

Chapter one rough draft

and maybe never a chapter. Who can say. Want some more needless jabbering?

Joel's life began when he finally managed to make Ren angry.  He and ren had been sparring, sparring of their own accord. It had been one of those days. A day that didn’t seem so bad at the start and then through a series of minor mishaps and annoyances turned into a minor annoyance itself. All of it culminated in a head at this moment. It had started as he and Ren were sent out on patrol by Leone, the head of boys.  He was not a little annoyed by the older boys seeming enjoyment of the day. Joel was more than content to ride in silence but Ren had constantly been talking, talking about father, about Leon about his prospects, about the weather, about anything that seemed to enter his fool head. Joel had rarely seen him so talkative.  Ren’s happiness peeved Joel to no end. Ren was simple and Joel was clever. But Joel was not clever when it came to swords and Ren was. Joel had forgotten what even lead  him to suggesting a sparring match. Apparently I’m not that clever after all. He thought to himself meditating on his own his foolishness. The match instead of working out  he anger as he had hoped it would it had only inflamed it. Normally he wasn’t so outpaced by Ren in skill. Ren was stronger and quicker too. In Fact he was just better all together except that he lacked guile. Joel would feint and lead and coax and trap but the problem was Ren was learning his tricks and had been and there were only so many ways to feint.  Joel had avoided sparring with Ren for almost a week.  Preferring fights he could win. Which meant never sparring at all. Every fighting man was trained with the sword and spear and Joel was in the awkward transition between boyhood and manhood, and was in the even more awkward position of being the weakest among the boys about to pass into manhood.  Still he could fight,  His anger had got the better of him and before he knew what was doing he was suggesting they spar.

“ Here?” Ren had asked surprised. They were on the plain alone running scouting at Loene the master of boys had commanded them to. Miles from their camp.

“ I’ve been getting rusty, and  Leone will have some task for us if he return now. We’ve seen no sign of anything out of the ordinary so far and won’t see anything out of the ordinary today. Now is as good a time as any.” he had said.  “look there’s a tree we can tie the horses and spar in the shade.”

He never let his anger show, no gritting of the teeth and no harshness to his voice. That was his way, never show weakness, and Joel considered anger a weakness. Which is why you don’t let yourself be controlled by it. He had thought wryly as he rode his horse towards the tree. No boy carried a blade before he earned it and  neither Ren nor Joel had earned their blades. but as all boys their age they both carried wooden swords. They booth dismounted and tied the horse to the a low limb of the sica tree, unstrapping their wooden swords and taking a stance.  Usually when sparring with Ren he detached himself from any desire to win. And so when he one a bout or two he was pleasantly surprised.  But this time he wanted to win, wanted it bad, and so he lost. Bout after bout he lost. Three bouts Ren batted aside Joel's own stick and  gave him three stinging welts. That was when things took a turn for the worse. After asking for yet another bout  Joel’s rage was burning inside him and he was having more and more trouble hiding it. As they began he tried to focus. He tried for that calm detachment, simply defend wait, Ren was good but he would become overconfident with each victory. But as before there was something in him that didn’t want to be clever. Why wait for victory, that not victory at all you should be able to take it.  Then as before he abandoned the strategy that worked. Abandoned feints and traps trying for brute strength and speed. To be faster than his opponent, to be stronger,  to be Better.  That was what he wanted to gain victory not through a combination of luck and patience. Simplifying waiting for Ren to make a mistake. A mistake that might never come,  but to win, on his term. To beat Ren. To win! It didn’t go that way. Again Ren knocked Joel’s underhand cut aside and used the motion to drive his own stick into Joel’s side. It should have ended there. Joel should have swallowed his pride and smiled and laughed it off. But there was a rage in him. Even as he knew Ren had him, even as he felt the stick smack his side he was driving his own stick  straight towards Ren’s shin. Joel felt the impact even as Ren’s own softer strike bruised his side. Correct etiquette for a bout dictated that the loser concede and then either leave the ring or ask for another challenge.  Formal etiquette was ignored. As Ren limped in a circle silently cursing while Joel stood considering the repercussions for what he had done. When he met Ren’s Eye’s he knew he was about to be in pain. Ren advanced toward Joel with a slight limp then planted his feet and raised his stick.

“Again.” he said

“ I must decline.” Joel returned licking his lips, “I’ve satisfied my need to practice for today.”

“Ten bouts.” Ren said. “ To satisfy to a challenge. You’ve only fought 4 so far.” Ren smiled his angry smile. “Are you so easily satisfied or just a coward?”  Why? why did I inflict this on myself? There was no choice. He had challenged Ren and Ren had the right to demand 10 bouts, he couldn’t walk away all he could do was defend himself.  Joel raised his stick into a low guard. Now my heads clear, just when it’s too late to begin making wise decisions.   He and Ren had been sparing as long as he could remember. The children of the Dharuh were taught to ride before they could walk and to fight for they could speak. As half brothers Ren and Joel were raised to compete to see who would take their father’s standard. Ren was better, but Joel had always assumed he was just a step behind. He was wrong. Ren lunged into a feint then attack with a sweeping blow Joel barely managed to block the first strike the the second he had no hope of blocking. Pain lanced up Joel’s shin as Ren’s stick slammed into it. Joel silently cursed himself. Why? Why did I allow this to happen. Why can’t I even defend against my brother. Why am I weak? Two more bouts and and it was clear that Ren had been holding back in all previous fights. Each bout Joel meet a strength and speed he hadn’t previously encountered in his brother. Each time Ren struck at Joel’s shin. On the seventh bout Joel’s left leg was going numb, the calm that had replaced his earlier anger been torn away. Why can’t I win. He had tried his best. He was clever he was quick but Ren was better. Why? Even as he asked the question Joel mocked himself. You’re sad that you can’t win a practice fight against your own brother, what a hard life you lead. But you need not worry when you fight a real enemy there will be no reason so mourn losing, you’ll be in Bhale’s embrace after all. Again Joel took his stance left leg shaking slightly. Bhale if you let me win I will give  my blood to you. Just let me win. Such pleas to the god of battle rarely worked. After all Bhale was a god of the strong not of the weak, but Joel needed all the help he could get. When Joel raised his sword into a guard Ren attacked in the space of a breath. Joel parried the first blow, but the second knocked him off balance. Ren’s third blow was aimed at Joel's shin again. The petty nature of his brother infuriated him. His own stupidity and lack of skill infuriated him. No No, No! The word rose in him, in his head, through him. He realized he was yelling it, and as he yelled he felt the word leave him. He had never felt anything like it. It was as if something had taken shape from his mouth. He was reminded, inexplicably of carving a wooden horse as a child. The feeling of making, shaping the wood. At the same time he felt as if something was being drawn forth from him. Time seemed to slow as these feelings and memories passed over him. He felt, rather than saw his brothers stick shatter. It was like nothing he had ever seen. The wooden sword split into a thousand shards. Like a rock dropped from top of a canyon.  The rain of splinters that followed  battered his face. He stepped back involuntarily, lost his balance and fell on his back. Ren took the explosion of the practice sword better. Managing to stay on his feet. He looked at the hilt of his stick now the only thing left that wasn’t a splinter. Ren’s expression of one of minor perplexity. He looked up and met Joel’s eyes.

“Well now.” Ren said. “ you’re a battle mage.”

[howoriginal-author]

writing stuff

so I've decided to start writing a story.  SHUT UP. i know every one wants to write a story. BUT I’M DIFFERENT. i know i can write. don’t judge me based on my lack of capitalization, my terrible grammar. anyway feel free to read it and even to offer critique. so without further ado here is my story!