glory

Sat, 19 Mar 2005 19:43:55 GMT

first draft of the intro for glory, it gets a little packed towards the end, but its just the first draft, im making this post not friends only so people who arn't on my friends list can see it, just this one time i think. this is a rewrite of something i wrote who knows how long ago, i think it came out five times better.

Glory

The rain fell hard that evening, shaking the gravel from the road and driving pocks into the packed earth that lay underneath. The early spring sun seemed to be carrying some illness from the recent winter months, as it had scarcely made an appearance in three weeks. Of thirteen days on the road, eleven had seen only rain; and on this, the worst of all eleven, I was reaching the point where I could take no more. The constant downpour and tall stalks of freshly sprouting crops on either side of me reduced my world to a thirty foot section of road, two squeaky-wheeled wooden carts and a pair of horses rear ends. Most of those eleven days, I did not speak to nor even see another person save the man that drove the cart that I sat upon, and his conversations tended to be...stale at best.
Being as I was surrounded by farm land, it was not unintelligent to assume that there would be a farm house near by. It was also not unintelligent to assume that the landowner kept horses, and that there was a village somewhere near where the farmer could market his crop in the fall. Having already been paid half of what I was owed for guarding this poor excuse for a merchant caravan, I could have easily fed myself for the next three or four weeks; and I had very little, if any, loyalty to my current employers. So, running off to the closest farm house, sleeping in the barn for a night and snatching a horse in the morning was an idea that, at the time, had it’s merits.
I looked over to the wagon driver to see if he was paying any sort of attention at all. He was gnawing on his thumb knuckle, perhaps trying to scratch some boredom exaggerate itch without letting go of the rope that he used to steer the cart; as if the horses would suddenly become mindless and meander off into the fields without his guidance. I causally hopped into the back of the cart, where lay the crates of unknown goods that I had been paid to guard. The driver paid no notice, so I grabbed my bag of rations, pulled my hood over my head and quietly dropped out of the back of the wagon into the cold rain. I jogged over to the side of the road, stepped carefully down into the ankle deep mud of the field and disappeared between the tall green stalks.
I trudged slowly through the mucky rows of crop, at first listening to the squish of my boots that came with each step, then letting my attention shift slowly to the sound of the rain. The sound was calming and, despite the cold, I began to feel a calm come over me that I had not felt in three and a half months. Three and a half months, was that all, it seemed like a full year or more...
“I fear the life of a fisherman is not for you.” my father had said. On that day I was watching the sun set from the shores of the Veradan Sea when he came to me. He had watched my face for a few moments before he spoke, as if to reassure himself of his judgment through the longing in my eyes. “Your face betrays your dreams.” he continued, “It has betrayed those dreams since the day you learned there was more to this world than one tiny fishing village and a small stretch of ocean. You are to be fourteen next week, the age at which you would begin to learn your father’s trade. I fear that if I were to teach you to sail on the open sea, you, and my boat, would be on your way to the other side of the Veradan before the next days morning.” A smile spread slowly across his face as he let out a small, inaudible chuckle. I swear I saw a tear form in his eye as his gaze shifted from me to the sunset. “I’ve been saving money” his voice deepened to a more stern and fatherly tone, “I have half the coin I need to send you to the Academy at Winderhill.”
Winderhill, the largest port on the Veradan and home to the greatest philosophers in the world. The Academy at Winderhill was built up around a fortress of the same name, the greatest fortress of the Gyla War, and the staging point for almost fifty historic battles. The Academy was the very essence of Verad. Seven of the thirteen kings of the new lands to the east came from the Academy. Hundreds of generals, inventors, priests and heros had spent time within those walls. I had dreamed of Winderhill since I was a boy of eight. The very mention of it’s name sent my mind flying in all directions.
“It will take me three years to save up the rest” said my father, cutting into the stampede of thoughts rampaging through my brain. “I wasn’t going to tell you until I had all the money saved, but they don’t accept students over the age of sixteen, and I am not going to have all the money in time.” My heart nearly flung itself from my chest when I heard those last words, but before I could interrupt his monologue, he continued, quite loudly, so as to make sure I knew not to speak over him. “However...a man came to the village this morning, up at the market square. Said he needed to hire a few young men, a hundred coin for each week of work. Said he would train anyone who was interested. He also said there would be a bit of travel involved. I figured, since you won’t be fishing with me this spring, you might as well take him up on the offer. I won’t be home to take care of you anyway, and your mother isn’t in any condition to deal with a fourteen year old boy of your energy.
It all came so fast, I had very little time to react. Within a week, I was atop a horse my father had bought with some of the money he had saved, wearing a new wool traveling cloak and a sword I had no idea how to use. It would be a three hour ride to the next town, where the man my father spoke of would be waiting for the next week. Before I rode, I gave one final look to my parents. My mothers stomach was swollen with the prospect of a new son or daughter and tears soaked her pale Veran face. my father wore a look of immense pride, but just below the exterior of his face I saw the longing, and knew why he had set me on this course. My father, the man who held so strongly to his simple life year after year, wished to ride with me, he wanted nothing more than to escape that tiny fishing village he was so fond of and run off into the world.
“What is it that the nobles always say?” he said, after a lifetime of staring directly into my eyes.
“You mean ‘Glory and Honor’, Father?”
“Yes, that ‘s it. Glory and Honor to you my son, be safe”
“Glory and Honor” I repeated. The words echoed with me as I rode off.

it's not a full chapter, but its a good cut off point for editing, if anyone has any constructive critisim, let me know.

info

Sat, 19 Feb 2005 17:40:06 GMT

Alright, this is the first and only publicly viewable entry in this journal, from here on out it's friends only. This journal will contain a variety of writings and I've broken it down into three catagories. Each catagory will have a different picture to go with it so that they can be scanned through very quickly. The first catagory will be serios writings, such as continuing stories and essays, which will be marked with the jumping flame thing. The second type includes writing for games, such as story points and character histories, which will be represented by the blackguard picture. The final entry type will be mindless chittering, as the title says, and will be represented by the kobold picture. If you wish to be added as a friend you will have to let me or someone who knows me know. feel free to spread the word. only constructive critisism is welcome here.

Comments Welcome

glory

info