Author Topic: Destiny  (Read 10046 times)

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Offline Araell

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Destiny
« on: March 22, 2015, 05:36:49 PM »
So about three years ago I sent Destiny off to a Literary Agent and they gave me some brilliant feedback. The basic jift of it was that i needed to draw out the action more - slow it all down! So I began the rewrite, took out some characters popped in a couple of new ones here and there and I have to say I'm rather proud of it. I've stripped it right back to the core and I hope you like it's new shape as much as I do[/i] ;)


Prologue
   
“Cry Brethren Cry, for The Betrayer is cometh!” chants the Interpreter as the hoods watching her listen with anticipation. “The coming of the Third Dawn shall be seen upon the land as the Beginning of the End, as the opening of the Unwritten Times. The Order of the Glyphs shall by touched by the Ancients and the Wretched, and the words of the Glyphs shall unwind.”

   A low murmur of discussion breaks out among the hooded Keepers below. The Interpreter traces the words she has read, a single frail finger floating across the still drying ink. As she finishes, she taps the page, more runes appearing suddenly as she looks up towards the crowd of Keepers.

“There is more,” her voice is weak and silent, yet heard by the whole room as the Keepers silence themselves and turn to face her.
“Our hands will be crippled and we will perish as fools whilst the Wretched One unveils the Bleak Unwritten. Then we will know the face of our Destroyer!”

   Silence, the room echoes with it, as Keepers turn their heads to each other with anguish on their faces. The anguish then turns to panic, and once again the room is in uproar. The Interpreter looks to the First Keeper and he steps up to the podium where she had been. For a moment he surveys his followers, watching as the books in the shelves surrounding the walls shudder in their places. Clearing his throat, he removes his hood and holds out his hands.

“Silence!” he roars as the room turns to face him, the noise dulling. “We must not panic…”

“But First Keeper Felix,” interrupts a Keeper below as he too removes his hood. “Surely this prophecy means the end of us all?”

“Brother Basso,” he says with a surprisingly calm voice. “I appreciate your concern, but we must remember the balance we have struck. We must not fall apart, lest the rest of the world will to! We can prevent this prophecy from taking place if only we find a way.”

“But how First Keeper?” questions another.

“Brother Percy, we….”

   A loud bang sounds from the top end of the room as the books fall from their shelves, the sound echoing on the wood tiled floor. The Keepers watch as a Scribe near the back steps towards a book that has fallen by his feet. He opens, it staring blankly at the white papyrus pages.

“The books,” he shouts desperately, a single tear falling from his crystal grey eyes. “They have become…Unwritten!”

   Shouts escalate from the hooded crowd and panic erupts like a volcano that has been dormant for centuries. It is an uproar The First Keeper cannot contain and as he surveys once more, he watches as those running to leave the Reading Room stop dead in their tracks. He looks towards the stars that can be seen through the glass ceiling above, the window shattering and the shards raining upon the screaming crowd.

“Can you not hear the chanting?” someone shouts from within the crowd. Felix looks around spotting the perpetrator in a sudden smoke that spreads around the room, enveloping the legs of all the Keepers. “Father Talus save us from the Shadows that will embrace us in Eternal Darkness!” He prays, and as he finished, other hooded members form within the crowd. Their eyes a piercing red, their cloaks showing no evidence of a living form beneath them.

“The Faders are here!” speaks Basso as he fades moments later.

The new hooded Faders begin to fade too, taking with them the souls of the unafraid Keepers. As they perish, a tear falls from the blue eyes of The First Keeper and he too fades with his followers.
« Last Edit: March 23, 2015, 09:52:29 PM by Araell »
 

"The war has begun! The line between Light and Dark is beginning to blur and only time will tell which will overpower the other." Keeper Prophecy (Destiny)

"I'm beginning to wonder whether this world ever had a divine being at all or if the Gods were among us this whole time!" Omar Delaney (Writing on the Wall)

Offline Saint

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Re: Destiny
« Reply #1 on: March 22, 2015, 09:19:02 PM »
I'm liking this so far and very much regretting not reading it back on old Tome.  Keep up the good work!

*pulls up the very first chair of New Tome City.*


... We really must get those chair emotes back...
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Offline Araell

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Re: Destiny
« Reply #2 on: March 22, 2015, 09:25:18 PM »
Thanks Saint!  :D

We need some chairs, it's hard work standing up all the time so bring back the chairs haha  :P
 

"The war has begun! The line between Light and Dark is beginning to blur and only time will tell which will overpower the other." Keeper Prophecy (Destiny)

"I'm beginning to wonder whether this world ever had a divine being at all or if the Gods were among us this whole time!" Omar Delaney (Writing on the Wall)

Offline Elsza

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Re: Destiny
« Reply #3 on: March 22, 2015, 09:47:25 PM »
Books becoming unwritten?! What a horrifying concept!  :o I look forward to finding out more.

Offline HelenNightengale

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Re: Destiny
« Reply #4 on: March 23, 2015, 01:01:01 AM »
big thumbs up here!
I love how there is still the option for an MSN address...

Offline NicTei

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Re: Destiny
« Reply #5 on: March 23, 2015, 01:13:55 AM »
It's been long enough since I read this on the original Tome that it's almost like a new story to me! :D  I'll echo the others' sentiments:  I'll be looking forward to more installments!

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Offline Angel

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Re: Destiny
« Reply #6 on: March 23, 2015, 09:12:43 AM »
I can't remember reading this on old Tome although I probably did so like Nic this is like an entirely new story to me! Books about books are some of my favourite kind so I too shall pull up a chair and wait for more. :D

Enter Helena's world of light.
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Offline Araell

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Re: Destiny
« Reply #7 on: March 23, 2015, 01:37:36 PM »
Figured I'd post the first chapter as that was a relatively short excerpt. As this is the one I'm working on - I'll aim to post a couple per week however I'm not very organised so probably won't keep to days although I shall endeavor to try none the less. I hope you enjoy the rest  :D

Chapter 1 – The End of an Era

   Sparks flew off the steel as a stone hammer came down hard on the malleable metal, sapping it to a point and tarnishing the natural shine. The arm that wielded the hammer was strong and forceful, his control over his tool shown through every vein that rippled through his flesh. As the shape was completed, he placed the hammer on the floor and removed the mask that protecting his face. As he did so the wisps of blondey brown hair clung to it, the static attracting them. He wiped the sweat from his forehead and admired his handy work, grabbing a cloth from the side of the furnace beside him and wiping the blade clean, bringing back the natural shine once more. He placed the blade down on the cobblestoned floor, hearing a voice coming from the other room.

“Tristan!” Jenni called. “Don’t tell me you’re still here?” She sighed heavily as Tristan came through from the workroom of the smithy.
“You realise you’re going to be late?”

“Yes I know!” Tristan sighed, taking the apron off from around him and placing it on the counter. “Don’t worry, no one is going to miss me.” He caressed Jenni’s face, brushing her deep red hair out of her face. “I bet you will though.”

“Of course I’ll miss you,” she kissed his hand as it rested upon her face. “But you really should go!”

“Okay, I’m going!”

   Tristan leaned forward and kissed her on the lips. It was a longing kiss, a kiss that wanted to last a lifetime. As he broke away, he winked at her, turning on his heel and leaving her alone in the blacksmith’s hut.


“Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, may you forever be within our memories reminding us of your greatness, your reign of gold.” chanted the priest as he dropped a handful of dirt onto the ivory coffin that lay in a neatly dug hole in the royal gardens.

   Tristan weaved in and out of the crowd of mourning councilors until he joined his father at the head of the procession, bowing his head down as the priest joined them all in a prayer of forever rest for the dead king.

“You’re late!” his father whispered harshly, casting Tristan the all too familiar disappointing look.

“I know and I’m sorry but I had work to do.” Tristan snapped back, giving his father not one single ounce of respect in his words.

“Surely the swords can wait? This is the King’s funeral, you should not have missed it!”

   A few faces looked around and hushed Thorrin as Tristan smirked at his father’s sudden embarrassment. Thorrin sighed heavily as the priest finished the prayer and raised his hands to signal those at the head of the procession to step forward, take a handful of dirt and drop it on the casket. Tristan and Thorrin stepped forward and placed their hands in the bucket of dirt, grabbing a handful and then dropping it in the hole. They stepped away from the crowd, just out of earshot where Tristan hoped their heated discussion would not continue.

“What are your plans for dinner?” asked Thorrin.

“Not sure yet…why?” answered Tristan, suddenly suspicious.

“Well it’s more than likely that I won’t be around, I have a council meeting to attend.”

“I see, it’s alright, I’m sure Jenni will sort me out with something.”

“So long as you don’t end up going without...”

“I never do!” Thorrin nodded and turned away from Tristan.   

“I have to go, I’ll see you tonight.” He re-joined the procession at the head of the Royal Gardens leaving Tristan to leave the Gardens and return to the city streets.


Tristan and his father had an awkward relationship; they had ever since Romeo, his older brother, died. He was convinced that is father thought he was to blame for the murder even though he never said that he did. Three years ago, there had been corruption within the city of Hasaghar where he and his brother living at the time; becoming Keeper Acolytes. In the chaos, Romeo had been murdered by rioters along with a few other civilians whose names escaped Tristan. He and Jenni had become stronger since; he had begun to rely on her for support in his everyday life, support that should have been given by a father. In total, they had been together about nine years, on and off of course…but no relationship is perfect. For now Tristan was happy and that was all he wanted.

Tristan left the Royal Gardens, heading back out towards the now quiet city streets. As he passed into the square, he took note of the lowness of the sun and how the moon was just appearing behind the fading clouds. The thought of going back to work did enter his mind momentarily but he thought better of it. Besides, he had more important things to worry about, like the fact that he was already late for his lesson with Merlin.

Merlin had been teaching Tristan about the Keepers and trying to make him remember the time he spent with them. He has amnesia and there is a period of about six years that he doesn’t remember anything about. All he knows is that in this period of time; he joined the Keepers and progressed to the Acolyte stage, got married and widowed and lost his brother in a terrible accident. His father had never mentioned anything of his forgotten past, neither had Jenni, and whenever Tristan asked a question about it, he would try to avoid the subject. The only one to show an interest in Tristan’s past was Merlin, but even though he had been teaching Tristan the lessons of his past for just under three years, it’s not sparking any memories.

The old man lived above the stables. To most, he was thought to be a grumpy old man who had no manners but to the children of Az Lagní he was a storyteller and a great one at that. To Tristan however, he was more of a father to him then Thorrin ever had been, even before the Keepers came into his life. Romeo had always been the ‘Golden Boy’, but he never hated his brother for it, he hated his father.

Tristan knocked loudly on the door of Merlin’s residence, stepping back and waiting patiently for him to answer. He could hear footsteps on the other side of the door, meaning someone was definitely in.  The old man answered the door rather briskly, his sideburns becoming even more slanted as his bearded mouth stretched into a smile.

“Tristan!” exclaimed Merlin’s gruff voice. “I wasn’t expecting you this early. Please, do come in.” he was being sarcastic of course.

   Merlin turned, opening the door fully so that Tristan could enter. His abode was rather bright today compared to the dullness it usually resembled, the sunlight of the late afternoon catching the patches of baldness on top Merlin’s grey head.

“Yes I thought I’d come a little earlier seeing as there was no point going back to work.” Replied Tristan with the same sarcasm, stepping straight into the seating area where a fabric couch and a coffee table greeted him to his left. A dining and kitchen area were in front of him with a staircase behind the surfaces leading up to the two bedrooms and washroom.

“So you decided to go the funeral after all then?” Merlin strolled forward into the kitchen and placed a pot of water in the fire to boil. He pointed to the table, motioning for Tristan to sit.

“To be honest, if I hadn’t of gone it would’ve given my father another excuse to scold me and he has enough already.”

“Fair enough I suppose.” Merlin sat opposite Tristan, watching the pot on the fire and waiting for it to boil. “How was it?”

“I ah…I arrived late, so I missed most of it.”

“And you wonder why your father scolds you so often,” Merlin scowled as the water began to boil. He got up and retrieved it from the fire, placing it on a hot plate on the surface and reaching into a cupboard over his head. “What tea do you fancy?”

“What have you got?”

“I have lemongrass, elderflower, and a new berry flavour I thought might be nice.”

“Um…I’ll try that new one…the berry one.”

   As Merlin made the tea, Tristan looked around the place, his eyes being caught by the sun setting out the window. He hadn’t noticed how late it was until now.

“I have a present for you by the way,” Merlin said as he placed the tea on the table, bringing Tristan back to reality. “I’ll just go and get it.”

   As Merlin disappeared upstairs, Tristan stared bemused at the cup of red liquid that had been placed in front of him. It was so red, it almost resembled blood. He sniffed the steam that rose from it, noting the strong smell of rich summer fruits and a blend of honey to sweeten the brew. He was never really a fan of Merlin’s tea, especially the elderflower one, but this berry one could be an exception.
“I came across this whilst searching through some of the things you left at Hasaghar. The box this was in was found in your dorms so I thought I’d have a look through see what I could find.” Merlin sat back down and handed a piece of parchment to Tristan. “Here!”

   He unfolded the stained parchment to gaze upon a photograph of six boys all facing forward. All of them looked rather serious but at the same time relaxed; as though each were in the presence of their brother. He recognised one of them to be Romeo, his own brother who had died about three years ago. The details of his death were varied; everyone seemed to have a different version of the events. Tristan remembered none of it and it wasn’t a particular memory he was looking forward to recollecting. Romeo looked nothing like Tristan remembered, but then again there was a gap of six years in his mind. In the photo, Romeo’s blonde-brown hair stood up on end, planted scruffily on the top of his head. He wore a smart light green tunic that had a collar up to his neck with tan coloured breaches that disappeared into brown boots. He was a rather tall man, and a completely opposite image to the tall smart man Tristan had known when he remembered him. The men stood around Romeo he did not recognise, however there was something about the man that stood to the left of Romeo. It was in the blue eyes that stared out from the shaggy blonde brown haircut that was similar to Romeo’s just not as scruffy. He wore a brown tunic that left some of the chest bare. His breaches and boots resembled the same colour, only they were slightly darker. If anything, this man looked older than Romeo because of the stubble that stretched around his cheeks and onto his chin.

“That boy there…is you!” said Merlin, pointing to the boy Tristan had just been pondering about.

“That’s me?” Tristan asked in disbelief.

“Hard to believe isn’t it? You were much more of a rapscallion in those days. I think you are about nineteen in this photo. It was taken not long after you left Dilu actually.”

“Who are the others?”

   Merlin moved his finger to the man stood next to Tristan, a dark imposing figure who had a regal aura about him, as though he were far better than anybody imagined. He had short black hair that curled around his ears with a middle parting. He had a rather bony face with fairly tanned skin. His eyes seemed to shine, a stylised beard and slight goatie just touching his chin. He wore a clean white shirt underneath a black leather jacket that had a stitched white design on it. Smart black leggings covered his slim but strong legs and big black boots his feet. A wide belt stretched around his waist with smaller ones that hung off the side so a scabbard could be strung there.

“This is Jacques,” Merlin explained. “You and Romeo knew him before the Keepers…you used to call him Jacques Indigo. You three and my boy Thomas were practically inseparable as children.”

“I remember Thomas!”

“Jacques’ uncle moved him away when he was thirteen, you boys never saw him again…until you became Keepers that was. He was raised in the libraries at Dilu along with the two boys here.”

   Now Merlin pointed to two very similar looking boys; obviously brothers. The older looking of the two stood at the edge of the left side of the photo, as though they were mirroring Tristan and Romeo stood on the other side. This man was also dark haired like Jacques but his hair was much less groomed than his and a lot more curly and also a full beard. He too had rather tanned skin like his possible younger brother and Jacques. This man wore a groggy looking white shirt that left his hairy chest bare. This shirt was covered by a patchwork like jacket with different shades of brown. Leather breaches clung to his legs and boots of the same shade of dark brown came to his knees. He was rather cheeky looking, as though there wasn’t a serious bone in his body. The one who Tristan assumed to be his younger brother looked a lot more serious than the other, more swarve. He looked similar to the one on the end, hence the reason Tristan thought they might be brothers. He wore a plain red shirt, again leaving the chest bare, with a brown jacket. Dark brown leather leggings covered his legs with boots that came to his knees.

“These two are Ramien and Zhaine,” said Merlin at last.

 “Are they brothers?”

“Yes!” Exclaimed Merlin, suddenly feeling hopeful; “Did you remember them?”

“No, they just looked similar to each other.”

   Merlin’s face dropped slightly, the hope disappearing from his face as he hovered his finger above the final boy in the picture. He looked different from the rest of them, an air of naivety and innocence. He seemed younger as well, although in reality he was probably the same age as Tristan was in this photo. He had blonde hair in the same style as Jacques did with a slight beard that was probably more of a stubble really. His skin was rather pale, made paler so by the dark brown jacket he was wearing with its gold patterns and buttons. The jacket draped over a tan shirt and he wore dark brown leather breaches that were covered at the knees by brown boots.

“And this last one is Cedric…Cedric Baldwin, you and him were particularly good friends. There were times you and he were closer than you and Romeo were. Heck you even….”

“I even what?” Tristan asked after a while, looking up from this photo.

“You know I thought a picture might just trigger something.”

   Tristan looked up at Merlin, his eyes as clear as glass. The photo had triggered nothing within his head, no memories, no visions, no nothing. Tristan wiped a single tear from his cheek; both angry and frustrated with himself that he couldn’t remember his own brothers. Merlin reached out and placed his hand on Tristan’s, comforting him in a kind of fatherly way.

“Give it time Tristan!” reassured Merlin. “It may come eventually. It’s clear the picture is making you feel something; you just need to connect with how it is making you feel. We have progress, even if it is only small progress.”

   Tristan placed the photo down on the table so that it faced down and took a sip of his tea. The two men sat in silence for a while, pondering the taste of the berry tea perhaps.

“I’m not sure I like this tea…too strong for my liking,” squirmed Merlin, walking over to the window and emptying the contents of it into the street. “I prefer a more dulcet flavour.” Tristan sniggered at the sudden poshness of Merlin’s voice. “What did you think of it?”

“I quite liked it!” answered Tristan honestly as he downed the rest of his tea.

“You can have it then! Come on,” Merlin grabbed his cloak from the back of the front door. “Let’s go for some dinner, my treat. I’ll wait for you downstairs!”

   Tristan rose from his seat, turning the photo over again and looking once more at it. Smiling slightly to himself, he folded it neatly and placed it in a pocket on the inside of his tunic. Then, taking a deep breath he headed down the stairs after Merlin.


And there you have it. Let me know you guys, remember its still a working progress and sometimes it can be hard to come away from the original which I am trying so hard to do what with all the stripping back.
« Last Edit: March 23, 2015, 09:53:56 PM by Araell »
 

"The war has begun! The line between Light and Dark is beginning to blur and only time will tell which will overpower the other." Keeper Prophecy (Destiny)

"I'm beginning to wonder whether this world ever had a divine being at all or if the Gods were among us this whole time!" Omar Delaney (Writing on the Wall)

Offline Rabbit

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Re: Destiny
« Reply #8 on: March 23, 2015, 10:20:42 PM »
*has chair, is waiting*

I don't think I read this before, but I'm enjoying it so far. Can't read to see some more!
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Offline Araell

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Re: Destiny
« Reply #9 on: March 23, 2015, 10:24:50 PM »
Thanks Rabbit...this makes me ubber excited as i lost a few readers on the old Tome so if at any point you guys feel like your losing interest with it let me know and tell me why in case it's something in my writing. I apologise, I've become very doubtful of myself since the destruction of original Tome.   :-[
 

"The war has begun! The line between Light and Dark is beginning to blur and only time will tell which will overpower the other." Keeper Prophecy (Destiny)

"I'm beginning to wonder whether this world ever had a divine being at all or if the Gods were among us this whole time!" Omar Delaney (Writing on the Wall)

Offline Angel

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Re: Destiny
« Reply #10 on: March 23, 2015, 10:36:45 PM »
*pulls up another chair*
 
I can't remember reading this one although I do remember it being around. If I don't keep up with all the postings then feel free to throw a rock at me so I do remember.

Enter Helena's world of light.
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Offline Araell

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Re: Destiny
« Reply #11 on: March 23, 2015, 10:44:51 PM »
*starts gathering up rocks as a precaution*
 

"The war has begun! The line between Light and Dark is beginning to blur and only time will tell which will overpower the other." Keeper Prophecy (Destiny)

"I'm beginning to wonder whether this world ever had a divine being at all or if the Gods were among us this whole time!" Omar Delaney (Writing on the Wall)

Offline Araell

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Re: Destiny
« Reply #12 on: March 27, 2015, 01:09:31 PM »
Posting the next chapter ahead as I'm off home this weekend therefore won't get another chance. Gonna try update you twice a week on a Tuesday and Friday but we shall see how well that goes. Hope you enjoy the next chapter as things are now starting to get a little weird for our young blacksmith with the arrival of a hooded stranger  :o

Chapter 2 – Glowing Palms

   The Green Clover Inn was centred at the top of the city, just after the city gates. It was the biggest public house in the whole of Az Lagní, only an inn to those in desperate need, although saying that Tristan had only seen the upstairs bedroom used a couple times by him and the very attractive barmaid coming over to take their order at the bar. This attractive young woman was of course Jennivere Bennett and she was all Tristan’s. She wasn’t the prettiest girl Tristan had ever seen, that was the woman he dreamt about at night, but she loved him and that was all he could ask; especially after everything he had put her through in the past.

“And what can I get you two fine gentlemen today?” asked Jenni in a cheeky tone of voice, giving Tristan a little wink.

“I don’t know about being a gentleman…but I am fine!” exclaimed Merlin returning the wink with a cheeky smile. “What’s the special?”
 
“Fish pie with potatoes, peas and carrots.”

“My favourite, I’ll have that with a brandy.” Merlin winked again and removed his pipe from his pocket. Jenni poured him his drink and he strolled over to a quiet table by the fire.

“And what about you,” Jenni now turned to Tristan.

“I’ll have that red dress off you for starters…” he joked.

“Behave!” she whispered, slapping him on the wrist and smiling cheekily to herself as her cheeks matched the redness of her dress.
“What would you like to eat?”

“Well wouldn’t you like to know…” he said cheekily, shaking his head and looking her up and down when Jenni raised her eyebrows.
 
“Can a man get some service over here?” shouted a deep voice, silencing the whole pub. Jenni looked around, why had all the barmaids chose now to disappear?

“It’s okay,” reasoned Tristan. “Serve him first; I haven’t decided what I want to eat yet anyway.”

“Okay,” Jenni sighed, slumping off to stand in front of the hooded stranger that stood not far from where Tristan perched at the bar.

   He watched as the man pushed down the hood of his cloak revealing a dusty face with a fully grown beard. A scar stretched down his left cheek, it looked fresh; like he had just been involved in a bar brawl elsewhere. Perhaps he had been to one of the other more low key pubs in Az Lagní and got into a scuffle. From where he stood, Tristan could just about hear the conversation.

“About bloody time too!” The man had a defined accent, he sounded easterly almost but it wasn’t an incredibly strong accent; subtle but enough to tell the direction at least.

“What can I do for you sir?” asked Jenni, putting on her best serious voice.

“Oh I’m not a sir...aren’t you a little young to be a barmaid?”

“Is there something you want?” the man looked up at the oversized man who now stood behind Jenni. The landlord’s name was Gregory, an imposing stature of a man with wispy blonde hair and a red face framed by a trimmed beard. He looked the opposite of the dishevelled stranger that stood on the other side of the bar.

“I need a place to stay…” he explained rationally.

“We don’t offer that kind of service here!” Jenni interjected.

“I was told you do for people in my…predicament.”

“I…”

“I’ll need to see some sort of identification?” demanded Gregory, startling the already shaken Jenni.

   The man looked around, forcing Tristan to look down at the coaster he was spinning on top the bar. He glanced up, watching as the man removed a black fingerless glove from his right hand. He showed his palm to Gregory, as though there was something upon it. Tristan watched as the lines on his palm formed a shape, a rune within his skin that glowed slightly, emitting a blue light. Whatever this mark meant, it was enough proof for Gregory who nodded. As the man began replacing the glove onto his hand, Tristan’s own palm began to burn, searing with pain suddenly and causing the coaster he was fiddling with to fling across the underside of the bar. He looked down at his palm, the same mark appearing in the lines as had done on the stranger’s. He marvelled at the sight as the glow faded but the mark remained. He looked up in time to see Jenni coming over to him.

“Are you okay?” she asked, a concerned look on her face.

“Yes! Yes I’m fine!” Tristan stammered as he clenched his hand into a fist.

“Got a name?” he heard Gregory say.

“Dante Ashdown,” answered the man, his face seeming brighter and cleaner than it was.

“I’ll take it from here Jenni!”   Jenni nodded to Gregory, turning back to Tristan.

“Are you sure you’re okay? It’s just you’ve gone really pale?”

“I’m fine honestly,” Tristan lied as his head became heavy in his hand. “I’m just hungry!”

“Right, of course,” the stranger had unnerved Jenni for some reason; she too had gone rather pale. “How about I ask the chef to fix up your favourite; steak and mushroom pie?”

“Mushroom…yuk!”

“But you love mushrooms? Steak and mushroom is your favourite?”

“No, steak and ale is my favourite!”

“Everything alright old-boy,” asked Merlin now standing beside Tristan. “What’s taking so long?”

“Sorry,” stammered Jenni. “Steak and ale pie and a fish pie coming right up. Can I get you a drink Tristan?”

“A wheat beer will be fine!”

“But you hate wheat beer!” Jenni protested.

“Since when? Jenni what’s wrong with you today?”

“Nothing…sorry…” Jenni said eventually when Merlin said nothing. She poured Tristan a wheat beer and handed it to him. “I’ll be over with your dinners soon!”

   Merlin and Tristan both nodded to her and returned to the table Merlin had selected for them by the kindling fire. As the two sat, Tristan sipped his beer; relishing the taste as though he hadn’t had one in rather a while.
 
“I don’t know what’s wrong with her today,” he started to say as Merlin too sipped from his brandy. “I mean first she suggests a steak and mushroom pie and now she thinks I don’t like beer…I love beer!”

“She’s right though you know,” Merlin said after a while, lighting the candle with a simple flick of his fingers. “You hate beer…and you love mushrooms. Maybe the question we should be asking is what has gotten into you?”

“Excuse me?”

“Tristan, what’s wrong?” he stared into Tristan’s cloudy blue eyes. “You saw something didn’t you?”

“Saw what?”

“You remembered something…”

   Merlin looked down at Tristan’s still clenched fist, glancing up at his cloudy eyes once more as he took the fist into his own relaxed hands. Slowly, he prised open Tristan’s fingers, keeping eye contact with him all the whilst. He put up no fight, simply letting Merlin gaze upon the mark that rested on his palm. Merlin studied the mark, a look of what appeared to be relief painted on his gaunt face.

“When did this appear?”

“It’s nothing!” snapped Tristan as he snatched his hand back.

“Tristan this is serious…”

“What’s serious!” he snapped, jumping up and knocking into Jenni, causing her to drop the plates she was carrying onto the floor, spilling gravy all down her dress.

“Tristan!” Jenni screamed as she looked down at her dress, suddenly very embarrassed.

   Tristan starred at the mess he had caused, looking round the pub as everyone stared at him, even the stranger named Dante. His head was pounding and he was shaking like a leaf. He shook his head in frustration and stormed out of the inn, Merlin and Jenni both shouting after him.
 

"The war has begun! The line between Light and Dark is beginning to blur and only time will tell which will overpower the other." Keeper Prophecy (Destiny)

"I'm beginning to wonder whether this world ever had a divine being at all or if the Gods were among us this whole time!" Omar Delaney (Writing on the Wall)

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Re: Destiny
« Reply #13 on: March 27, 2015, 01:41:05 PM »
Hmm interesting turn of events! So he likes what he hates and hates what he likes now . . . hmm.  :read:

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Re: Destiny
« Reply #14 on: March 27, 2015, 01:54:49 PM »
Hmmmm... How mysterious... I wonder what Tristan's connection to Dante is all about...

Keep it up, Araell!  :thumb1:
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Re: Destiny
« Reply #15 on: March 27, 2015, 03:03:47 PM »
As I said,things are starting to get weird  :wizard:

Thanks for the read guys  :thumb:
 

"The war has begun! The line between Light and Dark is beginning to blur and only time will tell which will overpower the other." Keeper Prophecy (Destiny)

"I'm beginning to wonder whether this world ever had a divine being at all or if the Gods were among us this whole time!" Omar Delaney (Writing on the Wall)

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Re: Destiny
« Reply #16 on: March 31, 2015, 11:24:34 PM »
Tuesday means Destiny day!! You better make the most of this as I have a busy day on Friday what with work and then traveling home for Easter break and then I'm off on my friends Hen Night so the next chapter will most likely be posted on Saturday. Enjoy this next excerpt, here we meet a new character who seems to be lost in the Lands of the Faded. What are your thoughts as to who he is? Is he connected to Tristan somehow or is his purpose something even bigger?


Chapter 3 – The Shadow Lands

   He slumped down to the wooden tiled floor as his front door slammed behind him, his ears ringing. Resting his head in his hands, Tristan tried to quell his headache by massaging his temples and fighting against the visions trying desperately to cloud his mind. Just as he began to calm down, he felt his hands start to burn, only this time it was the tops of his hands that seared with pain. He stared in bewilderment as two runes etched themselves into his hands, blood dripping from his palms and staining his breaches. He turned them round and glanced at them again, looking in disbelief and confusion. Just then, he felt something harden on his back as the feeling of a thousand needles stabbing into him at once met his senses. Jumping up, he raced into the sitting room, ripping off his tunic and staring at the tattoo forming between his shoulder blades; a blue glyph in a the shape of a sigil Tristan knew to be that of the Keepers.

   He stared in disbelief at that tattoo, the pain of his new markings subsiding leaving them to settle within his skin. Shaken, he sunk into the armchair his father would usually sit, again cradling his aching head in his hands, blood still seeping from the wounds. After a while, the pain in his head began to subside and he watched the floor as a dark shadow began to appear before him. Expecting to see his father, he looked up suddenly, startled to see another man before him. The man looked exactly like him, only different somehow. He stood there, smiling slightly at Tristan; his stance relaxed slightly and his feet planted firmly on the floor. The man had the same piercing blue eyes that Tristan himself had, looking upon him from behind a blondey brown hairstyle that covered his brow and ears. Tristan ran his hand through his own blondey brown hair, considerably shorter and neater than his lookalike.  A stubble prickled his chin; framing his face and making his high cheekbones stand out. The rugged look had obviously been a thing this double liked…it was something Tristan did not share with him. The man had a fairly muscular torso and brown breaches covered sturdy legs. As Tristan continued to stare, he noticed the skin begin to split into symbols and words that seemed to scar his once immaculate form. Tristan gasped, watching as words turned into whole passages that were written as though they belonged to endless prophecies his ears once knew. The lines stretched into symbols; glyphs and runes that resembled the marks now on him as well as others that seemed similar.
He looked up at his own face as the slight smile faded and his mouth became stitched together. At the same time he noticed that although some of the words were too small for him to read, other words he could make out - the word ‘listen’ was now etched into his forehead. He looked himself up and down, noticing other words; ‘secrets’ spread across his chest and ‘union’ just upon his midriff. The glyph on his palm rested below the last word, the same glyph Dante shared with him. A word echoed in his head as he studied the glyph.

“Nobility!” it said.

   The double of him jolted his neck suddenly, the smile stretching back and causing his mouth to bleed as the stitches were ripped out. Tears of blood began to bleed from his eyes, peeling his skin as they spilt down his face and dripped onto his torso. Tristan gasped as the scarred version of himself jumped at him. There was nothing he could do except embrace him, he outstretched his arms and absorbed the scars, falling to his knees; the immense pain that had just left him gripping him once more. Yelling out in anguish he saw an illuminated figure form in front of him, reaching out with a single hand. He reached out to take the hand, begging the glowing silhouette for help, for seldom away from his pain. When their hands touched, he was met by an overwhelming sensation that would only be bought on through torture, a feeling like the bones inside his body were being shattering into a thousand pieces.

   Suddenly the figure obliterated, leaving a numb Tristan kneeling on the rug in the middle of the sitting room. Dizzy, he dropped to the floor changed…but not physically; mentally. For now; he was the man he once was; his beliefs and habits intact, and the forgotten memories of his six years as a Keeper a blur in his clouded mind.

~~~~
   
A scream sounds in the darkness and for a moment I fear I am not alone. It echoes all around me; causing a ringing in my ears; a sensation which made me feel human for the first time since I became stuck down here. I am still unsure of how long I have been down here – the variations between night and day are much the same; there is no sun or moon, no stars or clouds, just the blackness of the sky above me. The screaming stops, leaving me in silence once more. There is a strange safety in this silence around me, it means I am alone and therefore no one could hurt me…at least that’s what it meant down here. There is always danger here. There are cloaked shadows that reside in the Watchtower on the horizon and every so often they come lurking into the darkness and flush out us faded ones from our hiding place. On the surface world, silence is suspicious and makes you feel as though you are being followed or watched…like something bad is about to happen.

   I look around suddenly, fearing the screams would arouse the hooded shadows but there was no such movement. The dead trees up above remained still, the blackened grass standing on end, the greying sky…greying sky? The sky was usually black, blackest of black, but the tone was now changing, a greyness tinging the barrier. It was smoke! The Watchtower on the horizon was beginning to crumble, falling to the ground and covering the horizon in smoke. I could hear the crashing and banging of rubble hitting the floor, once again causing a ringing in my ears. As the smoke faded, I noticed a light flickering in its place. It could have been fire but its colour marvelled me. In all the time I had been down here I had never seen colour, even my clothes have become blackened by the dust. The colour was so beautiful…the light bringing me peace as it shone brighter than ever. No way could something that pure be fire. It was like it was calling to me, wanting me to behold it…and I wanted to behold it.

Maybe the light marked the end of my time in darkness; maybe it would take me back to the land of colour and light I used to revel in. I take a deep breath, and before I know it my feet are taking me towards the source of the light. As I begin to leave, I turn and look back at the shadows that cower behind the trees and in the bushes, behind the tall grass and camouflaged within the darkness. Goodbye my brothers, perhaps one day soon, the light will call to you as well! 

As I find my way through the trees that have been my solace for so long, a fire begins to burn within me, bringing me courage in these times of darkness. With each step I take, I stand taller, braver and resemble more of the man that I once was on the surface world. The trees are scarce now and I begin to walk through what must be a meadow or a field; my eyes ever vigilant, darting around the sparseness, ready for the shadows that could and would probably jump out at any minute. As I near the edge of the field, a point begins to form at the edge of the horizon, getting bigger and bigger the closer I get. My steps begin to quicken as hope seems to make the fire within me burn stronger and warmer. The point turns into a spire and a spire into a tower, a tower into a building…and a building into a church.

I stop for a moment, marvelling at the sight of it. I feel for a moment as though I recognise it, as though I have been here before. Before me stands a majestic stone archway with large wooden doors adorned with metal bolts and hinges. The archway stretches up and curves to touch a circular stained glass window with the paintings of people looking up at a black winged angel. This myth is that of the Amaranth; a tale of a spoilt prince who was named a saviour to the people of Asan. One day…he just grew wings! Or perhaps it was God’s Sacrifice, the angel that God killed to send a message to His people, the angel God damned. If that was the case, then this was a Hammerite church, and the two arched windows proved this point. These windows had colours of purple and red around the silhouette of a hammer…the sigil of the Hammerites. I followed the structure ever higher, finally finding the steeple that had caught my eyes in the first place, it’s steel cross catching in some hidden light.

My eyes were bought back down to the stone doors and the four guards that stood vigil over it; two on either side. The guards were too made of stone and had crests upon their chests. Another mirrored them forming the centre of the huge oak doors, something my eyes had missed on the first glance. The crests I realise are not crests but glyphs, markings of my ancient brothers the Keepers. I continued to step forward, slower this time, still vigilant of the shadows that might jump me at any minute. As I stepped onto the concrete steps that formed the base of the church, the doors opened without a touch and I stepped into the light that seemed to emanate from the building, pausing for a moment before entering the magnificent structure.

I stop just inside the doorway to marvel at the imposing tapestry that stood before me on the wall. Its main colour was blue; a dark indigo blue background with a much lighter blue figure emblazoned as though the figure were a beacon. But I guess, in a way it was a beacon, a beacon for the Hammerites and their patron Saint Edgar. This was who the tapestry was of, a half clothed man holding a hammer in the air, light shining from his head like a crown. He had a muscular form and a ring of fire etched around his figure. To the Hammerites, he was a prophet, a speaker for their Lord The Builder. He saved the Hammerites from the accursed Mechanists who betrayed them with their ways of technology as opposed to the means for foundations. The Mechanists had strayed from the path set down by the Builder; the need for the preservation of human life, and instead fought for the advancement of human life and created robotic brains that could power themselves. They themselves had become Gods! And this, St. Edgar could not allow on his oath as a Hammerite. And so he rose up, for the sake of his beliefs and his God. His strength and valour was truly represented well in this simple yet iconic piece of art.

To both my left and right was a pathway, the way lit up by fiery torches. Assuming they would both lead me to the interior of the church, I picked one at random and pursued its destination along the blue and red patterned carpet that covered the centre of the floor as a runner against the cobblestones. As I followed it around the corridor, I was lead into a huge atrium and I realise now that this is no church but a cathedral as told by the level of detail and structure within the room I now occupied. Ahead of me on the far wall was a large circular stained glass window. Tints of purple and blue formed a mystical background in contrast to the intimidating red of the hammer that lay in the centre of the glass. In front of this window on a podium was a statue of The Builder himself holding a hammer within his hands as though he were presenting it to someone perhaps? Along the pathway towards him were dark wooden pews that stretched up either side towards the podium, the same blue and red carpet forming a pathway between them. I followed the lines up, seeking a pew somewhere near the front to sit and think a while. I sat for a while, thinking and wondering why such a place had suddenly appeared here; a place of worship, a place of beauty and light in a place of decay, darkness and shadow.

I closed my eyes a while, letting the fresh air within the church take me to a place I visited often as teenager in my hometown. The place held significance to me and at a time when I felt very lost, it bought me solace, just as the mystery cathedral I was now in was doing. It felt so strange to feel something warm heat up my core, I felt human for the first time in what must have been years. You never really know how much time passes here; the sky never changes so you can never tell when a new day has begun and an old day ended. 

Abruptly, I was bought out of my thoughts by a loud tingling sound, as though someone were dragging their hand through a wind chime of some sort. I looked around, having now risen from my pew. I stepped out into the aisle and noticed an open door in the right hand corner below the stained glass window. It was something I hadn’t noticed before and the design on the door was rather elaborate so you’d think it would be something I would have noticed at first glance. I approached the door slowly, being sure to keep my eyes peeled for movement at any moment. I noticed a pattern forming on the door; it was changing from a plain wooden door with iron ingots to a very macabre image of a hanged man painted on to the door in dark colours. It resonated a strange feeling within me, as though part of me had seen the image before that only that part remembered. The other part seemed to have eradicated it from thought, but the memory of it was still there...somewhere. As I got closer, the image changed again and the door became reinforced with metal; iron crawling over the wood and chocking the life out of it, nails wrought themselves in the border and a dove flew into life on the top panel with a golden key in its beak.

I knew then that it was a sign! The Keepers had found me, my brothers had come back for me; this was their sigil and it was showing me the way. A light formed at the end of the corridor the door had revealed and I made hastily for it without a second thought. But the closer I got, the further away it seemed to be, as though it were running away from me as I was running towards it. I stopped suddenly, thinking back to the image that had appeared on the door. Words from my past slithered into my ears, words a teacher had said to one of my fellow Scribes, who at the time had called Mr Ancient as he looked as though he were over a thousand years old; this was probably an exaggeration though. He had taught us the history of the Keepers and how they were a united religion who believed, like the God lovers, that Noah had sent a dove to find land during the Great Flood but instead of an Olive Branch, the dove instead bought back a gold key. According to legend, the key was a sign from mages who had managed to protect their compound and surrounding village against the flooding and rise their land to the surface. But of course, then the Keepers split in more recent years into two groups; The Keepers of Truth and the Keepers of Secrets. One group concealed the future, the others the past. Talus then came along and he and his brothers united the two once more, however there was a sect of brothers who disagreed with the union and split themselves off and taking on the Dharsi name, becoming a seperate brotherhood altogether. The image of the dove had long been discarded, but some believed that it was in fact kept and indoctrinated into the Dharsi Brotherhood.

It was then that I realised I had been tricked. This was not the sigil of my brothers, but of my enemies. I tried to turn back, escape the fate that all this time I had been trying to avoid. As I ran towards the door it grew further away and I knew then my attempt at escape was folly. Now I was theirs! I felt the light behind me turn to shadow as a sudden coldness crept over me sending shivers up my spine. I stopped then and turned, facing the approaching shadows; they would not take me...not without a fight. As it neared closer to me, I closed my eyes and outstretched my arms, letting the light that ran through my veins flow out through my fingers. My light would fight this darkness...


 

"The war has begun! The line between Light and Dark is beginning to blur and only time will tell which will overpower the other." Keeper Prophecy (Destiny)

"I'm beginning to wonder whether this world ever had a divine being at all or if the Gods were among us this whole time!" Omar Delaney (Writing on the Wall)

Offline Angel

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Re: Destiny
« Reply #17 on: April 01, 2015, 10:38:48 AM »
Oh my.  :o
Quite an info heavy chapter but I liked hearing about the religious sect of this world. It seems it'll be quite important to the story! And as for the connection between this new character and Tristen? I think they are connected, possibly through The Keepers or somehow through the religion. Perhaps they served together.

Still liking where this is going!  :wizard:

Enter Helena's world of light.
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Re: Destiny
« Reply #18 on: April 01, 2015, 11:59:47 AM »
Thanks Angel! Just trying to pop in all the context and I understand there's a lot in this chapter but I hope it's digestable. It won't be this heavy again for a while...actually I don't think it will be now as I think that's the bulk of it ;)
 

"The war has begun! The line between Light and Dark is beginning to blur and only time will tell which will overpower the other." Keeper Prophecy (Destiny)

"I'm beginning to wonder whether this world ever had a divine being at all or if the Gods were among us this whole time!" Omar Delaney (Writing on the Wall)

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Re: Destiny
« Reply #19 on: April 03, 2015, 08:37:32 PM »
Wow Araell, this is a really powerful piece so far! I'm really enjoying the feel of this one, and how it's being spaced out. The characters are really well developed, and I am so glad I managed to catch up  :lovedance:

There are a few things I picked up on, here goes;

Chapter 1 – The End of an Era

Merlin had been teaching Tristan about the Keepers and trying to make him remember the time he spent with them. He has amnesia and there is a period of about six years that he doesn’t remember anything about.

I'm not too sure on the sentences here, maybe change it to something like this perhaps;
[desc=(whatever time you want to include)]'The accident two years ago'[/desc] had caused him to lose all his memories from six years before, [desc=(again, alter to your own preferences.)]without no explanation or logical reason[/desc]. Since that time, Merlin had been teaching Tristan about the Keepers to try and bring some of them back, in the hopes that he would remember something once more.

Chapter 3 – The Shadow Lands

Just as he began to calm down, he felt his hands start to burn, only this time it was the tops of his hands that seared with pain. He stared in bewilderment as two runes etched themselves into his hands, blood dripping from his palms and staining his breaches.

There is quite a bit of repetition here, maybe try and re-word this bit a little.


He turned them round and glanced at them again, looking in disbelief and confusion. Just then, he felt something harden on his back as the feeling of a thousand needles stabbing into him at once met his senses. Jumping up, he raced into the sitting room, ripping off his tunic and staring at the tattoo forming between his shoulder blades; a blue glyph in a the shape of a sigil Tristan knew to be that of the Keepers.

   He stared in disbelief at that tattoo, the pain of his new markings subsiding leaving them to settle within his skin.

There's a couple of points to note down here, the first one; I think, because of the amount of information in the opening paragraph, it may be worth making it into two. Splitting it here;

...looking in disbelief and confusion.
   Just then, he felt something ...

Second point; the shoulder blades are on the back of a person, he may be able to feel something form but I doubt (unless he had a mirror) that he would be able to see it at all. Let alone know what symbol it represented.
I'm not sure how he would be able to tell, maybe it's something to think about.

And third, a little more repetition (although, not the same words it's the same just in different tense). Although not as noticeable as it's split into two paragraphs, as you've said that he was staring you don't really need to mention it again. Maybe if you did you could re-word them at little.;

'Jumping up, he raced into the sitting room, ripping off his tunic and stared at the tattoo forming between his shoulder blades.'
and
'He was staring in disbelief, the pain...'

All minor points aside, I'm really hooked and I'm definitely keeping my eye out for the next chapters.  :thumb1:

 

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