Friday, August 10, 2012

Nightblade - Chapter 1 Part 1


ONE

            Long ago, in another universe and another time was a lonely planet tirelessly circling a pair of dancing stars.  It was in turn tirelessly circled by a triplet of moons and inhabited by a race of elves.  For centuries, peace ruled the land and the elves flourished.  It became an utopia, and the elves in unison with the gods gave birth to the magics of the world.  The gods, pleased with the pureness of the race they had created, ensured the race remained pure with no disease or illness, and perfect elven children resulted of every birth.
But then one day the peace came to an end and war erupted between the elven groups.  One group of elves began to think themselves superior to the others, and claimed domination over all the other elves of Quedäar, enforcing their superiority with random acts of cruelty and violence against ‘lesser’ elven groups.  At first, the uprisings were small and localized, and as such it went unnoticed by the larger masses for decades.  But with each passing year the violence increased until eventually the once united race became two warring factions—the purist elves, and a new, violent group that referred to themselves as the drow. 
The goodly elves pleaded to their gods to help them in their time of need, but the gods were disgusted by the evil they saw in the drow and turned their backs to the elves as well.  If evil could corrupt a few, it could corrupt the many the gods believed, and so they left the two races to solve their own problems and withdrew into the heavens.  The drow began worshipping their own gods, vile and demonic creatures that promised limitless power with their dark magic.
Without the intervention of the benevolent gods the elves were unable to defeat drow, and the war raged for nearly three hundred years, with no side able to swing the tides of war in their favor.  Even though the elves greatly outnumbered them, they were unable to match the sheer brutality and skill of the drow.  Then one day, by combining the dark magics with all of their wickedness, the drow forged a sword, Nightblade, and with it launched a full fledged attack against the elves.  With Nightblade the drow began to overcome the elven forces and the elves took heavy losses.  With the drow controlling over half of Quedäar and nearly a quarter of the elves, all seemed lost for the goodly race of elves.  
Then one night an unexpected event happened to the little planet known as Quedäar.  With the elves defending one of their last strongholds in what was later to become the Vashir Forest, Lightningstar, the most powerful elven wizard in all of Quedäar, cast a spell against the thousands of advancing drow.  It was meant to be a simple magic missile spell to take out the first dozen or so of the advancing army, but at the precise moment he cast the spell the three moons came into alignment with Quedäar, an event that only happened once every four millennia.  This awesome force of nature caused the spell to mutate, and when it hit the frontline of the drow rather than stopping as it should, it began jumping like the lightning the mage was named after from soldier to soldier throughout the drow ranks.  With one spell, Lightningstar had decimated nearly half of the advancing army.  With the drow in shock from the sudden loss of so many warriors, the elven race quickly defeated the remaining drow, and forced them into exile in the tunnels and caverns miles below the Burning Mountains.  Placing magical ward inside the caves, the elves sought to ensure that the wicked drow would never again defile the surface world with their evil.
Upon returning to the surface, the elves ventured back to the site of their victory over the drow where they found the wicked sword amidst the fallen drow.  Realizing that it was too evil to wield and unable to destroy it, the elves took the sword to a cave at the foot of the Burning Mountains and sealed it inside, never to be seen again.  Upon the entrance, they placed magical wards to prevent anyone from entering the cave. 
Confident that they had removed all evil from the surface world, they returned to the site where Lightningstar cast his legendary spell, and a new kingdom was born amidst the remaining trees of their forest. They named it Moonstar after the mage that cast the spell and the lunar alignment that gave it its power.  At the center of the city they built a new monastery to honor the gods.  They built it with more magical beauty and splendor than ever before seen on Quedäar, determined to win back the favor of their gods.  Day after day they prayed to the gods yearning for a reply to their calls, and finally one day they got their reply in the form of a prophecy:
Forever broken is the trust between divinity and creation.  From this day forth, only a chosen few with unquestioned faith in the eyes of the gods shall be granted Divine audience. The worshippers shall be granted power and eternity alongside the god they worship, and the faithless and fraudulent shall suffer an eternity in the hells.
That which hath tainted the goodness of the elves shall also taint the health of thy race.  From one race shall come forth many to be scattered over the face of Quedäar, and Good shall fight Evil for balance of power forevermore in all the realms.
The fate that hath befallen thy brothers shall be thy undoing.  By forever casting them to a world of darkness, thou shalt grow soft to their ways and thine descendents shall be forced into war with them once again.
When once again thy brother is strong and Evil is prepared to reign, in the land of the phoenix a half-breed in the clutches of evil will be torn amongst two paths.  If he chooseth the path of light, the elves and all other goodly races will unite and deliver Good to power once more. But lo, should the chosen one take the path to Evil and descend into the darkness, the fate of the races is peril.
And so the elves were left to survive on their own and rebuild the surface world that had once been their utopia.  As the prophecy foretold, the elven race was plagued with impurities, and from these births came forth new creatures to inhabit Quedäar.  For years, the elves watched as the beings that had come from them but were so unlike them spread like wildfire throughout the land.  In time, the creatures that were similar to each other broke into separate groups and claimed regions as their own. Wars over territory were brief and fierce, often with entire species being wiped from the land.
With new homes and newfound identities, these tribal groups became the ancestral foundations for the humans, dwarves, giants, orcs, and many others. With the separation of the races, the impure births began to slow.  Over time, the impurities went from one in every five, to one in every hundred, then one in every thousand.  With the purity of elven births all but restored, the elves closed off Moonstar from the outside world.  The ruling party of the elves worked to bury the darkness from their history, and any further impurities were dealt with swiftly and secretly.  Mention of the war against the drow was strictly forbidden, and over time the war was nearly forgotten from the history of Quedäar.  The elves refused to acknowledge that the other races on Quedäar shared common ancestry, and in time that too was forgotten. 
After the Time of Impurity, as it was referred to in hushed whispers, the Elves began to rebuild and expand the forest that had been destroyed during the battle.  As the centuries rolled on the forest-kingdom of Moonstar grew, and it was difficult to tell where the kingdom ended and the forest began.  The city walls that were once stone became overgrown with shrubs and vines until the wall itself could no longer be seen.  Trees were grown inside the kingdom as well as outside, and soon the trees were taller than the buildings of the city.  Within a millennia, the true history of Quedäar had been completely erased, the drow forgotten, and Moonstar lost to the outside world in the forest.
Miles below the surface of Quedäar, in the deepest pits of the darkest depths known as the Underdark, after years of wandering through dark tunnels, the surviving drow found a large cavern suitable for beginning a new empire.  After decades of construction, the city of Methandoruzil was complete.  For several millennia while the surface races forgot about their wicked cousins, the drow grew more and more powerful.  Worshipping the God of Death, Kabal, the drow used their magic to control the demons of the hells.  With the passing years, the drow began to adapt to their subterranean way of life.  Their skin darkened from the golden color of the surface elves to a grayish black, and they evolved infrared vision to see in the dark world around them.
While the surface world was busy forgetting the drow, the drow were busy planning to take revenge on the elves for banishing them.  Through his contacts in the hells, D’nar, king of the drow, learned of the elves’ prophecy and the location of the ancient sword Nightblade in the Cave of Shadows.  He believed that if he could get to Nightblade he could lead the drow to victory on the surface.  Now, after nearly four thousand years of exile, the drow were ready to again wage war on the surface.

Sunday, July 8, 2012

Quedaar Map

This is a map of the continent of Quedäar, the continent upon which my story takes place.  All artwork is mine and original, and may not be used or reproduced without my express written consent.


Saturday, July 7, 2012

Fear Interlude


              Fear.  How can so simple an emotion have so much power?  Fear can evoke a whole range of emotions and can make a man do things he never thought possible.  Fear can make a grown man cower like child scared of the dark, and it can give an all but fallen warrior the fighting chance to survive.  It can give an entire race known for its ruthless ways the power to dominate countless lesser races just for fear of what may come from acting against them.

         I’ve spent my whole life trying to understand this powerful emotion known simply as fear.  Decades of training, both physical and mental, have helped me to unlock the potential hidden under the surface of this paralyzing beast. I have learned to mold fear into an advantage instead of a hindrance.  Along with fear comes a rush of adrenaline and a heightened sense of awareness to your surroundings.  It gives you an edge that will push you to your limits and give you the needed skill to survive.

           Some say there is nothing to fear but fear itself.  I do not agree.  To the contrary, I feel that fear is something to embrace.  It has walked with me down many dark paths and has led me to many places I could not have been without it.  It has led me to victory in battle, warned me of impending danger, and held me in check when I would have jumped in over my head.

            No, fear is no enemy of mine--I have enough of those already—it is my guide along the path of life.  I welcome it's companionship.

                                    ~ Main Character (name pending)

Nightblade Prelude




What follows is the prelude to a book I began writing nearly 10 years ago, before life got busy and my interests in writing were pushed to the back burner. The story takes place on the world of Torand, on a continent known as Quedaär. It follows a young spellsword apprentice, a class that blends the fighting capabilities of a warrior with some of the spell-casting ability of a mage, as he learns to master his craft and find his place in a world teetering on the brink between peace and war. As it stands, it is already mapped out to become a trilogy, but only time will tell if it becomes more or less than that.  All artwork is my own unless credited otherwise. 

My mind often returns to the world of Torand and it's inhabitants, and the time approaches for me to rekindle the fire that once burned brightly in my mind.  If anything, time is harder to come by now than ever before, but the story has returned to the forefront of my mind and insists I return to the telling.  I am helpless to resist, and will continue to write so long as the story wishes to unfold.  I hope someday that the story reveals itself in full to me, and that you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoy writing it.


-J



Prelude 


In a dark corner of the tavern, the silhouetted figure of a man could be seen sitting alone at a table. Shrouded in darkness, he seemed more shadow than man, save for the glint of moonlight reflecting off his medallion through the window.

Though no larger than an average man, he gave off an aura of great power and strength.  He was dressed in black and had the hood of his cloak pulled down low so only the stubble on his chin could be seen when he tipped his head for a drink.  No one dared approach him except for the occasional waitress who was ‘persuaded’ by the owner to do her job and wait on the mysterious patron.

“A-a-anything else f-for you, s-s-sir?” stammered the trembling waitress, wishing sincerely that she had not come to work that night.  The stranger terrified her, even though he hadn’t spoken so much as a word to her all night.  She felt that if he so much as looked her in the eyes that her heart would stop dead.

“No.  That will be all, thank you,” He replied as he tossed a gold coin on the table.  His voice seemed to carry a faint Elven accent, but he was too tall to be an elf, even a Gold.  The elvish melody of his voice instantly calmed her fears but in its place brought forth curiosity.  She wondered who this stranger was and why he was here so far away from the Elven city of Moonstar.  Finding that her fear had taken leave, for the time being at least, she was able to speak more clearly to the shrouded man.

“I’m afraid I don’t have change for this.”

“I didn’t ask for any.”

“Now see here!  I’ll have you know…”

“Use the rest to get yourself as far away from here as possible,” the stranger interrupted, ignoring her mistaken assumption that the generous tip was prepayment for services rendered in the bedroom of a whore.  “This city will be a war zone in a matter of days.”

“My apologies, sir.  I didn’t mean to –“

“Just take it and go.  Quickly.  You don’t want to be here when the drow make their way into this city.”

“The drow?  Here?  That’s impossible.  Who are you, anyway?” she insisted, losing all inhibition as she reached out and grabbed his hand on the table.

“Nobody.  Just a ghost of a man and a shadow of a dream,” He said as he gently took her hand off his and traced an intricate pattern into the air before her eyes.  As the waitress began to shake daze from her head, the man stood up and walked toward the door.  Even as the doors swung shut behind him, the waitress was already beginning to wonder if anyone had been sitting at her table, or if she had only imagined it.

“Ms. Beth,” she called, as she walked over to the woman behind the bar that owned the tavern, “I think I need to go home early tonight.  I’m not feeling so well all of a sudden.”

“That shadowy man didn’t do anything to you did he?” Beth asked, concerned that her best waitress may be suffering the ill effects of a rogue spell caster.  She had seen the brief contact between the two and feared for what he may have done to her.  She knew little of magic, and as a rule didn’t trust those who used it.  “Jennie, are you alright?”

“What?” The waitress asked, still fighting the effects of a sudden daze.

“I said ‘are you alright?’  I’m concerned that man did something to you back there before he left,” she repeated, gesturing to the table he had been sitting at only moments before.

“Man?  What man?”  There hasn’t been anyone at that table all night.  Are you feeling alright, Ms. Beth?”

“I’m fine, Jennie.  But I’m concerned for you.  Why don’t you take the rest of the night off and go get some rest.”

“Are you sure?  I don’t mind staying.”  Even as she said the words she knew them to be untrue.  She didn't know why, but she felt a sudden urge to go.  To pack her bags and leave this very night, as far as she could run.

“I’m sure.  It’s slow tonight.  I can shut the place down.  Go on.  Enjoy that tip you earned,” she said, gesturing to the gold coin glinting in Jennie’s hand hoping it would trigger a memory.

“Um, okay,” Jennie said, staring at the coin as though she hadn’t seen it before this very moment.

The look on the girl's face as she stared at the coin furthered Beth’s concern for her, but she decided not to press the issue and waved goodbye as Jennie took off her apron and passed through the doors into the cool night air.  She wondered briefly who the stranger was that had visited them tonight, but pushed the thoughts out of her head as she realized a few of the men at the bar were shouting for more drinks.  

As for the man in black, he had again disappeared into the shadows of the night just as he had since the day he emerged from the Cave of Shadows some years ago, without a trace he had ever been there.