December Newsletter

Hello all,

The project has been going great and this month has seen some pretty huge developments. For starters, I’ve written about five chapters as of now (All in their very very early stages) that introduce the character arcs of Jasper, Ander and Rhanna. Each of these chapters I’m sure will go through heavy development in the coming months, but right now I’m writing hard to pump out a first draft so that I can at least have something with a beginning and an ending to work with.

Each story arc has a protagonist (obviously) and an antagonist. In Jasper’s POV, the antagonist is his brother Harwin. This is an example of man vs. man. For Ander, the antagonist is more supernatural, an army or a force from the Northlands that is both beyond his understanding and beyond his ability to fight. For Rhanna the antagonist could be a variety of things, it could be her struggle with herself and her guilt, or her lack of strength, or it could be an evil man sent to bring her back to her captor’s prison; I still have yet to decide what to develop. Once I give you all more context for the overall plot this all might make a bit more sense, but obviously I cannot do that as of now since it all is so subject to change.

Next update I plan to give a chapter by chapter summary up until whichever chapter I have reached by the end of January. Reaching chapter ten is my goal. For now, please enjoy some quoted text from Chapter three of Ander’s Point of View.

*****

“The Punics glared at Ander, and the younger of them began speaking rapidly in Punic. The blue-eyed tried to remain calm, “You don’t have to kill us, I told you we are leaving this place, never to come back.”

Ander wished no ill will upon the men in truth, but he was immune to empathy. It was one of the unfortunate traits that he’d picked up fighting in the frigid Northlands. His heart was as cold as his steel.

“Come or go,” Ghenn muttered. “We’ll still be here, the Outposts will never fall.”

Two Kethans took a man each and they followed Ander outside of the human circle. A naturally formed rock outcrop was a few feet away and Ander approached it, his booted feet crunching on muddy snow. He took the younger one first as a courtesy, and he tried to be quick and painless. He ended the boy’s life by quickly running the blade’s edge against his neck.

Ander had to credit the older Punic, the man was strong-hearted and didn’t falter as he was shoved towards the outcrop and forced to kneel beside Ander. His sword rose and fell.

There was no cheering as the last of the Punics fell dead into the cold, their blood mixing with mud and ice. The Kethans grunted, it was always this way in the North. Do what you have to do and try your best to sleep when the nightmares come.

Ander cleaned his sword in the snow and sheathed it, it would rust if he left it that way for a long time, but it would suffice until he could properly oil and scrub it as part of his nightly ritual inside his warm tent. Ghenn clapped him on the shoulder wordlessly as he made his way back towards camp. The rest of the men spread out or went their respective ways, each on his own errand. Ander couldn’t relax however, his mind was restless. What had the two Punics observed? It was true that the raids had been decreasing in past months, and if there was ever a time for raiding this was it; in the middle of fall. Where was Gortal the Fearless, Chief Ivtar, the Nevveine and Velx the Butcher? Their mighty armies had come to be an expected thing, a ravaging force and each time they came they took a bit more territory and made the court back in Keth more nervous. But, they weren’t here this year. Could there really be such a mass exodus of people based merely on legends? And if the Punics were frightened of something, wouldn’t the less hearty peoples of Eldaria be utterly stupid to ignore it? The words of the blue-eye spoke again in Ander’s mind, “My people are leaving this place, something is coming, many travelers past the Northern Hills and something following behind them that is terrible, we have heard the legends and seen the signs.” He felt sure he would have the same dream again tonight, that terrible dream.”

*****

Thanks so much everyone, hope you had a merry Christmas.

November Newsletter

Hello once again everyone. I'd first like to thank anyone who read the last newsletter. I truly appreciate the support that I've been given both in person and in responding emails. During the length of this project I'm working on, I hope you stick with me and enjoy the ride. I'm trying to make it as exciting as possible!

UPDATES:

The month of November has been a busy one for me, and I haven't been consistently meeting my daily word goals. That's a major bummer, but all is not lost! The work I did was good, and everything has developed in colossal amounts compared to where I was in October. The focus of this newsletter is on the main characters of the project, but before we get to them I'll give a cursory look at the progress I've made so far in other areas.

Plot

• I actually have some semblance of a plot!
• I should say, I know the events of Eldaria (the world in which everything takes place) on a large scale over the course of the year or so in which the story will occur. So I know, for example that there are four prominent countries in the heartland of Eldaria. These countries encompass an area roughly a third the length of the united states (3000 mi in total so 1000 mi across). To the Northern border of these countries are the Whisperwind Mountains, and past that, a great and powerful evil is amassing that will change the world radically when it comes.
• Over this month I've developed many of the more specific parts of these world events, the circumstances surrounding them and how they affect populations as a whole.
• Next steps for developing the project in the plot area are to find out what these events mean to the 4 main characters, and (more importantly) what these 4 characters mean to these events.

World Building

• I've done a substantial amount of thinking about magic and largely drawn no conclusions *sadface*
• I've developed the origins in the known world and explanations for the most prominent geographical features in Eldaria. More in this vein, the mysterious creatures and alternate races have explanations and origins as well (I will probably delve deeper into this in followup newsletters).
• Finally, I've made a map of political country boundaries to better give an idea of relative distances.

Character

• Now to the exciting stuff!

There are four POV (point of view) characters. This means that in the narrative of the project, reading their accounts will sound like 4 separate and distinct voices. The reader will hear the world through the ears of each character, see it through their eyes, and will have exclusive access to the character's thoughts.

The four POV characters are Jasper, Ander, Rhanna and Verald.

Ander

• Pronounced (An-dur)
• Ander is a captain in a country called Keth
• He is technically of noble blood, but nobles draw distinctions between high and low blood. Ander is considered a lowblood.
• There are two primary fronts for war in Keth, one is in the North fighting Punic barbarians (very savage and brutal fighting) and the other is to the South, fighting the civilized Belmorans. Ander previously fought on the Southern front, but found it devoid of both honor and glory. He crossed blades with an allied Kethan highblood in a duel in a dispute over hostages. Due to his victory and the subsequent death of his dueling partner, he wisely relocated his military career to Punia where he became established as a barbarian fighter and not one to cross lightly.

Jasper

• Jasper is a point of view character, but he is also the prospective main character of the whole project
• Jasper is a noble in a respected Belmoran House, his father is the captain of the Belmoran King's personal guard
• Jasper has always been a bit disfigured and thus has been the butt of his older brother Harwin's frequent abuse. He is the shame of the family to a large degree and has thus led a troubled life. His mother died not long after his birth.
• Jasper is special for supernatural reasons, he is possessed of a set of mysterious and commanding wings that for no apparent reason sprout miraculously from his shoulders when he falls and seem to disappear when he walks

Rhanna

• Pronounced (Rah-nuh)
• When a city rebelled in the Belmoran region and declared itself free, Belmoran troops captured the city after a short and violent siege. Rhanna's family were co-conspirators in the scheme and thus were mostly slaughtered. Rhanna however was spared as she was supremely beautiful and thus was taken back to Belmora to be gifted in marriage to a vassal who found favor with the crown.
• Instead, Rhanna ran from the court life, cutting her hair short and stealing the clothes of a servant.
• She didn't succeed very well on her own, and would have perished had it not been for the intersession of others

Verald

• A man who on the outside seems to be very easy going and relaxed, Verald is actually incredibly mysterious and nobody seems to know his story
• He is the leader of a crew of thieves and thugs who operate in the Cunic Wilderland.
• He is also a member of a crafted race, created long ago in ancient times, thus he has mysterious powers and is connected in unpleasant ways to the growing evil past the Whisperwind Mountains in the North.

Thank you so much for reading this newsletter, more is definitely to follow. The story is still obviously heavily in the works but I'm excited with the progress I'm making. Peace be with you.

October Newsletter

(NOTE: This version was originally sent out in an email chain)

Hello friends !

You are receiving this email because you have at one point or another expressed interest in my writing. I am creating this in an effort to keep you all updated as to where I am currently in this regard, and give you a chance to look at a sample of something I've written and (forgive the colloquialism) tell me if it sucks or not (optional).

First and foremost, please note that I will not be offended whatsoever if you'd prefer to opt out, refrain from commenting or reading what I include. This is for you guys, as I know I've been somewhat cryptic about this habit of mine in the past. I'm not entirely sure what this monthly email will consist of, but I envision mostly samples of prose or narrative.

Secondly, if you can think of anyone who would like to be included in this email, feel free to send me an email and I'll add them to the directory.

Lastly, if you're curious, I write in the genre of fantasy fiction and this is also primarily what I read. If you're not familiar with it or don't prefer it, that might be another good reason to tell me you don't want to be included in this email.

Now to the juicy bit, with absolutely no introduction, meet a character named Rix. He hasn't been worked on, he's raw and probably boring. I don't know what I'll end up using him for (if anything). This is 950 words of exploratory first draft brain dump, take it as you will.

*****

Rix awoke from a fitful sleep to hear footsteps approaching his tent. His dream had been a pleasant one, far away from this dreadful patrol camp with its stink and sickness and death. He  almost rolled over and attempted to reenter his dream, until he realized that it was the middle of the night, and the footsteps had stopped... outside of his tent. Could it be a coincidence?

Rix heard a crunching, as if someone was kneeling down near the entrance flap, then heard hands fumbling with the tie.

“Blast!” Rix thought, his thinning body slithering out from under his furs and groping for the dagger he had left in his boot. The result was that he positively overreached, leaning over the edge of his bed and landing in a heap on the frozen earth. Rix held back a yelp as his skin felt the icy dirt -- he had slept naked as usual, other than wrapped cloth. Probably not the best idea in winter, what if someone were to come sneaking up on your tent and surprise you in the middle of the night?

The tent flap parted and a leathery face poked in. Therren. A curved pipe hung from the corner of his mouth that illuminated the interior. “Rix?” he asked, his eyes squinting in the dimness first at Rix’s head, then downwards. “Damn it man! Warn a person that you’re in the middle of something.”

Rix’s face twisted angrily, a series of retorts coming to his mind like, “How about you warn a person that you’re going to barge into their personal property!” but all that he could manage was a dreadful blush, making him thankful for the lack of light in the space.

Therren had apparently been joking however, as his face abruptly turned grave. “Toss on some gear boy, and be quick about it.”

Now completely awake, Rix complied without thinking. Since the first day he had arrived at camp Rothem, it had been orders. “Do this,” “Do that.” As a new recruit, anyone higher than a soldier outranked him and could veritably give him any command. As a short and sickly boy, with less muscle than a choice cut of steak, even his fellow recruits had mastery over him. When someone told him to do something, he generally did it, and as quickly as possible

When he was adequately dressed -- he made certain to strap his dagger onto his belt within easy reach -- he stepped outside. It was cold, but blessedly there was no wind blasting out of the North. Rix had taken to the native custom of belting his bed furs over his clothing, more and more of a common practice as they ventured further North on their patrol. It helped. A little.

Therren rose from a squat and gripped Rix by the shoulder. “Come on lad,” he said, casting a furtive glance behind him as he lead the boy towards the outskirts of camp.

They passed more tents like the one Rix had been sleeping in, all of them filled with a motley assortment of Kethan soldiers and recruits -- Rix’s companions.

It was a quiet night, their booted footsteps crunching in the frosted grass made the only sound other than the way Therren’s iron sword sometimes brushed against his pant leg like a deadly whisper.

“What are we doing out here Therren?” Rix ventured after about a minute of walking, then stopped walking, a chill running over him. “Aren’t you supposed to be on guard duty?”

Therren halted, turning around. It was quite dark, but Rix swore he saw fear in the man’s face replacing his normal joviality. Instead of responding, Therren looked past Rix, back at the camp. It was the only home the Kethans knew five-hundred miles from the nearest civilization. A voice could be heard from within one of the tents, only slightly muted by the distance. It was cut off by a scream.

Rix’s heart dropped into his boots.

“Run!” Therren hissed, grabbing the lad by his arm and dragging him along down an incline. Then, they heard it, the terrifying war scream of the Dra’suli.

That night was spent in the utmost terror for Rix. He would have stayed at the incline, feet rooted to the ground, arms limp at his sides if it had not been for Therren. The man literally dragged him towards a nearby thicket, his dead weight dragging for a few moments before he came to his senses.

The screams at camp redoubled, more and more voices lending their death cries to the cacophony. Once the Rix and Therren entered the shelter of the wood they lay amongst the undergrowth, not wanting to listen but straining their ears nonetheless.

Lights suddenly sprouted on the hill. “They’re lighting the tents on fire,” Rix whispered.

Therren smacked him, hard. “Don’t speak.” The command was fraught with urgency and terror.

There had been thirty Kethans in the camp, now minus two. A few managed to find their weapons apparently, because the noises continued for about five minutes after the initial ambush. But the inevitable outcome was overwhelmingly obvious. The Dra’suli tended to avoid conflicts until they could be certain that the outcome would be favorable. They were fond of clever tactics, assassination and ambush namely.

Rix felt shame, a part of him knowing that he should run into the blazing patrol camp with his dagger and try to do something, anything to aid his countrymen. That part however was small, and his terror could not be quenched. I’m a coward. His hands began to shake as the final scream of pain echoed through the night and a savage cheering began.

*****

If you made it through that than I sincerely thank you for giving me the time. I always appreciate any sort of comment, but don't feel obligated whatsoever.