January Newsletter

Hello everyone,

So first of all,I actually am aware that January has ended, but deadlines can kind of sneak up on you as I’m sure you’re all acutely knowledgeable.

UPDATES:

My blog!

• My new writing blog is www.jordanswritingblog.blogspot.com
• This is where I’ll post future updates in addition to a monthly email
• All of the past updates can be located here as well

The Story:

I didn’t get as much writing done this month as I’d have liked to, but you may notice if you look at the pages on the blog that there is a plot page where the full plot is laid out chapter by chapter. You’ll also notice that the plot goes to the end of the book (as a good plot should). That means that the full story is planned! (yay!) You can read the plot and learn more about the characters, who they are and what they will become as the story is written.

A Name:

I have to refer to the book as something, so my working title is... Undage. Why? I have no idea. I just used this website http://www.rinkworks.com/namegen/fnames.cgi?d=1&f=0 That’s how I come up with all my names, but don’t tell anyone.

Origin:

    I spent most of the time in the earlier development phase of Undage working on world building. That time was not dithered away in vain! Here are the origins of Eldaria, my fictional world in which Undage takes place.

(side note: I happen to think that the assorted history and legends of fantasy worlds in general are really cool, so it probably makes sense that I’d spend a lot of time developing my own. I didn’t want things to be arbitrary. If you read this summarized origin of Eldaria and follow along with the story, then you might begin to see that the things in my world are correlated with past historical events. This history will partially define the cultures, geography, languages, feuds, etc. of my world and the different characters in it and while I could have decided these things arbitrarily, I simply didn’t want to)

Origin:

A long time ago, there was a man named Rysis. He had two friends named Delu and Yoslin and they were like brothers to him. Together they rose to ranks of power within their nation, and when the time was right, they made a bid for power. With a fledgling nation in their power, these three generals fought with legendary skill and in a single year they had the majority of the continent under their control. Those who were not conquered slowly agreed to join the Eldarian Confederation because of the peace and security that was brought upon the lands under the dominance of the three. But power changed the hearts of Delu and Yoslin who had always been jealous of Rysis. With a twisted fear of betrayal as well as spite and jealousy, they struck first, forming with their magic an order of men with the wings of birds to serve them called the Nekal. The Nekal together attacked Rysis and wounded him greatly, but he was the most skilled magician that ever lived, and he knew words of magic so terrible that when he sang them, each of his assailants perished in a moment. Rysis knew he had been betrayed. He was going to facilitate a treaty in the Northeast region of Eldaria and so was away from his capital in Rothilian, but his revenge was swift and terrible. He massed an army so huge that it swept towards his betrayers in droves and in his fury, he made his soldiers bloodthirsty. They ravaged the land. Yoslin and Delu were ashamed of what they had done, but still they saw what Rysis would do if left unchecked. Delu was of the opinion that it would be better to offer themselves up to the vengeance of Rysis rather than let the people of Eldaria suffer, but Yoslin thought it impossible to alter Rysis’ power crazed mind. Delu went to attempt reasoning with Rysis, who welcomed him as a friend at first, and later tried to kill him. Delu barely escaped with his life. After trying to kill his former friend, Rysis broke down and saw what he had become and what he was putting his people through, but he knew he could no longer call off his armies, nor could he make Yoslin or Delu trust him. He had to make a decision of whether to try to end the conflict quickly, or kill himself. He challenged Delu and Yoslin to single combat, one at a time. Delu believed this to be the most just way to go about things, but still Yoslin could not bring himself to trust any man but himself to rule the throne wisely (especially Rysis). Delu fought first, and after being wounded, when it appeared as if Delu would be slain, Yoslin attacked with soldiers and the Nekal. Rysis was struck with many arrows, but his power was great and so was his rage at being betrayed again. Yoslin had ordered his soldiers to ambush the troops of Rysis just as he himself had ambushed his former friend, and so carnage ensued and the slain were many. Rysis knowing the futility of his plight spoke a word which awoke the Earth and sang it into chaos. Those unholy syllables wrought such a terrible destruction that rifts formed and mountains sprang up and all across eldaria, the ocean poured over the land and it was red with blood. Yoslin sprang to Delu and they watched the destruction from a shelf of black rock that protruded from the new Ocean. As Delu died, he wept for his sins and the sins of all who had perished that day; and Yoslin looked over all he had come to love being washed away and his heart became cold as stone.

The water receded and came to be called the Rivening Ocean. It cut off a substantial chunk of former Eldaria which has since developed new nations and cultures, the most prominent of these being Drocha and Sorrn. The Modern Kethans are descended from shipwrecked Drochan slavers. Modern Eldaria changed substantially. The few cultures that survived the Devastations of the World -- namely the Jakori and the Rodans -- experienced similarly devastating effects during the following decades such as droughts, floods, earthquakes, etc. These disasters were accompanied with shifts in power and a general ‘restart’ in culture; so very little of what existed before the Devastations remain. Nomads began to settle or claim land in Northern Eldaria. Languages became distinct and the Cunics, Celots and the Seljark -- the three most distinct groups -- separated. They formed tribes that remained relatively undisturbed by outsiders until the traditional calendar starts on the year 0 when it is accepted that the Drochans were shipwrecked and built homes calling the land Keth. Their main adversaries were the Cunics who typically used the Chilltide delta for fishing in the spring, although the river was traditionally thought of as the boundary between Cunic and Seljark territory. Despite this, the Seljark’s remained relatively aloof, fearing the foreigners and rather than attacking them when they were weak, mustering their soldiers far too late to make any difference on the burgeoning empire. From Keth, Belmorans, Sardurians, many Veldicians and some Ghyrians trace their ancestry. The main point here is that, whether or not by official charter, significant portions of Kethan citizens broke off at some point or another, whether with deviant intentions or with reluctant necessity and formed communities which were the hearths of new empires.

After the Belmoran Revolution, skirmishes and border wars became commonplace between Keth and Belmora. The North became a frequent target of campaigns for the Kethans, but more frequently became a graveyard for entire armies as the North swallowed up entire divisions to never be heard from again. Sardur remains an independent city state, but one with strong ties to Keth. They have a shaky alliance, but it is like a court alliance with each constantly trying to gain a foothold over the other by unscrupulous and clandestine means. Veldicia is indepdent and exists mostly as a merchant city, but it owns a significant amount of ships, islands and foreign territories, controls a huge amount of money, and the best craftsmen, scientists and scholars of anywhere on the whole half-continent. Jakor and Keth have had some run ins, but they tolerably ignore each other mostly now, both needing the products the other nation provides. Rodis is largely unexplored and unknown. Ghyria is not a large player on the global scale.

Chapter One:

    I completed a chapter! A real one, a good one (in my opinion) I’d be thrilled if you read it, and even more thrilled if you told me what you think!

“You, Jasper Grenmont, are to be married if it kills me,” Claren Grenmont, a well-built, middle aged man of an imperious height said, then proceeded to take a massive bite of breaded porkchop.

    Jasper, Claren’s son didn’t look up from his seat at the foot of the high table. “Then let’s hope it does kill you, for I have no desire to be wed and no woman of any standing would see fit to marry me.” It was evidently a sore subject between the two. Jasper gave his older brother Harwin a sidelong glance of annoyance as the man perked up to add his own opinion.

    “I think it would be a good thing for the family, something for the peasants to celebrate, a welcome change of pace for Jasper.”

    Jasper didn’t deem the comment worthy of a response. The unspoken message that his brother hadn’t said aloud was a job that Jasper can actually do, a way to make his useless sack of bones worthwhile.

    Claren shot his eldest son Harwin a look of approval as he tore into his food. “Harwin is right. You spend too much time around the castle Jasper my boy.”

    Jasper acknowledged that the words had been spoken, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel the warmth behind them if there had been any. My boy... Jasper glared at his plate. He had long ago given up thinking that his father could love him as he loved Harwin, or even as much as his favorite hunting dog. Claren was a hard, weathered man of singular purposes. What Jasper was, what he had been since birth was just a fluke of nature that Jasper knew his father couldn’t comprehend or reconcile. It was beyond him.

    “More wine,” Claren called a servant who appeared as if by magic from behind a tapestry in the farthest corner of the hall. “Would you like some wine Jasper?”
    “Yes, as a matter of fact.” Jasper didn’t actually want wine, but he had responded out of spite. He couldn’t see why his father had to pester him. If he had wanted wine he could have just as easily asked the servant to refill his mug. He might have been disabled, but his voice still worked good as any other. As the servant, a man with nut brown skin and a close shaven head went about the room pouring drinks for the three men present, Claren relaxed more into his chair. He had something more to say.

    “So then, we’re already on the topic of marriage.”

    Jasper felt a sinking in his chest at the same moment that he noticed Harwin’s eyes begin to shine with excitement. “We are,” Jasper said. The two always had to conspire to make his life miserable.

    “Well,” Claren hunched forward and his voice took on a conspiratorial tone, the same way he always spoke when he was about to praise himself. ”Are you familiar with Lord Jerraine; Of Layria?” He took their silence as a yes. “Well it turns out, his little whelpling Sevor has always been interested in serving as part of his Majesty’s Cavalry. So I opened a letter just yesterday, sent by pigeon mind you, asking if I might put in a good word for the little snot. How Jerraine knew Marshall Bosric owed me a favor I’ll never know, but that’s what the letter asks. And you know what he proposes as payment for placing his precious little boy at the head of some bloody suicide charge? A full eighth of his barony, the very same division on our Northern Border.” He paused for dramatic effect. “That’s not all. He’s promised to give Jasper his pick of any one of his daughters to be wed as soon as possible.” Claren’s eyes shone out of his wizened skull with a brightness that gave a better testament to his vivacity than any physical attribute could have done.

    What a bloody fool. Jasper thought. He actually thinks I’ll be excited about this? He tried to remain calm, reaching to take another sip of wine, but inside he was burning with embarrassment and anger.

    Claren was still staring at Jasper. What is he expecting? That I’ll be excited?

    Harwin spoke up, “Don’t you have any gratitude for your father?”

    Jasper closed his eyes. That was the last straw. He threw back his chair and stood at the very moment the servant was reaching to refill his wine. The result was that large quantities of wine spilled in two directions, one of those directions being Jasper’s face.

    Standing now, with purple wine dripping from his eyelids and staining his fine nobleman’s clothes he was about as tall as the servant’s chest. The servant was not an exceptionally tall man by any means.

Jasper stood awkwardly, as he ever did. His feet were flatly placed on the floor of the Dining Hall about a foot apart. Towards his knees, his legs bent inward at an unnatural angle. His back arched forward,  his spine making a zigzag of his jacket and poking up at intervals to give him the appearance of having spines. Jasper ended with a perfectly natural head, a rather handsome affair of high cheekbones, a slim rather feminine nose and shoulder length black hair. The picture left Jasper’s head looking grossly out of place simply because of the body it was attached to.

Jasper sent a particularly vile glance at Harwin. “Want me to dance a jig?”

Claren’s expression had not changed and Jasper looked up at him, too angry to feel intimidated. “I’ll. Not. Be. Wed.” He said each word with emphasis.

Claren paused, eyebrows furrowing to make his leathern face a mess of wrinkles. “Anything else?”

Jasper gave everyone in the room equal shares of his meanest look, including the servant who jerked away reflexively. “No,” he whipped around and began shuffling towards the exit which would lead him to a hallway and eventually to the West Tower.

Behind him Harwin spoke with the obvious intent of being overheard. “Ungrateful little elf.”

Jasper clenched his teeth and began to run. It hurt like hell on his deformed feet and knees and he knew it would ache awfully come the next morning, but he didn’t care. When he reached the large double doors at the end of the Banquet Hall, he slammed them closed, then he let the tears come.

When the knock came, Jasper did not want to open the door. It came softly at first, not a servant then. Servants always announced their presence first.

    “Jasper my boy.”

    Jasper was lying on his bed, as stretched out as he could manage so that his body formed a lumpy half moon shape. He sighed and rolled away from the door. Why was it so hard to hear that phrase, My boy?

“It’s your father. I’m coming in.”

Jasper could feel his father’s presence, although his back was turned towards the man. “Well.. you’re in.”

“Get out of bed.”

Jasper lolled his head around, just enough so that he could see Claren from the corner of his eyes, then he let it back to rest on the pillow. “No.”

“You’re not an invalid.”

“Have you even looked at me?”

“Not as much as you look at yourself.” Claren standing in Jasper’s little room in the West Tower was awkward and Jasper was sure that his father felt it too. But he wanted Jasper to marry, and the cards had fallen into place. Who cared that the man was making life altering decisions without consulting the person it involved? Not Claren. He just wanted to win, as usual.

Jasper grimaced as he shifted to sit partially upright. He’d gotten used to the pain, for the most part, but that didn’t mean it had stopped hurting like hell. “Well... if you ever took the time to look at your second son, maybe you’d notice, I have clubs for feet!” He twisted around to give Claren a full view of his back. “I look like somebody used my back for an anvil and...” He wiggled his stumpy legs. “...these things are just a smidge away from being totally useless.”

If Claren was angry, upset, or experiencing any emotion at all, he didn’t show it. He merely crossed his arms and spoke calmly. “Everyone can serve the family in different ways. I am Commander of His Majesty’s personal Bodyguard. Harwin will assume this role after I retire. Your gifts are not with the sword however.”

Jasper grunted, sarcasm dripping from his lips. “Actually, I’ve been practicing the lance every Tuesday with Master Daemond and he says I’ll be the next grea-”

“Your gifts,” Claren cut him off. “Are here.” He pointed a large forefinger at Jasper’s skull.

It was the closest thing to a compliment that his father had ever said to him. “I know you read all the time,” He gestured to the books scattered around the room. There were indeed quite a few, of varied titles and genres; it was one of the few hobbies that Jasper could occupy himself with, aside from debauchery and sloth of course. “There must be something in these pages that can be of use somehow. Time will come that threats to our House will be many and subtle. When I am gone and Harwin assumes my position, he will need someone by his side who knows more than how to swing a blade and pleasure women.”

Jasper doubted his brother’s complacency with this new plan of his father’s. Only God knew of their hatred for each other, although here he was hinting at something like acceptance, an inclusion in family affairs. A way to be counted as a Grenmont and not as an imp. Could it possible?

“And I’m not even asking you to do anything you to do something that difficult.” Claren’s features took on a softer demeanor. “Old piss-face Jerraine somehow managed to whelp some generously proportioned daughters, even I blush at the stare of them.” Claren sat down on Jasper’s bed and wrapped a bear like arm around his son, a smile on his lips.

The man was obviously trying to cajole him, Claren had never been anything like a father. The laughing, the jokes, the compliments, Jasper saw them for what they were, an act meant to get what Claren what he wanted. He was trying to persuade his son that this was a good thing for Jasper, it was working.

Jasper looked down, pondering. His mind thought of them now, Jerraine’s three daughters as they had been when the family had visited six months prior for a hunt in which the local lords were invited to participate. Aela, Larina and Sheda, beautiful Sheda. She was not as tall as her sisters, nor did she have as gracious curves. Hers was a noble beauty; she stood evenly on the floor, and moved with a firm and steady grace. Her hair was dark, darker than a crow, more subtle than a shadow. Her skin was pale, and Jasper imagined her flesh cold, though her cheeks never failed to have a color, more vivid than rogue. In her eyes Jasper had found himself slipping whenever there had been a spare moment at dinner. They sparkled with intrigue and brightness -- though the color of them was one brown darker than oak -- as if they laughed at a joke that only she knew. Sheda was lovely. To marry her? To make those dancing eyes his own, could he do it?

“You can do it my boy. Whomever you choose, she can be your legs, use her to make a name for yourself, get status and position. Build our family.”

Jasper licked his lips and tasted freedom. It was a strange feeling. He had something he had never, in his twenty-three years of living possessed. A choice.

A lot to read this month, props to you if you got through it. Hopefully I’m freed up more this upcoming month to write!