My Top 6 RPG Games

So, in an effort to become more active on my blog again, I’ve decided to post my top 6 (because 5 wasn’t enough) RPG games across all platforms, and why. Now, with pictures! Let me know what you think about my selection, and feel free to tell me your top 6 RPGs!

#1 – Tales of Symphonia (GCN)

This game has shown itself to be one of the best console RPGs ever created! Colorful graphics, an engaging storyline, and an excellent real-time battle system made this game the one to beat in the last generation’s console war. The characters are fully developed, and the dungeons are actually interesting. A nice feature was that combat could be avoided, but if an enemy was back-to the main character in a dungeon, this would initiate a sneak-attack on the enemy. Namco really took the time to think things through with this one.

#2 – Mass Effect 2 (360/PS3/PC)

Mass Effect 2 is a more-polished version of the original Mass Effect, and a welcome addition to the RPG family. Although it feature elements of a third-person tactical shooter, this game by Bioware has helped redefine the term “character-driven story” by making the player solely responsible for his or her actions. Add to that exciting combat, a huge galaxy to explore, and neat downloadable content, and Mass Effect 2 is a wonderful addition to any RPG fan’s gaming library.

 

#3 – Golden Sun (GBA)

Golden Sun was, and still is, a groundbreaking handheld RPG. This game set the standard for future handheld RPGs. A deep storyline, rich and humorous characters, and a vast continent to explore all contribute to this game’s legendary status. The magic system in Golden Sun is excellent, and plays into the combat system very well. This game is a must-have for all handheld owners!

 

#4 – Phantasy Star Online (DC)

Phantasy Star Online for the Dreamcast was one of the first online RPGs. Its combat system was excellent and real-time, even online. The story, though lacking in some focus, was interesting and didn’t bog down the online aspect; it was just the right combination for one of the first online console RPGs. Since its time, console RPGs have tried with minor success to create online experiences that are rich and involving.

#5 – Pokemon R/B/Y (GB/GBC)

Regardless of popular culture’s current opinion, Pokemon Red/Blue/Yellow sparked an international phenomenon, although I am not really interested in anything but the games. These first GameBoy games dipped players into a world where monsters captured and their owners brawled for fame and fortune. The game mechanics, though simple by today’s gaming standards, were fun and encouraged its players to “catch ‘em all!”

#6 – Dragon Age: Origins (360/PS3/PC)

Another recent Bioware release, Dragon Age takes a darker look at fantasy; a view that many say is truer to fantasy’s roots than some of today’s more popular fantasy elements. Dragon Age, like ME2, makes the player responsible for their actions. Although the combat system is not completely real-time and is slightly turn-based, the storyline more than makes up for the slowed battles. Dragon Age is definitely a must-have for traditional RPGers, and worth a try for those of you who enjoy fantastical worlds, but could never really get into video games.

 

So, there you have it: My top 6 RPGs. There are a whole bunch of other RPGs that I’d love to list, but these are the most influential ones that have held my continued interest in the RPG gaming world. It all started with Pokemon, continued when I found PSO, became a passion when I found Golden Sun, escalated when ToS came out, and just kept getting better and better as DA:O and ME2 were released within the last few months. RPG gaming is becoming a more and more interesting and talented genre of video games, and I am looking forward to seeing where it goes from here!

Eddentide Fable #1

Hello! I was just reviewing a short fable that I wrote which is set in the world of Eddentide. I made some minor changes to it, and decided to post it here to see what people thought about it. I feel as if the very end is somewhat unpolished, but as of this moment it is the best way I can describe what I see in my mind’s eye. If you have any suggestions, please feel free to post them with any constructive criticism! I’m looking for thoughts on this one. I tried to write it in the spirit of the fables read to many of us as children, and I think that, for the most part, I succeeded. Enjoy!

There was once a small boy who lived in a tiny house in a little village. His mother and father were very poor and crafted baskets to make what little money they could. They sold these baskets to farmers who put their harvest of vegetables in them, and travelers who used them to carry their water skins and rations. The small boy’s sixth birthday was a few days away when the mother asked the father one night after the boy had gone to bed, “What will we buy for our boy’s birthday?”

The father replied, “We are too poor to buy our son a present for this birthday. He shall have to go without.”

The mother cried mournfully, “Oh dear, he shan’t have a birthday present for the sixth year in a row.”

Despite their meager existence, the small boy’s parents still wanted to buy him something very special for his sixth birthday, and so they went down to the common on market day and searched and searched for a present. At the end of the day, though, they had bought nothing, for they could not afford a single thing at the market. It began to rain, and they walked home with frowns upon their faces and their eyes lowered to the ground. The boy’s mother began to weep silently as millions of raindrops commenced their long descent to the ground.

It so happened that because their eyes were down that they rounded a corner and stumbled into a tall man in dark clothing pushing a small covered cart. The cart overturned and spilled its contents into the street and the mother, father, and the stranger fell to the ground. The mother and the father apologized to the stranger and helped him pick up his things. As the mother reached down for one of the man’s wares, she gasped and stepped back.

Sitting in the fresh muck was a minute wooden toy house. It was unlike any toy house ever created before or since. The outside was delicately shingled and the roof was thatched with straw. There was a chimney as well, made of tiny polished rocks. Inside were three simply carved and painted wooden figures, two tall and one small.

“It’s perfect!” the mother cried as she picked it up. She ran up to the man and tugged on his overcoat. “Good sir! How much for this toy house, sir? How much is it?”

The stranger looked down upon them from under his heavy cap and said, “What is it worth to you?”

“Our son’s happiness,” replied the father eagerly. “He is turning six in only a few days and has never had a birthday present. We should like to buy this for him!”

“I am certain he will love it!” the mother exclaimed joyously.

“Well, that toy house is rumored to be magical,” the man said, “and I’ll have no less than four gold pieces for it.”

The mother and the father’s faces fell and their smiles faded. “I’m sorry, sir. We have only a single gold piece,” the mother said, and tears began to flow from her eyes again as she set the toy house in the man’s cart. The father wrapped his arm around his wife and they walked away quietly, leaving the stranger to cover his cart. The tall man paused thoughtfully, and watched them as they made their way down the narrow street and around another corner.

A few days later, it was the small boy’s birthday. His father woke him in the morning to come sit next to the fireplace. His mother was busily preparing their paltry breakfast. Of a sudden, there came a great knock upon the thin door. The father lifted the birthday boy from his lap and set him down on the floor, rising to answer the door. When he pulled the door open, he found that there was nobody there. When he looked down, however, he gasped. Sitting upon the ground in the doorway was the wooden toy house they had tried to buy several days prior. There was a note attached by a crimson ribbon. The father plucked the note from the toy house and read it. It was lettered in crimson ink to match the ribbon.

Father and Mother:

The rumor is more than just that: This toy house is, indeed, magical. Whatever your son wishes for on his birthday will come true when he plays with this house for the first time.

I must admit that my asking price when we first met was not steep. Rather, it is accurate. I am an honest man trying to make an honest living. As a result of my good conscience, however, I am leaving this toy house in your care to do with as you see fit. I suspect that you will give it to your young son for his sixth birthday; may it be an unforgettable one for all of you.

The father smiled and shut the door to the modest shack, then walked over to the table and put the toy house down carefully. The mother looked at it in awe for a moment, and then gave her husband a querying glance. He handed her the crimson-lettered note. She read it quickly, and then pocketed it just as hastily.

“My boy, there is a present here for you from your mother and I,” the basket-weaver said. “Come and look at it!” The boy jumped up from the fireplace at his words and ran to the table. His eyes lit up and his face twisted with excitement as he looked at the toy house.

“My first present!” he exclaimed. “Thank you, mother! Thank you, father!”

As he reached for it, his mother grabbed his hand and said, “Now, now! Do not touch it just yet. You have to make a wish, you know! It is your birthday, and this is a magical toy house that grants a single wish.”

“What do you wish for, my son?” asked his father, sitting down on a short stool at the table.

The small boy thought for a few moments before replying, “I wish for us to never be apart, and for your lives to be easy rather than hard.”

His parents smiled and his mother said, “How openhanded you are, son, even on your own birthday. You have always been that way! Generosity and kindness will be your legacy.” The boy smiled and picked up the wooden figures and began to play.

As the day progressed, the boy began to feel unwell. As evening came down upon the village, the boy had became bedridden by illness. His parents fretted and watched over him. The town healer was called to the house.

“What did you wish for?” the healer asked with a kind smile. “You know that everyone receives one wish on their birthday, yes?”

“I wished that my family and I would never be separated,” the boy replied faintly, “and that my mother and father no longer had to work so hard.”

“Ah, how very nice of you, my boy,” the healer said. He spent a while longer toiling over the young one, but could do nothing for the boy.

“I cannot see anything wrong with him,” the healer said, adjusting the thinning white hair under his odd hat. “It is possible that he just has a cold. He should be better by the morning.” The healer left the boy’s parents to tend to the child.

By the toll of the church’s midnight bell, the small boy was dead.

His mother and father were beside themselves. The mother was so struck with grief that she herself became confined to her uncomfortable straw bed. She began to burn of a ferocious fever and was dead of heartache by the rising of the sun.

The father was now alone in his house, weeping. He had no will to live without his precious wife and son, and crawled into the bed beside his wife’s limp body. There he sobbed himself to death – the house was soon quiet.

After several hours of daylight had passed, the old healer came to the house and knocked upon the door. He heard nobody within but found the door unlatched and ajar. He entered the house to find a grim scene; the entire family was lifeless in their beds. He rushed from the house, calling for help. As several of the neighbors rushed to aid the healer, he sat down shakily upon a stool at the table. As he was looking about the dirt floor, he spied a folded piece of parchment with a crimson ribbon attached to it. He picked up a folded note and read it.

Looking up from the slip of parchment, he noticed for the first time with his pale eyes a simple, yet elegant wooden toy house upon the table. Inside the house there stood three wooden figures, two tall and one small. He inspected them further, narrowing his eyes. Looking closely, he noticed a tiny crimson twinkle in the faded, painted eyes of each of the figures, and he gasped. He gasped again when he noticed something uncanny about the toy.

“I wished that my family and I would never be separated.”

This toy house is, indeed, magical. Whatever your son wishes…

The words echoed in the healer’s head as he stared and realization flooded over him like a waterfall: The toy house was a small replica of the house in which he sat.

He glanced again at the wooden figures, and swore that he saw one move.

English Professors vs. Cats

Hello, all. Sorry for such a long break between my last post and now. I’ve been very busy. I got a job as a substitute teacher in my old school district, which means a semi-regular paycheck in an environment that I enjoy in a failing economy (this is more than some could ask for in these days). My mother is ill, and I have been helping out the family in various ways, so that also takes up a lot of my time. I am always working on classwork for my Medieval Europe and Chaucer courses, as well. I sort of view this point in my writing career as a time of hiatus. Unfortunately I don’t have as much time to work on my writing as I would like, and so it has, much to my dismay, been put on the backburner yet once again.

On the plus side, I found something very funny to me which may be funny to some of you. I was cruising around the Internet recently and happened upon a blog run by a Victorianist. Being a budding young Victorianist myself, I took to the blog, but found a wonderful post entitled English Professors vs. Cats: A Serious Evaluation. At first I laughed just at the thought. Then, I laughed again because I had an English professor in college who was not a fan of cats. I emailed it to him, and although I cannot say he was overjoyed to read an expose in which cats were treated on the same level importance as dogs, I do think that he got a chuckle out of it, at least.

At any rate, here is a tiny excerpt from Eddentide. Enjoy.

“I have always had suspicions about the existence of other worlds. Other undiscovered realms that occasionally collide with ours,” Brother Zerain said, busily moving around the room, pulling tomes and volumes of varying sizes from the bookshelves. “Ever seen the Lights in the sky? You know what I speak of, the colorful waves that shimmer relentlessly in the deep blue of the night sky?” Zerain paused and looked over his shoulder. Edward recalled the pictures he had seen in his astronomy textbook of the Aurora Borealis in the northern skies, and the slides he had witnessed in different lectures.

“Well I’ve never seen them… here. But we have something like that where I am from.”

Zerain’s face lit up. “Ah, see! Here, everyone attributes them solely to the powers of the gods but what if the Lights… Were another power far beyond the control of the gods? What if the Lights we sometimes see in our skies were the illuminations of a reflected realm? Maybe these colorful lights are caused by the barriers of two realms colliding in some way.”

Edward tried to wrap his head around the idea. “Are you saying that there are other places like this?”

“Are you saying that your world is the only place in reality that could truly exist?” countered Zerain.

“Well, maybe not…”
“Rightly so, because it is not. I am just as convinced that I am as existent as you are convinced that you are existent, Edward. I suspect that you come from a place that tells you other realms are highly unlikely to exist,” Zerain said, placing several large tomes on the table. He adjusted the sleeves of his purple robe. “Your scholars advise you that the possibility of there being other realms, other planes on which people may exist is so slim that it is almost preposterous to discuss seriously. Yet there are those who continue to research the likelihood of these chances. It is the same way in Alta, regardless of the commonplace mystical happenings in this world, the worldtouchers and their miraculous powers, and the rare-yet-existent direct interventions of the part of the gods. So, too, do our scholars often scoff at the idea of other planes of existence. Why is that? Clearly, there must be some reason why man continues to seek out explanations of these alternate existences. In our world our search is justified by our already-magical surroundings. I suspect this is not the way in your world.”

“I can see where you are coming from,” stated Edward, crossing his arms. “But obviously you can understand my unwillingness to accept this entire situation as little more than a lengthy bad dream.”

“I can, Edward, I can. However…” the Brother leaned on the worn mahogany desk. “You, Edward, confirm my every suspicion. Clearly, you are not from Alta. You look strikingly out of place, of course. But besides that, you are genuinely unknowledgeable about us, our ways, and our world. I wholeheartedly believe that you are from this place called Earth, but it seems that you must come to terms with your situation and believe that you are currently in a place called Alta. Only then will you be able to get home, I suspect.”

Edward gulped and looked down at the floor. It had become strikingly obvious to him at the Inn of the Overlord that this was, indeed, real. He was in Alta. He wasn’t dreaming. He realized, however, that the situation was so unbelievable that it had severely shocked his psyche as a result. It was hard to accept this reality, to undermine everything that he had known to be true and to throw it away, embracing the idea – no, the fact – that Alta was just as real as Earth, and likely existed in the same universe. It was a new sensation to accept, without question, that Earth was rubbing elbows with Alta, and Edward didn’t like it.

Excerpt: Eddentide – Chapter Seven

Alright folks, sorry for the massive delay. I’ve been very busy with some things here at home. At any rate, here is all that I am willing to release (at the moment) of Chapter Seven. I hope you enjoy it, and please remember that all constructive criticism is welcomed via email, IM, and/or comments on this post!

Kent Aslawood straightened his back and snapped his gray eyes to the forward as his commanding officer strode into the circular room. The high arch of the doorway barely framed the monstrous man, who was made to appear even taller and bulkier than he was by grace of his heavy armor and flowing emerald cape. He came to a stop in front of Aslawood, who raised his fist to his chest in salute. The commander returned the gesture.

"Kent Aslawood, Survivor of the Battle of Steerbock, Champion of the Sewer Uprising, Commander of Legion Six, Server to the Emperor in His Own. Quite a resume you’ve acquired over the years, and I’ve been with you since the beginning."

"Yes, Commander Brighton."

Brighton chuckled. "I see that long-term friendship is no replacement for titles and courtesy. How very noble of you, Server Aslawood." The commander began to pace slowly, pausing for several long moments before he finally spoke. His voice was low. "There is a Heeder among us. I am sure that I do not have to tell you what that means."

"A… Heeder?"

"Yes."

"Sir, this is… troubling news. There are none who are not aware that the Heeder is the ill-intentioned version of the Listener, and the gods know how few of those we have left. Old age has not been kind to them.” Kent paused and ran a hand quickly through his short brown hair. “The Heeder… lends an ear to the gods of hated and warfare."

"Indeed." Commander Brighton stopped pacing and stepped close to Kent. "Server Aslawood, you have been assigned a certain task. We must flush out this Heeder from hiding, and the Emperor’s Own has narrowed down the search to a small group of nobles who are very close to the Emperor. Now, there is rumored to be a liquid made during the Heeder’s Unrest long ago that would discern the presence of a Heeder when exposed to his spittle. We need this liquid, these Droplets of Lenoir, Server Aslawood."

"I see that the recovery of this liquid is to be my next task, sir. Where can this liquid be found?"

"It is hidden deep within a now-ancient ruin left over from the Unrest called Lenoir. I have left for you, among other items which may be of use, a map in a chest in your assigned room. Lenoir can be found somewhere between Sepik Town and the Forest of Halinor. Needless to say, the map is accurate only to a certain point. Once you find the ruins of Lenoir, you are to infiltrate them and acquire the liquid by any means necessary."

"Yes, sir. What of resistance?"

Commander Brighton stepped back a pace. "There should be little, if any at all. However…." He paused, and his green eyes focused on something intangible, something that only he could see behind his own eyes. "Yes. Eliminate all who stand in your way. This is a matter of the utmost importance to the Emperor, and he prefers not to allow any room for mistakes to occur."

Kent set his jaw decidedly. "Yes, sir."

"I am counting on you. He is counting on you, Server Kent,” Brighton said, alluding to the Emperor. “He sent this request of action to me with specific instructions, including to whom to assign it. Remember your duty." He tapped the symbol emblazoned upon Kent’s steel cuirass with two fingers; the crest of soldiers who served in the Emperor’s Own, the same crest emblazoned upon his own chest. Kent nodded solemnly and raised a closed, gauntleted fist to his chest.

"I will carry out this mission, Commander Brighton. You can count on my abilities." Kent turned on his heel and walked purposefully out of the room. "Tell the Emperor the same!" he yelled back to his commander as he exited. Brighton, sighing, turned to watch him leave, his hands folded behind his back.

"We always have, Aslawood. Since that very first day in Steerbock."

Chapter Seven Is Developing

Hello! I just wanted to post a quick update on the novel. Chapter Seven is coming along nicely, and you may be surprised to learn that it features the introduction of a new main character who is an elite soldier in the Emperor’s Own, the Emperor’s special task force and guard. There’s also a little philosophy/metaphysics involved as Brother Zerain tries to explain some things to Edward and Enoch.

 

I’ll have an excerpt up in about a week, I’d say. I say that because it’s my birthday on Monday, so I’ll probably take that whole day off from everything; including writing, haha. Anyway, I’m really pleased with the direction the novel has taken (rather suddenly, it seems to me) thus far, and I’m excited to see how it continues to develop, both within my mind and upon the paper!

Excerpt: Eddentide – Chapter Six

Well, folks. Here’s an excerpt from Chapter Six of my novel. I just wrapped this up the day before yesterday and, like much of writing, may require some tweaking, but I’m actually almost certain I’ve got this chapter pretty much set up the way I want it. Enjoy!

 

A young, tall, awkward monk clothed in purple robes with white undergarments poking out of his sleeves and collar stepped forward to greet them. “Welcome to Bramble Abbey, friends of Brother Zerain. I am Initiate Hollard.” He folded his hands within his robe’s billowing sleeves. “Allow me to say that it is nice to see visitors. I am afraid that few visit the monastery these days. Please, step forward and remove your footwear. Let your weary, traveling soles be cleansed in accordance with the Rule of this monastery. May the respect you show for our traditions be returned twice fold upon you in the eyes of the Six.” He removed a folded hand from a sleeve and motioned.

In the center of the atrium was a low marble pool, crafted from black stone to contrast against the floor. Surrounding one half of the pool, the side closest to the entrance, were several dozen items of dirty footwear. On the other side of the pool were a number of clean loafers and what appeared to be an abundant number of spun socks of varying sizes.

Edward glanced at Enoch, who nodded. “Initiate Hollard, it would be an honor to cleanse my feet,” Edward replied. The young man, who couldn’t have been much older than Edward, smiled cheerily.

“My thanks go out to you, friend.” Hollard folded his hands inside his sleeves again.

Edward stepped out of his muddy sneakers and filthy socks, tossing them into the large pile. He looked down at his own feet before stepping up and into the pool of water. He found it surprisingly warm, probably a wondrous thing for travelers who, as the Initiate mentioned, had walked wearily for quite some time. Edward stepped out of the pool and shook his feet. Enoch crossed through the pool as well, though his hands were clasped. I guess there’s actually some sort of religious significance, Edward thought to himself. Initiate Hollard walked around the pool, stopping only to give a slight bow to it, as Edward and Enoch found correctly sized socks and loafers.

“Brother Zerain is waiting for you in his private cell,” Hollard said softly. “Please, follow me.” Hollard lead them down the first hallway on the right and then abruptly turned into a narrow spiraling brick staircase that had been cut into the wall. After a short climb, they came to a landing that was at one end of a short hallway. Initiate Hollard brought them to the end and stopped at a dark oaken door. He bowed deeply at the waist, and then took his leave of them, descending down the staircase they had ascended.

Enoch tapped lightly upon the door. “Yes, enter!” said a voice from within. Enoch pulled on the latch and swung the door open.

Brother Zerain’s room was as luxuriously simple as the foyer had been, though this room was lined with bookshelf after bookshelf of manuscripts, tomes, and scrolls tied with intricate leather strips. The Brother was a man who appeared to be in his mid-forties, sporting a short gray-black beard and shoulder-length black hair streaked with what appeared at first to Edward to be shoe polish, but he quickly realized was actually gray highlights. His features were sharp, his nose especially pointy, and his eyes soft, the color of deep cobalt. Edward realized that he and Enoch had been lead up to the first floor of the bell tower when he saw light from a single window reflect off a pair of wire-framed glasses that rested upon Zerain’s angular nose. He had a quill in one hand, his other holding a sheet of parchment against the richly-colored mahogany table. As the door completed its arc, Brother Zerain looked up over his glasses.

“Enoch!” he exclaimed, almost dropping his quill into the inkpot on the table. “Oh,” he muttered, “oh dear, that would have been unfortunate.” He rose from his high-backed mahogany chair and rounded the table to grasp Enoch’s hand and draw him close in an embrace. “Who do we have here, friend Enoch? A traveling companion, I see.”

Edward extended his hand. “My name is Edward,” he said politely. Zerain took his hand and shook it heartily.

“A friend of Enoch’s is a friend of mine!” he said with a bright smile.

After a slew of pleasantries and shared memories between the Knight and the Brother, Enoch and Edward, sitting in chairs across the table from Zerain, revealed their purpose for visiting Bramble Abbey. Edward recounted his terrifyingly surprising journey from his home to the world of Eddentide, and Enoch briefed Zerain on his chance encounter with Edward and their trip to the monastery. After all this, there was silence for a few minutes as Brother Zerain, his hands folded in concentration, considered their predicament.

“Well Enoch,” he said with a heavy sigh, “you certainly have a knack for finding the hardest possible tasks. Luckily for you, I may be able to help.”

Working, Writing, & Japanese Learning

Hello! I just wanted to check in with you folks out here on the Internet. The bad news: I still need to work because I still have bills. I’m sure you’re in the same situation… It’s terrible what the real world and the fluctuating economy does to us, no?

 

The good news: I completed a whole chapter and am actually progressing the storyline. You may be pleased to know that Edward and Enoch have finally reached Bramble Abbey. I will post an excerpt soon. Allow me to say that I am pleased with my progress and the apparent recession of my writer’s block.

 

The other good news: I’m going to be teaching myself Japanese! Woohoo! Don’t get me wrong, it’s going to be very challenging. After looking over the material I picked up so far, I’m thankful that I’ve taken formal training in another foreign language (German), because it seems as if the material only makes sense because the basics to learning any language are relatively the same.

 

I’ll post again in a few days with a nice little excerpt from Chapter Six.

Transformers & Reading

Hello! Sorry for my lack of posts. It seems as if I am always apologizing for my lack of blog activity, but it is to be expected from me, I fear. I’m always busy, as some of you know. Yesterday was my friend Janet’s birthday, so her and I and our friend Heather went to our local “city” to see the new Transformers film. I have to say, it was pretty dang good, and I was pleased with most of it, the score and the updated CGI especially.

I haven’t been writing of late. I haven’t really been in the mood. I think it’s better to write when you feel like writing rather than trying to force out a story when you are not in your creative mood. I sat down to write something for Eddentide the other day, actually, and after briefing myself on what was going on and making a few general edits, I had lost all will to continue writing. I think that a part of me is afraid to “ruin” what I’ve already written, and another part of me just gets down when I realize what a daunting task writing a novel can be, especially one set in a world that I created myself. It’s a lot easier to write a novel set in a world where someone else has already done most of the work for you; that leaves you with the task of figuring out, creatively, how to integrate your story with the existing story. It’s not so easy to write a novel set in a world that may be full of discrepancies and may not be completely logically sound. It’s hard to write about the happenings in a world that may (metaphorically) have its feet swept out from underneath it.

In other news, I just finished Michael Crichton’s The Eaters of the Dead, a.k.a. The Thirteenth Warrior. It was a great read, and I suggest it to anyone who likes great description, gripping action, or is generally into fantasy, mythology, history, or pulp fiction. It’s not really any of those categories, but has some elements from all to make a great short novel based upon real manuscripts. For those of you who, like myself, love Beowulf, Crichton himself said that it was, largely, a more modern retelling of the beloved Anglo-Saxon text.

I feel like writing today, so hopefully I will conquer my fear of ruination and just get to it!

Excerpt: Eddentide – Chapter Six: Flight (TBD)

Hello! Well, I didn’t post anything during the weekend, but I’m about to post an excerpt from Eddentide right now. Enjoy this little spat, though it is grossly incomplete as far as I am concerned. Also, the title of this chapter is tentatively “Flight,” but that will probably change. I don’t want the journey to Bramble Abbey to take several chapters, as there is a lot of story still to progress, and we’re only… Six chapters in.

Koloff ran as fast as he could, his legs a blur. He fought his way through brambles and branches, searching for the path he had used to sneak up on the knight and the boy. At last he found it and flew down the overgrown path. His foot caught a patch of mud suddenly and he slipped. Koloff threw his arms up as he rolled a few times before finally coming to a stop on his rear. He sat up, breaths coming in hard gasps.

Foolish, so foolish! How could I have been so foolish! He slammed his fists into the dirt angrily. I am no fighter… Even the boy bested me in combat!

He sat there on the ground for a few moments clutching his head, trying to come up with a plan. He could not return to Lord Goluk. He was as good as dead if he did that. Then again, he would be asking for death if he attempted direct combat against the knight and the boy for a second time or if he tried to run away from the Heeder. The more he thought about it, the more it seemed that he was stuck between a rock and a hard place. He knew one thing for certain, though. There was only one way to avoid death. “One way or another,” he whispered aloud to the trees, “I must acquire the artifacts!”

“Yes, you must,” a voice replied.

Koloff started and fell backward. “Who is there?” he queried with a quivering voice. He was terrified that his enemies had followed him.

“It is I,” revealed the disembodied voice. Only now did Koloff recognize it as his new master’s. Koloff glanced about anxiously, looking for the source of the voice, but saw no one.

“Wh-Where are you, my lord?” Koloff began, but his voice failed him and he stumbled back in surprise, falling against a large rock for support.

In the large dead elm tree in front of him a face was forming around the knots and pockets. A hanging bit of bark melted and began to run down the length of the tree before it mysteriously gathered itself into a mottled brown mouth. After a few seconds, a knotty wooden face resembling Lord Goluk’s, still mostly concealed even in wooden form, appeared fully in the tree.

“You have not completed your task, Koloff Roland. I am afraid that this is a time for drastic measures of which you are not capable. It is time to enlist the help of a professional assassin.” Goluk’s contemplative voice reverberated off the trees. “He will replace you.”

“My lord, what would you have me do instead?” stammered Koloff.

There were several moments of silence before a response came. The seconds were agonizing to the thief.

“You have failed. Your life is forfeit,” the Heeder hissed.

Before Koloff could respond, vines and branches sprang from the ground and enveloped the thief. The sinewy, tentacle-like plants quickly slithered their way up the length of his body, finally wrapping themselves tightly around his head. Koloff’s mouth was suddenly full of leaves, and he was unable to speak. The thief’s eyes widened as he tried to scream, and he began to struggle more violently when he realized that he could do naught. Lord Goluk’s woody mouth contorted into an even more menacing and disturbing smile than usual. He chuckled viciously to himself.

“You seem upset, thief.”

Koloff could do nothing but thrash about in response. He looked around wildly, trying desperately to find some method of escape, but his search was in vain. The plants held him overpoweringly tightly.

“I realize that while you do not wish to die, you are humbly satisfied to do so. After all, you broke your oath to me and you are a man who is committed to oaths, are you not?” The Heeder smiled cruelly as Koloff’s energy began to wane and his struggling lessened. Lord Goluk’s wooden image twitched and the visage looked slightly skyward. There was a slight pause before he continued, “Do not fear the afterlife, thief. The Goddess Joss tells me that you have tried to lead a good life, despite your unfortunate circumstances. She thinks that is admirable, though foolish. You will be rewarded.”

As suddenly as the living mass of plants had come upon him, they were retracted and Koloff fell several feet to the ground, where he whimpered and gasped as Goluk addressed him further.

“You will continue your service to me. Although you are useless in a fight, you are still of some use, or so the Goddess tells me. I beg to differ with her opinion, but she is my lady and I am her servant, and that is that.”

Koloff sat up on his knees, staring, terrified, at the ground.

“You will use what trivial skills of deceit and thievery you have acquired over the course of your pitiful years to help us achieve the cause of Mallesand and Senna. Find and follow the boy and the knight. They must not discover that you are following them, or they will surely kill you this time, and without hesitation, no doubt. This is your final chance to succeed, thief.”

Koloff brought himself slowly to his feet, clutching his chest, his head bowed to his master. “I will not fail you, Lord Goluk. I understand full-well the severity of my situation. I will acquire the artifacts from the boy, my lord, somehow.”

“Yes, exactly,” smiled Goluk’s image. “You will have free reign over how you come across the magical items, and as much time as you need. Within reason, that is. I warn you, Mallesand and Senna are not infinitely patient. They are eager to be about their business, but they understand that this might be a–” he paused for a moment, considering his next words warily, “a finer operation than it appears to be on the surface.”

“My lord,” Koloff began, his teeth gritted, “I will do whatever it takes to fulfill your wishes, and I humbly apologize for my failure. It will not happen again, I assure you.”

“I hope not, thief, for your sake,” Goluk hissed, and then nodded dismissively. “May the shadows swathe you.”

Not Entirely… Done.

Hello, all! Just wanted to let you know that I did do some of that writing I promised, but until I’ve completely finished the particular scene that I wrote, it cannot be classified as “done” or worth posting.

Part of why I did not finish everything that I started writing is because I became indecisive as to how I actually wanted portray the scene. Another reason is that I do live with my family, and they often need me to fulfill my duties as their son/brother.

This weekend I will post something.