The Chronicles of Ragnar (An Original Fantasy story)

[Shadow Denizen]

Yeah...I've been writing this a while, but didn't spend a lot of time on it. Then, I decided to post it here, to see if anyone liked it. Right now, it's just a prologue, but I'm planning to make this very interesting.
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Prologue: And So It Begins

These lands have seen far too much evil since the sudden appearance of the Shadow. Blood taints the earth as the war rages on, demons plaguing the world with their presence.
But let us all look at this at a different perspective. If we were to say that the Shadow had a different goal in mind other than what has been discovered, we would find that people’s mindsets would be considerably different, at least the people of this era. Is the Shadow a result of divine decree? Or is it another force altogether?
Now, let us say--

“Worldly renowned philosopher Valyr Herrin, I presume?”

Dart Doolanus, who was leaning on a large boulder, stopped reading aloud and closed the thick book, putting it back in his red coat pocket. He waved off a curl of hazel colored hair, revealing one of his icy blue eyes. The steel gauntlet on his hand was firmly gripping the hilt of his sheathed sword. He looked back at the silver-haired man, who was dressed in similar, but darker attire.

“You always were the best Knight in the Kingdom, Arek.”

Arek smirked. “And you were always my best friend. But those times have ceased to exist. I’m with the Shadow now. Actually, I always was.”

Dart, who was still leaning on the boulder, replied, “Come back to Icnitus, Arek. You don’t need to do this. Even if you’re soul is a part of the Shadow, the rest of you belongs with us.”

Arek ran a hand through his silver mane and turned back to where he was looking. They were on the edge of a cliff and at the end of a forest. The cliff led to a long, steep fall to a dark, raging sea. The sea went on for many leagues and in the distance was a silhouette of a gigantic island, the Island of the Shadow.

“You and the others still don’t understand. I belong with the Shadow, as I have always belonged with it. You cannot alter something that has already been declared and confirmed.”

Dart stood up straight, his hand on his sword hilt still firm. “I never was one for rules,” he chuckled, drawing his sword.

Arek smiled. “You alone cannot stop me.”

Dart smiled once more. “Exactly.” A dark silhouette suddenly appeared against the sun. Two short swords could be seen, though, vaguely, with their wielder. The short swords swiftly swung down on their target, which was Arek.

There was a loud clang as metal clashed with metal. Arek held a four foot long, double-edged rapier, complete with serrated edges. The woman who had attacked froze momentarily in mid-air, for the sword seemed to materialize from thin air, and then she was thrown back.

As she hit the ground, Arek pointed his rapier at her, the blade only a foot away from her black haired head,

“Surely, Sheera, you know by now that I was chosen by the Silencer, one of the Olden Blades that was forged on the anvil of Cilithane himself. A mundane blade, no matter how sturdy, cannot defeat it!”
Sheera arose to her feet. Her piercing brown eyes met Arek’s violet ones.

“You always had an oversized ego,” she remarked, once again attacking, with Dart and his broadsword at her side, They swung simultaneously, only to be met by the Silencer.

Arek began to laugh. “The Knights of the Dirsh Kingdom must be in bad shape, if this is all you can do. Was that the reason you were reading aloud to me, Dart?”

Dart and Sheera jumped back. “No, it was to remind you of something.”

“And what might that be?”

Dart’s face darkened. “To remind you of what is happening to your people.”

“For the last time, the Shadow is where my people reside, not in the Dirsh Kingdom!” Arek took the advantage of the moment by charging once again. Arek faked them out and went for their legs, only to be parried by one of Sheera’s swords. Arek jumped back as Dart tried to behead him.

“Whoa, Dart. You’re getting serious?”

“I am forced to,” and thus commenced a long battle. It consisted of complicated attacks, but we need not go into detail about that for now.

Dart and Sheera began to breathe heavily, but Arek looked as if he was just warming up.

“There were many prophecies about my destiny,” said Arek. “One of them said that I would “take what is most precious from my closest friend”. As an honorable warrior, I obediently oblige.”

And then, Arek moved in with unhuman speed, his sword even faster. The Silencer was plunged through Sheera’s heart, and blood dripped on the blade and onto the ground.

“NO!!” Dart shouted. Arek removed his blade from her chest, and she crumpled to the floor. However, Arek was not prepared for the big gash that Dart just gave him. Dart was about to give the final stab, when Arek jumped back. He was now standing on the very edge of the cliff, his hand over his large, bleeding gash.

“It was fun playing this game, my friend. I hope we can meet again soon.” And with that, he jumped backwards off the cliff, and plummeted into the sea.

Dart rushed to the edge and would’ve jumped after him in rage, if he had not remembered Sheera. He rushed over to her side, tears running down his cheeks. He cursed and lifted her body, carrying her and his failure back to the city of Icnitus.

[TWDIS]

cool story SD I would like to see you continue it! ^^

[Grimmjow Jaggerjack]

As a really fanboy of fantasy (A fan of actually good fatasy, not LotR or Eragon, which absolutely suck in my opinion. (In comparison to real, good fantasy.)), I must say I rather enjoyed this.

Combined with your good writing skills, this could become a real nice story.

One thing though: In the... 20th paragraph (Including the talking paragraphs) you spelled 'by' with only a 'b'.

Just pointing out. ^^

[SabishiiKokoro]

I wish I could write like that. My stories all sound vague to me =/
Like I'm not describing things and I always have trouble with the dialog like the he/she said stuff.

[Shadow Denizen]

Hey guys. thanks for the comments. I'm going to post the chapters in parts from now on. This is Chapter 1 Part 1.
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Chapter 1: Fifteen Years Later…

Xeron absently traced his finger on his bedside table, frequently eyeing the clock on the wall. He was quite annoyed at the moment.

Ever since he had gotten that clock, it always seemed to mock him. It would increase or decrease in speed when he didn’t want it too. And now, he lays in bed waiting for midnight, when he would officially be sixteen years of age. The clock seemed to laugh at him, and Xeron thought the minute hand stopped for a moment on 11:55.

As soon as Xeron was sixteen, he would be eligible to become a Knight. His father, Perryn, King of the Dirsh Kingdom, said it was the most dangerous and difficult job in existence. Not to mention that the Knights’ Legion was also a school, so he’d have to take classes in between missions and patrols.

But Xeron didn’t care. He wanted fame, fortune, and power. Plus, people always told him that he’d make an excellent Knight, because for some reason he learned very quickly.

Five minutes later, or five days later in Xeron’s opinion, he was sixteen years old. He could’ve cheered for himself, but then he remembered it was midnight, so he reluctantly went to bed.

……………………………………………………………..

That night, Xeron had a dream.
He was in a barren wasteland. Everything was a dull grey, and a mournful wind occasionally passed by. Other than that, everything was silent.
Ahead of him was a gigantic cloud of darkness as large as a country. The cloud continuously changed shape, but it always had that pure darkness. Suddenly, a voice pierced the air,
Is that him? The voice said.
Yes. Should we withdraw? asked another voice.
No. We need more time, and he still hasn’t arrived at the key point.
Fine then. Let’s hope he doesn’t come out of his locked form before he needs to.

Xeron then awoke, and wondered for a moment what he had just dreamt about. Then he remembered he was sixteen and jumped out of bed.

He ran to a rosewater basin and washed his face. He saw his usual reflection in the water: fair skin, jet black hair, violet eyes, and a slightly narrowed cheek bone. He washed his face with a towel and began to get dressed.

He put on a white shirt, and over it a black vest. Over that he wore a grey coat, for it was autumn and the air was chilly. He pulled on some black pants and the pair of war boots his father had given him. Finally, he strapped on a dagger, which he always carried around in case of drunken thugs and the like.

All ready, he exited his room, which was in the royal wing of the castle. He found himself in the familiar ornate hall that had golden doors on each wall. He walked to the end of the hall on the left and descended fifteen flights of stairs, a number that tired him to this day.

He exited through a side door and found himself in a courtyard. The courtyard was a garden of trees, flowers, and it had a pond. A small path led to exit of the castle, a couple of large, thick double doors. He was about to ask the guards to open them when he felt a hand on his shoulder. He turned around to see his friend, Rentus.

Rentus was sixteen like him, though he turned sixteen a few days ago. They agreed to wait until they were both sixteen to become recruited Knights. Rentus was the son of a Knight who was also a good friend of the King, therefore he lived in the castle. Rentus was probably the only person Xeron couldn’t defeat in a sparring match.

“You can’t just leave, Xeron. What about breakfast?”

“Taken care of. I told my father we would fish on the borders of Icnitus for our breakfast. Let’s go already.”

“Fine.”

Icnitus was the capital of the Dirsh Kingdom and it stood on a big island in the middle of an even bigger lake. It was home to about fifty thousand people, and sometimes could get crowded.

After leaving the castle and eating their freshly cooked fish, they raced to the Knight’s Legion Headquarters of Dirsh building. It was almost as big as the castle itself. It had many smaller buildings attached to it, along with training fields, and many other things. They entered a small building on the east side. The sign above the door read: “KNIGHT’S RECRUITMENT CENTER”.

They entered to find several other youths their age in there as well. Their appearances varied and so did their expressions and genders.

Xeron and Rentus joined the youths, who were huddled around a desk. Behind the desk was a man, an ordinary man who looked bored with his job. He glanced up from his writing and looked at them through his spectacles.

“You’re all sixteen, I hope?”

“Yes,” they replied at the same time,

“I’m going to have the take your word for it,” said the man. “But you won’t last a second in the Determination Sessions. Now sign here.”

There was a bustle and commotion as everyone tried to sign the paper. After a few minutes, everything settled down. Xeron asked, “Are we official Knights now?”

The man looked annoyed. “No. You must pass the Determination Sessions.”

“What’s that?”

The man was now even more annoyed. “A group of…friendly fights that determine who becomes a Knight and who isn’t ready yet. It’ll take a few days for these papers to be approved, so you’ll have to wait until four days later for the Sessions to get underway. Train hard in the meantime.”

Xeron groaned. Another four days. He didn’t have the patience.

“Hey, you!” Xeron turned around to see a very large youth. His muscles were visible, and he had an ugly face. A stupid grin could be seen on it.

“You’re a pretty small fish. If we’re paired up in the Sessions, I think I’ll slice you up and serve you for supper. It’ll be an easy way to become a Knight, if I have to fight you.”

Xeron grinned. This guy was just one of those dumb brutes. He could take him.

“What’s so funny, little fishie?”

“I was just thinking of how clean the ground would be when I wipe it with you.”

Xeron got rammed against the wall by the brute, being held by the neck. This kid’s stronger than I realized, thought Xeron.

“You think you’re funny? You have no clue who you just messed with.” He released his hold on Xeron. “See you in four days, little minnow.” The brute exited the building.

“That was Rhaf. You made a mistake for insulting him. He isn’t the type you want as an enemy,” Rentus remarked.

“I don’t care,” said Xeron, pretending to be fearless. But actually, he was nervous.


End of Part 1
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feedback is appreciated and so are corrections

[Grimmjow Jaggerjack]

feedback is appreciated and so is corrections

Are corrections. Lol.

eying the clock

Eyeing

he lay in bed

Lays.

jet black hair

What do you mean by jet?

Xeron got rammed to wall

Rammed to wall? Into the wall? Against the wall? Or just onto the wall? =P

You dissapoint me a little, those were some unnecesary spelling mistakes. I still like your writing style though, and the story is good, so keep it up!

[Shadow Denizen]

Originally Posted by Grimmjow Jaggerjack

Are corrections. Lol.



Eyeing



Lays.



What do you mean by jet?



Rammed to wall? Into the wall? Against the wall? Or just onto the wall? =P

You dissapoint me a little, those were some unnecesary spelling mistakes. I still like your writing style though, and the story is good, so keep it up!

Yeah, I was in a hurry and didn't have time to proofread. And jet black hair means very black. And I wrote "rammed to wall" because sometimes my mind thinks quicker than my fingers; it happens to all of us.

[Shadow Denizen]

Chapter 1, Part 2. I think I might have some mistakes here as well, so please correct me.
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It was three days later and one day before the sessions. Xeron and Rentus were sparring in a small clearing in a forest.

The island that Icnitus stood on was so gigantic that it could support a medium-sized forest. This was considered a phenomenon to overly curious geologists, but it was accepted as no more than a miracle of Cilithane, the Great Deity.

As usual, Xeron was getting whipped. Rentus was just too fast, although he wasn’t as strong as Xeron was. They were sparring with thick branches, so they wouldn’t cut each other, but that didn’t prevent bruises.

At sunset, after they tended to their bruises with forest salve, they rested awhile. Xeron was still anxious about the Rhaf incident.
“So,” said Xeron. “This guy, Rhaf. Is he really that tough?”

Rentus looked at him with a raised eyebrow. “Where have you been the last several years? He’s been beating up anyone who’s smaller than him, which is practically everyone. He’s no pushover.”

“But I’m a prince,” replied Xeron. “He can’t hurt someone of higher status!” And it was true. The only one above Xeron's status was his father, the King.

“There’s the problem.” Rentus chuckled. “Rhaf is also a prince. He’s the son of King Valanoth, ruler of the Archis Kingdom. His father and your’s are childhood friends. It’s quite ironic, actually.”

Xeron was surprised. “So what’s he doing here in the Dirsh Kingdom?”

"The Dirsh Kingdom is supposed to have the best Knights’ Legion ever. People from all over come here to become a Knight. Beware, though, if you do have to face him in the Sessions. The Archis Kingdom is famous for its unique fighting arts.”

Rentus didn’t boost Xeron’s confidence at all. They walked back to the castle. The sky said farewell to the sun with the last traces of dark purple, as Icnitus gradually became swallowed by the darkness.

Dinner was held in the eating halls of the south wing. It was a quite a feast as usual. Xeron departed to his room, with Rentus going in the opposite direction.
As he lay in bed thinking about the Sessions, he wondered how he was going to pass with just his dagger. Certainly daggers were useful in close combat, but if he were to go against Rhaf...

He smiled nervously about the thought of fighting Rhaf with a dagger. He pushed it from his mind a few moments later, though not without effort.

Finally, he fell asleep, having the same dream he’d had for the last three nights. The big, ominously dark cloud…

……………………………………………………………..

Morning was a rush for him. He went through his usual routines, wearing the same thing he had worn yesterday, with the addition of firm gloves. He ran downstairs to the eating halls, but he hardly ate anything, just a couple of eggs.

He met Rentus at the gates and after racing to the Knights’ Legion Headquarters, they stopped and panted, looking at the crowd of adolescents gathered around the same bored-looking man from yesterday.

“Alright, settle down,” said the man half-heartedly. “The Sessions are to be held immediately in Training Field Two. Be prepared for cuts and bruises. Best of luck; you’ll need it.”

The crowd followed the man through many complex halls. The inside of the Legion HQ was an interesting place. There were a variety of staircases, doors, fields, and rooms such as the dungeon and library. You could very well call it a smaller version of Castle Icnitus, except for the constant bustle of servants.

They were finally led to a circular field in an outside area in the center of the HQ. The diameter of the field was roughly fifty yards, according to Xeron’s calculations. Trees lined the edges of the area. Other than the strangely green grass and billboard attached between two oak trees, there was nothing else to see.

The group of youths followed the man to the billboard. On the billboard was a match-up chart that showed the names of all the unofficial Knights and who they would be fighting. Xeron saw his name and was dismayed when he was at the bottom of the list. Even worse, he was paired up with Rhaf.

"Now that's a major coincidence."

A big, meaty hand patted his shoulder. Xeron turned around to see Rhaf.

“It’s okay, little minnow. I’ll make it quick," said Rhaf.

Xeron clenched his teeth; he was not going to lose to that guy. He also saw that Rentus was the first to fight. He would be against someone called Zelnor.

“Who’s Zelnor?” Xeron asked Rentus, who pointed to a tall, thin youth with a very pale face. His expression was impassive, but he was watching Rentus with cloudy grey eyes.

“No clue who he is or what his abilities are,” whispered Rentus. “But there’s something about him I don’t like.”

There was to be a total of fifty matches that might take all day and part of the night. That also meant only twenty-five would pass on to new, Alpha ranked Knights.

“Okay,” muttered the man. “Rentus and Zelnor, please step up to the center of the field.”
They did so. The man then brought out a big, wooden box that was about five feet long and six feet wide. The man opened it to reveal a wide array of weapons of all size, shape, and kind.

“We’re going to be fighting with real swords?” asked Rentus, who was surprised.

The man scowled. “This is no children’s game. Believe me, you’ll be going through far worse as a Knight. Now, select a weapon.”

Rentus chose a three-foot long standard sword. It balanced well in his hands. The other youth, Zelnor, chose two foot long daggers, one in each hand.

“Let’s get this over with,” said Zelnor coldly.

The man took away the box and stepped back with the rest of the crowd to a staircase that led to a raised platform. Once on the platform, they looked down upon the two fighters.

Xeron pondered why they had to stand up on the platform. It was just a battle of swordsmanship, and they would most likely stay where they were. The crowd wouldn’t be harmed.

“There’s a rumor that that Zelnor kid has some sort of weird power,” muttered the bored man. “Not sure what it is, but when dealing with unknown magic, it’s best to stay at a distance.” That answered Xeron’s mental questions.

“Begin!” yelled the man. Rentus gripped his blade tighter as he charged at Zelnor. He was quite a fast runner, but he wasn’t prepared for Zelnor’s move.

Rentus proceeded with a downward slash, but it was parried before he could even move it down a foot, Zelnor had blocked it, and it seemed his arm was a bit longer than it should be.

Zelnor kicked Rentus in the stomach, sending him flying back several yards.

“Sage’s blood! He’s strong!” exclaimed Xeron.

Zelnor’s arm suddenly shot forward, elongating in an unhuman way. His arm stretched farther and farther until it was above Rentus. He sent his dagger downward, but Rentus managed to parry it. Their blades stayed together, struggling to get past each other’s guard.

Zelnor began to laugh emotionlessly. Xeron thought he saw fangs in his mouth as he laughed, but he told himself he was just hallucinating.

“Are you impressed? Or perhaps frightened? You should be feeling both. This is my rumored power. I can elongate any part of my body and make them as flexible as rubber.”
Rentus was still trying to force Zelnor’s dagger back as he said through clenched teeth: “Where did a guy like you come from?”

“Somewhere far from here,” Zelnor answered, pushing harder. “This game ends now.” He began to stretch out his other arm until it was many yards long. He left it hanging above Rentus for a moment, then struck downward again.

Rentus’ other weaponless hand shot up and grabbed the blade in mid-swing. His gloves provided partial protection, but blood still seeped out.

Zelnor frowned. “Very well,” he said more to himself than to Rentus. “It’s all about the way you play the game.” He withdrew both his arms and threw his blades high into the air. A second later, his arms wrapped around Rentus like a python, and he smashed him to the trunk of a tree. As Rentus fell to the ground, Zelnor caught his daggers in the middle of their descent, smirking triumphantly as his arms returned to their normal length. His smile disappeared as Rentus steadily got up.

Zelnor scowled and once again his arms shot out. Rentus stayed still, and then, like lightning, he caught Zelnor’s hands, holding them firmly.

“Wha---?” exclaimed Zelnor.

“A parlor trick,” said Rentus as he dragged the hands around the tree trunk. “But it’s still useful.” He proceeded to tie the arms around the trunk with a fierce, double knot. Zelnor tried to undo it, but it was to no avail.

“Now then…” Rentus charged at Zelnor. It actually looked like Rentus was going to win. But it all went downhill.

One of Zelnor’s legs lifted and shot out faster than ever before, smashing into Rentus’s face with full force. Blood could be seen seeping from his mouth and nose as he was thrown back, hitting the tree. Rentus didn’t get up.

Smirking, Zelnor walked up to the tree trunk, only to realize he couldn’t undo his arms. The bored man then walked down the steps to where Zelnor stood, undid his arms, inspected Rentus, and then declared, “Zelnor Rhey will move on to become an Alpha rank Knight. Rentus Vallos will have to wait until next summer. Next contestants, please approach.”

Xeron couldn’t believe it. Rentus had lost already. Rentus, who even Xeron couldn’t beat, had failed the Session, and would not become a Knight. This lowered Xeron’s confidence greatly.

The next forty-eight matches were normal, except for a few who also had strange powers. Xeron had no doubt that they were very powerful.

It was evening when Xeron and Rhaf finally descended from the platform to do battle. Rhaf pushed past him and jumped off the platform rather than descending the steps as Xeron had. There was even a slight rumble as Rhaf hit the ground.

When the man brought out the weapons case again, after Zelnor had ascended to the platform and Rentus had been taken into medical care, Xeron chose a standard long sword that was about three-feet long and two-and-a-half inches wide. Rhaf chose the one that best suited him: a broadsword four inches in width and four feet in length. That sword was a monster, as was its wielder.

They stood a few feet apart, waiting for the signal to begin. The cool breeze of the early night brushed against the faces of the combatants and the audience.

“You ready, minnow?”

Xeron grinned, suddenly excited. “I could ask you the same thing.”

“Begin,” said the man.

--------
BOOM. Cliff hanger

[Grimmjow Jaggerjack]

Cliff hanger. xD

So yeah, here are my notes on the story:

First off, in the beginning, you used a sentence between () to explain something about the country itself. That is ok, but it looked rather out of place. You could've wrote a short paragraph about what the country looks like. Not much is needed, but it is better than giving that information seemingly important between ().

Second I'd like to see some more...detail. That was at first what hooked me too this story, but you seem to have lost your touch a little or something. xD For example at the beginning of the chapter Xeros lays in his bed and thinks that it will be hard to fight alone with a dagger. And then suddenly he sleeps. Bit abrupt, no? Try to ellaborate more, describe more of his feelings about it. Simply adding something like: 'The thought pestered him for a while, but eventually he fell asleep.' Already sounds more...realistic, so to say. I've seen some other cases that could use some more detail, so look the post over one time, and see where you can explain more.

Now, the only thing that bugged me about the actual story, is that you stated that the Knights of the Dirsh Kingdom are the best there are...but even so, the only thing you need to do is sing up and do a fight...bit strange, no? And in the fight, where Rentus ties the arms of his opponent around the tree...off course, the arms where extended and longer than normal, but they were still arms, and they don't bend easily. Try to ellaborate more on how a power exactly works, and why, for example, the boys arms could bend like that.

Also, I would like to see more character development. I know who everything is and all, and you told me off some of there habits and stuff but...that's it. Trow in a short chapter once in a while describing things about the character. This could be information that is necessary, or just some weird things he likes to do to give the character some personality. Being able to relate to characters as a reader is essential for a good story.

Furthermore:

The sky said farewell to the sun with the last traces of dark purple. Then, Icnitus was swallowed by the young night.

Try not to use the word 'then'. If I can, I don't even use it once in my stories. It gets the flow out of the story, and really bugs the reader. Well, it always bugs me. You could say it like this, making it a bit more easy to read:

The sky said farewell to the sun with the last traces of dark purple, as Icnitus was swallowed by the young night.

Or slowly swallowed would maybe look even better.

He went through his usual routines, wearing the same thing he had worn yesterday, except he now wore firm gloves.

Try not to contradict what you are saying. Here you say he wears the same...but different. Contradictins are fine, but it...well, sounds a bit weird if you explain it in this way. You could say something like:

He went through his usual routines, wearing the same thing he had worn yesterday, however complemented by a pair of firm gloves.

So, what I'm trying to say is...don't use 'but' or 'except' or things like that, but rather use words in the line with for example 'however'. Don't say: 'He wears this, but not.'. Say: 'He wears this, however this time togheter with that.'

You get my point? xD

There were a variety of staircases, doors, fields, rooms, such as the dungeon and library.

This looks confusing. Here you practically say the dungeon and library are rooms, fields, doors and staircases all at once. xD I know everyone with a right set of mind knows what you mean, but try to be more specific, saying it, for example, like this:

There were a variety of staircases, doors, fiels, and rooms such as the dungeon and library.

Now it is perfectly clear what you mean. Confusion in a story can often completely kill the vibe.

“There’s a rumor that that Zelnor kid has some sort of weird power,” muttered the man. “Not sure what it is, but when dealing with unknown magic, it’s best to stay at a distance.” That answered Xeron’s mental questions.

What man?

That sword was monster, as was its wielder.

Was a monster.



Well, that's about it. Please, don't freak about the amount of it. xD Bad things are always easier noticed than good, but that doesn't mean that there is more bad than good in truth. And remember, everything is to learn from.

I have to say, you have some talent, and I like the way you describe certain things. And seriously, making a 'good guy' lose a match that is really important for at least the first part of the story, right at the beginning of that story...that takes some nerv, and I like it. It brings even more originality to the story.

Ow, and the comment on the last quote, the mistake in the sentence...that was the only mistake I've seen in the whole chapter. Credits to you for that. =D

[-Arcana-X-]

SD, could you make the font size bigger? Don't do it if it was on purpose.

[Shadow Denizen]

Grimm, you're the best. I'll try and do what you advise, though it might be hard. Old habits are hard to kill. Thanks for the feedback. And Arcana, I'll make the font size bigger. Here is the last part to Ch. 1

Ch. 1 Part 3

Zelnor’s arms were crossed, and he watched in silent anticipation, with a small half-smile on his pallid face.

A year and three weeks had passed since his heavy task had been set to him.

‘Find the lost Darkling’, Zelnor’s master had said. ‘Bring him back to his true roots, even if the results of the Binding resist’.

Zelnor, after so long, had suspicions that he had found the lost Darkling. At first, he suspected it to be his opponent, Rentus, but that suspicion dissolved as he saw his friend, the one with the violet eyes; a common trait among Darklings. The bored man had called him Xeron, if he was not mistaken.

Zelnor thought to himself: Xeron, eh? Show me the power, the power that has been restrained by the Binding, so that I may confirm my suspicion.

ΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔ

Xeron gripped his sword tightly and took up the traditional royal battle stance. Rhaf rested his blade on his armored shoulder, watching his prey.

The barracuda was a crafty fish, as Rhaf had been taught. This of course was not true, for barracudas were actually stupid creatures that rush into the midst of their prey without any sort of tactical preparation.

You could very well say that Rhaf was like a barracuda, for moments later Xeron found himself in the middle of an angry charge. Rhaf held his gargantuan sword at his side, ready to proceed with a horizontal cleave.

The cleave met air as Xeron rolled to the side, getting up quickly and performing a vertical slash, only to be blocked by Rhaf’s giant sword, or giant butcher’s knife for that matter.

“Fried minnow with herbal dressing fresh from the waters of the Archis Kingdom; a delicacy that you’ll become!” As Rhaf said this, he kicked Xeron in the stomach roughly, sending him sprawling to the ground yards away, almost as far as Zelnor’s kick might’ve sent him.

Rhaf lumbered over to Xeron, and his boot aimed for his face. Xeron caught it, and surprisingly, it was easier to restrain it than he thought, although he still had trouble with it. The blow to the stomach was also less agonizing than it should have been, though blood had still shot out from his innards, resting on his lower lip and sliding down his chin.

The boot was held in place by Xeron’s firm hold. As Xeron tried to restrain it, he thought to himself: Fried minnow with herbal dressing? He’s a glutton too.

“You know,” said Rhaf. “This is boring.” He ceased trying to smash Xeron’s face, picked him up, put him on his feet, and punched him in the face as hard as he could.

The pain shot down from his entire face down his spinal cord like an electric shock. But once again, Xeron felt that the blow should have hurt more than it did. It was like getting hit by a rock, but only feeling the pain a pebble might have given him. A crazy thought came to him.

Is this my power? Do I have an ability like that Zelnor boy? No…no. What am I talking about? There has never been such things in the royal bloodline. It’s only because I’m stronger than I think.

But as the blood gushed from his mouth and nose, he still had doubts. He landed on his feet with a skid, having absolutely no idea what to do.

A direct attack wouldn’t work, as Xeron had just learned. Attacking from a distance would be the best thing to do, but with what would he attack? If he threw his sword, he’d lose his primary weapon, but what about…?

Xeron drew his dagger.

Rhaf laughed. “I’m surprised you’re able to get up, but what are you going to with that? Butter yourself to make the meal all the better for me? How kind of you.”

Now all he had to do was aim for Rhaf’s most vulnerable spot. At first, Xeron thought of the groin, but then he discarded the idea. Rhaf might’ve wanted to have children in the future, even if it was someone like Rhaf.

Then it came to Xeron. Rhaf had to hold his sword with both hands, but if one hand were to be injured, then that would get rid of the risk of being butchered.

An idea quickly formed in Xeron’s mind, and then he ran towards Rhaf, pretending to move in with a vertical slash.

“Some people never learn,” Rhaf remarked as he stood waiting for Xeron, getting ready to use a horizontal cleave.

When Xeron got close enough, Rhaf swung horizontally with both hands. Xeron jumped back right before the blade was to meet him, and he threw the dagger. It sped towards its target: Rhaf’s left hand.

And it struck true, embedding itself deep in the middle of the hand, piercing the glove and Rhaf’s flesh.

Rhaf howled in pain, dropping his huge sword and clutching his left hand. Xeron took advantage of the moment to grab Rhaf’s sword. He threw it with all his might, and it ended up on the edge of a field. Now it was all a matter of knocking out Rhaf. One of Xeron’s punches would do just that. It always worked.

He moved in for the swing, using momentum to increase his fist’s power. But right before it smashed into Rhaf’s face, Rhaf raised his right hand and punched Xeron in the nose very hard, at the same time Xeron’s punch met Rhaf’s face. They stood there for a moment.

Xeron’s vision blurred. He saw Rhaf crumple to the ground, and he did likewise. His head fell on the grass, and his eyes closed on impact. His entire body was aching, and then it went numb. The last to go was his mind, but not before he heard a faint voice say, “Draw!”

Xeron blacked out completely, fresh gushes of blood running from his mouth and nose.

ΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔ

Zelnor clapped steadily, smiling. His suspicions were correct. The boy was the lost Darkling. He knew when he saw that Xeron was still conscious after getting punched the first time.

Normally, a person would’ve been knocked out immediately after a punch of such strength. But Darklings were different. No mundane attack would cause them pain. Although Xeron had still felt pain, as Zelnor had observed, it was only because of the Binding. Such a Binding was required for that particular Darkling…

There were also other factors that gave it away. When Xeron had jumped back to throw the dagger, he had jumped back a few feet more than a normal human. Darklings could of course jump farther, but again, the blame belonged to the Binding.

There was also the throwing of the dagger itself. The dagger had traveled in a straight line, and at an alarming speed. It was also thrown with exact precision. Xeron must’ve had enhanced vision, though due to the Binding, not as much as a free Darkling.

Zelnor was certain that he was a Darkling. Now all he had to do was bring him back. That was the hard part. He’d have to wait for the opportune moment.

ΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔ

After having the same dream once more and watching the image of the dark, country-sized cloud dim and fade away, Xeron’s vision switched to reality. His eyes slowly came into focus as he saw…a light? No, it was a bright, whitewashed ceiling. Then it all came back to him. He sat up abruptly, looking around.

He was in a completely white room. The room’s walls had portraits of people that Xeron knew nothing of. In the room were three beds, and some medical equipment. At the foot of each bed was a small table, where breakfast had already been served. He looked to his right to see Rhaf asleep in bed, wearing a pure white tunic. Drool trickled down his chin and onto the pillow. Not wanting to look any longer, he looked to his left to see…Rentus. Xeron was happy to see that he had almost fully recovered. All he had was a bandage on his nose and hand. Rentus didn’t seem to have noticed Xeron’s awakening. He merely stared sullenly at the opposite wall.

“Hey, Ren,” said Xeron, addressing him with a childhood nickname. “Feeling better?”
Rentus didn’t answer at first. He seemed to be deep in thought. Eventually he noticed Xeron.

“Xeron! I had wondered when you’d wake up. Are you alright? You’ve healed fast! The bandages have already been removed.”

“I feel fine. How about you?”

“I’m great. You’ve been sleeping for two days you know. I only slept a few hours. How’d the match go by the way?”

Xeron frowned. “I don’t know; we both got knocked out. I think I heard the bored man say it was a draw.”

Rentus became sullen again. “Oh. You and Rhaf made it in.”

“Really?” Xeron asked excitedly. Then he remembered. “Sorry about your match. But, hey, next summer won’t take that long to come by. You’ll catch up in no time!”

“Yeah…”said Rentus, cheering up a little. “Looks like you’ll have to deal with Rhaf for a whole year without me. He won’t be happy he got whipped by someone like you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing,” Rentus smiled. Neither of them noticed the dark figure that had been watching them through the window across the street. Nor did they notice him dissolve into thin air, becoming one with the sky.

--------------------

This is just the beginning. I'm planning to make this epic.

[Jet]

Xeron? Rentus? Arek? I know where ya got those names ;D
And I liek the story SD, keep it up!

[Grimmjow Jaggerjack]

Hehe, thanks, SD, and nice edits. Looks a lot better now.

Oh, and what I said about character development...I meant paragraphs.

Originally Posted by Grimmjow Jaggerjack

Throw in a short chapter once in a while describing things about the character.

Here, I meant paragraphs. Writing a whole chapter is a bit too much, I'd say. xD

I'll read the third chapter in a while, maybe tommorow, not in the mood right now.

EDIT: I've read the chapter, and I must say it was really good! I only saw two minor spelling mistakes in the beginning, so I suggest looking it over a few times after posting it, because there where unnecessary.

Oh, btw, I liked the small font size. :3

Well, I actually have nothing more too comment on. I really enjoyed reading this, and there was nothing I missed. Keep it up! =D

[Shadow Denizen]

Feedback is appreciated. I finally finished the chapter. I'd been doing bits and pieces at a time. I hope it's legible.

Chapter 2: On the Move, Part 1

Rybin Hawkefellow took a deep breath of air and stepped off of the boat at the port. He was finally back in Icnitus. If only he could stay longer than he had to…

Rybin was a nomadic sorcerer who never stayed in one place for more than a week. This was partly because of requests made by various villages to get rid of an epidemic of some kind of pest or monster, or to cure a disease. He was part of the Institute of Magiscience, a widely renowned academy of the magical arts. He left the Institute at the age of thirty, and had traveled for the last five years, learning many things. With his great sense of humor and innate ability to charm people, his life was full of joy.

But that was the brighter side. The Shadow was stirring once more, and Rybin was devoted to doing his part to defeat it. And that was what brought him to Icnitus: important matters regarding the welfare of Ragnar itself.

People stared at him and whispered as he made his way through the crowded streets of the lake city, past bricked buildings of all shapes and sizes.

“Looks like I’m more popular than last time,” he said to himself as a woman pointed at him excitedly and ran off with her friend, perhaps to spread the word.

He came upon the gates of Castle Icnitus. The guards recognized him from his sorceror’s attire and the fancy silver quarterstaff he held, complete with a ruby dragon at its head, signifying him as a high class user of the magical arts. The guards stood up straight and opened the formidable entry way into the castle. Rybin found himself in the familiar courtyard, and confidently made his way to the door at the beginning of the narrow path through the garden.

“So you’re finally here.”

Rybin turned to his right, his grip on his quarterstaff becoming slightly tighter. The grip relaxed when he realized it was his old friend, Reak Waldin.

Reak was the Head Knight of the Knights’ Legion of Ragnar (KLR), meaning he was the leader of every single Knight alive. It was an important rank at his age, which was only thirty-eight. Despite that, he was wise and calm. His look on the outside could be deceiving though; he was a tough fighter, strong in any field of combat, even magic. Rybin learned that the hard way.

Rybin smiled as he remembered these things about his friend. He shook hands with him, and then patted him on the back.

“The King’s waiting,” said Reak.

“Aye. Things are not looking good.” Rybin made a gesture of some sort, and they began to put on fake expressions, as if they were having a casual, leisurely chat, although it was actually very serious.

“They’re on the move again,” said Rybin through a pretended smile. “The…you know.”

Reak nodded. “The winds have brought omens. I was never a superstitious person, but I think I am now. So…what do you know?”

“Let’s wait until we get to his Highness. His conference room is magically sealed to prevent sound from escaping.”

Reak nodded again. He was the type who didn’t talk when he didn’t have to.

The found themselves in the south wing. They turned left and walked up sixteen flights of stairs. Rybin could never understand the King’s taste; what was so important about being so high up? It was probably just a royalty thing…

They made it to another corridor, The stone walls were painted gold, or perhaps they were actually gold; Rybin couldn't tell. The floor was carpeted, and the doors were decorated. Rybin slapped his forehead, suddenly remembering.

“Oh, of course! Liberation Day approaches. The day when we were freed from the Shadow’s grasp, thanks to the Sage Knight! Wouldn’t miss it for the world!”

Reak nodded once more. “I was told the festival was to be grander than ever before. The city had a surplus of three million diamond coins left over! People from all over are coming. You remember Rin Tarkan?”

Rybin chuckled. “Of course! That kid’s a genius among adolescents! He’s only fifteen, and his books of poetry are bestsellers! Not to mention his singing skills! He’s already known greatly in every Kingdom. Will he be at the festival?”

“Yes, along with a few other famous individuals.”

“I’m looking forward to it.”

They came upon a door gilded in silver and gold, with the royal coat of arms on it: the face of a white wolf with a ring of golden swords surrounding it. They knocked on it thrice, and it opened by itself, revealing the room within.

With a feigned casual stride, they entered a wide chamber. The walls were golden and the floor was mahogany. There was a huge decagonal table in the center, with fancy chestnut chairs behind each side. One of these chairs was occupied by the King, who looked up at them. He wore a gold and silver crown laden with jewels; a traditional crown passed down for many generations. His attire was also traditional; crimson layers of clothing, a cape, and formal crimson boots. A sheathed sword with a dark green scabbard was strapped to his chair.

“You’re finally here. Have a seat.” They did, sitting on either side of the King.

“Now then,” said Rybin. “Let’s skip the formalities and get on with it.”

Perryn nodded. “What have you to report?”

Rybin looked around to his left and then his right, a habit of his when giving out secret information. “As you may have already suspected, the Shadow’s on the move once more. From what I know, their goals are different than last time.”

“And do you know what their goals are?” asked the King.

Rybin shook his head grimly. “Unfortunately, no. But considering previous events, it can’t be good. Also…I have knowledge of Arek.”

Perryn’s eyes widened. Reak remained calm, but his eyes were concerned. “Arek? The Knight that ran away fifteen years ago?”

“Yes. It looks like he’s an elite warrior of the Shadow now. I haven’t actually seen him though.”

Perryn sighed and closed his eyes. “Fifteen years ago…so much had happened at that time…the climax of the war…the Sage Knight ending the war and dying…Xeron…”

Rybin was silent at first, and then he said, “This is no time to muse, your Highness. I have more to report. The Corrupted have reformed.”

Perryn was jolted out of his thoughts. He went pale. “The…Corrupted? I thought they had been killed by the Sage Knight.”

Rybin shook his head. “Not killed, but banished; imprisoned in a parallel world. I have no idea how they managed to escape such strong magic, magic connected to the Mystics and the Lifecore.”

“It’s not surprising,” Reak interrupted. Perryn and Rybin turned to him.

“The Corrupted may take human shapes, but in reality they are ancient demons, directly connected to the Shadow. Rumor has it they’re creations of Cilithane himself.” He chuckled. “Why Cilithane would create such things is anybody’s guess. Truth is, they can withstand almost any earthly force.”

“So in other words,” said Perryn thoughtfully. “They don’t go down easily. I fear the worst now. Any other news you’d like to share?”

Rybin thought for a bit. He sometimes had trouble with memories. “Only that it won’t be long until war breaks out.”

Perryn was silent, like a grim statue. “Then all we can do is to wait and prepare…especially if we’re going up against the Corrupted.”

Rybin and Reak simply agreed.

ΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔΔ

Xeron followed the crowd of adolescents that had passed the Sessions. There were twenty-five, including himself, and they had to go through one final step in order to become official, Alpha rank Knights. Xeron didn’t know what this last step was, though.

They arrived at an extremely secure building towards the rear of HQ. It had only one floor, but it was surrounded by Omega rank Knights and top class sorcerers from the Institute of Magiscience. The big double doors were barred and magically protected by an invisible forcefield.

The bored man who was leading them said something to a sorcerer. The sorcerer nodded and walked to the door. He faced it and closed his eyes. Strange runes on the sorcerer’s skin that had never been visible before suddenly appeared, glowing with a blue aura. The sorcerer had pulled back his sleeves, revealing glowing runes on his arms. There were also runes on his forehead and cheek. They all were bright and eerie.

The sorcerer clasped his hands together, whispering something, perhaps an incantation. Then his hands jolted forward, slamming on the invisible forcefield. A shock of blue energy could be seen ejecting from the sorceror’s palms and encasing the forcefield in a bright blue light. It was so bright that Xeron and the other youths had to cover their eyes.

When the light waned, Xeron saw that the bar had lifted and the double doors had opened, revealing…another set of barred double doors, complete with a forcefield. Xeron sighed in frustration.

There were a total of six barred, magically protected, double doors, and each had to be opened with the same process. It was a tedious procedure, and already half an hour had withered away. Xeron wondered what was so important that it had to be protected to such an extent.

When all the doors had been opened, Xeron saw nothing inside but pure darkness.

“What’s in there?” a youth asked.

“The Plane of Reckoning,” replied the sorcerer. “An alternate world where it shall be decided whether or not you are worthy to wield an Olden Blade. What that world looks like depends on the visitor.”

The Olden Blades. The legendary swords that were made by Cilithane himself. The swords that only few would wield. Xeron was excited, but something nagged at him.

“Err…is it safe?” he asked.

The sorcerer chuckled. “Of course. If you’re chosen, you take the sword and come back the way you came. If not, then there’s no chance you’ll ever be chosen so you might as well come back.”

“How do you know if you’ve been chosen? How do you know which sword chose you?”

“Believe me,” replied the sorcerer. “You’ll know.”

After a few moments of chattering, a youth volunteered to go first. He was gone for about fifteen minutes, and then returned empty handed.

Another youth named Faldor Twig entered and came back ten minutes later, holding a three-foot long rapier with a green blade and blue hilt. It seemed to glow faintly.

“Ah,” said the sorcerer with interest. “The Earth Judge. Capable of manipulating forces of nature, usually rock and dirt. It suits you well, Faldor.” Faldor didn’t know how the sorcerer knew his name, but he nodded in agreement.

Xeron volunteered to go next. He was too excited and impatient to wait. The sorcerer frowned when he saw Xeron’s violet eyes, but he waved him in.

The light behind him faded instantly as he entered the darkness. He took a deep breath. It was cold. He shivered and pushed on into the shadows.

[Grimmjow Jaggerjack]

Lol, you are good at making me want to read more. xD

Few comments though:

First off: You shortened Knight's Legion of Ragnar to KLR...this is fine, but it normally isn't really welcome in a story. When shortening it, just vary from 'The Legion' or 'Ragnar's Knights' or whatever.

“Let’s wait until we get to his Highness, Perryn. His conference room is magically sealed to prevent sound from escaping.”

Perryn? Lol, whut? Was the king there?

Or did you mean to point out the name of the king? In that case leave out the ','. If you use a comma like you did, before a person's name, you are adressing that person.

They knocked on it thrice, and it opened by itself, revealing the room within. They entered.

They were in a wide chamber.

This is a bit unnecessary... You could've left out 'They entered' at the end of the paragraphs, and changed 'They where in' to that 'They entered' in the next.

Strange runes on the sorcerer’s skin that had never been there before suddenly appeared, glowing with a blue aura.

That's a bit weird, no? He has never ever had those runes on him? Better to say something like 'Strange runes which couldn't be seen before.' Or anything among those lines.


And finally, an important notice. I notice that your character sort of all talk the same way. Now when you are writing a story, the way your characters talk is the way you talk, most of the time, as that is your view on it. However, when writing stories, your own way of talking can only be good for a certain person, or a certain group, but not for everyone. Try to think more of how different people with different backgrounds, titles, lifes, jobs, talk...everything is of influence of the way they talk.

For example the king didn't look very 'kingly' to me. That might be just because of my vision of the king, which is normally a wise, strong person, who talks and acts righteous. I saw your king more as any other person, not very different from the bored man at the Knight's Legion.

I suggest that when you are thinking up a new character, create a short template for them. Who are they, what is there personality, why does he does this the way he does, etc. etc. Every person is different, thus every person acts different. You can do this with groups to.

For example with the sorcerers. They also looked like normal people to me, but I think a person who has magic abilities, has trained all his life to control those powers, is most likely wise and read many books because of his profession (And its the stereotype, lol.), isn't a normal person. Well, I don't know what they are like, it is your story, so again; maybe create a short template for the general sorcerer in your stories? This can be realised with a lot of profesions.

Well, all togheter a really nice chapter! I'm really beginning to like this story, and as I said you are good at making me want to read more, which is a very good trait for a writer. I'm looking forward to the next chapter!