Hmmm, lets see. I'll tell you what, I'll post the first little intro bit, which isn't as interesting as it could be on its own, and if you want the next bit at the beginning, tell me and I'll post that too. I personally concentrate on character development, I think. At least, I get too attached to them anyway... I won't keep you any longer. Read on and be nice :rolleyes:

Down in the slave quarters, a wail of a newborn baby pierced the silence. The second child to be born in the Mages’ Tower in the month, but the first in the month to be born into the slave life. Her exhausted mother relaxed onto the straw in the cell and drifted off to sleep, while her midwife took the baby into her arms and blessed her, as was customary for all followers of The Power. The Power was the being that had created the world, so it was told, and for that the majority made The Power their God, as it had been since a time beyond memory. She traced her fingers in the shape of a star on the little baby’s forehead, then sighed. A star. A sign of hope. Her hope had been aroused last week, when the Archmagess had given birth to a son. She had hoped that he would grow up differently to his parents. Especially his father. She had already dismissed the thought, though. She laid the baby on the straw next to her mother, and soothed her to silence, and then sleep. The midwife lay down next to the other two slaves, and soon drifted off into a wearied slumber.
A strange, misty light gathered in the room, wreathing itself into a beautiful face, neither male nor female. The Power looked down upon the newborn baby girl, and drifted slightly closer. The baby’s blue eyes flickered open, and she gazed up at the God who hovered over her. She giggled.
“Hush now, little one,” the God’s voice was a chorus of sounds, rushing water, wind and grass. “You have a great destiny awaiting you. Now, sleep.” The baby’s eyes shut instantly, and she was dozing again. The misty light rushed away from The Power’s image, and the cell was dark once more.

The baby girl was woken in the morning, having slept soundlessly through the night because of The Power’s command. Blearily, she looked up as her mother and the midwife were having an urgent conversation with another cellmate.
“Really? But what if…”
“Miri, the chance of your baby having magical potential is very slim, you know…”
“I don’t even like the chance! She’s my first! You know what they say what they do…”
“Miri, calm down.”
“Do as he says Miri, you’re still weak.”
“But…!”
The baby felt herself being lifted by her mother, then held tightly. “I won’t let them even see her!”
“Miri, don’t be stupid.”
“I won’t!” Miri’s two cellmates sighed almost simultaneously, and sat in the corner of the cell, holding a whispered conversation. She walked to the back of the cell with her baby in her arms, and slumped against the wall. “I just have this feeling…” she said to herself, and looked down at her tiny baby, who was surprisingly quiet. She frowned, then her eyes went blank. Tendrils of misty white clouded her eyes. “Teleport!” she uttered, then vanished.

there we go

Very good, so far! Intriguing...

Well done!

Not bad at all! I would keep reading on after that. First it captures the reader and then it makes them wonder what will happen next.

I have only one question…. Why did she not teleport earlier from the slave quarters? Did she want to hide her magical abilities? Or did her teleporting out come at a cost?

thats awesome!! i want more!!

twas The Power acting through her, using sorcery. Mirium herself possesses no magical ability. :)

now, enter my other character: (might be a bit long, I apologise for that)

17 years later
Xendar lounged at his desk, studying a book on sorcery, hidden inside a book of wizardly spells. His father has forbidden him to even think of learning sorcery, being a boring old wizard. ‘A Mage’, he called himself. He thought that he was the most powerful Mage ever, just because he was the Archmage who ruled the Mages’ Tower. Xendar held the opinion that his father was a pompous ass, and enjoyed expressing it, especially loudly. He also held the opinion that he would be the greatest Mage of all time, having studied wizardry – the art of memorising spells and using them to harness magic – and sorcery – an art of using determination and raw power. It didn’t matter to him that he was only seventeen last week.
There was a knock on his door and he slid the small book of sorcery in a secret compartment in his desk, then called out, “yes?”
A servant put his head around the door. “Master Xendar, the Archmage wishes to speak with you.”
“And…?” The servant frowned, unsure of what ‘and’ meant. Xendar sighed, “and where is he, then?”
“Awaiting you presence in the Great Hall.” The servant replied.
“Ah. Well, in that case, tell the fat bastard to get off his greasy pudding of an arse and speak to me here.” The servant blinked.
“Erm…if you would permit me to ask, Master Xendar,” Xendar nodded, “would you please write that down, you know, what with killing the messenger and such.”
“Of course.” Xendar picked up pen and parchment and wrote down his words, elaborating on the various insults. “Tell him that these were the orders I gave you.”
“Yes Sir. At once.” The door shut and Xendar sighed happily and put his feet up on the desk, grinning in anticipation to the arrival of his father. It was so satisfying to see the look on the old man’s face. He counted slowly to 10.
“One…two…three…four…” the messenger would be hurrying back to the Great Hall now, carrying the message. “Five…six…seven…eight…” His father would be reading it now, his face slowing turning red with anger. Xendar’s grin broadened. “Nine…ten.” There was a rush of magic as he felt his father summon the power to teleport himself, then he felt someone grab his ear hard. Very hard. He grimaced up at his father, “what was that for?” he asked.
“Shut up, insolent pup!” his father roared, “you’re lucky your mother’s so lenient, otherwise I’d let the torturers have their way with you!” The only reason his mother was lenient, Xendar knew, was because it amused her to see her husband in a fury. His father muttered the incantation to teleport, the world rushed past, and Xendar was thrown unceremoniously on the floor in front of the Archmage’s throne. He stood up, nonchalantly brushed the dust of his clothes, and looked up at his father, who was now seated on the throne, looking down on him. Xendar had a theory that his father needed to look down on people to feel superior, otherwise he would be insecure.
“What now, father?” he said, “I’d rather you didn’t interrupt my studies, you know. Especially so suddenly and rudely.”
His father snorted, “you’re a fine one to talk about rudeness! Look at this!” he brandished the message at his son. “Insulting me, the Archmage and your father,” he always thought of his responsibilities in that order, Xendar reflected, “and going so far as to order me to come to see you. I should have you flogged!”
“Don’t you dare,” said Xendar’s mother quietly, although she still made it sound like a threat. His father sighed, defeated.
“Why did you summon me, anyway?” Xendar asked them. His father shrugged.
“I can’t remember. Anyone?” He hated this. He really hated this. About half the time he was summoned to the Elder Mages’ presence, they forgot why they had done it.
“I can,” said Charia Silverwing, a Magess from a family who could all change into silver winged hawks, “it was about the day of the next full moon.”
“What? Oh yes.” said the Archmage.
“What, are you going to turn into a whale every full moon?” Xendar asked innocently.
“No I am not, whelp.”
“Anyway,” Xendar’s mother, the Archmagess, glided down the steps from the throne to her son. “We wanted to know if you’ve found a nice girl yet.”
“I didn’t want to know that.” The Archmage muttered.
Xendar raised an eyebrow; “why in the name of The Power do you want to know that? No I haven’t. And I don’t intend to. Why do I need a girl, anyway?”
“You’re seventeen, dear. Surely you haven’t studied all that time?”
“No, he’s been inventing new insults,” his father said darkly. Xendar glared at them both.
“Of course I have. I want to learn about magic. I want to use it, instead of sitting on a rapidly expanding backside in the Mages’ Tower.”
“You see?” said his father.
“Really?” the Archmagess said, “well, then you can come to the party we’re holding and meet the nobles’ daughters.”
“No I can’t.”
“And why is that?” her tone was dangerous now.
“I’ll be busy. Studying.”
“You’ve done twice as much studying as I ever did!” his father exclaimed.
“Well, that’s not hard, is it?” Xendar snapped. “I don’t see why you’re Archmage when there are probably lots of perfectly good Mages around. If you were ever in a duel, you’d just sit on your opponent, you wouldn’t use magic.”
“That is enough, boy!” His father stood up, pointed at him and muttered an incantation. Pain rocketed through Xendar’s body, and he collapsed onto the floor. He forced his lips to say the countercurse, but the damage was already done. His whole body ached. He sat up, painfully touched his skin and muttered a healing spell. As it ran though his body he glared up at his father, pointed, and muttered, “incineratum cloak.” He lay back on the floor and listened to all of the Elder Mages trying to put the fire out on his father’s cloak. Several spells mixed and produced colourful and sometimes strange results. He watched a purple chicken walk by his head, and smiled as it started to rain fish instead of water. He said a shielding spell and lay back to enjoy the show.

Later in the day, he was sitting in his room, reflecting on how the purple chicken had turned into a water-breathing dragon, and still trying to work out how it had happened. It must have been a simple water jet spell combined with…not a dragon summoning, surely. It must have been more complex. He stared at his diagram, a hideously complex web of lines between spells with crosses scarring the outcomes. He still couldn’t get it. He reached out toward a book of water spells, the paused and looked at the door. He could hear someone approaching it.
His mother, Archmagess Liadia, swept into the room in an elaborate trailing gown, the same deep blue as her eyes, the colour of which he’d inherited. “Xendar,” she said, “I do believe that it is past the time for a mother to son talk.”
“I thought that it was supposed to be father to son,” he said flatly.
“Well, your father’s in no fit state to talk to you now. You wear on his patience every time you speak…”
“…or breathe,” he added.
“and if you were more respectful, you might get a father to son talk. Otherwise, you will be an arrogant fool for life.” She sat on the edge of his bed. “I need to talk to you about this aversion to women you have.”
“It’s not an aversion to women. It’s just that I can’t be bothered. Admit it, women are demanding, especially noble women.”
“Well, you can be bothered to study, can’t you?”
“That’s easy. I memorise spells, I try them out, I go over old spells. Simple.”
“Well. You are coming to that party and you are meeting the girls, or I am confiscating every single book in your room, and I’ll put a spell on you so you can’t leave it.”
“So, how does that help me meet women then?”
“I’ll bring them to you so you can meet them.”
“Oh, in the name of The Power! Fine! I’ll go!” he exclaimed.
She smiled. “Good. Wear you best clothes,” the unsaid ‘or I’ll personally murder you’ was all too clear, “and be nice. Thank you for your time and…civility. Goodbye Xendar.”
“Oh, mother. Before you go,”
“Yes?”
“What exactly are my best clothes?”

Again, not bad, I would keep reading on. It seems interesting. Let’s see… give me a minuet to find something that could be better. It’s good writing….

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(1 hour later)

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I got it! It needs a little more detail in character thoughts.

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That’s it.

character thoughts? Is that in the conversations, because I tend to go get carried away and have a page-long convo thats all one-liners :S ah well. I'll look into it, perhaps, when I finish the story or perchance before, as I tend to leave them unfinished.

You want any more? Xendar does a lot more thinking later on, some of it quite humerous *inflates ego* *stamps on ego* but thats for you to judge.


Any sane man would have left the country by now. Xendar was really regretting giving in to his mother’s threat. If he was to get a girlfriend, if only to get his mother off his back, it would have to be one with brains, or at least a functioning mind. The lack of these two traits in the noblewomen here could not have been more obvious if it threw him off a balcony. If he was pressured into dancing with another vacant eyed girl whose only real care in life was her new hairdo, he would actually scream. Or break down and cry. He wasn’t sure which would be more dramatic yet. Maybe he could just do an evil laugh, throw lightning into the air and vanish in a puff of smoke, or maybe…maybe he would actually go mad.
Taking a glass of wine off the tray offered by a servant, he wondered if he could drink himself unconscious, then sighed. No matter what he did, his mother would find a solution. He could just hear her having a conversation a little way across the room.
“…really needs to settle down now, with a nice girl…” Hah! His idea of ‘a nice girl’ was probably the complete opposite of his mothers. He really really hated this. He wished that he could get away. Somewhere quiet, somewhere peaceful. He walked out onto a balcony and stared out at the stars, fervently hoping that not all girls were so materialistic and stupid.

Star walked down the garden path down to the chicken hutch. She really liked living in a cottage so far away from cities and towns, away from the bustling and scheduled lives. She poked her head into the hutch and peered around in the dim morning light that filtered into the wooden structure to see if there were any eggs for breakfast. Maybe she could even make a cake today. She stepped into the hutch and gathered the eggs laid by the fluffy feathered hens, then wandered back down to the door to her home.
As she neared the end of the garden path, her stepfather looked around the door. Well, he wasn’t really her stepfather, as he and her mother were not married, but Star suspected that they might do, sometime in the future. She knew almost for a fact that her adopted stepfather loved her mother. It would be nice, she reflected. “Ah, Star, there you are,” he said to her, a bit distractedly.
“I’m always down here at this time, Diozar,” she said, a bit suspiciously, “why wouldn’t I be?”
He frowned at her, “Oh yes, sorry.” That was strange, he was never absent-minded. He was in the habit of keeping his mind sharp, as he had been a famous adventurer and Mage when he was younger. He looked as if he was in his prime now, but he was, for a Mage. One hundred and fifty years old was considered the equivalent of being about thirty in the Mage communities.
What other people might find strange, however, was that her mother’s physical ageing seemed to be slow too, although she could not use magic. The reason for this was simple: The Power had acted through her when Star was but a day old, and she had used sorcery. Only once, but once was enough.
Diozar had taught Star all sorts of adventuring skills during her seventeen years, sword fighting, use of other weapons, wizardry, sorcery, as well as how to read, write and barter with shopkeepers, the latter being one of the most important, according to him.
She took her double-handful of eggs into the kitchen and gently put them in a box, then lit a fire in the oven, which was more a fireplace, with charred wire shelves for placing pots and pans and a hook for a kettle. She took a pan, drizzled oil into it and placed it on a shelf, then selected three eggs to fry. Diozar picked up some bread with tongs and began to toast it for breakfast. She grinned at the Mage.
“What a team we make, eh?”
“There couldn’t possibly be a better one, especially when it comes to breakfast.” He smiled at her. This had been the routine for years now, she and Diozar would make breakfast, because her mother liked to sleep late, and her mother would make lunch with her, and then whoever chose to make dinner the previous day would do so. This had resulted in some inedible disasters at dinnertime when she had been very young, but now she was, as Diozar said, ‘a master cook’.
Her mother wandered into the kitchen, still in her nightdress and dressing gown and her hair a mess. She walked up to Star and hugged her. “Star, you’re a saint. I love fried eggs!” She peered into a mirror at the end of the room, hung there especially for her, and began to sort out her hair. Star glanced at Diozar, who was watching her mother. There was a burning smell in the air. She kicked him and half coughed ‘toast!’ He jumped and pulled the bread out of the fire before it became totally black.
“I guess that’s mine,” he said. Star grinned wickedly at him. “What?” he said. She began to laugh, quietly. He glared at her.
“What’s all this?” Her mother was frowning at them now, “Stop laughing at the poor man, Star. Why are you laughing, anyway?”
“No reason,” with great effort, she stopped laughing and presented a straight face to her mother. “See? I’m not laughing.” Diozar nudged her and half coughed, ‘eggs!’ and Star whipped the frying pan off the fire just in time. “It’s all your fault,” she said teasingly to him. He just gave her a superior look and put another piece of toast onto the increasing pile beside him.

Xendar had slipped out of the Mages’ Tower this morning, to escape his father. He had the feeling that the old man was still in a mood with him. He didn’t usually throw plates at him during breakfast. Well, not often, anyway. He stopped in at the trading post to pick up some things to sell at the market place. They sold them to him cheaply, because of who he was, and Xendar felt that he should take full advantage of this, especially as he needed money to buy books about sorcery without his father knowing.

a bit long? You know, I actually have no chapters in this thing... :blink: ah well.

I've read this haven't I?

Did I not say WOW enuf the first time dagnammit :angry: do you not belive me u wacko :wacko: ahh well keep writing it....... and show me :D :P

heh...I might NOT let u read it Demon, just to taunt you :P

Ur writing is great Demon, don't u dagnammit me,

rahhhhhhhhh!

evil woman....
:P

I would post more, demon, but I can't find me usb wotsit... :o hmmmmmmm.I think its at home. (dammit! I was goin to write more of it too!) I'll post more 2moz. Perhaps.... :P

here it is:

Star was sitting in the garden, looking out at the surrounding forest, when she heard the soft pad of Diozar’s footsteps behind her. “You like her, don’t you?” she said.
“Er…excuse me?” He sat on the grass next to her. “What exactly are you talking about, and why?”
“My mother, Miriam.” He gestured for her to continue, so she looked over her shoulder to make sure that her mother wasn’t there, then explained. “My mother. Miriam. You. Like. Her.”
“Why of course I like her. If I hated her it would be just a bit inconvenient, eh?”
She gave him a flat look.
He sighed. “Look, I know what you’re trying to say…”
“Yes?”
“Don’t say it.”
“Whyever not?” she asked.
“Because I told you to.” He smiled at her, “And I am a wise old Mage,”
“You’re not that old.”
“…thank you…but you still have to do as I say, Star. I don’t like people meddling with my life, okay?” He looked so concerned that she might tell her mother that she laughed and threw her arms around him.
“Of course I won’t tell her, or meddle, or whatever!” She grinned wickedly. “I’ll just leave you two alone here for a few days!”
“And what is that supposed to mean?” She laughed and ran off down the garden and into the house with him hot in pursuit.
“I know that Mages are supposed to age slowly, but I didn’t think that it was mentally!” Star’s mother exclaimed as they hurtled into the living room and were both halted in their tracks and pulled onto the sofa by her. They landed with a thump.
“Mum!” Star exclaimed, rubbing her bottom exaggeratedly, “that hurt!”
“Of course it didn’t dear,” her mother said, “now, Diozar, you were meant to be telling Star something, and I didn’t think that it would make her run away, so…?”
“She has a habit of changing conversation topics before they’re started,” the Mage said, throwing Star a mock-suspicious look. She smiled at him innocently. “Anyway,” he looked Star straight in the eye, “Star, the time has come for you to go on your quest.”
She sighed, “I thought so. I’d like to stay with you two, but I guess that I’ll just have to go rid the world of evil and suchlike.”
“It’s just the Mages’ Tower that you have to rid of evil, Star,” said Diozar, “and I expect that The Power will want you to do a few more tasks for It along the way. You’ve learnt all I can teach you, and now you need to put you knowledge to the test in the real world. I shouldn’t worry too much; you’re a fantastic Magess and an amazing swordswoman. The world won’t know what’s hit it.”
“Thanks Diozar,” Star said, hovering between gratitude and embarrassment.

Both adults helped her to pack her bags, Diozar telling her to bring along some very strange things that he had found useful whilst ‘travelling around and making enemies’, as he put it, before adding friends to the list as well. He had always taught her about enemies, telling her to ‘know the enemy’ and ‘know who might just become your enemy’ and other such things, some stranger than others.
So, she had a long piece of string tucked into her belt in case someone crept up on her so that she could strangle them, and a lot of soap. Her mother had told her that if she came back stinking and not all the soap was gone she was going to make Star wash in a freezing lake. That started a conversation about how lakes were good for washing (more of Diozar's wisdom) but only if they weren’t too deep and weren’t full of flesh eating fish or water dragons. (Flesh eating fish? Star wondered about that.) And she should make sure that someone couldn’t sneak up on her. And she should make sure that she had a weapon handy. And she should… And she should… Star soaked up every last piece of information, because, as Diozar had said to her before, you never knew when things might come in handy.
After much emotion and plenty of hugs, she set off into the forest, along a dirt path to the nearest town, her bags – that had been lightened by a spell – slung across her back with a special strap that allowed her to drop it quickly in case of enemies. It was one of Diozar’s inventions that he had come up with whilst adventuring. Happily, she strolled along the path, alert and watchful, appreciating the beauty of the forest.

more on Xendar in next part, if anyone replies :P

where IS everyone? Hey,. i'm posting on my own topic to keep it UP, for goodness sake!

Right, I have more story and you're having it whether you want it or not!

Xendar was walking quickly through the crowded market place in the centre of town back to the Mages’ Tower as quickly as possible. The reason? He wanted to read his new books, and it wasn’t something he could do in plain sight. After all, sorcery was forbidden in his father’s realm, and if anyone caught him, the Archmage's son, sitting near the Mages’ Tower, reading a book about it, his father would make his life even more difficult. Oh yes, and there would be rumours. About mutiny and rebellion and suchlike. Xendar would rather not have any more rumours about himself, thank you very much. There were more than enough of the things already.
He had managed to buy some exquisitely fine jewellery at very low prices, because of who his father was, at the trading post. He had then sold it at a price just a little lower than most of the jewellery merchants in the marketplace. He smiled evilly. He had sat next to a particularly pompous merchant – who reminded him of his father, had he ever taken up commerce rather than magic – and gone just a little bit lower on his prices whilst the man was bartering with customers. The merchant had tried to beat him every time, though, unwilling to lose a customer. He had sold the necklace eventually, at a price that would lose him a lot of money. The lady who had been the merchant’s customer had given Xendar ten gold pieces for pulling the price down for her. He made a mental note to go back down to the market and torment more merchants sometime. Particularly pompous ass merchants.
He walked down an especially dark alleyway, threw the waiting thugs aside with magic, and carried on walking. He hoped that wherever they had landed hurt. A lot. He did a lot for this city at times, as he always made sure that he walked down at least one dark alleyway and knocked the muggers out. The strange thing was, they hadn’t learned to avoid him yet. Maybe it was too dark in the alleyways for them to recognise him. He walked up to the tradesman’s entrance to the Tower and slipped through the door.
“Morning Master Xendar,” he whirled around, then stopped, relived, as he saw that the person who had greeted him was an ordinary servant girl, not one of his fathers spying servants. They followed him into town sometimes, but he lost them in the dark alleyways. His father could not tell him to stop knocking them out, as Xendar ‘presumed’ that they were muggers too, and for his father to tell him not to touch them would be for his father to admit that he had people following him, and the Archmage would never do that. “Your father’s looking for you, sir,” the servant girl said, “he told us all.”
“What have I done now?” Xendar groaned. She smiled.
“I think that he wants you to do something for him, sir, as he worded the message we were to give you extremely civilly. Overly civilly, now that I think about it.”
“Tell him I’ll be there in a minute,” he said to her, and she hurried off down the corridor. He muttered the incantation for a teleportation spell, light flared around him, and he was in his room. The thing that he didn’t like about wizardry was that it was showy, with flashing lights and booms and smoke. Sorcery was all control using the mind. Not like the psychic powers that some people claimed to have, but using your will to control the magical power. Xendar had a strong will, which was why sorcery didn’t scare him. His father had banned it because it was harder to spot than some fool wizard waving his arms about with smoke and fire flashing at his fingertips. He was afraid of it. Sorcery could be done with words, but only to aid your mind. It was all about the mind. Xendar knew that he possessed a quite brilliant mind, his mother had admitted it to him, so he must be good. The trouble was, he never got any practise in real life fights except the ones against his father – in which he could only use wizardry – and when his father sent him on some boring errand. He hated being used like that.
The Archmage most likely wanted him to go on some errand for him now, killing an enemy perhaps. Xendar had done it before. As they were not his concern, he had always given the people painless deaths. These days, as it was still not his concern, he usually let them go, as long as they either paid him a lot or sent him information about what was happening in the world. He took back ‘proof’ of their deaths to his father, who gave him yet more money for it. It was a good arrangement.
He slipped his new books on sorcery into a secret compartment, magically locked and warded it, and then used the teleportation spell again to get to what Xendar liked to think of as ‘the throne room’. It was actually called the Elder Mages Chamber, where the Archmage and the Elder Mages sat and discussed the most boring possible topics.
He appeared in the centre of the room, standing in front of his father, who was seated on a high backed elaborate chair, more a throne, with the Elder Mages seated in two lines, facing inward and sloped so that those at the back could see. “Ah, Xendar,” said his father from Up On High. “Look at this.” Xendar was glad that he had quick reflexes, otherwise the wad of paper that was thrown at him would have been in his mouth. He was sure that his father had aimed, too.
He snatched the paper out of the air and leafed through a file that basically listed all ‘crimes’ that one Mage had ‘committed’ against the Archmage. The only vaguely serious ones that Xendar could see was apparently practising sorcery, which he was guilty of himself, and being a leader of a group of Mages that disagreed with the Mages’ Tower system and slavery policies and held meetings about it. Xendar knew all about these Mages. His contacts whose lives he spared practically sent him the script of what was said at the meetings. He knew who all of the powerful Mages were that opposed his father, and, to be completely honest, wanted to meet them. Xendar revelled in the knowledge that he could be invaluable to them, and he was waiting for the day that they contacted him. He knew that it would come sometime in the future, just not when exactly. He had heard of this Mage, but he was not too high up in the society. Most of the main leaders were adventuring Mages who had survived dragons and other ferocious beasts to middle age, and were now turning their gaze to world affairs. They would be formidable, if they chose to strike at the right time. The only reason his father wanted this Mage killed was that he was in the city, most likely spying on the Mages’ Tower.
“Very nice,” he said to his father, “I’m glad to see that people can gather information and write it down. What is it that you want? For me to kill him? Or just for me to come here so that you could throw this…thing at me?”
“You are either extremely foolish or extremely insolent, Xendar. Maybe both. Of course I want you to…do away with him. That’s what you’re here for.”
“It is?” Xendar exclaimed in mock amazement. “And I thought that I was just a target for you, father. Well, you learn something new every day. Goodbye.” Then he walked out of the room, just as his father started yelling at him.

*folds arm stubbornly* I don't care if you don't post. I wub my story.

It was late evening, and Star was thinking about setting up for the night. It was moderately warm tonight, with a faint breeze that rustled the tree branches and cooled the air. She was just considering setting up camp, and whether or not to build a fire, when she saw something glinting up ahead. She dashed forward, then looked warily through the trees. It was a small building, and it looked like a temple to The Power. It had her namesake, the five-pointed star of The Power, hanging over the doorway. She peered inside. No one was in there, the chapel was silent. Not the ominous, deathly kind of silence, but more of a peaceful, gentle silence that filled the temple. Star could feel The Power’s love for It’s world radiating off the altar at the centre of the temple, where a priest might preach, or people might pray.
There was a window near the roof that framed the moon, allowing its light into the temple. The altar shone in the moonlight. It looked as if it was glowing magically. Star slowly approached the altar. She gasped. Laid upon on the marble was the most beautiful sword that she had ever seen. It gleamed brightly in the moonlight, polished to perfection. The hilt and pommel were covered in gemstones and carvings, the most prominent being the five-pointed star. She dearly wanted to hold it, but she didn’t know if such an item of beauty, no doubt created by The Power Itself, should be held by a mere mortal.
“Take it,” the voice was the rush of wind through grass, the trickle of water through a streamlet. Star whirled around. No one was there. “The sword is for you, made especially for your coming here, for your coming to this world. Take it.” Star turned back to the altar, and felt down upon her knees. There was an ethereal face hovering above the altar.
“I am honoured by your presence, Divine One,” she said, overwhelmed.
“Nonsense. How else could you know your exact quest?” The Power drifted closer, and Star looked up at the beautiful face before her.
“My exact quest?”
“Yes. Take the sword. It is blessed by my magic. It will also identify you as my Chosen.”
“Chosen?”
“Yes, Star. Chosen. You were born to rid the world of evil, and that evil, the very heart of it, lurks in the Mages’ Tower. But you are not to go there yet. Travel the world, gain experience in magic and fighting. You will need every last drop of skill to defeat that ultimate evil.”
“But how will I know who is evil?” Star asked The Power.
“You have been born with the ability to see souls, Star, you know that.”
“But they all look the same! White and glowing with perhaps a few scars here and there for bad deeds that have been forgiven or forgotten.”
“You have not seen the soul of an evil being, Star. It is rotten and blackened, ruined beyond repair. It is not scarred, but wounded forever.”
“I will remember that.”
“Good. Now, take the sword, and go, my Chosen.” The mist that formed the face dissipated into the air, and Star was alone once more. Her hand closed on the sword, and the pommel stone flared.
“Well, no going back now,” she said.

Xendar slipped into the hotel in the centre of town, hooded so that no one could see his face. He pulled the hood down and strolled up to the desk that sat opposite the door. He smiled at the receptionist, the very essence of charm and goodwill. “Good evening,” he said smoothly, “I’m here to see a friend, name of Ardrian Drancorth.”
“Oh yes,” she said, “he said that he might have some visitors. But he wants them all to answer this question for…what was it? Security reasons, yes.”
“Ah well, he must be getting paranoid. What is it?”
“It was: what was the name of the dragon that he killed whilst adventuring?” Xendar gave this a bit of thought.
“He didn’t kill a dragon, and if he said that he did, he’s lying.” He grinned, “Am I right?”
“Yes, you are. He’s in room six. Take the stairs over there,” she pointed to his right, “and it’s the first one on the left.”
“Thank you very much,” he said, and strolled up the stairs, turned left, and ended up facing a door that had a six on it. He slipped a knife up his sleeve, just in case things got out of hand. Then he opened the door and stepped through it. Ardrian Drancorth looked up from his desk, and then nearly fell of his chair.
“You! I was warned about you! You’re here to kill me, aren’t you? Well, I’ll take you with me!” He started rummaging through a half-unpacked bag that sat next to him, presumably for a weapon. Xendar just watched him. He was used to these hysterical outbursts. He muttered a spell and looked straight through the bag. He could see a short sword packed in it, right at the bottom. He could also see Drancorth’s fumbling hand.
“Right a bit,” he said, “no, your other right, no, that’s forward, back a bit, then right.” The man’s hand closed on the sword hilt and he flourished it at Xendar. It might have been more impressive had there not been several items of clothing hanging off it.
“Aha!” he said, “gotcha!” Xendar didn’t say a word. He just reached forward and brushed the clothes off the sword, then inspected it.
“Quite good craftsmanship,” he said, “as long as the owner knows how to use it, quite a good weapon. Now, can you put it down?”
“Whyever would I do that?” Drancorth exclaimed.
“Because I don’t want to kill you.”
“You don’t?” The sword was lowered slightly.
“No, my father wants me to kill you. It’s not the same.” The sword sprang back up. “What I’m trying to say is, I am perfectly happy to let you go as long as you give me something to prove to my father you’re dead. This shouldn’t be much of a problem, as I never have brought back body parts. It’s too messy, what with the blood and such. A piece of jewellery perhaps, or another item that would be on your person that would identify you.”
“Alright then!” Drancorth put down the sword and started patting his pockets to find something that fit the description.
“Not so fast.” Xendar smiled, “I don’t let people walk away for free, you know. I take payment in either gold or information.”
“Information?” Drancorth looked bewildered.
“On what’s going on in the world, especially concerning the…’rebel’ groups.”
“I can’t tell you that! You’ll pass the information on to your father, and we’ll all be slaughtered.”
“Oh come on! Why would I do that? Do you think that I want him to rule for another hundred years or so? Another hundred years in which I’m sent to do the little errands which are ‘beneath him’? I’d rather not spend the rest of my life as an involuntary assassin, you know.”
“Yes, you might get sent to someone who kills you,” said Drancorth thoughtfully.
“Such as?”
“The Avenger!” The name made the Mage’s face light up. It meant nothing to Xendar.
“I’m sorry, who?” he said, frowning. It sounded like something dreamt up by a bored priest who wanted to be heard and so made up a new prophet for The Power.
“The one who will come and rid the world of evil!” Ah yes, though Xendar, I was right. Drancorth noticed his incredulous look. “He’s appeared in all of the divinations possible. Even in tea.”
“Tea?”
“Want some?”
“No thank you. All divinations? Even…er…entrails and such?”
“Oh yes. Although the entrails one wasn’t done like it used to be. We bought a ready prepared chicken from a farmer. The stuffing was really very good…”
“You read stuffing?”
“Why not?”
Xendar sighed. “Alright, alright. Send any information you have about this ‘Avenger’ to this address.” He pulled a piece of parchment out of his pocket and put it on the desk. “Even stuffing readings, if you really want to.”
“You’ll find it extremely interesting, I can guarantee you that.”
“I’m sure I will. Have you got some ‘proof of death’ yet?”
“Ah yes, here you go,” Drancorth passed him a ring. Xendar examined it closely. It had a crest on it that he recognised from the information about the man that he’d been given.
“Very good,” he said.
“I could put some blood on it, if you like.” Drancorth looked much too eager, in Xendar’s opinion.
“No, that’s okay. Keep it for reading about this ‘Avenger’ in it.”
“What a good idea!” Xendar hurriedly closed the door to room six. The Avenger? Ah well, he’d hopefully get more information soon. He walked down the stairs, smiled at the receptionist, pulled his hood up, and stepped out into the pouring rain. Great. At least it gave him an excuse to have a hooded cloak on. He walked back down the street to the Mages’ Tower. This Avenger thing might have something to it, you never knew with these things.

you know i would reply to these posts but i have read these before, what comment can i make this time that i didn't last time.

Oh, I didn’t realize you added more or I would have read it and replied. I will read it tonight.

Well, I've just spent an enjoyable half hour or so reading the story. Xendar is really funny, and with a touch of wickedness about him that makes him believable as a person.

I do have to agree with Lugana that sometimes the conversations feel like they need more description.

But other then that, brilliant. I look forward to the next part of the story! :D

yah, I get carried away with convo's :P

\atm in the story (that I have written, yet not posted so far) I think I need to get Xendar's 'bad' side in a bit more, cos its so fun!

More:

A few days later, a whole pile of information was waiting for Xendar at a house that he had rented out, away from his father’s reach. It lay just outside the City, and was full to bursting with bookcases and files. It was where Xendar kept things that he could not risk being found in his room, such as the books on sorcery that he had read from cover to cover several times, and important information, left in the barn next to the house by the people that he had been sent to kill by his father, and who now sent him valuable facts about the world and how it was at the moment. Such as who was in power in various circles and who headed the resistance against slavery and the ban on sorcery.
There were many famous Mages under that list, such as Zoradon Phoenixwing – whose speciality was fire based spells, and liked to use Phoenixes as message carriers, hunting birds and friends. If you heeded rumour, he could change into one as well. Alissa DragonTamer – who, by reputation, had tamed a dragon and was now living in its cave on a far island, but maybe not so far now, as she seemed to be appearing at a lot of meetings – and Diozar, who was known by many names, the most prominent being Tigerseye, because, according to legend, he used to have a tigress companion on his adventures, a creature created by magic – sorcery, Xendar presumed – with armour on her body and a jewel crowning her forehead. According to some people, he could see out of her eyes if he wished.
Now there was a Mage that Xendar wanted to meet. Diozar Tigerseye. (Or Diozar Dragonsbane or Stormrider, they were all the same person.) But he doubted that he would ever get the chance, especially considering who his father was. Diozar would most likely sooner kill him than discuss things with him.
Xendar leafed through the information. The majority of it was details of divinings that had been done about this Avenger. Xendar was very thorough in his reading of them, and soon realised that this person was not actually named the Avenger in them. In fact, he was not named at all. All that it specified was that he was chosen by The Power to rid the world of evil, and would be a Mage, and most likely a fighter too. Xendar sighed. As soon as his father heard of this, bam! He would be sent to kill the Avenger. And his father would want a head or something so that he could know identity. Xendar doubted that this Avenger could be persuaded to make a deal, anyhow. Especially with The Power at his side.
“And in the hand of the Chosen One will be a sword that shines bright with power and strength, a sword that will smite any who get in its path,” he read out loud. That had been a divining from an oracle, and, surprisingly enough, that part of it was not too vague. A sword that shines bright with power and strength? Whatever would that look like?

Star had wound cloth around the swords hilt and pommel, and also around the scabbard that she had found, resting against the altar. If she hadn’t, she might just have attracted a little unwanted attention from the gang of thieves that she had passed by. They had half heartedly done the whole ‘your money or your life’ thing, and then given up when Star offered to leave them their lives in exchange for safe passage and waved the cloth covered sword around at neck level.
She was now in an inn in the village of Hartlewood, snuggling up in a nice soft bed for the night. She had laid the scabbarded sword next to her and had one hand resting on it. She thought that she could feel The Power watching over her. She smiled, then wondered how her mother and Diozar were doing.

Diozar Tigerseye was just drifting off to sleep when Miriam came into his room, a candle in her hand. His eyes flickered open and he looked up at her, her eyes were reddened from crying. “I miss her so, Diozar,” she said to him. “Do you think my little baby will be alright out there?”
He sat up, motioned for her to sit down on the bed and took her hand, “Star will be fine. She’s not a little girl any more, Miriam, and she’s a damn good Magess and fighter. She knows how to take care of herself. She’s probably asleep on a comfy bed right now, dreaming of magic.” Miriam flung her arms around him and started crying again. “What did I say?” he asked her.
“Nothing, it wasn’t what you said,” she replied tearfully.
“Okay, okay, come here.” He put on arm around her and found a handkerchief with the other. “There you go.” She sniffed a thank you and wiped her face with it.
“Can I stay here?” she asked him.
“What?”
“Can I sleep here tonight? With Star gone I feel terribly lonely.”
“But…but you two didn’t sleep in the same bed,” he said, confused by female logic.
“No, but it’s that you’re near me, so that I know you’re there. Please? If you don’t want to then I’ll just…”
“No, no, it’s okay, you can sleep here if you like.” She smiled and hugged him. Diozar was now very aware of how much he liked her, but he wasn’t about to tell her that. Not now. Maybe not ever, but especially not now. That would be taking advantage of her sadness. He laid back down in bed and let her cuddle up to him. Now he understood. He was being used as a comforting thing, like a child’s toy or blanket. He wondered if Miriam had ever had a toy or blanket in her childhood then dismissed the thought. She had been a slave at the Mages’ Tower, of course she hadn’t. He had just shut his eyes to go to sleep again when she kissed him on the cheek. He stared at her. She kissed him again. What was it that Star had said? Oh yes, ‘I’ll just leave you two alone here for a few days’. And it seemed that she had been right. Or maybe Miriam was just tired and feeling alone. He decided that it was the latter, wrapped his arms around her and lulled her to sleep.


aw, ain't that cute. More to come if you post ;)

Spellings good. Flow needs a little work though.

Ex:

Diozar Tigerseye was just drifting off to sleep when Miriam came into his room, a candle in her hand


My suggestion:

Diozar Tigerseye was just drifting off to sleep when Miriam came into his room with a candle in her hand.


You view point is a little unstable. Unless your novel is truly epic (About 2000 to 3000 pages), I would suggest only one, two tops.

Everything else looks great and I love the idea. Keep it coming.

My spelling is always good. I'm an obsessive compulsive spelling freak. That's why I correct you guys. :P
And, I write how I speak, and worship the comma, so you're gonna have to gte used to that flow thing, cos I like it :D lol! Sorry. I'll change it all and muck around with it once I've finished the story...next year, perhaps if I'm lucky. My stuff is written to be read aloud, so the commas help. Anyway...

In the morning, he got up as quietly as possible, got dressed, and went down stairs to make breakfast. He had just lit the fire when he heard footsteps behind him. “Good morning Miriam,” he said, “I…” She was dressed. In all of those seventeen years that he had known her she had taken advantage of the luxury of sleep and had only really risen from bed because she was hungry. But there she was, dressed in one of the most beautiful dresses that he had bought her when she first arrived and her stomach had gone back to its normal size after pregnancy. She looked…radiant. He told her so.
“Thank you very much Diozar,” she said, “oh, and, thank you for last night. You were really very nice to me.”
“What, do you expect me to go evil after all these years?” he said.
“No, it’s just…I remembered what I said to you and it must have seemed very confusing.” She smiled at him. “But I’m okay now. Its just that I suppressed all of my fears over Star and I was just laying there, thinking about her and I just…just started crying.”
“That’s okay, Miriam. As long as you’re alright now.” She pointed at the fire. He snatched the toast – now charcoal – off the grill. “I guess that’s mine,” he said.
She smiled, “you used to burn at least one bit every day, when you and Star were doing breakfast. Why was that?”
“Tradition,” he said. She laughed.
“No, really,” she said, “why was it?”
“I used to allow myself to get distracted,” he said, “either by a thought or a memory or a…” Suddenly she was in front of him.
“Yes…?” she said.
“Or, erm…” She laughed and put her arms around his neck.
“Did I ever distract you, Diozar?”
“Why would you distract me?” he said, perhaps a little too quickly. “You’re just, um…”
“A woman?” she said slowly, “I’m just a woman, right? And you’re a man, not an immortal, whatever the legends say.”
“What is it that you’re trying to…” he was cut off when she kissed him. “…say?”
“Do you like me, Diozar?”
“In what way?”
“The way I like you.”
“Which is…?”
“I thought that I’d made that obvious enough,” she kissed him again. Okay, okay, he thought, she’s not doing this because she’s sad or lonely, because she’s over that. So make your move you fool!
“I might do,” he said, pulling her close to him and kissing her back.
“Good,” she said.

When Star woke up, The Power was waiting for her, hovering above her bed. “What is it?” she said sleepily, her hand brushing the bound scabbard of the sword as she stretched out.
“I see that you have disguised the sword I gave you. A good idea, especially with all the divining people are doing about you.”
“What?” Star sat bolt upright. “What divining?”
“They are using as many ways as is possible to find out about you. I have protected you, however. They do not know that you are a female. They all presume that you are male.”
“Is that a good thing?”
“Yes. Now they think that you are male, and that it was said somewhere in the divinings. You will not be suspected.”
“Oh. Alright then.” Star swung her legs over the side of the bed. “Anywhere I should specifically head?”
“No. But I suggest that you think up a disguise for when you want people to see you and think that you are the one that the divinings prophesised. I also suggest that it is neither specifically male nor female.”
“Like you. I could have a mask of your face. As I am your…Chosen.”
“A good idea. I will see you again soon, my Chosen. Good luck.” The misty face dissolved into the air. Star hopped out of bed, got thoroughly washed – another piece of Diozar's wisdom: if you have the chance to wash in a nice warm bath, make the most of it – and then dressed in a simple shirt and trousers combo. She tugged on some boots and slung the sword over her back, then looked in the mirror. She was a proper adventurer now, with a beautiful, possibly magical sword. Nothing would get in her way. She took the sword off her back and laid it on her bed, then warded it with magic so that only she could use it or even touch it. Then she headed downstairs for breakfast.
After an incredibly satisfying fried breakfast, she paid the innkeeper, packed her bags, lightened them with sorcery, and set off down the dirt path, her sword slung across her back. She wasn’t exactly sure where she was headed, but she knew that it was the right direction, somehow. Diozar had always told her to trust her instincts, so she did, whilst thinking up a design for an outfit to fool people into thinking she was male without looking male. That way it was entirely their fault. She supposed that she could wear a voluminous robe of some kind. It would have to be airy material, but also quite a lot of it so that it totally hid her body and the back of her head. She had it! She concentrated hard on the image in her mind. A mask like The Power’s face, but metallic and solid, of course. And all of the rest would be white, like the mist that formed The Power’s face when it appeared to her, and long enough to cover her from head to toe, with a hood. She focused on this image very hard and called the magic to her. Wizardry would be no good for this sort of thing because it stuck to rules and words, and it would take ages to specify what she wanted in all those obscure old words. Sorcery, however, would be perfect. She commanded the magic to obey her, then showed it what to do. Suddenly she was hooded and masked. The outfit was very comfortable, considering how big it was. She unsheathed her sword and tried a few moves with it. Her outfit did not hinder her in any way. But that was what she had wanted, wasn’t it? This was why she loved magic so much.
“Who dares to use magic in my realm?” boomed a voice, and the golden head of a dragon reared up through the tree branches. Its yellow eyes studied her for a moment, then the rest of its body emerged from the forest. It was a magnificent beast, about twenty feet long from head to tail, its scales a shining gold. “I was told that you would be coming, Chosen.”
“You were?” she said, most surprised by this.
“Yes. You are not the only one that The Power chooses to converse with. Come, little mortal. I offer you the hospitality of my cave. Other mortal humans such as yourself have found it comfortable enough.”
“You’re not going to…eat me, are you?” she said warily.
“Oh, no. I am a golden dragon, therefore I am on the side which you would call…the good side, I believe. I am a devoted servant of The Power. Besides, I never did like human flesh. I tried it once, and the taste was appalling. What do you mortals do to yourselves to make your taste so bad? Other animals are perfectly fine, but humans? No, they have to be different.” The dragon glanced at her, “I fear that I am either losing your attention or disgusting you. You humans are so delicate at times. Come, Chosen, my cave is large enough for three.”
“Don’t you mean two?”
“Oh, no. I already have a human mortal living with me. He has interesting things to say to me. I fear that he may be a Mage, and I do not like magic to be used near me, but he knows and respects that. Either he is a Mage or he has found a way to live many centuries and manipulate magic in a different way. Follow me.” Star followed.

Diozar was sitting at the desk in his study when Miriam came in. “What are you doing?” she said. A large map of the world was spread out in front of him and he had a crystal pendulum in his hand that was circling one part of the map. The crystal on the pendulum glowed softly.
“I’m trying to find Star,” he said, “all your worrying has made me think of the dangers that might be out there, although of course she has The Power on her side. So I thought that I’d send Sasha to help her. They know each other, and she’s always been a help to me.”
“Your tigress?” Miriam leaned over his shoulder. “Where is she?”
“Sasha or Star?”
“Both.”
“Sasha is out in the forest somewhere, I let her come and go as she pleases, and she’ll appear when I summon her. Star is where the crystal is pointing on the map. Dragon country, we used to call it.” Miriam gasped in shock. “Don’t worry, not all dragons are bad, you know, and she’ll always have The Power on her side. I want to send Sasha along to help her fight Mages, as she’s resistant to magic.”
“Really? I never knew that.”
“That’s because I didn’t let it get around. The only people alive who know are my closest friends. The other people who found out were Mages who opposed me and found it out too late.”
“Oh. Well, I hope Star is okay,” said Miriam.
“I can tell you that she’s alive, if that helps.”
“Not much. But I suppose that it is something.” Miriam sighed, “I hope that she teaches those bastards at the Mages’ Tower a lesson!”
“Miriam, language. Although I suppose it is appropriate. You know, you’ve never sworn about anything other than the Mages’ Tower.”
“Do you blame me?” she asked him.
“Definitely not.” He smiled at her. “Now, I’m going to have to summon Sasha so that I can send her to Star.”
“Will you need anything?”
“Magic, common sense and good memory, I think.”
“Well, I hope you’ve got all three. I’ll be in the living room if you need me for anything,” she kissed him on the cheek, “good luck, Diozar.” As she left, he wondered if he would need it, then gestured to a circle chalked on the floor. The chalk glowed. He needed it to specify where Sasha would appear, otherwise she might just be summoned in mid air above his head or something. He had done it before, but with a small bird, so he didn’t suffer any injury. A full-grown magical tigress was another thing entirely, though. He spoke the familiar incantation, and his old friend appeared in front of him in a flash of magic.
“Sasha,” he said, “Star needs you.”

The dragons had to come into it at some point, didn't they?

One question though. Is the mask that Star creates physical, so others can touch it, or is it just for visual purposes?

Keep up the good work. :D

p.s I've been reading the story out loud, so I don't find the flow too bad, but I think many of the commas could be replaced by ; just to add a little variety.

yeah, they prob. could, I just follow Word for that :rolleyes: stupid I know.

Star followed the dragon back to her cave. Her name turned out to be Lacuiniaxira, or just Lacuinia for short. ‘Humans cannot cope with large words very well, maybe it is because their mouths are so small’ as Lacuiniaxira had said to Star. The c in her name was pronounced as a soft s, as most C’s were in dragon names, according to Diozar, at least. At the moment Star was trying to sort through her knowledge of dragons and their habits and traditions. She wasn’t getting very far. Not much was known about dragons, or, at least, humans didn’t know much.
They were approaching the cave entrance when magic flared in the trees. Lacuiniaxira’s head whirled to face it and she snarled, “More magic!” Then something burst through the trees. It took Star but moments to realise what, and indeed who, it was.
“Sasha!” She threw her arms around the tigress’s powerful shoulders and hugged her tightly, and combed her fingers through the luxurious fur around the tigress’s neck. Sasha was a very special tiger, with the usual rust-orange fur striped with black, but her belly and throat were white, with the stripes continuing though it. Star had once asked Diozar why her colouring was like this, and he had told her that he hadn’t been able to choose between the snowy white tiger and the fiery orange one, and so had gone with both. Sasha also had armour over the top of her head, extending to the centre of her forehead and down her back to her tail. There was a jewel in the centre of her forehead that throbbed with magic at the moment, because the sorcery used to teleport her took a while to diffuse back into the general magic in the air. She was slightly larger than a normal tiger, and her eyes were like two shining pieces of amber. “Did Diozar send you to me?” Star asked the tigress. Sasha rumbled an affirmative and wrapped her tail around Star’s legs.
“A magical tiger? Well, you see something new and unusual every day,” a man was leaning against the cave entrance. His clothes looked well worn but not too shabby, and he looked as if he was middle aged, progressing slowly into old age. He must have been the Mage that Lacuinia had living with her. “Now, there’s something I’ve heard about magical tigers, what was it…?” He seemed to be deep in thought for a while, then snapped his fingers. “Oh yes! That Tigerseye chap had one, didn’t he?”
“Yes, this is her,” Star untangled her legs from Sasha’s tail and walked up to the man. “Pleased to meet you Mr…”
“Just call me Wolf. Most people do.”
“Wolf? Why?” He smiled and then his shape flickered. A wolf with silvery fur was now standing where he had been. Its shape flickered back to human.
“Does that answer your question?” he asked her.
“So, it’s what you’re either famous for or your favourite magic, then.”
“Yes. Just like the famous adventuring Mages who acquire surnames like titles, I have my name. Phoenixwing, Tigerseye…Dragonsbane.” He smiled at that last name. “I believe that the latter is Diozar’s too?”
“Yes. He killed an evil dragon or two whilst adventuring, I think.” Star looked up at Lacuinia.
“He did, and they were, truly, evil dragons. They killed their own kin for power. I do not usually say this, but the deaths of those two dragons did make the world a better place. He was right to kill them,” the dragon said.
“So,” said Star thoughtfully, “how come you didn’t comment on him shapeshifting? That’s magic, and you don’t seem to like it.”
“We have reached an agreement,” said the great golden dragon, “I allow him to shapeshift in my realm, but only for hunting, defense, or showing off.”
“Hey! That last one was never in the agreement!” exclaimed Wolf.
“And yet you do it,” Lacuiniaxira said pointedly, “and I let you.” He grumbled a bit, then let up and walked into the cave. “Come in,” said the dragon. “You may stay as long as you want or need to.”
“Thank you very much,” Star said as she followed Lacuinia into her cave.

When Xendar next returned to his little safe house, there were piles and piles of information waiting for him in the barn. Every single page mentioned the ‘Avenger’. He sighed. Soon his father would hear of this and he would most likely send out Xendar to track him down. There were no clues of identity, nothing on physical appearance or personality. All of the divinings had been written as prophecies, with thee’s and thou’s and other flowery additions. It was hard to separate the basic information given in the divining from the overexcited ramblings of a zealot with an Olde Worlde dictionary.
He collapsed onto the hay. He hadn’t even moved the stuff inside to be filed yet. He had spent far too long leafing through it. He muttered a spell to teleport the paper inside, then spoke the incantation for a slightly different spell to transport himself into his room in the Mages’ Tower. Someone had left dinner for him, with a note. He looked at the wax seal and groaned. It was from his mother, probably demanding to know where he’d been all day. That could wait until tomorrow. He ate his dinner – cold chicken with potatoes and some kind of vegetable, then something done with fruit for dessert. He then wearily got changed, slipped into bed, and fell asleep, the Avenger haunting his dreams.


oh, and Lugana, when you said about view points, do you mean like jumping from one character to another? Cos I do that ALLLLLL the time. Again, sorry people :P

Yes, that is exactly what I meant. The viewpoint character is the most important character in the book because once you choose who it is, he or she becomes the main character. He/she is the window into your world. Let’s Xendar went to go fight a Dragon by his self and Star, our viewpoint in this example, was not there to see it. She would not know what happened during the fight unless someone tolled her about it. Now if Xendar were our view point character, we would know how he fought the Dragon and how he felt when the Dragon’s foot hit him, but he wouldn’t know what Star was doing at the moment.

I have the same problem in my book. My main viewpoint is a man named Clairc, but I often want to do a chapter as Lugana. My story has two view points. If your going to pick a second view point, make sure the mind a different. Clairc is a military man, but my second view point, Shirley, is a wild free sprit with too much energy. They see things completely different. Let’s say Clairc saw a panting of a green meadow on the wall. He would leave it at that and let his mind wonder somewhere else, but if Shirley saw that panting, she might just think that meadow the most beautiful thing she has ever seen and stare at it, picking up every little detail about it.

To warp it up, the viewpoint, or viewpoints, are the most important things in a story.

I hope that helped you. :D

yeah, I get exactly what you mean, and, um...apologies for the rest of all the writing I put up concerning viewpoints. I like to skip from 1 character to another in a scene so that you get a clear perspective on how it is affecting them, especially with my two main characters, Star and Xendar :rolleyes: But I do make it clear who is who because (obviously) one is he and one is she. Howsat?

Oh, and aleana, sorry I forgot to reply to your query, but its physical. She doesn't want people trying to pull it off and poking her in the eye. So is the robe. :)

“So, why don’t you like magic?” Star asked Lacuiniaxira as she ate some of the meat that had been roasting on the fire. Lacuiniaxira had lit it herself, and Wolf had fetched the meat. He was eating his raw, in wolf form, a little way away from the fire.
“One of my great ancestors was murdered by it. He was a good dragon, and a devout servant of The Power but the Red dynasty wanted his territory. It had good hunting, and many rich nobles that they could bully and threaten for glittering tribute. So they hired a corruptible Mage and my great ancestor was murdered for no reason but greed. The Gold and Red dynasties have been in a blood feud ever since. Zarith the Red leader sent an assassin for me barely months ago, but Wolf chased him off.” She looked at the Mage in a way that could only be described as fond, which seemed strange, coming from a dragon. He shifted into human form to speak.
“He didn’t even deserve the name assassin. One look at a snarling wolf and he was off!” He suddenly seemed to become aware of the blood around his mouth, and wiped it off on a sleeve.
“You had better wash that coat,” Lacuiniaxira said sternly, “When you forget, you stink out my cave, and it smells for weeks”
“Yes Ma’am,” Wolf promptly took off his coat and threw it out toward the cave entrance, “in the meantime, my coat can ward us from intruders.” He grinned at Star, “however much my dear Lacuinia may complain, I know that she loves having a pet wolf Mage.” The dragon snorted and carried on eating her meal. Wolf winked at Star, his eyes seeming amber in the firelight, and shifted back to wolf so that he could eat the rest of his meal properly.
“Dynasties?” Star asked the golden dragon.
“The great dragon families. We are split into colours, each colour being a family that we shall ever belong to. Us dragon have always been split, and always will be.” She rumbled a displeased note, “at least the Gold dynasty never pulled mortals into the affair.”
“What about me?” Wolf said, leaning against a smooth rock on the cave floor, having finished his meal.
“You were not pulled, you just happened to defend me from one of the Red’s hired assassins one day.” Lacuiniaxira said, “I am not a hypocrite, if that is what you are implying.”
“Oh, no. I enjoy the intricacies of dragon etiquette and tradition. There is always more to learn.” Wolf smiled at his sparkling friend. “Just when you think you’ve got it, another rule comes along and topples you over.”
“It may seem like that to you, mortal Mage, but I learned these intricacies when I was but one hundred years of age, and I have never forgotten them since.”
“Dragons forget nothing,” said Star.
“True,” said Wolf, “and also unfortunate.”
“Diozar told me that,” she said, and smiled at Sasha, who was basking in the heat of the fire. “How old are you, Lacuiniaxira?”
“Three thousand, six hundred and twenty two of your years,” the dragon replied, “Middle aged.”
“Middle aged?” Star exclaimed.
“Dragons live between five and six thousand years, human years that is,” Wolf said, “So they get to see a lot.”
“Unless they are brutally murdered by an impudent mortal,” Lacuiniaxira said grumpily. “No matter how small you may be, or how brief your lives are, you still manage to get in the way.”
“But you love us really,” Wolf patted one of Lacuiniaxira’s claws. She sighed. It was like thunder in the distance.
“Some of you, maybe. But I am a servant of The Power. It has lived much longer than me, and has many interesting things to tell me about when the world was but a child and human mortals and dragons did not live there.”
“Wow,” Star leaned forward, she could feel a story coming on, “could you tell me about it?”
“Sometime I may, Chosen,” said the dragon, “but, I fear, not tonight.”
“Why?” Star asked her, mystified.
“Because I have sensed magic in my realm, and that means intruders. I also fear that they are not innocent intruders like yourself and your tigress.”
“You mean…people out to get you?” Star couldn’t imagine it. This dragon was as devoted to The Power as any priest and yet people wanted to kill her? Wait…”are they hired assassins, do you think?”
“I know they are. No one else would dare attack me. I protect this area from harm. There is no other reason.” Lacuiniaxira stood up, stretched her wings and looked toward the cave entrance. “I do not think that your coat will hold them off, for some reason, Wolf. I will have to deal with them myself.”
“No! Let me help you!” Star picked up the mask from her outfit, “I think that I’m meant to protect you.” She walked up to the dragon’s side, and unwrapped the cloth on her sword. It glowed softly.
“Shit, look at that sword!” Wolf exclaimed.
Lacuiniaxira swung her head to face his and growled, “What did I tell you about language?”
He groaned, “But that was so long ago! How do you expect me to remember?”
“It was only one hundred and fifty years ago, Wolf, and you should remember because I have to keep reminding you! Why you use excrement as an exclamation is beyond me.” She turned to Star. “Of course you may help, Chosen. The Power is on our side. We will teach these ruffians the meaning of fear.” She blew out an experimental jet of flame, and then roared. The sound shook the forest, and Star could here some people shouting not far off. She fastened her mask onto her face and pulled the hood of her robe up, attaching it to the mask so that it did not fall down during the fight.
“May I use magic?” she asked Lacuiniaxira.
“Of course. I doubt that these murderers will heed my rules.” Star nodded, hefted her sword – which seemed light as a feather in her hand – and muttered a spell for magical armour. Her robe glowed. It would now resist any blow. “Oh, and Chosen?” Star looked up at Lacuiniaxira.
“You can call me Star if you wish,” she said.
“Yes, Star. I want to mention this to you in case of the unlikely event of my death during this fight. If you are trying to hide who you are, I presume that you have thought of your voice?”
“My voice?”
“Yes. It is obviously not male and I could identify you with it easily. I suggest that you use some of your magic to change it whilst you are disguised. Just a thought.”
Star put her free hand on her throat. “My voice! Of course! Thank you Lacuinia, I had forgotten all about it!”
“There are times that I wish you mortals would forget all about the noises you can make,” the dragon seemed to smile at Star, “especially Wolf.”
“I heard that!” an indignant voice from inside the cave shouted. Lacuiniaxira rumbled deep in her chest, obviously amused.
“Good luck to you, Chosen.”
“Good luck to you as well, Lacuiniaxira,” Star said, then took a ready stance as she heard a rustling in the bushes.
A man with a sword in his hand emerged, took one look at Star, then yelled, “The Avenger! The Power have mercy on our souls!” and dived back into the forest. Some more of the hired assassins had more courage, and had obviously heard less weird rumours, as they cautiously approached Star and the golden dragon, who had smoke curling from her nostrils. When they got closer, she scorched the ground in front of them.
“That was your first and only warning,” she growled, “leave my realm and no harm will come to you.”
“Believe me, serpent, we’re not leaving,” said a man at the back on the group, “Zarith promised us ten thousand gold pieces for your head, and that’s not the kind of deal you back out on.”
“He will kill you, Mage,” she snarled back at him, “Zarith has never parted with his gold and never will. He kills his hirelings and steals what gold they have, whether they fail or not!”
“You can’t scare us with your lies, Wyrm,” the Mage snapped back, then began to cast a spell, a deadly one by the sound of the words. The other men stepped cautiously forward. Lacuiniaxira snarled at them, and then jumped backwards a little.
“Are you sure that this is such a good idea?” one of them asked the Mage, who glared at him and carried on with the spell, which seemed pretty complex. Star could tell that he was nearing the end of it, though, by the tone of his voice.
She put out a hand and muttered “Nullify.” It was simple sorcery that Diozar had taught her, but required a lot of control and power to stop the other person’s spell from getting out of hand. The Mages spell fizzled out and made a noise that was something like ‘putt!” He glared at her, and started again. The other men then decided to take the opportunity to attack.
One of them lunged forward, sword poised to pierce Lacuiniaxira’s chest, but the steel just slid off her scales. The great dragon spread her wings and reared up, crashing to earth with a boom, shaking the forest, but missing the men in front of her, who had leapt backward to avoid being crushed. Star heard her take a deep breath, the flames shot from her nostrils, hitting two of the men. They disappeared, only a pile of ash remaining. She snarled and snapped at the men who were left, making them back off a little way. Then lightning shot from the Mage’s hands into her chest, distracting her and scorching her scales. Star heard a low growl by her side. Wolf had transformed himself, but he seemed bigger than a normal wolf and his teeth shone like steel. He leapt at the men, driving them back. Star could see that he was after the Mage, who was staying at the back of the group. She looked back into the cave and quickly motioned to Sasha to come out.
“Let’s get that Mage,” she said quietly to her.
<Yes> came the voice in her head, startling her. Diozar had said that Sasha spoke to him, but Star had presumed that they just understood each other. He must have had a telepathic link with her, and had now linked Sasha to Star.
Sasha bounded into the fray, bowling over anyone who was in her way, clearing a path of semi-unconscious men for Star to walk down...or run down, tripping over a few sprawling limbs as she went. Wolf bounded along behind her, ripping apart throats. Diozar had told her about this, but...did he have to do it so...noisily? One of the men who had avoided Sasha suddenly appeared in front of Star, thrusting his sword at her stomach. She parried the blade, then ran him though with her sword, pulled it back out of him and followed the carnage where Sasha and Wolf had obviously been, trying to forget the blood on her sword.
<Over here> Star turned round and spied Sasha annoying the Mage, ducking his dagger and nipping at his heels like an irritating dog.
<Don’t play with your prey> Star thought to Sasha. She could swear that the tigress grinned as she swerved about. The Mage said a spell for paralysis, and the effects just washed over the tigress, the jewel on her forehead glowing brightly. His eyes widened in shock, and in that moment when his guard was down, Star stabbed him in the spine with her sword. He collapsed onto the ground, instantly dead. Her green eyes met with Sasha’s amber ones, and they both turned to look behind them. Most of the men had fled, the rest lay dead or dying upon the ground. Wolf was walking among them, finishing off the ones who were halfway to death.
“Let it not be said that I have no mercy,” he said, then walked off into the forest, pausing once to pick up his coat.
“What do you do now?” Star asked Lacuiniaxira, who motioned for her to step aside and then incinerated the dead men. The wind carried the ashes away.
“I do not like this fighting,” the golden dragon said, “there are times that I wish that it could be ended. But that would mean…”
“What? What would it mean?” Star asked her curiously.
“Zarith’s death, of course, Chosen. What else? But to succeed in that you would have to be either very skilled or very lucky. Or perhaps both.”
“I could do it,” Star pulled the mask off her face and looked upward at the dragon, “The Power is on my side. I was sent here to help you.”
“That is a dangerous thing to presume, Chosen.” Lacuiniaxira’s golden eyes burned into hers. “It may well end in your death. Zarith has had many years to learn about humans, how to manipulate them, how best to kill them. You are not only just mortal, but a young and inexperienced one as well. Do you really so long for death? It would be quicker and less painful to die now.”
“Always the optimist,” Wolf said as he entered the cave, freshly washed and wearing his now clean coat. “I think that she might just be able to do it. She is The Power’s Chosen after all.”
“That does not mean that she is immortal!” Lacuiniaxira thundered.
“It’s up to you,” Star said to the golden dragon, “you know about these things more than I do.” Then she lay down by the fire with Sasha and fell asleep, curled up next to the tigress’ furry back.


Soz for longness, tis a long scene. Funny bits with Xendar next, if you post ;)

Thanks for answering my question.

The different view points are quite easy to follow at the moment, but I think the challenge will be keeping the two views seperate when the two main characters finally meet.

One other thing, it does make reading aloud quite difficult with long dragon names to contend with. I know I'm being picky, but it was the one thing that annoyed me a little.

But I do like the character Wolf - it could be quite interseting to see how he would react to Xendar.

:D

heh, in my printed off version I include a very classy, expensive, post it note, with 'Lass-oo-in-eer-axe-eer-ra' on it :P

When Xendar woke up late in the morning, the first thing that he saw was his mother staring down at him. He pulled the bedcovers over his head to try to escape the inevitable.
“Xendar,” she pulled the cover back, he pulled them up. “Xendar!”
“What?” he said irritably.
“You didn’t read my message.”
“I’m not your slave, I didn’t have to read it. Leave me alone.” Liadia gave him a calculating look, then walked out of the room, shutting the door behind her. He sat in bed for a while – just long enough to make sure that she wasn’t listening at the door – and then curiosity got the better of him. What was so important that she wanted to check that he had read it? She didn’t normally do that.
He got out of his four poster bed and walked over to the offending note. It looked pretty normal. He heated the seal over the fire in the corner, then slid a knife underneath it and lifted it up, keeping it intact just in case he needed to pretend that he had never read it. Then he folded out the parchment and read the note out under his breath.
“Xendar you have matured enough to understand…blah blah blah” – when she flattered him he knew that something he wouldn’t like was lined up – “You are becoming a skilled Mage,” – Now that was an obvious sign that… - “the time has come for you to settle down with…” - what? Settle down? As in marriage? What did she think he was, some token to give away to a noble family that she liked? There was no way that he was going to get married off to some girl that his mother liked. That was, well, an insult! It was noble girls who got married off, not Mages like him. Right.
He resealed the letter and had just stepped outside his room when a servant appeared in front of him. “Master Xendar, you father wishes to see you,” he said.
“Can’t it wait?”
“I’m afraid that he said it was urgent…”
“…and that you were to beat me with a big stick, perhaps, if I refused to come?” He wasn’t really in the best of moods, but hey, going to see his father and that bunch of idiots really would make his day. Or maybe not.
“Um, no, Master Xendar but he really was rather insistent.”
“Oh, so he implied the big stick instead. That makes all the difference.” He sighed, “Lead the way, then.”

He had to dodge another wad of paper – obviously, once again, aimed at his head – as soon as he walked into The Elder Mages’ chamber. This one was substantially heavier than the last one had been. He looked at the front page. The word that he had both dreaded and anticipated was boldly printed across the page: The Avenger. It was quite an impressive amount of information for his father and that bunch of dribbling idiots to have found, but it was only tiny compared to the heaps of paper in his little safe house.
“So,” he said, “you’re fed up of sending me out after real people with locations, so now I’m to chase rumours. What do you think I am, a hunting dog or something?”
“No,” his father replied, unconcerned, “dogs don’t answer back.”
“Xendar,” Archmagess Liadia glided toward him, “did you read...?”
“No,” he said, looking her straight in the eyes. He was used to lying to his parents. It was almost a second nature to him now. “It can’t have been too important anyway, not as you gave it to me just before I was being sent back out into the world.”
“We need to talk,” she said.
“No we don’t,” he said. “I need to pack.” Then he muttered the spell to teleport him into his room, dumped the paper on his bed, and started rummaging though his various drawers and cupboards. At the bottom of his bag he packed his books on sorcery, then some other books that would be handy for passing the time, then other oddments, clothes, and finally money. He put this – the most important thing to him, as whatever he had packed, you could always buy more – in a pocket of his bag and warded it with as many spells as he could think of, which was over ten. Wizardly spells, that was. Sorcery could wait until he was away from the Mages’ Tower. He lightened his bag with a spell, slung it on his back, put his sword belt around his waist, sheathed his sword, and stepped toward the door.
Before he got one step further, it opened. “Xendar,” his mother said firmly, “sit down now.”
“Enough with the dog comments,” he sighed, then walked around her and into the corridor, “I’m off,” he said, “possibly for a few years, maybe a decade or so.”
“Xendar!”
“No! I am not sitting down for another mother to son talk. I am not going to let you run my life, and I am going away from this bloody tower!” And with that, he strode off though the corridors, down the stairs, and out into the busy streets of The City.
It had always been called ‘The City’, most likely because it had been the only city in the known world for a long time. Even though there were quite a few more cities around now, they were not quite as large, or as grand, or even as old as The City. The people who lived there were proud of doing so, and people who lived in the countryside longed to visit, just once, so that they could say that they had been.
Xendar didn’t think that it was all that great. It was crowded, dangerous and – if you weren’t too good at haggling with the greedy shopkeepers – a complete rip off. It had taken all seventeen years of his life to master it. To learn the twisted pathways of the dark alleyways that connected streets, to know every shopkeepers’ weaknesses, and how to exploit them. Unfortunately, those weaknesses were usually for large amounts of money, something that Xendar didn’t like parting with, especially when those people who were taking it from him had plenty already.
Although, there was one shopkeeper that he liked. Bertrand ran a small, out-of-the-way bookstore down a little road in The City. His main source of income seemed to be from Mages, because if he didn’t have a book you wanted, he would go out of his way to get it for you. For a small fee, of course. The reason that Xendar liked this man was that if you had enough money, Bertrand would get books on sorcery for you without question. Well, only a few questions, such as which book, and when you would pick it up, but otherwise, no questions asked.
Bertrand knew full well who Xendar was – or rather, who his parents were – and he also knew what would happen to him if he told someone about the books Xendar ordered. Well, first Xendar would let him get charged for getting the books for the Archmage's son, but then he would make him sorry. After getting out of trouble himself, but that shouldn’t be too difficult.
He was going though possible ways to make himself guilt-free – now considering taking over the Mages’ Tower, which would work, although his mother would remain Archmagess – when he reached the bookstore. He opened the door, heard the bell jangle above his head, and watched as Bertrand hurried to his counter.
“Oh, it’s you, Xendar,” he said, obviously relieved. This was because he had not reached the hidden knife that was concealed in his counter before Xendar had stepped beside him. “I have a few things for you around the back.”
“Lead the way, then.” Xendar watched as Bertrand started shifting the books in one of his shelves, first pulling one toward him, then pushing another one into the shelf precisely half an inch. Xendar had watched him do it for years, and it never seemed to have occurred to the shopkeeper to change the pattern. The young Mage could have gone straight into the hidden area without Bertrand there. He could have sneaked in and stolen the books he needed, but he never did. He liked to know that he could do something, and then choose not to. It was a kind of power.
The bookcase smoothly slid back into the wall and Bertrand and Xendar stepped into the passageway behind it. As they walked along the secret corridor in the wall, Xendar heard the bookcase click back into place. He saw Bertrand pull a rope that he knew changed the sign on the front door change to ‘closed’. Then he watched the shopkeeper as he removed a complicated key from his pocket and slipped it into the lock. The door clicked, and the grinding sound of complex mechanisms came from the other side of the door. Bertrand gently pushed the door and it swung open on its oiled hinges.
Inside the room, bookshelves lined the walls. There were rugs on the stone floor, but they did nothing to lessen the chill in the air that radiated off the stone. “Ignito,” Xendar said quietly, and a flame flared into life over his outstretched palm. He followed Bertrand to a bookcase in the far corner, the warmth on his hand a searing heat compared the rest of his frozen self.
The shopkeeper studied the books on the bookcase. They all had the most boring titles imaginable, such as ‘The History of the House Fly’ and ‘The Beginners guide to Evolution’. Bertrand picked up a few books, seemingly randomly. He brushed the dust off the covers, revealing the true titles of the books: ‘Advanced Sorcery’ volumes 3, 4 and 5. He put out a hand.
Xendar sighed and pulled out a heavy bag from his pocket, which clinked as he put it in the shopkeeper’s hand. “We’ve been dealing for years, Bertrand, I don’t see why you still need to do this.”
“‘Trust no one’, that’s my motto,” the shopkeeper weighed the bag in his hand, seemed satisfied, and handed the books over. Then he sat at a table, poured the gold out of the bag, and started counting the glinting coins.
“It’s all there, Bertrand, I counted it three times.” The shopkeeper carried on counting, ignoring him. “Fine.” Xendar tucked the books into his bag, and walked toward the door.
“No so fast, boy,” said the shopkeeper.
Xendar whirled around. “It’s all there, I told you! I am not waiting here for you to count out three thousand bloody gold bloody pieces. It’s absurd!”
“Don’t worry lad, I trust you on that. I just wondered why you're carrying that enormous bag.”
“Oh.” Xendar was suddenly calm again. “I’m travelling the world, hopefully for a few years, perhaps a century.” He grinned at the shopkeeper. “My parents won’t be able to find me no matter how hard they try.”
“Good on you, lad, but…” Bertrand looked thoughtful. “Do they know you’re leaving?”
“Oh yes, my father’s sent me out on some foolish errand. So I thought that I’d just stay out in the world.”
“Out to find adventure and romance, then?”
“More of the former, less of the latter.”
The shopkeeper laughed. “I wish that I could go with you, so that I can say ‘I told you so’ when you do fall for some girl.”
“That’s about as likely as flying sheep.”
“That happened, once, you know. Somewhere along the coast. There were these fierce winds, and…”
“Enough! Point taken.” Xendar strolled to the door. “I’ll see you in a few decades, then.”
“Good luck. Watch yourself out there, there’s many who’d kill you for your money.”
Xendar laughed. “Or for my fathers. Anyway, you’re just saying that because you steal my money away, book by book.” Bertrand managed to look affronted. Xendar just laughed as he shut the door, and was in a good mood as he strolled along the passageway. He paused at the entrance to the shop from the corridor, and thought for a moment. The he said the spell to teleport him to his safe house, and vanished in a burst of light.

He wandered through the little cottage, picking up relevant information about the Avenger – as he had decided that he may as well try to seek the legendary person out, just to see if he really existed. There wasn’t really very much of it, really. Information, that is. Most of what he had about this Avenger was either speculation or ‘prophecies’, which were divinings with flourishes added to the handwriting and extra e’s added to the words. He picked out some of the reports on ‘sightings’, and a few of the divinings that were untouched by extra letters. These he packed in a side pocket of his bag.
Then he went through his bookcases, taking out some of the books on sorcery that he had not as yet memorised, and a few tomes on advanced wizardry. Not that he’d be able to consult them during a fight or anything. Then he locked and warded the house from rafters to foundations. No one would be able to set a toe, let alone one foot inside. Satisfied, he pulled out a map from his jacket pocket, sat underneath a tree by the path, and began to plan his route.


And hmmm......maybe I should have Wolf in it a bit more. I was considering putting him back in later on (complete with dragon). Maybe I should.

:wub:

How is the story coming on btw? I want more!!! Especially where I'm up to... SQUEE!!!!

:wub: :wub: :wub: :wub:

Calm down dear, the poor emoticons, you'll wear them out!

I'm considering making the plot a bit faster now, and the evil a bit more, well, evil.

Don't worry, though, dear, it won't change what I'cve already written. :rolleyes:

Wheeeeeee!

*eagerly awaits story update*

And the emoticons love being worked this hard!!! Heh!!! :D

we'll see, Gemz. I'm a bit stuck atm on the story, since my sis has given me vampire ideas, dammit. But the plot reworking should inspire me, I just need time. :)

Star woke up with her arms around her tigress, who was sleeping soundly. She sat up and looked around the cave. Shafts of early morning light were seeping into the cavern, dimly lighting her surroundings. Lacuiniaxira was slumbering deeper in the cave, the smog from her nostrils twining with the smoke from the extinguished fire, which rose to the roof of the cave. Wolf was in his canine form, apparently fast asleep, although his ears twitched every now and again. Silently Star stood up and walked to the cave entrance. The air was fresh and filled with the moist smell of the forest. She sighed happily and leaned her back against the cave. The rock had been warmed by the rising sun, and that heat leaked through her shirt, warming her back and her soul.
“It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” She looked around to see Wolf standing next to her, looking at the sky, which was tinted crimson and gold.
“Yes,” she replied. He turned his head to look at her, and her eyes widened. The irises of his eyes were amber. “Your eyes…” she said, bewildered.
“Yes, the colour lingers after a change,” he smiled at her, “the teeth don’t though.”
“And I for one am glad of it,” she laughed. Wolf tried to look offended, which made her laugh even more.
“Might I ask what the joke is?” Lacuiniaxira’s head snaked out of the cave and she regarded the two humans with disdain. “Mortals. Always giggling over one thing or the other.” Wolf gave her a flourishing bow.
“Why of course,” he said. Then his face lit up in recognition of a memory. “Oh yes, did you work out an answer for Star’s proposition?” The dragon’s expression changed swiftly to a troubled one.
“I do not wish her to throw her life away, but if she feels that she can defeat the monster Zarith, she is welcome to. It is her decision. I do not want her death to be my responsibility.”
“It won’t be,” said Star, then she realised what she had implied. “I mean, I won’t die.”
“The confidence of the young,” Lacuiniaxira sighed.
“So, where can I find him?” asked Star. Lacuiniaxira came out of her lair and stretched her golden wings out, allowing the sun to warm them, as a butterfly does. The sunlight glittered on her scales, making it seem almost as if she were covered with a million tiny stars.
“Before you go racing off to your doom, I feel that I must teach you about Zarith and his ways. Hopefully you may gain an advantage.
“Zarith is a red dragon, which means that his kind were born from fire. Thus, his hereditary weakness is to coldness. Snow, frost and ice makes the Red Dynasty curl up in their lairs and shiver. I have heard that some of then have managed to master hibernation, but only few could ever succeed in such an endeavour. Zarith is also ancient. He has lived for almost five thousand years, and that means that he has a lot of experience behind him. He knows how to torture and prolong pain. How to kill with one swift action. You do know how much danger you are putting yourself into, do you not?”
“You’ve told me again and again! If I don’t know now, I never will,” said Star exasperatedly. Then she realised how disrespectful she sounded. “I’m sorry, Lacuiniaxira, I appreciate your advice, I really do. Without you, I would never have learned his weakness, and for that I thank you.”
“You are welcome, Chosen.” The dragon bobbed her head, a strange sign of respect. “I wish you all the luck in the world, and I sincerely hope that The Power watches over you very closely.”
“And you too,” Star slung her sheathed sword onto her back, and shouldered her bag, which was, once more, feather light. Sasha padded to her side, looked at her with her golden eyes and then walked leisurely out into the surrounding forest. Star could feel the tigress’s pleasure in her concealment. She followed her into the forest.
“But I will not need so much watching,” the dragon murmured to herself, the rumble of her voice a deep vibration through the cave.
“Yes,” said Wolf, and an ethereal voice mirrored his own. He spun around and fell to his knees when he saw the misty face, suspended beside the dragons. “A lot of watching,” said The Power.

Xendar wandered down the road, his mind wandering even more. This did not mean that he was not ready when he was rather poorly ambushed though. He could see the shadows in the trees following him. He stopped in the centre of the dusty road, standing in between the trenches dug into the dry earth by wagon wheels.
“I can see you, you idiots,” he said aloud. There was no answer, but he could just hear the faint rustle of leaves as some of the men moved together to confer. Then they all emerged from the forest surrounding the road. There were a dozen of them, all armed to the teeth. Literally, in some cases. Xendar had no idea why anyone would want to hold a knife between his teeth. Surely you could swallow it, or someone could force it back, slicing your head in two. Not that having half a brain would change these men much. He sighed, unsheathed his sword, and leaned its point in the sandy ground in front of him. The men stared at it, either because they hadn’t noticed it, or they wanted to steal it. Most likely the latter, Xendar decided. It was a fine blade that he had had made specifically for him. The grip fitted in his hand perfectly, the balance was flawless. The design on the blade was the sword smith’s, though, although Xendar had chosen it. The pattern down it swirled to the point, shimmering down the metal. He had paid a lot of money for it, and no one was going to take it from him. His father had tried, only to be pushed back by a barrage of insults. He had said to Xendar that he was too young to own a blade, but he obviously just wanted to take it from him.
The ‘ambushers’ seemed a bit unsure of him, either because he was armed, or because he seemed confident. “Erm…” The leader or spokesperson stepped forward. “Your money or your life?” The fact that he said this as a question made Xendar’s already low opinion of highwaymen and robbers go tumbling down the vast hill of shame.
“Neither?” He took a step forward. A few of them stepped back. He grinned.
The leader stepped forward, “We’ll take both then.” At this signal the rest of the men spread out around the road. Xendar lifted the point of his sword from the earth and dropped his bag to the floor, warding it with a spell as it fell from his shoulder. They were going to try to overwhelm him, he realised. As about five of them closed in on him, he summoned magic to him.
“Protection,” he said, the magic in the word making his throat tingle. He felt a rush of adrenaline through his veins. His first fight in which he could use the illegal sorcery. It somehow made him feel more alive. His five attackers hit the barrier of magic, bounced backwards and landed on the ground, now wearing confused expressions. Xendar grinned, “Flames,” he said, this time directing his magic to his blade. Light blazed along it, starting at the hilt and trickling down to the point of the blade like molten lava. Then it burst into flame. Two of the men ran into the forest. The rest weren’t fazed, though.
“I want that sword,” the leader said, “half of today’s loot to the man who gets me that sword!”
“I’m insulted,” said Xendar, “I paid more for it than that.”
“He’s got a point,” said one of the men, and the rest looked expectantly at their leader, who sighed.
“Just get him!” he shouted. The men leapt into action, obeying a voice of authority. Xendar pulled his magical shield closer to him, and instantly felt glad he had summoned it, when arrows hit him. Instead of piercing his skin, they bounced off him, clattering onto the floor. He should have known that they would have archers.
His training kicked in. He cut, thrust, parried…suddenly the men drew back. Three of his assailants were dead on the floor. Xendar pulled himself roughly away from the coiled up anger and violence inside him. ‘Kill them all,’ it seemed to whisper, ‘no one will know. They did start the fight.’ That animal instinct frightened him a little. It seemed to lurk inside him, and he would never know when it would resurface.
“Run now,” he said to his attackers. “Run, or I will have to kill you.” They all ran into the forest, except the leader, who yelled after them,
“Come back here you cowards, you bloody cowards! Come back!” Then he looked at Xendar, flaming sword in hand, and darted into the forest after his men. Xendar laughed, extinguished the flames on his sword, sheathed it, and strode off through the forest.

Star was walking through the forest with Sasha at her side when a grey, furry Wolf trotted up to her out of the bushes. He dropped a large piece of parchment on the ground in front of her, winked, and vanished into the forest again. She picked up the paper on the forest floor and looked at it. It was a map from Lacuiniaxira’s cave to Zarith’s lair. It was a surprisingly short journey. She studied the map carefully. Lacuiniaxira must have gotten it off an adventurer of some kind because a dragon would never mark ‘Here be Dragons’ all over a map. Zarith’s and Lacuiniaxira’s abodes had been marked on it more recently however. The ink was a slightly different colour, and the handwriting different. Star wondered if Wolf had done it.
Now, she could either transport herself straight to his lair using magic, possibly throwing herself straight into his jaws, or travel there over land, thinking up a plan of action. She looked up at the sky. Quite a bit of time had passed since Wolf had dropped the map at her feet. She had been sitting at the base of a large tree, studying the parchment for a long time, Sasha patiently sitting by her feet. It was past midday.
<Time for lunch? > asked the voice in her head. She grinned at the tigress.
“Go on then,” Sasha fluidly stood up and silently blended with the shadows of the forest. Star sighed, pulled her bag next to her and rummaged in it for food. She eventually found some bread and a wedge of cheese, almost hidden down the side. She would have to journey to the nearest town or village for supplies. Not that she would need them if Zarith killed her. She pushed the grim thought away, gently tucked the map into her bag, and took a bite of her bread. It was a bit tough and stale now. Great. She looked at it and a thought occurred to her. She summoned magic to her, and willed the bread to become fresh again. The smell of a bakery filled the air around her. She bit into the bread. It was warm and soft, as if it had just come out of the oven. She smiled, and settled down for lunch.

I'll update this for some personal amusement, as no one is R&Ring (blatant emotional blackmail - ED)

This is quite humerous, this bit...well, for me...

“He was ten, no, fifteen feet tall, and he wielded a sword of fire and ice!” Xendar wandered over to the crowd in the village, curious about what it was the man was exaggerating about.
“Yeah, Dan, sure. You saw the Avenger, we believe you…” said one of the men in the crowd.
“I did! I swear! He was guarding that dragon up north east a little way.”
“And why would Lacuiniaxira need guarding?” One of the women in the crowd stepped forward. “No one would wish her any harm. She’s our protector.”
“Um…” Dan was trying to think fast. Xendar wondered if it was hurting him.
“Marie’s right,” one of the men stepped forward this time, “why would Lacuiniaxira need a guardian?”
“Well, um…”
“And why were you up there, anyway?” someone else shouted out.
“I, er, I…”
“I’m sure he was just hunting one of those deer in the forest,” said another man. Xendar saw him wink at Dan, “right Dan?”
“Yeah, I was. Mark should know, he was with me.” Everyone looked at the man who had previously spoken.
“Were you Mark?” Marie asked him.
“Yeah, for a little bit.” Xendar could see that this Mark was becoming uncomfortable, and Dan was sidling away. The young Mage waited until Dan was out the crowd, then followed him around a corner. Dan stopped, sensing that someone was following him. He turned around.
“Who are you? What do you want? I don’t have any money, leave me alone!”
“You saw the Avenger?”
Dan relaxed, “Yeah, I did, and he was…”
“Fifteen feet tall with a sword of blah blah blah…” Xendar grabbed him by the collar. “I don’t want any of your fancy exaggerations. No thee’s and thou’s, not flowery prophecy sent from The Power above. I just want to know what he really looked like.”
“Well, he had this sword…” Xendar’s eyes darkened to a stormy blue.
“Really? How practical. What else?”
“Well, about this sword…”
“Yes…?” Xendar said, his tone bordering on dangerous.
“It kind of…glowed.” He let go of Dan’s collar. The man sighed and massaged his neck a bit to get the feeling back.
“How?”
“How am I supposed to know, magic?”
“I mean, which part of it? The blade? The hilt? A stone in the pommel?”
“I dunno, all of it?” Xendar sighed.
“I’m the one asking the questions here. Now, what else? What colour was his hair?”
“Well, um, he didn’t have any.”
“He was bald?” Xendar said incredulously.
“No, he had a kind of…robe.”
“Colour?”
“White.” Now he was getting somewhere. Why did only complete idiots see the Avenger, Xendar wondered.
“Eye colour?”
“He didn’t have…”
“Why?”
“He wore a mask.” He had to give it to this Avenger, he was clever. He left no clues for people to follow, no trail except a few babbling exaggerators.
“What kind of a mask?”
“Well, it kind of looked like, you know, the ones in the temples.”
“Masks in… temples.” Xendar said sarcastically. “Right.”
“No, you know, the thingys that have The Power’s face on them.” A mask with the likeness of The Power on it, why couldn’t he have just said that? This man was lucky that Xendar had a conscience, otherwise he would have killed him there and then, just for being stupid.
“What colour?”
“Silvery, like metal.”
“Thank you.” Xendar turned and walked back down the street. “Good day.” Dan just stared after him, his hand still hovering at his neck, utterly confused.

Xendar stayed at the inn that night, tirelessly flicking through his information about the Avenger. It said nothing about a robe and a mask, but the sword was mentioned, so it was likely that what Dan the imbecile said had been true. He made a note of these new facts and tried to imagine what the Avenger looked like, hooded and masked, glowing sword in hand. But it was too hard. He should have asked the man what build this new legend was. He had no idea whether he was tall, short, stocky or thin. Surely you could see the eyes through the holes in the mask…
He fell asleep and dreamt of blazing swords, hooded figures that ran ahead of him, always too far away to reach or see properly, and awoke in the morning, filled with a new determination to find the identity of the Avenger.

lol, that is quite an amusing chapter, particulary as you already know the true identity of the Avenger.

sorry that i took such a long time in getting around to reading it.

thankies aleana! No probs about the time, as its quite long now and if you don't miss out every other word like me it takes time :)

here's the next installment, in a bitesize chunk!

NB. Don't bite the screen, people.

Star was dreaming as well. She had fallen asleep, her back resting against the tree, warmed by the sunlight that fought its way through the branches. She, however, dreamt of fighting an impossibly large red dragon, with smoke wreathing its horned, spiny head, and fire jetting from its nostrils, growing ever closer, ever nearer, ever coming for her, coming closer and closer and closer and…
Her eyes snapped open and she gasped for a breath that would not come. She choked and fell onto the forest floor, winding herself, but the thump on her side started her lungs up again. She could not remember being more afraid. She pushed herself up and flopped against the tree bark at her back. It wouldn’t be like that, would it? Zarith surely could not be everywhere at once, always waiting for her, fire in his throat, poised to strike…
She shook her head to try to dispel the thought. If only Diozar was here. One of the dragons that he had slain had been a Red. Maybe she could ask Sasha how he had done it. She looked around her, noticing for the first time the tigress, who was sitting nearby, munching away on a carcass of some kind.
“Don’t try to help me then,” she said to her.
Sasha look up from her meal, <You should learn from your dreams, The Power might have sent you them. I did not want to interfere. > Star sighed. She was right, of course.
“Yes, that’s true. Sorry Sash’.”
<No problem.> the tigress went back to eating her meal. Star smiled and shuffled over to Sasha.
“Any chance of you sharing that meal?”
<You want raw meat? Away with you, weirdo human. >
Star laughed. “No! I wanted a little bit to cook.” Sasha gave her a calculating look. “Please?”
<Fine. Spoil a little of my meal for yourself by burning it. See if I care. >
“So that’s a yes?”
<Indeed it is. >
“Thank you Sasha!” Star pulled out her dagger, cut a piece of as-yet-untouched meat off Sasha’s meal, placed it on some leaves to keep the dust off it, and started searching for some wood for a small fire. <Fine, just take the best bit why don’t you? > said the voice in her head.
“Oh, you can have it if you like it that much…” Star said apologetically.
<Honestly. Be selfish once in a while child, I was joking. > Sasha gave her something resembling a grin, and turned her attention back to her meal. Star smiled at her, piled her wood up and pointed a finger at it.
“Ignito,” she said, and flames started licking at the wood.
<Show off, > said Sasha. Star laughed. She made a makeshift grill over the fire with some convenient stones and sticks, and placed the meat on top. Soon it began to smell good.
“What meat is it anyway?” she asked the tigress.
<Deer. A small one. >
“Oh. I’ve never tried that before.” Star peered at the meat. If Sasha had said that it was pork, lamb or beef, she wouldn’t have known that she was lying. She wasn’t exactly a gourmet.
<Tastes good. It was one of Diozar's favourite things to eat with me. Cooked, of course. >
“Have you ever tasted cooked meat?”
<Yes. And no, I don’t like it. > Star smiled at the tigress’s anticipation of her next question. She flipped the meat over with her dagger, and poked the browned side with the point.
“So, have you ever fought a dragon before?”
<Yes. I helped Diozar with both his dragon fights. It’s not easy to kill them, but it’s possible. You have to know their weaknesses>
“Zarith’s is cold.”
<I know. >
“So…how can I use that?” Sasha gave her a look that said ‘you don’t know?’.
<Use magic on your sword to make it icy cold of course. Honestly, haven't you even thought this out? >
“Well, not really. I just wanted to help Lacuiniaxira.”
<My dear child, you are so foolish at times. Well, we’re just going to have to think up a little strategy then, aren’t we? Your meat is blackening, by the way. >
“Oh!” Star flipped it off the fire and onto some fresh leaves. “It’s not too burnt. It should be okay.” She cut into the meat, fished out another piece of bread from her bag, and freshened it up a little. She ripped it down the middle and wedged the cooked meat inside, then started eating her lunch.
<So, how do you intend to kill this Zarith? > Sasha asked her.
<Please, Sash’, not while I’m eating my lunch. >
<You have a problem, and you have to face it. You need a strategy. >
<Okay then, what did Diozar do? >
<You can’t do the same thing as him; Zarith will have heard what happened. >
“Fine,” said Star, between mouthfuls. “Don’t help me then.”
<I will help you child, but you must be willing to listen, >
Star put her best attentive expression on. “Tell me. Please?”
<The trouble that a lot of big, older dragons have is with their speed. Their body is long and large, and that makes it hard to manoeuvre. Therefore, what you need to do is get behind him or under him without the beast noticing, and then strike. And then make sure that he does not fall on you, of course. >
“Strike where?”
<A weak point. A crack in his armour. Either at one of his joints, such as where his arm joins his body, or through the roof of his mouth. >
“Right, so at his armpit, or the place where the inferno comes from. Nice.”
<It’s not my fault. Take that annoyance up with The Power next time you see It. > Star sighed and ate the rest of her lunch. It had tasted good up until the point when Sasha had mentioned Zarith. Now it was like ashes. Bad choice of words, she thought, her mind shifting to the thought of Zarith throwing fireballs at her. She’d have to remember some pretty powerful fire resistant spells. She rooted through her bag for some spell books. Wizardry would be most handy for this, because if she used sorcery she’d be drained of energy every time she had to support the barrier. She pulled out a book and began flicking through it.

“What do you mean, you can’t find him?” the Archmage demanded. The apprentice Mage in front of him trembled.
“We… we tried, Archmage, but your son seems to have vanished.”
“He can’t vanish, not when you’re searching with magic. It just doesn’t happen! You people are just incompetent! Get out of the way.” The Archmage scattered the apprentices gathered around the table in the centre of the room. “Get lost, all of you. Now,” he looked at the book that was open on the table, a divining spell written on its pages. “Liadia, you’ll do this with me.”
“How about a please?” the Archmagess said acidly.
“Someone say please to her, I’m busy.” The Archmage pulled the bowl of water toward him, lit the candles around it with an archaic word, and glanced back at his wife, who was being pleaded with by various Mages for him. “Come on Liadia, surely you want to spy on him too. I need to check that he’s doing what I told him to, and then you can watch him as long as you want.”
She sighed and walked over. “Very well.” The other Mages in the room scurried to the windows, pulling heavy curtains over them to shut out the light. This way it was easier to see the images that should appear in the bowl. But when the two leaders of the Mages’ Tower combined their magic and performed the spell, all that happened was the water flickered, then fuzzed, then finally went dark.
“What?” The Archmage frowned at the bowl, then jiggled it a bit. “Work damn you!”
“It can’t hear you dear,” the Archmagess sighed.
“Worth a try.”
“Not really.”
The Archmage sighed. “Well, we need more people then. Oh, and an expert in whatsitcalled…”
“Divination, perhaps?” the Archmagess suggested.
“How the hell am I supposed to know? Just get someone.” One of the apprentices scurried out of the room to relay the message. “Now, what’s going on with this thing?” The Archmage started examining the bowl and the water.
“Perhaps, Aerorn, the problem is with the magic,” Liadia said.
“Don’t be an idiot, Liadia, the day my magic’s buggered so am I.” The Archmage frowned at his wife. “Are you telling me I’m going senile or something? I’m only one hundred and twenty two.”
“No, dear, what I’m saying is that maybe Xendar has found a way to outsmart us somehow.”
“Outsmart us?” Liadia raised an eyebrow and the Archmage fell silent.
“Well, maybe. But even so…” At that moment, the door opened, saving the Archmage from thinking up a reason for the magic to work. The priest of The Power in the Mages’ Tower stepped into the room.
“I heard that you were having problems with your magic, my Lord Archmage, my Lady Archmagess.” He bowed slightly to each of them in turn. “And I thought that a little blessing might help.”
The Archmage looked doubtful, and then shrugged. “Ah well, the things can be helpful. Now, where’re those extra Mages?”

A little while later, in a village to the south west of Lacuiniaxira’s lair, Xendar was desperately fighting to keep the questing magic from tearing through the shield that he had wrapped around himself on his departure of the Mages’ Tower. His bloody parents must have the whole Tower after him! He groaned and flopped onto the bed in the room that he had rented in the village inn. He had to hold on until they gave up. Fortunately, he knew that his parents got bored easily. The world began to blur, so he shut his eyes, gave a silent prayer to The Power, and slowly lost consciousness.

I DEMAND MORE STAR.it rocks ok?

:D okay:

Star and Sasha had been travelling for a while, silently discussing tactics against Zarith. After all this time, the only thing that was certain was still that Star should enchant her sword so that it was icy cold. Everything else was guesswork. She hated this uncertainty, having grown up in a cottage where answers could be found by just asking her adopted father. Every now and again she toyed with contacting him somehow, but then remembered that he had told her that he would stay out of her adventures, unless it was a case of life or death. But then again…fighting an ancient dragon sure was a case of life or death, wasn’t it? No. She would do this by herself. With Sasha’s help, though.
She sighed and carried on trudging down the road. Why had she told Lacuiniaxira that she would kill Zarith for her? It had been a spur of the moment thing. She had felt that she could do it…
“You can do it…” said a voice on the wind. She whirled around and stared up the road behind her. No one was there.
<Stop playing around, child, and keep walking. > said Sasha’s voice in her head.
“But someone was there…”
<There is no life nearby except the odd bird or woodland creature. No humans. >
“I heard a voice, though.”
<Maybe you’ve gone mad. First offering to slay a dragon, now hearing voices? I don’t know… >
Star laughed, “Maybe you’re right Sasha! Will you desert me now that I’m mad?”
<No. I was told that you needed me here by Diozar, and he was all too right. >
“So…you’re my babysitter?” Sasha gave her a look that, if she were human, would have been a raised eyebrow, making Star succumb to a fit of giggles.
<Honestly girl, be serious. >
“I…can’t…” Star collapsed onto Sasha’s back, and the large tigress pounced on her. They had a mock-fight in the grass, until eventually Star gave up. She lay on her back, pinned down by Sasha’s huge paws.
<Do you yield? > the tigress asked her.
“It’s not as if I can do anything else!” Sasha let her go, and Star sat up and hugged her around her neck. “We always used to wrestle when I was young,” she reflected, “and I always lost.”
<You won sometimes, >
“You let me win.”
<True, but you still won.>
“If I can’t beat you, what chance do I stand against a five thousand year old dragon?”
<It’s different. You’re trying to kill him. You’re not trying to kill me. At least, I hope not. Anyway, Diozar created me so that I was almost unbeatable. And I’m stronger than you. >
“Rub it in then.”
<As you say. > Sasha leaned on her harder.
“No! Don’t rub me into the ground!” The tigress released her, and Star felt her ribs to check that they were still all intact. “Ouch. That hurt, you know.”
<Life hurts. Get used to it. >
“Sasha! That’s not exactly what I’d like to hear, you know”
<Tough. I’m off for a snack. Call if you need me. > Sasha walked off into the forest, melting into the shadows as she had done before. Star sighed, then flopped down onto the grass, eyes closed. Then there was something cold on her neck. She opened her eyes, and looked up at a strange man. The cold thing was his sword at her throat. Oh no…
“Hand over your money,” he said coldly. Star’s eyes widened.
<Why did you not call? > Sasha’s voice growled in her head, and the man went flying backwards, a huge tigress on top on him. His sword scraped futilely against her armour, and then she pinned him down, jaws around his throat. <Just say the word… > she said to Star.
<No! He didn’t…I mean… >
<He did do something wro