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Welcome to the first writing block of my story which some of you may or may not have made characters of. If you have, you might be seeing them soon. If not, there's still a chance for their inclusion if you want them in. Please note, the rouge you will see in here is based off of no one's character as I didn't want to do what happens to him to any of your guys creations.....
Yet.

On a side note, 1,000 POST FOR ME! This my 1,000 post EXTRAVAGANZA!
Holy [censored] I spelled that right on my first try! So congrats me!


Chapter 1:

I woke with my head in a fog. My thoughts, addled and groggy, along with a headache that could have killed an adult elephant. In my half dream I muttered to myself, "You lived 140 years, died, became a horrible undead crime against nature, lasted for another millennial, and still, still you haven't made a spell to get rid of a saints damn hangover."

I opened my eyes expecting the usual flood of pain that came with the morning sunlight after a party and found myself surround by darkness. Confusion flowed through me as each spell I tired to cur through the dark failed, leaving me still blind.

Oh dammit I'm blind, I thought, Wait, can I be blind? Can an undead go blind? I groped at my eyes and found a cloth sitting on it. That made me feeling stupid. Removing it, I found myself still in darkness, but the lights I had conquered before showed me I was surrounded by a rectangle wood, with the bottom lined with a velvet.

A coffin. How charming. Remembrance dragged at my mind, this all seeming to make sense in a happening I had forgotten. I reached out and pushed the lid open and a stepped out to view the room around me. I found myself to be in the coffin within the room I kept in my tower for when a vampire count might visit, currently to my memory, the room of one of my associates, Nainda. To my right, a table with pleasantly burning cable sat surrounded by chairs that for their comfort and beauty seemed fit only for the mortal kings. There were four at that table alone. The book shelves sat on the wall to my left, tales of gloom and dread interspersed with magic tomes and the occasional fiction of heroes and overcoming evil. A dark lord has to laugh sometimes.

The door at the front of the room which I faced was open. Darkness beyond the wall. In the corner, oddly enough, the chains of metal and shadow that connected to the wall to keep a slave from the counts when they visited to feed on. The pretty little things that Nainda kept there was gone.

The stone walls looked decayed and mossy. That in itself was strange. My tower is a place of magic, the very walls are composed of living, thinking magic, that followed my will. I reached out my mind, my consciousness and felt my tower's soul, it's power. I frowned, as I came up disturbing finding. It was drained, decayed. It was like a frail old man, on it's death bed with barely the strength to stand.

What!?, my blurred mind finding clarity around the rage, the grogginess disappearing in the single moment of outrage.

My was once a place of power. True power. The kind of power you'd find if you crushed 5 churches to the saints into a fine powder and looked at that. The walls saw all in my empire. The tower was my creation, every night before sleep took me, I would put all excess power I had into it. In my wonder, I thought, This... this kind of atrophy would take decades!

I drew a tiny bit of the power that was left to steady myself. At the same time, I smelled it. A scent of sunflowers and sunlight. The smell of the magic of the saints. A whirled on my foot to stare at the coffin. Covering it were sigals of shining light, spells of containment, spells of sleep, all the spells necessary to keep something in forever, just now fading.

Blind rage, hate, flashed through me. I couldn't think. I couldn't breath. My fists clenched so hard I snapped the bones of my hand. 300 hundred miles away a village was battered on a cool, calm day by waves the sizes of houses, sweeping away homes, taking lives. 90 miles west, a house with a small fire, nearly contained by the courageous efforts of the townsfolk roared into flames, a horrid wind guiding the inferno from building to building, consuming all it touched. A light wind in a town 100 miles west suddenly and senselessly turned into a tornado that glided through the place, leaving destruction in its wake.

My power poured out of me in my senseless, mindless rage.

From that same room, I asked the spirits of the earth how long it had been since I had tread on the rough stone of their earth outside my tower. In voices of gravel and stone, they replied, "Forty of the apes years."

Forty years! Coherence had become a thing of the past, forgotten in the rage I felt. One thing drew my eye. A pack. A dagger resting on the table. Dishes as if a meal had been eaten there recently.

My rage cooled. It didn't disappear. It could never disappear until what was to be done was done. A smile crept across my face though. The rage turned cold. No longer did I blindly lash out. I knew what was to be done. I knew I was going to do it, nothing in the world would stop me. Nothing.

I felt that this room itself was as good a place as any to start. I closed the coffin lid and pulled the comfiest of chairs from the table and put it in a shadowed corner, the velvet brought memories of my empire. And I waited.

How long, I do not know. Why, I'm not sure, only I felt there was a reason to, and my years had taught me my instincts were wise enough to be trusted here.
I waited.
Time mattered not anymore. Three hours at most. Then he walked into the room.


He was a slightly tall man, especially for an elf. His blond hair coming disheveled to his ears. He wore an open jacket of green silk over a deep read shirt, it's collar like one of a dressed shirt. A harness slung across his chest contained daggers that by their shape and position were meant for throwing his pants were the same color as his jacket, though made of leather. Slung along one shoulder was a case that bore the emblem of the nearest kingdom that clinked and jingled with riches.

A smile crept across my face as I recognized Tanarus. He worked for the group of adventures against me.

As the door slammed suddenly behind him. and I leaned forward, my face barely visible in the flickering shadows, he rudely did not return the smile.

"Hey, Tary, how's it been." The flowed through the sentence like poison through a stream, dangerous and warm.

The man's reply came in the sound of a series of noises akin to a cat being gutted using another cat that happened to be on fire. He fell to the ground and backed up against the door, his eyes damn near glazed over in the kind of terror a deer feels when cornered by about 15 cougars. At the edge of a cliff. On fire.

I stood from my chair, scooped up the man by the front of his shirt, and promptly, with the help of some charming little spells I made to hurt that whole, "Mages are weak" stereotype, slammed him against the door so hard that the 6 inches of wood cracked, or perhaps just some of his vertebra, and he began bleeding from a nasty little bump on his head.

"Now Tar Tar, I understand I've been asleep for awhile, but do you mind telling me just exactly what has become of my kingdom in my absences? My armies? The thousands of people bending to my every whim? My devote followers?" I said, my voice damn near sweet, slamming hum against the wall again. The door was starting to break, "You can either do that your mind and this wall are going to be sharing a very personal and intricate link. And believe me, young Tary, I really would love either or."

The man gasped for breath as he spoke. I tell ya, the fear is nice and all, but damn sometimes does it make it hard to get things done. "They are go go gone... Disbanded, fled, I dunno. They s-sent me here to watch in case.. case you.. case you." He was crying now, the tears flowing down his face and dripping on the arm that held me.

I almost felt pity. He was doing what he thought was right, was just, and yet, he was going to die for trying to help others. Besides almost making me have pity, it also cheered me up immensely. It was like a nice ray of sunshine on a cold cloudy day, or a murder in a happy town. Whichever simile you may prefer.


I slammed him against the wall again, his collar bone snapped. "You should feel lucky, Tanarus. You see, you and all your friends are going to find out what happens to people who go against me so. Against the code. I don't have time to plan your demise, so I won't kill you." My face was inches away from his, and I was staring into those eyes.

He nearly fainted from relief. "So.. you're letting me go?" His voice cracking, his breathing fast.

"No......." My eyes joined the smile on my lips, "I'm going to show you how what you did to me feels." The coffin cracked open, and I grabbed the man's coat with one hand and shoved his broken back with the other and with a throw, I tossed him in. I walked up, slammed the coffin shut. A whisper of will and a ruin drawn in the air bound it shot.

His voice came through as in echoed cry. "What, what are you doing?!" it was nearly a whimper.

"You're learning what it's like in there, sitting, waiting, for 40 years. After that I'll let you out." I laughed all the way as I left my ruined tower, into the raining dark night, into my broken empire, to find my reckoning within the kingdoms of light.




Alright, that's it for the day, but for the next 3 days I will be writing one block such as this.


Lore:
The Races of the Realm Part 1

Humans: The classic human, lives about 70 years. Colors range through the spectrum from black as night to paler than the moon. They make up the predominant number of people, and in many nations not touched by the code, and the evil nations, they are the bottom caste of people.

Elves:
A race that can live up to 700 hundred years based on their slow metabolism. They are nearly unnoticeable shorter than humans, have pointed ears, take longer to develop, speak their own tongue and common, and are one tier up from them. They are generally fairer, with pale skin and blond and sometimes even white hair. As they age, their pupils eventually disappear. They always look young and this is one of the only ways to ascertian their ages.

Aestier:
Creatures of magic. They're humanoid, commonly a foot taller than the average human, with gray skin, ranging from near white to near black, black hair, sharp features, and an intense aptitude for magic. Their average life span is a millennial, and their aging can be seen by the outward signs of magic they generate based on the personal magic used by the Aestier. They are the nobility, and speak an old old tongue, often confused with the mutters and chants of magic speak, likely due to the fact that it is derived from it. They are very rare, as to conceive is an argous task, especially to the fluttering wills and whims of the Aestier people. They are often arrogant in their power. The lead character, Kenadri, is one of this race.

Alright, for all the people asking what the hell is with the lore seciton, this is kind of a way for me to inform you about the story. And, as people who might have read my conversation with Fasty, give me a chance to figure out stuff about my world. Races isn't done, this is just part 1.

Expect to see this with every story post.

Now please, for the love of...
Wait, lemme get the attention of the people who stopped reading.
Then SHE LICKED THE WHIPPED CREAM OFF WHILE THE GUYS MADE OUT IN THE OTHER ROOM!

Alright, now that you're all here, please for the love of god post a reply, if you loved it, hated it, it was ok, whatever. Seriously, I live off replies. It's what keeps me writing from day to day.

I know that If I was bored enough I would compile the code from what you've revealed so far. Which is not much.

oh, race determines class. So many heroes and villains are going to screw with that rule.

No real problems, but I mostly skimmed...That guy is a serious threat. Serious like serious cat.

He is the biggest badass. Like the Sauron of this world but without all the suck or ring based drug addiction.

Most likely, tomorrows lore will be describing what in gods name the code is.

And race determines class for none heroes/villains

There were a few key moments in this section that I just loved. The gradual realization that there had been placed charms around his coffin meant to keep him asleep was a very nice touch that immediately told you that this guy here, he's not to be revered. The charms were like an antiquated "DANGER! HIGH VOLTAGE" sign. I like.

Also, the short threat of creating an intimate bond between Tar's skull and the wall was almost perfectly done. I have a fairly good idea of what's surrounding our antagonist, and good job on not just saying "This is over there, that's over there, here's a thingy, that's what that looks like over there," but rather showing us as and just before the character sees it. You got me interested.

One thing I would try to keep an eye on is saying "____ looked like it had..." Try to be stronger in voice. Rather than looking like something, make it so it simply is. No questions asked, and we believe in you more as a narrator.

Also, the voice of the character feels a little less malevolent than it could be. A lot of "Cause if you don'ts," and that sort floating around. Makes this guy feel less like a dawning evil and more like a punk that could be dealt with easily.

Oh, the stuttering parts should be used minimally. A lot of times people overuse stammering like that. If you do it maybe once every two lines of dialogue, it's a bit more realistic and doesn't stand out as a writing technique. Tom does this a lot in 2kinds, and I hate it. "B-but why would th-they do th-that?" Pick a word out of the line that might have the most power being stammered, and just do that one. Also, use hyphens between the fragments so we know it's not a typo, :)

Ending on a positive note, though, nice badassery with this guy getting pissed and [censored] volcanos going off and all that. Hell yeah! Kick out the mile markers, though. Knowing whether or not it's 100 or 75 miles away isn't too important for us. But I might experiment with it and try some more detail, even more than you have. Fly a camera over woods and rivers, and then unleash carnage. Maybe have a fissure split the earth all along the way, sinking trees and turning rivers into waterfalls. Not sure if it would work, but damned if it wouldn't be fun to write on the side.

Overall, hey, I give you a B+! I wasn't expecting a whole lot, but you changed my mind, ^^

I'll keep those things in mind, and after nearly killing myself with my planned 4 days straight of writing, I'm probably going to go back over and do some revisions to the story to touch up things.

As for the malevolence, I didn't want to seem like the cliche "OMG SO EVIL SNACKS ON BABIES AND RAPES BABIES BEFORE HE'S EVEN AWAKE IN THE MORNING!!!!!!111!!!111one!!!111exlicamtionmark" so I tried to tone it down. If it's not enough I'll start going for more good old fashion snarling evilhood.

Hey, if you want to go for a "I don't need to act crazy for people to know not to mess with me" evil, rock on with it! :) I might even use the teenage Anakin Skywalker for a reference, eh?

............
That's it, the Anakin Sky walk remark means starting next time I edit this and when I write tommarow, the character is baby eating level of evil.

Alright, I took out the most of the stutters, took out the cause, and I'm going to write another section later on today.

Chapter 2:

The rain beat down on my head as I walked down the middle of the street, trying to get my head clear. My thoughts still burned with the anger I felt, and rash actions. I nearly tore the entire road up when I stubbed my toe.

I looked up into the black clouded sky. The rain came down unto my face in sheets, as I tried to remember just what the hell happened to me 40 years ago. The thing I remember of that night was a sudden pain, and the smell of the sunlight mixed with dead burning flesh. The smell filled my nose, and with each breath I could feel myself slipping into unconsciousness.

The hot sun beat down on the pelt of the wolf shape he wore. Rowan would love to be rid of it if it weren't for the damned distance he had to walk. Around him stood some of the most powerful defenders of the light. Some he knew, some he did not, with all one goal in mind. The rode on horses to rest their feet, all following the three hooded and robbed figures in white.


Their clothes obscured their forms. The shadows hid their faces, yet everything about them seemed to shine with the light of the sun. The held staves, rosaries, or candles, and on their necks sat a cross held up by a string of beads. Otherwise, the 3 saints were unadorned.

Rowan knew little of them. Forest life, while a making it a lot more simple to stay away from his least favorite mammal, people, it did lead some difficulty in knowing the world around him.

Rowan did know that they were to the forces of light as the arch demons were to the forces to dark. And as always, he noticed more of the figures in white than those that stood around him. He saw that as the clouds gathered overhead, the sun merely burned stronger around the group walking towards the dark, jagged black tower, off in the distance. He saw the creatures of the forest looked out of their dens and stopped whatever they were doing to see them pass. They walked in silence, and disturbed nothing as they passed, and though they seemed to walk slowly, their heads bowed, he and the horses never, even at their run, never fully caught up with them.

His bones ached by now, they had been running for miles, but now the tower grew closer by the minute, and just standing in that nimbus of light rested his aching paws.

They ran for another hour. The forest around them grew swampy and damp. This was one of the many haunts of his travels. He knew they were getting in close to the territory of a lord. Such a thing was never good, but we had business. A terror to the land had to be elimited.

Night fell.
Arhhhh... the shadows fall like a black carpet, I can't see anything beyond those trees..... wait...., on the winds Rowan smelt a sharp, metallic scent. He stopped in his tracks, the horses slowed behind him, and the saints had stopped walking before he had even noticed the smell.

Rowan's voice came out as a barely a growl. "Darmenia.... step out of the shadows and out of our way. We cannot be delayed tonight."

A wavering hiss, like a snakes laugh, wavered from a shadow. The shadows flickered back, exposing a black shadow of a man dressed browns pants and a black vest, visible only for the lack of metallic sheen of the scales around it.





AH SCREW IT I'M TOO TIRED!
I'll finish this tomorrow, then do tomorrow's post.

XD Abrupt ending, but its working out.

I'd keep an eye on your point of views. You seem to be switching from first-person to third without realizing it, which throws me because you were in first person for demon-boy last section. I might just make it easy on yourself and keep it a solid third person omniscient for every character. Otherwise the shift is a bit odd.

I'm a bit confused as to whether these light-bearers are aware of Rowan, if Rowan is with them, or stalking... bit sketchy on the details.

But I might consider bringing this section to the front of the story, since the suspense you're building would be better felt if we didn't already know about this awakened evil. Either that or give us some details to what the characters in Part 2 know about their mission, which dispels the "I don't know what's going on" suspense and brings in a "What's gonna happen" feeling.

It's not ending there, I'm just too tired to do it now.

And I'm using a few other viewpoints to give more knowledge for the story and everyone who is not the main guy who I'm too lazy too look up the name now is being looked at in a third person perspective while his is viewed from the first. I was looking to use this part as a way to explain what happened without it being an absolutely boring conversation, but I'm really interested in the way you suggest, I think after I get this chunk of text I'm working on written, I think I'll toy around with that.

And he's with them, just he doesn't have a horse like everyone else cause he can run. I assumed wolf would be his most comfortable form.

:) He's your character, you decide. I just wasn't sure if he was a wolf, lying on a horse, walking next to it, stalking from the woods, etc etc... I like the idea of him tagging along with them.

*Finally gets back on the forums*
Hey good start on the story! I'm already looking forward to the next part. :)

It happens today, so I suppose you won't have to wait long
XD

Hmmm, posted 5 days ago...

Where. IS. MY. UPDATE?!