NanoWriMo

I sometimes write wacky short stories, then delete them. Sometimes, they're more drawn out than that. I still can't write anything up to my standards.

Godspeed! Post it here if you are man enough once you're done. I'd like to give it a perusal.

powered thru today. I've got like 7 scenes going on simultaneously but it's coming together I think! I'm at 4100 words so far.


Javed picked up the stiff parchment, skimming the message. It was a request by one of the many nobles of the city. More soldiers for the noble quarter? Javed never fully understood why Hamanu kept the nobles in power. He has personally argued for hours with his King on doing away with the archaic system but to no avail. Javed came to the realization that his King, the all-knowing, the omniscient, the Lion of Urik only gives power and favor to those whom are a benefit to himself and Urik. And that is why Javed has been the Champion of Urik for forty years. Javed was only fourteen when he began working for the Urik templarate, an elf from Joiner’s Square with an obsidian dagger and three ceramic bits to his name. He started as a courier, running messages from one templar to another, eventually he was trusted enough to carry the messages of nobles, the tips weren’t that bad but Javed was meant for more.

On one particularly sweltering day Javed now almost seventeen years old was delivering a message from a war bureau templar to House Stel’s noble estate. A job he had done a dozen times before. This time would be different. The slave that normally answered the gate told Javed to wait. He thought it funny because he never waited, just dropped off the scroll with the steward of the House. Javed wiped at the perspiration on his brow and glared at the crimson sky. Not long went by and the gates swung open once more, the steward motioned him inside. Javed frowned and looked the pale dwarf up and down.

“I’m just here to drop off a letter.” Javed protested in thickly accented Urikite common.

“My master bid you enter. He wishes to meet with the one responsible for the timely delivery of his messages to the templarate all these years.” The dwarven slave bowed his head and stepped to the side, holding arm toward the estate.

Javed looked down the paved cobblestone path to the large noble estate and sighed. Won’t be getting home early today. He stepped through the gates and onto the cobblestones, long legs carrying him much quicker than the dwarf could ever hope to achieve. Javed stopped in front of the estate doors, both made from molded agafari, rare this far from the city-state of Gulg and her forests. The dwarf caught up and quickly pushed the doors open, waving two Stel guards away as they came to investigate. “This elf has been summoned by our Lord.”

Javed looked at the guards with little worry, he had learned to defend himself years ago and his abilities with psychometabolism and telepathy were something he trained day and night. With but a thought Javed sapped his metabolism, he felt the surge of energy as the blood began to flow more quickly and his tendons tightened their grip upon his muscles and skeleton. Giants strength. The first thing I taught myself. Javed smiled and stepped into the estate.

The entrance of the estate was a large foyer with two massive flags displaying the black flag of Stel. Javed looked upon the walls and saw the weapons and armor that the dynastic merchant house was known for peddling. The premiere weapons and armor dealer in the city was House Stel and they were one of the most powerful families in the Tyr region, their reach extending to every city-state in the Tablelands. The dwarven slave spoke in a hushed tone, “Please come with me.”

Javed followed the dwarf through a series of doors and a single staircase. Javed noticed that each hall was practical in design with little to no decoration. They reached two large double doors and the dwarf swung them open and stood aside. Inside was what appeared to be a study, with bookcases lining the wall and a large table in the middle of the room with several high-backed chairs. Javed stepped inside reluctantly, his muscles tightening from the psionic strength flowing through them. The doors quietly shut behind him and he felt a contact touch his mind. Javeds initial reaction was defense and so he quickly erected high stone walls around his mind, a manifestation of the city-state of Urik.

“Very good.” Came a voice from one of the large high-backed chairs facing away from Javed. Javed approached, knowing that his knowledge of the Way was superior to this individual.
As Javed reached the chair he came around and looked down on a tiny pale man “Please. Sit.” He gestured to the chair across from his own. Javed frowned and moved to the chair, knowing full well the power that this noble could wield with words alone.
Javed sat uncomfortably, more accustomed to crouching and running with his long limbs, the chair felt claustrophobic, the whole room felt claustrophobic. “My Lord.” Javed bowed his head in acquiescence to the noble before lifting his gaze and surveying him more critically; he was a middle-aged human with a balding head, short and almost sickly pale he couldn’t have painted a more starkly contrasted picture to the six and a half foot tall, black-skinned Javed. The noble wore a silk robe painted with the black scimitar of House Stel, a simple leather swordbelt wrapped his lithe waist and both of his wrists were bejeweled with plain obsidian bracelets, a silver signet ring gleamed in the light. That ring was worth more than Javed’s life.

“My letter if you please.” The man spoke with the common Urikite with a neutral accent, a sign that he was born and raised in Urik, or adeptly trained at hiding his heritage. Javed swung his satchel to his lap and flipped several long braids of his dark hair over a shoulder before reaching in to retrieve the thickly bound scroll of parchment and place it on the table. A signet ring had sealed the parchment; a roaring lion in yellow ink, the universal indicator for the Lion’s war bureau. The letter lifted into the air and levitated over to the nobles lap. Javed managed a smirk at the show of telepathy. Is he trying to impress me?

“I am Lord Isar Stel.” He pulled a delicate knife from his belt

I'm at 10k words finally. It's been difficult on the ship to write as much as I want but here is another chapter.

The Eve of Battle

Alaric stood in the courtyard, watching several J’karr drill. They were the best money could buy in Urik. Alaric felt uneasy. His King had just entered his mind and warned of an attack on Fort Stel. Why would the Sun Runners attack here? And why the fuck am I here for it. He smoothed his yellow templar’s robe and turned around to face his best friend, Isar Stel the second of his name.
“Well? You’re sure it was him?”
“I know my King’s presence. It was him.” Alaric stepped closer to Isar. He was reclining on a stone bench.
Isar Stel was a short pale man with a long braided goatee. He was heir to the wealthiest Merchant House in Urik. He looked to Alaric fondly. Alaric noticed the look.
“You’ll be given all the men I can spare. You know I won’t be any good in a fight.”
Alaric nodded. Reached up and grasped the gold medallion. Nothing. Hamanu himself only knew why the medallion wasn’t working. Alaric was a practiced psionicist but he focused his entire life on battle, psychometabolism was the only aspect he ever mastered. He felt that telepathic link from hours ago and Hamanu’s thunderous words still echoed to him from a distance he couldn’t even fathom. ALARIC! Battle comes! Fight them! Arri-
It was as if the King of the Mountains, Lion of Urik, the omniscient one had been silenced. Impossible. Alaric worshipped him as a god, despite Hamanu’s insistence otherwise. Alaric grasped his medallion for a long time, hoping to hear from his King again. He was rewarded with the worst thing of all, silence.
“You have a safe house?” Alaric looked to Isar with concern.
“Yes. Yes. And three half-giant bodyguards. I will be fine.”
“I could use them.” Alaric was fond of half-giants and their usefulness in battle.
Isar let out a soft chuckle, “They cost a fortune. I’m afraid they stay with me.”
Alaric shrugged and looked in the distance as a figure in a black duster approached.
“Ah. Captain Khann.” Isar stood.
Alaric sized up the leader of the J’karr. He wore his duster tightly about his wiry sun-bronzed frame, was gnarled, older and had a scruffy face with two intensely blue eyes. A mop of blond hair sprouted from his head and was windblown. A vertical scar bisected his eye but hadn’t taken his vision. Everything Alaric could have expected from a J’karr mercenary.
Khann stopped in front of them and knelt before Alaric. “My Lord Alaric. Agent Stel” He didn’t stay down for long and rose before Alaric could fully appreciate a J’karr kneeling before him. They were a proud bunch and if he were any other templar it would barely be a nod.
“Captain. I hope you and your men are ready to earn your wage.” Alaric watched Khann intently and noticed something off. “What is it? Speak now.”
Khann frowned and looked down, “There was an attempt on my life in the officers mess hall my Lord. An elf, no older than a teenager.”
Alaric and Isar swapped glances.
“I take it you dealt with it?” Alaric probed further.
“She is dead my Lord.” Khann spoke with little emotion.
“You’ve killed women and children before.” Alaric knew the answer before it came.
“Yes of course.” Khann looked between Isar and Alaric.
“I won’t dally with you Captain. There is an imminent attack on this fort. Gather your entire force. You have a hundred men here yes?”
“Ninety six to be exact.”
Alaric nodded. “Organize them into skirmisher units. We’re going to meet them in the fields.”
Khann frowned. “My Lord may I suggest that we simply entrench ourselves here. We can defend these walls for days.”
Alaric was not used to being disobeyed.“Captain. I’ll afford you this single moment of disobedience. You will learn today why I am the High Templar of the War Bureau. Do as you’re told or I will find someone in your band who will.”
Khann managed to swallow and kneel to Alaric before moving off to the drill yard bellowing orders. “J’karr assemble! Assemble on me now!”
Alaric knew full well they could defend Fort Stel but he had orders from his King to enter battle.

And he fully intended to do so.