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History’s Accord

Fighting for the pen to write their story,
For we are told the story of the victor
The enemy is always the villain;
The morally wrong; whom we despise.

Portraits of gods and goddess’
The truth hidden with each stroke.
Hairs of a brush mask any imperfections
Yet knives etch other’s evil side.

As we march for truth, blindly accepting
Tales of old: it is written so it is so,
Yet today we distrust all but our eyes
And authors of history are anonymous.

Stories told by men absent from events
Fuel billions; and utmost faith. A profit
Or prophet: only question if written
From the other side; in Hades’ guise.

Crimson tainted ink stains virgin pages
Steady hands hold quills; washed clean,
Telling the history we accept as truth
And the others’ stories hunger for their time.

 
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Posted by on Sunday 13th October, 2013 in Poetry

 

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Chapter Two: Verity (Part I) ~First Draft~

Continued from Chapter One (Part IV) and Poetry Prologue (Verity)

Despite the broken night’s sleep and the unfolding of the disturbing events Ash woke just before dawn, as was usual. His thoughts felt as if he was wading through mud, in vain trying to catch pigs. Curiosity however managed to emerge from the mirth and he couldn’t help but satisfy his desire to explore the remains of John’s house and to find out more about the raiders, from anyone willing to speak of them. However Aunt, aware of his curious mind, pursued him into his chores and intently monitored his movements throughout the morning to ensure he was kept busy with work to do. The torrents of work played some part in Ash not realising that his father had been absent all morning, not that Carel is keen for him to get onto his chores and eager to keep to him busy. Carel is the Lord’s messenger and Ash assumes that he has gone to the Lord regarding last nights raids. Not to tell the Lord about the events, but to ensure that Carel delivers a message to the higher lord of their region informing them of the situation.

Carel arrives back home around lunch time. As usual all the family have worked hard on the land since dawn. Hands blackened by the dark soil, clothes torn and stained by animal movements. Carel however stands before them. Clean clothes of a finer cloth than any of them possess. His hands only slightly stained with ink used to write messages. Ash is instantly aware that Carel is to embark on a trip to deliver a message. Ash is use to such journeys, and sadly doesn’t miss his father on such trips from home.

Surprisingly Carel informs them Ash will also travel with him on this journey, as he rarely travels with Carel and when he does it isn’t that pleasant for either of them, although Ash is enchanted with the new faces and places. Ash and his father have an odd relationship. Carel has struggled to cope with Ash sine the death of his wife. Ash is unsure of why Carel is like this and wonders often what life would be like now with his mother around. However chores and a busy lifestyle don’t let him wonder too often of this. However now his father was taking him back to his birth place and where his mother died. Carel talks so rarely of his wife, and even less of their life before Black Meadow.

Continues to Part II

Ersnon Glossary

 
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Posted by on Monday 13th May, 2013 in Creative Writing, The Struggle Within

 

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Chapter One: Torpor (Part IV) ~First Draft~

Continued from Part III

He broached the subject with his father, uncle and aunt later as they sat around the hearth trying to warm up after being out in the cold. The children slept, largely unaware of the night events other than that they had had to bunk down with the animals for a bit. When the subject was raised, it was aunt who answered. “You may say that now but wait until you have a family of your own. Before my family I too only thought about myself and what great things I would change. However with my family I realised that what was important to me suddenly had changed. My dreams of grandeur and being my own woman changed. My family were all that mattered, and their safety was paramount over all other.”

“But surely you would want to save another from such misery to lose their family” Ash questioned.

“Dear boy, you are but too young to understand the love and protection one feels towards a family of your own. To interfere with another is unbecoming and unnecessary. You will learn this all when you are a man and have your own family” Uncle calmly and indignantly explained.

“No, I think no matter I will be brave and defend those that need help”

“Bravery can be measured many different ways. Who are you to decide what is brave? What bravery have you accomplished in your life to define bravery? I have kept you and my family safe. If I had foolishly gone to defend poor John I could be dead, leaving my family without a man about the house … can you imagine the life that then would have become my family and you?”

Carel was about to object to not being considered a man by Uncle, however he stuttered before keeping quiet. Ash noted the gesture and wasn’t surprised that his father hadn’t objected. Did even Carel question his courage and strength, or was it simply that Carel hadn’t wanted to detract from Uncle’s statement.

Ash understood he had over stood the mark. He was too young to understand his uncles retort and exactly why his uncle was so angry with him now. All Ash knew was that he would not run, he would stand and fight, maybe.

Continues to Chapter Two

Ersnon Glossary

 
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Posted by on Sunday 12th May, 2013 in Creative Writing, The Struggle Within

 

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Chapter One: Torpor (Part III) ~First Draft~

Continued from Part II

Ash’s uncle waited a few moments to ensure the horsemen had disappeared before emerging from behind the safety of his door.  His father cowardly followed his uncle out onto the path.  Ash with false bravado strode behind both of them, with the eagerness of youth however silently aware of his ineptness, he stayed behind his father.  They approached John where he laid.  Ash became aware that other villagers were now emerging from behind closed doors.  It was evident to Ash that the fear of standing up to the horsemen was not restricted to his family.  The village had grown into farmers and lacked any will to engage in any activities that would risk their lives.  Ash had mixed emotions:  he could not imagine standing by as his cousins or friends were taken before him without lifting a hand, if he was an adult that was.  His father had trembled through the whole event, it was obvious that he held no fear for others, but only himself.  Ash hoped that his father would have shown more backbone if it had been his life in the balance (on the back of the horsemen’s saddle).

Upon reaching John’s slumped body horse’s hooves could be heard coming from the opposite direction that the horsemen had disappeared too.  There was fear and hesitation from the villagers.  Unsure if it was the horsemen returning or the arrival finally of the guards.  It was the later.  The guards rode in with their shining armour and swords drawn. They appeared with all the bravado of men ready to fight.  Each however glad that only villagers remained.  “What took you so long?” uncle brazenly questioned the guards.

“It was a cold night and we were not expecting any such raid by the Járn” The head guard replied between yawns.

“They went that way” Uncle politely pointed out the direction that the Járn raiders had disappeared too.

“We dare not follow in such a dark night.  We also can not leave you unguarded after such events”

John had come to during the discussion after be awoken by other villagers, who now supported his weight.  “My daughter and wife were taken.  I have sown and harvested the Lord’s fields for many cycles now.  The least you can do is follow them.” He pleaded.

“The Lord is thankful for you labours however we are responsible for all the Lord’s people.  We must stand by our people and protect them.  We will be able to go after your women come the time we are sure all the village is secure.”

“Cowards … “ John muttered under his breath.  The guards pretended not to hear him, preferring to end the discussions and undertake drills to reassure the village that they were protecting them.  However it was known throughout the village that the Járn only undertook quick raids of towns.  Their objective to grab a few slaves and be on their way.  They would ride far in the night and all knew John would never see his wife or daughter again.  The Járn were ruthless riders and the guards who could not match their horsemen ship and had even less capabilities to match their courage and fighting abilities.

John collapsed to the muddied path.  Accepting the fate that bestowed his wife and daughter.  A life of being a slave to the Járn until the end of their days.  Aunt now approached John and escorted him back to our house.  Ash stood in the middle of the path.  Deep in thought.  The men of the village had seemingly already forgotten the nights events.  Their sole purpose now concentrated on putting out the fire that burned John’s house.  The concern was not saving John’s house but stopping the fire from spreading to any other houses.

Ash realised at this moment that when he was an adult he would not stand idly bye and let his fellow villagers be victims such as John.  He would act when the time arose not wait for the danger to pass, ensuring that he was safe.

Continues to Part IV

Ersnon Glossary

 
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Posted by on Wednesday 8th May, 2013 in Creative Writing, The Struggle Within

 

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Chapter One: Torpor (Part II) ~First Draft~

Continued from Part I

His father felt Ash behind him, however did not acknowledge him in any way. Ash could tell his father was fearful. He was not a brave man and definitely hid behind the protection of Lord Elman.

Ash could see glimmers of what was happening outside and managed to piece together from what he could see and heard from his Uncle’s commentary that John’s house, whom lived across the path, was ablaze and that men bearing weapons upon horses were parading around in command. In the flashing of the flames and small slit in the door he could see Mary, John’s wife screaming alongside her daughter in the middle of the path. A man atop a horse was holding them both. Eyeing them off as Ash had seen farmers cast an eye over cattle available for purchasing. John then came defiantly running onto the scene, had the men been caught unawares by John’s desperation or was it all part of their game. Trying in vain to fight the horseman. John had only his hands, against a heavily armed man atop a horse, who had more weapons than Ash had seen before. And many he could only imagine how they were used.

With a swift backhand from the horseman John fell to the ground. As he regained his feet Ash saw another horseman ride up behind him and fall him with a swift whack to head with some thick club like weapon. John’s body slumped to the ground. The horsemen simply laughed at the folly of John’s attempts. They however made no attempt to take his life or further hurt him.

Uncle mumbled to Ash’s father “We will wait for the guards to arrive”

Ash’s father nodded solemnly in agreement. Neither had any fight in them, Ash was disgraced with their attitudes and cowardice. Ash however was friends with John’s daughter and although young imagined one day marrying her. Without a second thought he approached the door. Uncle however grabbed him in strong arms. “You can’t help them now, son.”

Ash struggled briefly but realised it was useless. Also if he couldn’t even get free of his Uncle who hid from these horsemen what chance did he have against at least two horsemen. Ash heard some talk between the horsemen now, then raucous laughter. Obviously enjoying the sight of the women on display. A third horseman than rode up and picked up Mary. Mary’s daughter than was picked up by the first horseman. They all then rode off away from town. Three or four more horsemen followed with quick procession. The women screamed as they were taken away … the horsemen roared in mockery, of the women and the fear of the townspeople as they disappeared into the cold night.

Continues to Part III

Ersnon Glossary

 
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Posted by on Tuesday 7th May, 2013 in Creative Writing, The Struggle Within

 

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Chapter One : Torpor (Part I) ~First Draft~

Poetry prelude for Chapter One

Screams encroached upon Ash’s dreams, shattering his temporary illusions of riding alongside Lord Elman’s guards. In his dream he is free from the toils of working the land for the Lord and having to return home only to tend his fields and animals. Instead the wind cascaded across his face as he galloped with assurance upon his black steed. The steed’s unblemished coat shone in the sunshine and her muscles rippled in delight with each stride. The weight of his metal armour weighed heavy on his shoulder, but the burden of being a protector warmed him like only the summer sunshine could. His mind relished the warmth that for most his life had never known, and his thread bare rags he wore were replaced by the cloth of a knight’s stable. The warmth, the material goods and the freedoms of such a position were scattered images, as Ash had no clear notion of such feelings and possessions. He had only observed guards from a distance as a stranger dreaming of all the romanticised lives that he would live as a guard. His ride was suddenly over, as he now found himself lying down in the trodden mud puddles of an unknown land, fighting an unknown enemy with a sword bearing towards his head. However the man holding the sword was hidden in the shadows.

Ash startled awake as the sword struck. He found himself shivering and huddled in his sinew blankets of scraps. The coldness of the night biting deep into him, the blankets thread bare offered little comfort and the central hearth in their house was now reduced to dull embers that feebly tried to lick the bitter chill hanging. An awkward atmosphere clung to the smoke filled house. It wasn’t the cold because Ash was used to feeling cold each and every night during the winter. Unusual for the dead of the night the animals hidden in the dark recess of the house were agitated and restless. Although his eyes were open his mind still slept, taking a while to catch what all his senses were yelling at him.

Through the gloom the fearful cries that first appeared as a nightmare now pierced his stupor as he realised that the screams were far from any dream and set firmly in his reality. Slowly Ash arose, the sound of other voices within his home mumbling under breath. The only light within the house illuminated from the central hearth, with warm embers barely lighting the inner walls. The poor visibility wasn’t helped by the smoke thickened air that lingered eternally within the confines of the house throughout winter.

A lonely silhouette was visible at the door, it held a hoe firmly however the only intended use appeared to till soil. It was his Uncle Garyson whom he and his father, Carel, lived with. It was his Uncle’s house, and under Aunt Bessima’s insistence, he had invited them to share their house after the death of Ash’s mother. Ash could make out the shape of his Aunt Bessima sitting up from her bed.

He could hear his Aunt asking his Uncle what were the screams, he didn’t acknowledge her question simply directing her to take the children to the back of the house with the animals. She followed without any rebuttal. Calmly she gathered the children and lead them to the sanctuary with the animals at the rear of the house. Aunt told Ash to follow her, however he ignored her and joined his father and uncle at the door.

Continues to Part II

Ersnon Glossary

(Constructive criticism, comments, suggestions, ideas, opinions etc. welcomed throughout)

 
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Posted by on Monday 29th April, 2013 in Creative Writing, The Struggle Within

 

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Njóttla Tales (Part 1) – First Draft

“Tonight all of Ersnon will have a restless sleep.  Wolves will be silent as they stalk, bears will awaken from their winter slumbers, and the feirguls (dead birds) will rule the skies for Njóla.  For tonight belongs to her and hers to command.  All that is natural will be corrupted tonight, so stay close to home and keep your fire strong.  On Njóttla (Night of the Dead) even the Vándr Náttúra (evil spirits) hide, for they fear the feivakr (the undead) that may roam Ersnon tonight.” Old Gimli boomed the start of the tale so all the children across the Great Hall could hear.  Although the children had heard the tale many times, it still was special to hear the tales of Njóla and Njóttla, which could only be told tonight.

Haakon (one of the main characters in the series) patiently sat at the head of the children.  He was the strongest of all the boys his age, and a greater warrior than all, even those 2 cycles his senior.  But the tales of Njóla were something that he still feared, and never tempted fate by roaming the blackness that She blanketed the stars and moon tonight.

Old Gimli continued Njóla’s tale “To understand Njóttla you must first know the tales of Njóla.  Her story starts in Mærrlopt (their fortress heaven) and as the daughter of Ǫrvar (their creator).  She was our Creator’s most beautiful daughter, and destined to be a goddess of greatness, but she chose a path of betrayal, evil and deceit.  Our Creator gave her everything that she desired, she never went without.  How did she thank Her father, Our Father, with going behind His back and trying to help the Vándr Náttúra to steal Mærrlopt.”

The children gasped at this revelation, for their whole life was centred around earning the right to enter Mærrlopt and defeating the Vándr Náttúra in an eternal war.  The thought of assisting them was great evil, and she wanted to assist them in stealing Mærrlopt, the home of their Gods and warrior ancestors. Old Gimli paused a little as the children digested the evil deeds that she had undertaken.

“Our Father however was not blind nor deaf, and heard of her deceit before she could help them steal His home.  As much as He loved His daughter, He could not let her actions go unpunished.  Her level of deceit was unheard of, and Our Father was angered that His most treasured daughter had transgressed.  He was going to be lenient on her, but she insisted she’d done no wrong and that the Vándr Náttúra were not that evil.  This threw Him into a rage, in which He savagely whipped her across the back.  He then took her sight, as she was never to be allowed to look upon the beauty of Mærrlopt again.  Finally He banished her from Mærrlopt.  She fell down to Ersnon, which at the time was only water.  The salt water scarred her still bleeding wounds on her back.  Yet she made no noise, for she did not want to give Ǫrvar any satisfaction and already the evil that she had allowed into her heart had quenched her pain.”

“She was condemned to spend her immortality in the depths of Ersnon’s waters, alone and blind.  That was until Ǫrvar saw the strength that Ersnon’s water had in imprisoning His daughter.  So He decided to cast the Vándr Náttúra into the waters too.  It was too late before He realised that he had reunited Njóla and them.  They both reach an amicable relationship in their watery graves, and it is said that the offspring of Njóla from the Vándr Náttúra would lead their fight against the Gods, when the dead moon rose.”

Ǫrvar saw this alliance form and in His fury cast down His spear to create land and the people of Ersnon.  It is said that Ǫrvar had however thrown the spear so hard that it had pierced the skin of Ersnon and opened a hole to Ofantún (the underworld).  The warmth that escaped from this hole aroused Njóla‘s interest.  She drew close to the hole, and was pulled down.  In Ofantún She felt warm for the first time in centuries, and she was dry.  She found her strength again and became the Goddess of Darkness and Death.”

To be continued …

Check out the Legends of Ersnon glossary for some descriptions of creatures, I have put quick names in brackets (the problem being that this isn’t the first chapter and the creatures would be explained earlier on in the book … however I haven’t written those chapters yet).  I welcome any constructive criticism, as this is only a first draft and I want to improve on it for the reader.  Remember the reader would be introduced to most of these names and creations prior to this chapter in the context of the full story.

 
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Posted by on Tuesday 5th March, 2013 in Creative Writing, The Struggle Within

 

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