tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-32681622753933745602023-11-15T07:11:54.801-08:00The Quill's JourneyA teenage writer's journey from a blank page to a book.Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08738544679323769601noreply@blogger.comBlogger3125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268162275393374560.post-62455367279902976632012-12-07T10:40:00.001-08:002012-12-07T10:40:08.053-08:00A Preview: Chapter One<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<u>Because Facts are Boring</u></h2>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: small;">I know I've been <span style="font-size: small;">posting about Scarlet Talon (Just kidding<span style="font-size: small;">. I've psoted like nothing), but here's an exerpt from the book<span style="font-size: small;">; specificall<span style="font-size: small;">y the first chapter. Enjoy, and leave any responses in the comments below! Thank you!</span></span></span></span></span></div>
</div>
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<br />
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<b><u>Chapter 1</u></b></div>
<div align="center" class="MsoNormal" style="text-align: center;">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<i>Bara-BOOM. Bara-BOOM. Bara-Bara-Bara-BOOM!</i></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The funeral procession was still a good quarter of a
kilometre away and yet the noise of the drums still echoed down the cobblestone
alleyways and equally un-paved main streets. Shop owners stopped hawking their
wares to listen in equal parts wonder and horror; for though the noise had
never before been heard, everyone knew what it meant. The main street fell in
to silence as, in the distance, a black processional approached, marching down
from the castle towards the river, twisting its way through the hills.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
At the lead was the Shadow Guard, an elite force who were
the Queen’s personal bodyguard. Handpicked from the most promising recruits to
the Royal service, they received special training that made them near
invincible in hand-to-hand fighting and experts at all assets of personal
protection. Their dark, purple-and-red uniform melded perfectly of the
procession, and where normally they would have elicited several excited
whispers amongst the townspeople, today they stared on in silence as the men
passed.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Following them were regular lieutenants in the Royal
service. These men had, in their own way, been of great service to the Queen,
and had so been given one of the highest honours she was capable of giving;
each was in charge of one of the eight divisions of the Royal service. They did
not wear their uniform, as its bright blue and red colours would have been
incredibly ostentatious. Instead, they wore all black, and carried rifles with
bayonets over their left shoulders.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Rumours were spreading amongst the town people; perhaps the
dead person was the crown prince? The young boy had been sick with an
undiagnosed disease, and it was generally held as common knowledge that he
wouldn’t recover. It would be incredibly sad, but not incredibly surprising, to
see him lying in the casket as it passed by.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Following the lieutenants was the main processional. This
included various members of the Royal family, and high-ranking nobles and
aristocrats. They drove in a solemn line, forgoing walking, choosing instead to
ride in horse and carriage. Their faces were obscured by curtains and veils,
and they seemed aloof, enigmatic, above the proceedings. Those that the
townspeople could see showed no sign of grief, but they knew that it was most
likely an act, put on for their benefit.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Then the casket rounded the corner.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Carried by eight servants, the casket was inlaid with gold,
and made of heavy oak. Long poles ran through the sides, and it required four
to a side simply to life the box. As they moved down the street, the people
were finally able to get a look at the deceased. As they saw the occupant of
the casket, a great cry went up, and many people began to openly weep. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The Queen! The Queen is dead!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The cry was carried by the townspeople, and a great many of
them rent their clothing, and wept right there on the cobblestone streets. The
casket slowly passed, and was brought up by the rearguard, a patrol of mounted
cavalry carrying carbines. They were garbed completely in black, and due to a
visor on their helmets, it was impossible to see their faces.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
So ended the reign of Adika Regina II of Taray.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<span style="mso-spacerun: yes;"> </span>Lord Edward Nietz of
Kor paid no heed to the mourning of the townspeople outside of his carriage. He
was staring out ahead of him, at the back of the coach before him, lost in
thought. Idly, his fingers drummed on the window frame of the door he sat
against, and his tongue pressed against the back of his teeth. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The back of the coach in front of him was quite interesting,
albeit rather plain. It was a rather ostentatious sky-blue, with silver inlay
in swirling patterns that was clearly meant to symbolize something; possibly
the coat of arms of the noble in front of him. Nietz frowned, and tried, in
vain, to discern just <i>which</i> noble it was. Within a few seconds, he gave
up – it was a pointless endeavour, and he had more important things to think
about.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Queen’s death was… suspicious. She had been found in her
room, sitting in an armchair, a lazy smile across her face. This might not have
aroused any suspicion, except that the person inspecting the Queen’s body had
noticed that she seemed rather… dishevelled. She had alerted the Royal service,
and they immediately launched an investigation as to whether assassination could
be ruled out as a viable option or not.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
However, doing an autopsy was not an option. However
foolishly, doing an autopsy on a member of the Royal family was illegal unless
a court order stating that an assassination was being considered a possible cause
of death was obtained, and so, since the service hadn’t been able to get the
order in time, the body of Adika II was not dissected. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nietz had been on the scene of the death within about half
an hour of the alert being raised, to do a post-mortem inspection; that had
been about four hours before, on the edge of dawn. He’d not appreciated being
woken, but endured it for her sake. The body was taken, and brought to the
Royal surgeon. However, without the court order, he could do nothing except
order her cleaned and then, after being dressed, placed in a casket.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Queen had been much loved by her people, a fact that
could be readily appreciated by the wailing coming through the walls of the
coach. Nietz frowned as he became aware of it for the first time, and tried to
mentally block it out. However, with her passing, her husband, the King, was
the ruler of the country. Their son, the Crown Prince Adrian, would be the
official heir following the King’s passing, but, with his sickness, the
birthright had been <i>de facto </i>transferred to their younger daughter,
Kathleen.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The Queen is dead,” Nietz murmured to himself, not really
paying attention to what he was saying. “Long live King Stephen.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He was jolted out of his stupor by the carriage coming to a
sudden halt. He looked up from his mutterings, and saw that his chauffeur was
looking back down at him. The man had been sitting up top, managing the horses,
making sure he kept the right pace, and not letting the beasts get out of line.
Now, though, he had one last job.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My lord, we’ve arrived at the river. I must ask you to exit
the vehicle while I go park; the lords and ladies appear to be gathering by
that willow over there.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nietz nodded his thanks, and opened the door. He stepped
out, and rose to his full height. His coattails fluttered slightly in a slight
breeze that was blowing over the riverbank, and he shivered. Suddenly, he found
the willow tree that the Chauffeur had mentioned, and saw that, indeed, the
other nobles had gathered there.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Striding over, he made his way among them until he reached
the centre of the clump, where stood the Lord of Maklaey, one Lord Earl
Jayovere. Nietz shook his hand, and then, pulling him close, muttered in his
ear, “How is His Majesty taking the news?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jayovere frowned at the question, more out of thought than
disapproval, and whispered back, “about as rough as one would expect him to
take it; his wife did just pass away, you must remember.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, Jayovere. I’m very likely to forget that the <i>Queen
is dead</i>, especially given our current location and circumstances. Really,
sir, are you trying to insult my intelligence?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The lord turned red, and, sputtering, decided it was best
not to respond. Curtly, he excused himself, turned on his heels, and strode
away. Nietz examined his retreating form, and decided that angering that
particular Lord may not have been the best of ideas. However, considering there
was little he could do about it, he decided to lay the issue to rest – in this
case, literally. The funeral was beginning.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Taray was a nation of water, and one of the old sayings the
nurse-mothers told was, “From water to water, we are nought but water.” Though
rather depressing if one thought too deeply about it, the saying was certainly
accurate when it came to Tarayian burial customs. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The ornate coffin had been placed aboard a relatively plain
boat, specifically made to not last long in the waters that flowed past the
palace, out to the sea. The boat would follow the river, go as far as it could,
and as soon as it hit any rock, or bashed in to the shore, it would sink. The
boats usually made it to open sea, and then sank within a few days. The point
of the custom was, because no one knew where the grave was, there could be no
pilgrimage to the grave of an especially renowned monarch; there would be no
praying at their grave.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The Queen’s boat was simply made of a frame of wood, covered
in canvas that had been water-proofed with oil and animal fats. The casket was
place in an alcove made specifically for it, and then a fat man in a black robe
ascended to a small platform above the nobles and Royal family members.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“From water to water, ye go, and let the one God accept ye…”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nietz listened with interest as the man, who was apparently
a priest, said some prayers, and then stepped down. The King walked beside
where the boat was tethered, and, his eyes hidden by a pair of darkened
glasses, he undid the boat. Suddenly released from the forces protecting it
from the current, the boat seemed to hesitate for a moment, and then began to
slowly float downstream. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The nobles stared after it for a long time until it had
disappeared around the bend in the river, and then, slowly, as though coming
out of a daze, they turned, in huddled groups, and sombrely made their way back
to their individual carriages. The tears, the remembrance – all of that would
come later. First came the acceptance; and no one could really believe she was
gone yet.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nietz got in to his carriage, and instructed his chauffeur
to take him back to the inn where he was staying while he was in the capital.
The Delilah was a surprisingly classy establishment, with clean beds, good
food, and better drink. As well, an added bonus, it was a mere ten minutes by
foot from the castle – not that Nietz would have been caught dead entering on
foot. That would be the ultimate disgrace.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
As the carriage pulled to a halt in front of the inn, he
rubbed his head, and realized suddenly that he was incredibly hungry; he’d
skipped out on breakfast to get to the scene of the death. They really served
quite wonderful breakfast: ham and eggs, absolutely delicious.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My lord, we’ve arrived,” the chauffeur said patiently, and
Nietz glared at him.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m aware of that, you buffoon!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
He stepped out of the carriage, and glanced up at the sign
above the door as he entered the inn. It showed a picture of a maid in a
faintly seductive position, modestly dressed but still enticing, holding a pair
of scissors. “The Delilah” was emblazoned underneath in strange, gothic text.
The reference had been completely lost on Nietz, and when he had asked the
innkeeper about it, he had looked vaguely uncomfortable, and avoided answering
the question.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The atmosphere inside the inn was gloomy. There were only
about three people in the room, including the innkeeper, who was cleaning a
glass. Two men were separately eating breakfast, one having the pancakes, and
the other having the ham and eggs. Nietz strode across the room, and approached
the innkeeper.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Ah, hello there, m’lord. I’m afraid I didn’t see ye comin’
in. Anything I can get ye?” </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, I would like the ham and eggs. Perhaps with some milk
on the side. Is that understood?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Yes, m’lord.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Good,” Nietz nodded, and then went and sat at one of the
tables in the corner. It was relatively near the fireplace, which, while warm,
was not going anywhere near its full blaze at this time of the day. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“This is the problem with traveling with a small retinue,”
he muttered to himself gloomily. “You have to do all of this stuff yourself.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
A few minutes later the innkeeper brought out the ham and
eggs, and Nietz distracted himself with the food for quite a while. However,
not even the scrumptious combination could keep him away from the troubles
prowling his mind for long, and soon he was back to thinking about the Queen’s death.
There was something out of place in the whole thing, something that was itching
at the back of his mind.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Lord Nietz?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nietz looked up, and saw a figure outlined in the doorway,
and frowned as he tried to make out who it was. Then his eyes widened as he
realized the man was none other than Lord Jayovere.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My, my. Lord Jayovere. To what do I owe this pleasure?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I, er… I wanted to apologize for my behaviour this morning.
I was condescending with you, and I’m sorry.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nietz briefly contemplated pointing out the fact that he,
and not Jayovere, had been the standoffish one, but then dismissed the idea. If
he wanted to apologize, who was Nietz to prevent him from doing what he wanted?</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I accept your apology, Lord Jayovere. Thank you.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Also, I wanted to talk to you about the… incident this
morning.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Of course,” Nietz sighed. “What do you want to know?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jayovere glanced around nervously, and then said, quietly,
“Is there anywhere more private we can talk?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“My room,” Nietz said immediately. “Just let me finish my
breakfast, and we can go straight up.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
The ham and eggs suddenly seemed to taste a lot more
rubbery, and after a few more mouthfuls, he decided that the additional
nutrition wasn’t worth the wait time, and so stood, strode over to a garbage
can, and threw out the remaining food. </div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Add the food to my tab, Innkeeper,” he commanded over his
shoulder as he headed upstairs, and the innkeeper nodded. He wasn’t fully
paying attention to the noble, as he had been staring out the window at the
local beauty selling wares outside, across the street. The glass he was
cleaning was most likely spotless.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nietz and Jayovere reached the room, and went inside. Nietz
sat down on the made bed, and, with a sweeping motion of his arm, indicated
that his companion should take the chair that was the partner of the desk that
sat under the window. Jayovere sat, and suddenly seemed a different man. He was
shaking, and his fingers seemed to shake in odd, unpredictable manner. As well,
he seemed bent over, as though carrying some incredible secret upon his back.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I… trust you know the details of Her Majesty’s death?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I’m afraid I only know what I’ve been told, and what I
found upon investigation, Earl – is it alright if I call you Earl? It’s
frightfully formal to call you “Lord Jayovere”, and just Jayovere seems rude –
which is, regrettably, very little.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jayovere gave a slight smile, and responded, “Only if I may
call you by your first name as well.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nietz grimaced, and then acquiesced. “Oh, very well, if you
must.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Anyways, the Queen was found dead at around five-thirty
a.m., by a chambermaid named Mary. She screamed, and raised the other servants
in Her Majesty’s suite. They quickly contacted the authorities, who, after a
brief investigation, could not conclude how she died. They think it <i>may</i>
have simply been old age, but I don’t believe it. Her Majesty was not an old
woman; fifty-four is hardly an age to be dropping off dead.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So, what do you think happened?”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“We’ll get to that shortly,” Jayovere said grimly. “Tell me
what you think happened.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“I have no idea. I don’t have enough information.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Good; never make assumptions based on incomplete knowledge.
I don’t <i>think</i> anything though, Edward. I <i>know</i> what happened.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Nietz leaned forward in his seat, an astonished look
creeping its way on to his face, as the answer to all of his questions seemed
to mystically appear out of practically nowhere to answer his questions.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Well?” He demanded, and Jayovere sighed miserably.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“The Queen, I’m afraid, didn’t die of old age.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“So how did she die?!”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
Jayovere looked Nietz directly in the eye, and took a moment
to pick his words before he responded to the request.</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
“Her Majesty… was murdered.”</div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
<div class="MsoNormal">
<br /></div>
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<hr />
Remember, leave comments in the (ironic, I know) comments section below!
</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08738544679323769601noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268162275393374560.post-27677750756338037802012-11-29T22:49:00.000-08:002012-11-30T06:54:53.455-08:00The Basics: Taray<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
<h2 style="text-align: center;">
<u><span style="font-size: x-large;">Because Basics <span style="font-size: x-large;">Are Cool</span></span></u></h2>
<hr />
<h3 style="text-align: center;">
<u><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: large;">The Basics of Scarlet Talon</span></span></span></u><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />(Because<span style="font-size: xx-small;"> <span style="font-size: xx-small;">I'm just conv<span style="font-size: xx-small;">oluted as all hell)</span></span></span></span></h3>
<div style="text-align: center;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>If you'd like to skip all the background information, because frankly it's tl;dr, that's fine. I'd like to think that it's interesting though, so your choice. If the idea of the political intrigue or geography of a fantasy world make you want to go to sleep, you might want to skip th<span style="font-size: small;">e <span style="font-size: small;">first</span> two</span> <span style="font-size: small;">sections, and go to "Characters".</span></b></span></span></span></span></span></div>
<br />
<hr />
<div style="text-align: center;">
<h3>
<span style="font-size: large;"><u>Geography</u><b> </b></span> </h3>
</div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"> </span></span></span><span style="font-size: small;">Scarlet Talon takes place in a made-up world.</span></span></div>
<div style="text-align: left;">
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<span style="font-size: small;">The<span style="font-size: small;">y'</span>re easily the <span style="font-size: small;">most fun to make, as you need not be <span style="font-size: small;">restrained</span></span></span> by the attitudes and predjudices that were common in the real world at the time period you're writing in. For example, if you're writing for a fantasy world that takes place in an America-esque country in the fifties, you don't need to write within the confines of McCarthyism.</div>
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Isn't fantasy fun?</div>
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<span style="font-size: small;"><b>Taray</b>, the nation in which the story takes place, is an archipelago made up of sixty-three different islands. Each of these islands is a barony, and is ruled by a Lord. These Lords are in charge of their island, and run social programming, education, agriculture, etc. These men and women - the position may be held by either - are the ruling class of Taray, and form the Aristocracy. They are the law-makers, and gather yearly in the capital of Taray, titularly called 'Taray'.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The Island of Taray is the second southern-most island in the <b>Tarayian Archipelago. </b>It is the primary source of rule in the nation, and is also home to the only fresh-water lake.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">Immediately to the north of the Island of Taray, only about <span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">seven</span> kilometres by ferry, is the <b><span style="font-size: small;">Island of Kor</span></b><span style="font-size: small;">. The Island of Kor <span style="font-size: small;">is <span style="font-size: small;">the second most important island in the archipelago from a political<span style="font-size: small;"> and a socioeco<span style="font-size: small;">nomic perspecti<span style="font-size: small;">ve. Taray and Kor have a long and bloody history, and while they <span style="font-size: small;">have been at peace for nearly six hundred years, the social gap has not yet been fully crossed.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">There are other islands, obviously<span style="font-size: small;">, but <span style="font-size: small;">they're not relevant... yet.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> </span></div>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><u>Politics</u></span></h3>
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<span style="font-size: small;">Taray is a <b>Monarchy</b>.</span></div>
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<span style="font-size: small;">The King<span style="font-size: small;"> or Queen is the head of the state, and the owner of the archipelago</span>. His or Her word is the final authority on all issues, but in practice this is generally translated into ve<span style="font-size: small;">to power. T<span style="font-size: small;">he monarch is head of </span></span></span>the government, but actual decisions are made by the <b>Nobles</b>.</div>
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Nobles are divided into two categories, <b>Senior</b> and <b>Junior</b>. Senior Nobles are those who have won prestige of some sort in whatever field they happen to be in, and must also have been a Noble for more than ten years. A Junior Noble is any Noble who does not fit those requirements.</div>
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As well, the government has two partnered committees: The <b>Water Board</b> and the <b>Transportation Committee</b>, the former being the far more important. Members of these two boards are usually Junior Nobles, or rich members of the general populace.</div>
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The Water Board is the body that regulates the distribution of water. Taray has only one fresh water lake and, as an Archipelago, they almost always have a water shortage. Therefore, the Board was put in place to restrict distribution to the bare minimum, making sure that distribution is even. Each Tarayian citizen gets a certain amount of water, and then, for a certain fee, they can buy <b>Addition</b>: additional water. The price is a sliding scale, in that the more you buy, the more it costs per litre. Therefore, the members of the Water Board are very well off, as they take a very large cut of the money that comes in from Addition.</div>
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<u><span style="font-size: large;">Characters</span></u><span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><br />(Or the <span style="font-size: xx-small;">main two, an<span style="font-size: xx-small;">yways)</span></span></span></span></h3>
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b><span style="font-size: small;">Lord </span>Edw<span style="font-size: small;">ard Nietz</span></b><span style="font-size: small;"> is <span style="font-size: small;">the</span> 4<span style="font-size: small;">0-something <span style="font-size: small;">Senior Noble<span style="font-size: small;"> of Kor. He can be cold and condescending, and is curt <span style="font-size: small;">both with those he likes and those he doesn't. He does, however, have a more gentle side, if one can break through the ice to rea<span style="font-size: small;">ch it. Nietz <span style="font-size: small;">is fi<span style="font-size: small;">ercely <span style="font-size: small;">loyal to the crown, and spent ten years as a detective in the <b>Royal Service</b><span style="font-size: small;">.</span> [to be explained in more detail <span style="font-size: small;">in some other post, some other time</span>] He is tall and <span style="font-size: small;">slim, with brown hair and <span style="font-size: small;">blue eyes. His acerbic responses and expectations of obedience tend to rub people the wrong way<span style="font-size: small;">, but he is totally unaware of that fact. </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><b>Lord Earl Jayovere</b> is a 54 year old man, also a Senior Noble. Hailing from the far-no<span style="font-size: small;">rthern Island of Malaey, Jayovere is loyal to the crown, but is often frustrated by his own ineffectualness. Conn<span style="font-size: small;">ected and well-respected, Jayovere is incredibly</span></span> earnest, and attempts to please everyone. He is <span style="font-size: small;">thin, and a little bit on the short side, standing quite a few centimetres below Nietz. Jayovere <span style="font-size: small;">has black hair th<span style="font-size: small;">at is coming in gr<span style="font-size: small;">ey, and has brown eyes<span style="font-size: small;">.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span><br />
<span style="font-size: large;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"> </span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span> </div>
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If I've not yet piqued any interest in the story yet, then you either skipped down here to see if there was anything that was less tl;dr, or you don't like fantasy stories, which is fine. However, the purpose of the background information is less to pique interest (though if that happens that's awesome) so much as to supply order to the chaos that is my writing.<br />
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Seriously. I hadn't even actually set their heights until I typed that paragraph.<br />
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Is there anything else you'd like to know about any of the subjects above? What should I post next? Let me know in the comments!</div>
Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08738544679323769601noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-3268162275393374560.post-46842553851737935472012-11-29T15:46:00.001-08:002012-11-29T20:52:42.197-08:00The Journey of the Quill<div dir="ltr" style="text-align: left;" trbidi="on">
Why hell<i>oooooo</i> there;<br />
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I'm Rafi, a teenage writer who is intent on honing his craft. I write novels of various genres, from horror to fantasy to mystery. I usually, however, focus on the fantasy genre with a major focus on Action/Adventure. I am, at the time of writing, sixteen.<br />
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Alright, that's the preliminaries out of the way! Geez, looking at that now, it looks surprisingly short. Huh.<br />
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Anyways, to the point! I'm a writer, as I said, and I'm currently working on a novel, called<br />
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<u><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">SCARLE<span style="font-size: x-large;">T</span></span></span></b></u><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"> </span></span></span></b><u><b><span style="font-family: "Trebuchet MS", sans-serif;"><span style="font-size: x-large;"><span style="font-size: x-large;">TALON</span></span></span></b></u></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;">(<span style="font-size: xx-small;">well that was melo<span style="font-size: xx-small;">dramatic)</span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;">I started the novel during NaNoWriMo this year, but life (and school. Mostly school. Life doesn't really factor into it) got into the way. I did, however, manage to get <b>22<span style="font-size: small;"> 000</span></b><span style="font-size: small;"> words done. For those who can't visualize that number, it's approximately <b>5<span style="font-size: small;">0 <span style="font-size: small;">pages</span></span></b><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">, and also <b>I like to abuse the bold tool</b>.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: xx-small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;"><span style="font-size: small;">While this blog is designed to keep track of that writing, and to (hopefully) track the <span style="font-size: small;">journey I plan on taking from beginning <span style="font-size: small;">a novel <span style="font-size: small;">to</span> getting it published</span></span>, I<span style="font-size: small;">'</span>ll also<span style="font-size: small;"> occasionally post unrelated things that I find interesting.</span></span></span></span></span></span></span></span></div>
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<span style="font-family: inherit;">Like this.</span></div>
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<table align="center" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" class="tr-caption-container" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto; text-align: center;"><tbody>
<tr><td style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://fbcdn-sphotos-f-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/404614_543797788980130_715619376_n.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: auto; margin-right: auto;"><img border="0" height="218" src="https://fbcdn-sphotos-f-a.akamaihd.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/404614_543797788980130_715619376_n.jpg" width="320" /></a></td></tr>
<tr><td class="tr-caption" style="text-align: center;">Source: "Objectobot", Facebook</td></tr>
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I hope you enjoy my writings.</div>
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Anonymoushttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08738544679323769601noreply@blogger.com2