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This is the prologue for a fantasy story I'm writing for my sister, our two friends, and me. It's not really hardcore, serious, Tolkien writing--it's more a tribute to the years we all spent running around the woods with wooden swords from the Ren Fest. We each created a character for ourselves, have watched them change and grow, and this is their story.



It’s raining.
I can feel the cold sheen slowly cover me, until I’m soaked, from my hair down to the boots than were already covered in mud. I think to myself that maybe I should have stayed in the tent. Even if I couldn’t sleep. At least then, I wouldn’t be wet.
Then I think to myself, why does it matter? Tomorrow (today? What time is it--?) I’ll be covered in much worse, blood and gore and sweat and mud, smelling like fear and death.
Lynwene is asleep. If I were in the tent right now, I could look down on her, and maybe her face would give me some comfort. Or maybe not, because that’s the reason I’m out here, anyway. Because I can’t stand this part.
I can never sleep, waiting on a battle. It’s like I’m standing on the edge of this great, dark void that I’m going to fall into no matter what I do, and once I’ve gone over the edge I’ll cease to exist.
(That’s the scary part.
Not dying. I was never scared of death. I’d give my life for a number of causes without a second thought…But to not exist…to be wiped from the earth: no thoughts, no feelings, nothing. To leave no trace behind me, nothing for others to find, and maybe become better because of it. To be wiped from the thoughts and memories of those I knew.
It scares the hell out of me.)
But back to that void.
It’s the waiting I can’t stand, because I know that, in a span of time far shorter than I like, I’ll be falling. And I can’t avoid it; it’s not some monster I can fight--not a creature of darkness I can ‘banish back into the shadow from whence it came.’
And I’m awake every minute of it. Ever since the first time I had to go through this, it’s been the same: a lonely, brooding vigil. Just me and my thoughts. Me, looking at the faces of the people I hold dear, and knowing that when the battle ends, some of those faces will be lost.
I think the only time I ever prayed in my life was when I first had to go through this. I prayed, hard and fast, (please) to (gods, whoever’s listening, anyone) be able to have this time pass without my knowledge of every second. To be asleep, because even a restless sleep in a landscape of nightmares would be better than this.
The boys sleep in another tent off to the side. Ena would be laughing his a** off if he saw me like this: weak, scared, alone. Or maybe not, because he might be feeling the same, if he was awake. This is his first major battle. I can only hope he comes out alive.
Eora would be concerned. He would probably tell me to at least try to get to sleep. Because, really, he’s the one that looks after us.
But not now. Right now, my friends are asleep getting ready for the biggest fight of their lives, and I’m awake wondering if I’ll ever see them again.
I don’t know how this will go. Maybe we’ll all die…Maybe we’ll all live. That would be a nice change. Or maybe I’ll die and they will be safe because I protected them. Or maybe they’ll all die and I’ll be left alone again.
But I swear one thing this lonely vigil: if they die tomorrow, I swear I will carry on their legacy. Because that’s what I’m good at: fighting on, carrying the memories with me. If they die, I’ll make sure they don’t cease to exist.
So I wait. For the sun to rise, for the rain to stop, and for the fight to begin. For the fate of our world to be decided. For our fate to be decided.
Because this really isn’t about armies and nations and evil versus good. It’s about four people running around the woods, fighting whatever monsters get in our way.
I won’t die for a nation, for a faction. But I’ll die for these people. I think that’s the meaning of all this--this life. And it’s worth fighting for….

The sun’s coming up. It’s time.
No more waiting.

I'm not really a skilled writer, but here's one of my better pieces. It was actually inspired by a forum I go to where it's all kind of a giant role play. It's great practice writing this, although I realize many bits of it are a tad cliché. Oh, and the breaks are there for easier editing is all.
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The wind gusted, a cold and sinister sign of what was to happen to Queen Selecia's lovely kingdom. A tall castle loomed over the City of Forever Light, a hot pink and baby blue flag soaring majestically over the tallest tower.
'What an odd flag!' thought a tall girl with a large staff. 'Oh well. It won't be strange for very much longer.' And with that, she strolled indolently into the city and up to the Crystal Palace of Lunaria.
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Queen Selecia Lunaria was staring through her chamber window solemnly. Things have not been quite right in her kingdom lately. The all knowing wind was always howling and the sky darkened still. She turned to her long time friend.
'Leena, I believe something to be wrong. The clouds - the very wind - they are warning us of catastrophe in the near future. That's what it feels like.'
Leenalia turned from her Seeing Eye, a stone that allows her to gaze upon her own kingdom. 'Well, there is this feeling I can only describe as bad,' she replied. 'I wonder what it could possibly be....?' She put her chin in her hand, leaning over the table in thought while Queen Selecia sat in the window seat and gazed out at her kingdom in anxiety.
Queen Selecia suddenly gasped, beckoning to Leenalia. 'I think that's what they were warning us of!' she exclaimed, pointing. Standing in front of the Crystal Palace was the they called Aries Fire, a demon born of Destruction. Aries looked up and smiled warmly at them, then walked forward into the Palace.
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Shortly after Aries arrived, a lone girl with Dark wings named Dark Angel came into the city. She was branching out from her normal everyday life and traveling about, experiencing the World. A Dark angel she was, and this place was perfect. The Evil Energy coming off of the Palace was like the Dark Heaven from whence she came. Sucking in the Blackness, she knew that she must live here. She took slow, easy steps up to the Palace and let herself in, wondering vaguely why the palace guards were already knocked out cold.
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Aries continued to look around the Castle. She wanted to meet those girls she saw and see if one was the Queen, or at least Princess. She always found her job much more fun and satisfactory when she was able to squeeze some screams from her victims and their leader, especially their leader. She went up staircase after staircase until she arrived in a gorgeous Tower Room, the girls in the middle of it.
'Surprise!' she called out gleefully, and the two Queens spun around. 'My, aren't you observant! Didn't you know I was up here?' Aries cackled, her eyes sparkling with an undeniable cruelness.
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'Why hadn't we sensed her?!' Selecia screamed in her head. Then she realized.
'There's someone else Evil here, too!' She told Leenalia.
'That's why we didn't sense you!' Leenalia yelled at Aries.
'My, my! Aren't we touchy today!' Aries said, grinning maliciously. 'I do wonder why?'
'Selecia, we've got to do something!' Leenalia whispered as the girl drifted around the room looking at all the fine things.
'I know, Leena! Let me think!'
'Hurry!'
Selecia's thoughts raced through her head. It would have to be a Spell of the sorts to Bind the Destroyer. There was one that was strong enough, but it was risky. Using it would weaken her beyond compare, and if it didn't work...no, she would have to do it.
'Leenalia, whatever happens, you must go back to your own world to protect it.'
'Selecia, wha-?' Leenalia started, then stopped at the hand movements and chanting coming from her friend.
“Crystal Light, Crystal Tight, Crystal Ensnare With All Your Might!” Selecia repeated this over and over, her hands moving faster and faster. One final movement in Aries direction, and both girls fell to the ground in a heap.
'Selecia?! Selecia, are you okay?!' Leenalia stooped over her friend.
'I'm fine,' the Queen said meekly. 'But it seems we have yet another visitor.” She looked over at the Door to the Chamber. A girl with black wings stood there, Breathing in the Dark Energy deeply.
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'How could I let myself get caught so easily?!' Aries screamed in her head. 'Now I can't move! That was not an ordinary Spell, that's for sure.' Aries continued to ramble on in her head on what an idiot she had been and how she should have just turned the place to ashes the moment she came.
'No point in it now. Ought to just wait the Spell out. Nothing to be done about it now.'
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Here's a little something. It's the first part of a short story I'm writing to fill in the gap during a campaign hiatus in my gaming group. We game in Forgotten Realms, so I suppose you could say this is fanfiction in that sense.

Please let me know what you think.

Berz.

*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Mirtul 6, 1372 DR
Island Nation of Evermeet

"We are descended of a mighty dragonslayer, A'Sum," he said to her in gentle tones, filled with the wide-eyed wonderment of a small child.

Sitting in his arms, her legs dangling toward the wooden flet on which he stood, she looked up at him with her own eyes even wider. "Did he kill the last one, O'Su?"

He laughed, which only earned him a very puzzled look from the child. "Certainly not!"

"Then, why have I never seen one?"

"There are still many dragons on Faerûn. Some of them are evil and some of them are not. But it was our ancestor who slew Fellionoshgranador, the last evil one to claim these lands as its own. No others have dwelt here since."

"Because they've all been scared of us!"

"Perhaps, A'Sum," he replied with a mild chuckle, "and perhaps not. One day, I shall tell you of Cormanthor and Myth Drannor." He set her down on the floor and straightened her clothing. "But not today. I have considerable to do and little time for old stories. Run along and find your cousin."

Young as she was, she knew better than to get in her father's way when he had business. She didn't understand why he always seemed to scowl so over it. Certainly, it was something he wished to do. But even in the midst of his business, he had always had time for her. Now, it seemed as if things were somehow different, somehow changed. This she did not understand at all.

Pausing at the doorway to her father's study, she looked back to see him already consulting scrolls and papers.

"O'Su? Why are you wearing the circlet that U'Osu always wore? And why do we have to wear grey? When is U'Osu coming back?"

He sighed heavily, his shoulders sagging somewhat. Then, he looked up at her with a very different look in his eyes.

"Your U'Osu is not coming back," he said at last, "we wear grey to show our sadness over this."

"Why isn't he coming back? Doesn't he love us any more?"

"It is not a question of love. Come here, A'Sum." She did so and he lifted her up onto one of the tall wooden chairs that sat next to his desk. Then, he knelt down in front of her. "The Tel'Quessir live long, but even we do not remain on this world forever. There will come a day when each of us is to leave it. Your U'Osu lived for nearly a thousand years, but his time came and we must respect that. We must not disturb his soul through magic or our thoughts of him. We must honor his name." He took off the circlet he wore on his head. Wrought of mithral and silver in the shape of leaves and vines, it glistened in the sunlight. "This he left to me. He taught me to wear it well for the love of us all. For the one who wears this is the heart and spirit of our clan. The one who wears this is the Heir of Celeblas. As my daughter, you will one day choose who will wear it after me. To that end, my Hadoriel, I have much to teach you."



Hadoriel emerged from her reverie to find herself staring at the leafy canopy of a tree she did not immediately recognize. Its leaves were too silver, too slow to settle from the wind, almost ethereal in nature. With a small start, she sat up from the couch upon which she found herself and looked about. She found herself on an open wooden balcony, high in a tree, overlooking a green meadow and the sea shore beyond. The smell of sea salt was in the air and the sun was turning the eastern sky light shades of purple and pink, the Dawn Heralds shining out from the fading darkness.

This was Evermeet, the legendary island of the Elves, pulled up from the sea by the Seldarine themselves as a haven for the People. Such was the story, at least. But Hadoriel had been far more impressed by the story than by the reality.

Rising from the couch, she wandered over to the rail that ran along the balcony and once again cast her gaze about. In the meadow below, structures of wood and vines had been erected in the short tenday since clan Celeblas – or more specifically, that part that was left - had arrived on Evermeet. The spring festival of Greengrass had come and gone, but none of her clan had felt much like celebrating. After all, they had buried their Lord the day before.

Hadoriel gave a bitter laugh at that thought and her gaze now swung to a bluff closer to the shoreline. There, a small stone monument stood, an orb of granite sitting atop it blazing forth with a spell of continual flame. There was no body laying beneath it. Quessir Borocrist E'Sum Ithilcrist Tel Celeblas had not escaped the fall of Myth Caraval. He had made the sacrifice willingly, her people had told her, that the rest of the clan could travel through the temporary portal to Evermeet.

It had become a habit these past few days for Hadoriel to rise earlier than the rest of her clan. It afforded her time to compose and steel herself for the day ahead. She supposed it would soon become a custom.

With a sad sigh, she turned away from the site of the clan's new encampment. She had fallen into reverie in the middle of writing and her book was open, face down, on the floor, her feather quill fluttering around on the floor nearby. She was still wearing the previous day's clothing and that would raise eyebrows and concerns among the clan leadership. She decided it would be all right to keep the leggings, but a change of tunic was in order. Discarding the one she had worn through reverie, she chose another from her limited selection of grey tunics. She put it on and replaced her long brown ring belt, double wrapping it and tying its end in front. She ran a brush through her hair and wove it back into place in its braids. Finally, consulting a mirror, she replaced the silver beaded circlet where it had rested on her head every day for the last tenday.

She mourned this for a moment; it was not the circlet her father had worn. That, along with most of the clan's cherished relics, had been lost. This one had been crafted for her by one of the clan's surviving artisans. It had taken the talented craftsman less than a day to shape the silver leaf that was its centerpiece and the semi-precious stone spheres that adorned it. He had even consulted some of the Sea Elves who dwelt just off shore to obtain a few small pearls to work in, saying that this circlet was to speak of this new island-dwelling part of the clan's history. All of this the craftsman had done while trying to find food and shelter for his own family on that first terrible day on Evermeet. All this, and he would accept nothing in exchange for his work but Hadoriel's thanks.

She felt self-conscious wearing it. It fit perfectly, yet it felt strange on her brow. She was always tugging on it when no one was looking, making certain it did not decide to simply pop off her head and lose itself.

Hadoriel then left the tree that had become her home. It was, in fact, the only one of any size in the immediate area, the only one that had been built into a dwelling. It stood virtually alone on the seaside meadow, its northern branches reaching toward the shining crystal city that was Evermeet's capitol, Leuthilspar. This open land was no place for her clan, who had always dwelt among the trees in Deepingdale. Walking among the structures now housing the survivors of Myth Caraval, she sensed a certain restlessness. She imagined that those within them were huddled up as close to the walls as possible, instinctively searching for one safe side to which they could turn their backs.

Passing the settlement, she wandered up the nearby bluff that separated it from the view of the bay and the peninsula beyond. She stopped at its crest and pondered the nearby monument to her father for a moment and once more unconsciously adjusted her circlet.

Then, feeling the pre-dawn breeze on her skin, she turned her gaze to the rising sun and offered up prayers to Mielikki and to the Seldarine.

I MIGHT be able to put my dragon themed short story up here soon.
I entered a short story writing competition, dragons were the theme, and when I hear back from it (in any way), I'll know the full copyright is there so I may be able to post it.

However, unless it gets published in some kind of short story compilation I'm not entirely sure if I would. I'll let you know.