C
+Chaos Blade+
Guest
Will the almighty Zegrortü please take heed to the calls of my fans who longed for my newest Fan Fiction! Yes, the time has arrived for me to start working on Fan Fiction once more.
A long, long time ago, I wrote a novel called Life of a Trainer. By Chapter VII, I lost interest, and started adding some weird crap to it, shortened the length of the chapters by half, and again, lost more interest. Thus leading to the end of my first Fan Fiction here at Serebii.
Then came Tarnished Scars. I lost interest twice as fast than my previous work as I over- and underdescribed, and inserted an unnecessary scene regarding a boy, a Scyther, and a lost arm.
Now is the ultimate reckoning. No turning back. No losing interest. I am now fully dedicated to this work. I will promise in the first post of the fic, that if I do not update within 2.5 weeks, I have to give them [my readers] a One-Shot, meaning, more dedication, more thinking, more typing, more fulfillment.
Throughout my career as a Fan Fiction afficionado and author, I have scouted the forums once more, and heard of new names pop up: Sike Saner, xXSaberXx, The Chesire Cat, Saffire Persian, and Scrap [well, not new, but you know where I'm going with this!]. Skimming their works, I have found that I lost all knowledge.
So I began to get more focused in writings of famous authors: Steven Pressfield, a great warfare describer, Octavia E. Butler, great with emotion and metaphoric writing, Christopher Paolini and J.K. Rowling, incorporating elements of Fantasy mixed with average life, and countless others.
They, along with the Fan Fiction authors, helped me rejuvenate my spark, and here I am, skull on desk, blood dripping from the edge, the lights off, papers scattered throughout the room, each depicting an important scene in the novel. Ooh yeah, I'm back. And I'm bad...
Bloody Turmoil takes place in what used to be a utopian village called Alëzuq, and other places in the land of Noltaria [name still uncertain]. A young boy discovers a dragon egg in the weirdest of coincidences, a bit like discovering it as if he were meant to.
This excerpt from the first chapter, the Prelude, I should say, is when a Zelfelgor walks around a deserted village to see nothing but death.
Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Bloody Turmoil.
Alëzuq was a graveyard.
An armored foot stomped on a dusty ground of what used to be a chapel. All he saw were ashy skeletons scattered all over the dirty soil. Each posture of the skeletons were the same – shock, horror, fear, surprise. An armored hand picked up one of the skulls gently. It cracked right in his hand, and turned into a pile of ashes. The being started to walk around the chapel, his right hand holding the end of his trusty blade.
He was a Zelfelgor, a beastlike warrior with the features of both Mightyena and Houndoom. Zelfelgor were never found near Alëzuq – they were the Haven Guard of Nokraz. The beast patrolled the deserted land afraid, and started to shake nervously, losing grip on his blade.
Alëzuq was a desert.
The Zelfelgor wandered the deserted land nervously, looking at the gloomy scene in front of him. The once luscious green forest of Sedfreol was burnt down, the villages of Alëzuq were completely destroyed, and skeletons of babies not even a year old lie there, their eyes staring into a blank abyss. The Zelfelgor picked up the infant’s skull, and, like the other skull he picked up earlier, transformed into a pile of ashes.
The Zelfelgor started to weep. His knees shook, causing him to fall on his knees. Although his hands were covered in ash, he placed them over his eyes, and wept heavily. He cursed himself.
“Almighty Zegrortü, take pity on this imperfection, as this once benign land has been destroyed in one wake of your overseeing eyes; Lord, please show me why this place has been destroyed!” the Zelfelgor prayed.
His body stiffened. A sight of clouds zoomed over him, the rising and setting of many moons in a backward motion, the sharp jolts of pain that were needles that pierced his heart as he saw visions of a hellhole arising. People were hurling torches at draconic beasts that were once their protectors, stabbing their own armies with the soldiers’ own weapons. Skulls were ripped off, and soon, a gigantic brushfire emerged from the forest, destroying the fields, soon, destroying the once utopian society of Alëzuq.
The Zelfelgor’s eyes began to look up. He was shaking, the information pulsed through his head like a fast heartbeat.
He collapsed.
Yes, more description [OMG!], and a bit short for a preview, but nonetheless, hopefully, good. What do you think?
+Chaos Blade+
A long, long time ago, I wrote a novel called Life of a Trainer. By Chapter VII, I lost interest, and started adding some weird crap to it, shortened the length of the chapters by half, and again, lost more interest. Thus leading to the end of my first Fan Fiction here at Serebii.
Then came Tarnished Scars. I lost interest twice as fast than my previous work as I over- and underdescribed, and inserted an unnecessary scene regarding a boy, a Scyther, and a lost arm.
Now is the ultimate reckoning. No turning back. No losing interest. I am now fully dedicated to this work. I will promise in the first post of the fic, that if I do not update within 2.5 weeks, I have to give them [my readers] a One-Shot, meaning, more dedication, more thinking, more typing, more fulfillment.
Throughout my career as a Fan Fiction afficionado and author, I have scouted the forums once more, and heard of new names pop up: Sike Saner, xXSaberXx, The Chesire Cat, Saffire Persian, and Scrap [well, not new, but you know where I'm going with this!]. Skimming their works, I have found that I lost all knowledge.
So I began to get more focused in writings of famous authors: Steven Pressfield, a great warfare describer, Octavia E. Butler, great with emotion and metaphoric writing, Christopher Paolini and J.K. Rowling, incorporating elements of Fantasy mixed with average life, and countless others.
They, along with the Fan Fiction authors, helped me rejuvenate my spark, and here I am, skull on desk, blood dripping from the edge, the lights off, papers scattered throughout the room, each depicting an important scene in the novel. Ooh yeah, I'm back. And I'm bad...
Bloody Turmoil takes place in what used to be a utopian village called Alëzuq, and other places in the land of Noltaria [name still uncertain]. A young boy discovers a dragon egg in the weirdest of coincidences, a bit like discovering it as if he were meant to.
This excerpt from the first chapter, the Prelude, I should say, is when a Zelfelgor walks around a deserted village to see nothing but death.
Ladies and gentlemen, I present to you Bloody Turmoil.
~~~~~
~I~
IMPERFECTION
~I~
IMPERFECTION
Alëzuq was a graveyard.
An armored foot stomped on a dusty ground of what used to be a chapel. All he saw were ashy skeletons scattered all over the dirty soil. Each posture of the skeletons were the same – shock, horror, fear, surprise. An armored hand picked up one of the skulls gently. It cracked right in his hand, and turned into a pile of ashes. The being started to walk around the chapel, his right hand holding the end of his trusty blade.
He was a Zelfelgor, a beastlike warrior with the features of both Mightyena and Houndoom. Zelfelgor were never found near Alëzuq – they were the Haven Guard of Nokraz. The beast patrolled the deserted land afraid, and started to shake nervously, losing grip on his blade.
Alëzuq was a desert.
The Zelfelgor wandered the deserted land nervously, looking at the gloomy scene in front of him. The once luscious green forest of Sedfreol was burnt down, the villages of Alëzuq were completely destroyed, and skeletons of babies not even a year old lie there, their eyes staring into a blank abyss. The Zelfelgor picked up the infant’s skull, and, like the other skull he picked up earlier, transformed into a pile of ashes.
The Zelfelgor started to weep. His knees shook, causing him to fall on his knees. Although his hands were covered in ash, he placed them over his eyes, and wept heavily. He cursed himself.
“Almighty Zegrortü, take pity on this imperfection, as this once benign land has been destroyed in one wake of your overseeing eyes; Lord, please show me why this place has been destroyed!” the Zelfelgor prayed.
His body stiffened. A sight of clouds zoomed over him, the rising and setting of many moons in a backward motion, the sharp jolts of pain that were needles that pierced his heart as he saw visions of a hellhole arising. People were hurling torches at draconic beasts that were once their protectors, stabbing their own armies with the soldiers’ own weapons. Skulls were ripped off, and soon, a gigantic brushfire emerged from the forest, destroying the fields, soon, destroying the once utopian society of Alëzuq.
The Zelfelgor’s eyes began to look up. He was shaking, the information pulsed through his head like a fast heartbeat.
He collapsed.
~~~~~
Yes, more description [OMG!], and a bit short for a preview, but nonetheless, hopefully, good. What do you think?
+Chaos Blade+
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