Bear with me; Jinral's story

Discussion in 'Original Works' started by Jinral, Feb 3, 2011.

  1. Jinral

    Jinral The yet to be published

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    March 7th, im back

    Despite Jazer’s multiple requests, he wasn’t supplied with more than a couple of old research journals. Jazer wanted to study up a bit more, possibly learn a thing or two about Octavius. The Homunculus had become something of a mystery. Jazer couldn’t quite figure out what was going on, but he was sure the spell that had brought the creature to life had somehow changed and now was something very much different. If Jazer could get a few texts on the matter, he was sure he could find the reasoning behind it.
    Unfortunately, Malius was not as kind as Derek had been. Jazer wasn’t supplied with anything besides food and a shelter. Gifford had told him that eventually once, Jazer’s debt had been paid that the young elf would start to make money, with that gold he could pay one of the others to go out to the libraries to recover the books Jazer needed. Jazer knew however, that texts weren’t cheap and to pay one of the others to find it was like asking a tracking dog to read a book, it wasn’t going to work and somebody would likely get bitten.
    So Jazer sat all day, trying to crack the secrets of the magic with no literary aide. He even tried to write down the process the science of it but the equations wouldn’t come. Despite everything he had managed to accomplish he could not visualize the spell. He still had no idea what he had done. He had used a simple spell to animate the thing, but somehow it had gained intelligence and a personality. It is like it gained a soul through magic, and if Jazer could accomplish that, then he could do it again, and again. If he could recreate the process a thousand times, he could use them to right all the wrongs in the world. Through an army of clay creatures, there would be no more theft, murder, extortion. Groups like Malius’s wouldn’t stand a chance…
    Jazer awoke with a jolt. Cold beads of sweat began to drip from his forehead and he dispassionately wiped them away. He rubbed his eyes, setting his spectacles on his forehead. The dream he had just had was still fresh in his mind, an army of clay creatures. That would be insanity at its finest. To create something with a soul and then replicate the idea over and over again, something was bound to go wrong.
    As he rubbed the sleep out of his eyes, he plucked away the piece of paper that had stuck to his face. He examined the parchment, trying to track where he had gotten in his work before sleep had ambushed him. He read the equations and sorted through the diagrams. He had gotten farther that he thought, this was calculations for a collar for Octavius.
    Jazer got up and brought a luke warm iron kettle from the counter. He poured the warm tea into his cup and began to sip at the drink while he read over his work. The collar was designed to gain access to the creature’s subconscious. Jazer was unable to teach it to speak thus far, but if it could gain insight into his mind, the Jazer could understand the homunculus’s thought patterns. Perhaps the information he gleamed there would prove useful to him.
    He shook his head and listened to the thunder rip through the night sky. The storm had yet to reach them, but the sky had already begun warning them of the impending rains. Jazer hung his head as he thought of Octavius cold and alone. Jazer created him and therefore was responsible for him. It was his job to keep the slug creature safe, and here he was, a prisoner in a house. What could Octavius do? The only people he had ever known were Jazer and Derek. The elf groaned loudly at the thought. Derek was a bastard and traded his friends away to make his own life easier. Jazer ought to slap one of these collars on him and hit him with magic every time he thought of betraying one of his friends.
    Jazer let his imagination run and decided to play with the idea of having the collar be a magical conduit. Jazer would be able to cast any spell and have the collared person be a direct recipient of the effects. Jazer began to scribble some notes down on the last unused corners of the parchment. He could use a portal-like approach, ripping a small hole through the fabric of reality to send the spell… No, no that was overly difficult. Have to think simple….Possibly long distance spell work? Even the greatest mages in the world had trouble sending their work farther than originally intended.
    He scratched through lines of numbers and variables, rewrote them and scratched through them again. He was not becoming angry at his failure as he usually did, but rather enjoying the chance to work through an equation, to find the answer. One of the few things in life he found invigorating, he could hardly believe that he used to get angry or frustrated during this stage of the process. It was a privilege just to be able to work through it.
    Though e was concerned at the lack of free space left on the paper, he continued anyway, trying to find the answer. How to cast a spell as if they were right next to the person? There were numerous ways to do so, but most of them were far too difficult and complications would be more likely than success. Simplest was always best, yes that was true. What could he do to simplify things besides just standing next to them? Could have the collar spelled with a charm type spell and just control them. Then he could have them perform the magic, using his own supply of arcane power…if he had any. Then again, if he charmed them why would he need to gain access to their subconscious, it’s not like they could do anything to harm anyone if they are under Jazer’s control.
    That’s it, the subconscious, Jazer thought. He had access to the subconscious, which would act like another plane of existence. Jazer recalled reading about oniemeracy, or the spell casting in a dreamlike state. The world of dreams acted like a completely different plane of existence and therefore spells worked slightly different. There was no arcane power needed, common-folk and wizards alike could cast powerful spells. If he tapped into Derek’s subconscious and used that as the plane where he cast his spells, Jazer would be able to cast any spell without so much as a single equation.
    Jazer sat back, satisfied with his work. He had found the answer, the solution to the problem there were few feelings that could compare with success derived from working hard and working alone. Without aid he had mastered a problem on his own. Jazer was happy for the first time in a long time.
    Then he quickly looked around and found he was still stuck in the same house and no closer to freedom then before. The real problem was he was trapped and here he was wasting time on stupid pranks. He felt like kicking himself and the pride he felt quickly dwindled to nothing. It is easy to feel happy with success, he thought, when you choose which battles to fight. You avoid the hard ones and go for easy victories, that is a coward’s way.
    After reprimanding himself he laid his head down, waiting for sleep to overtake him once more. He didn’t care that he was still in the kitchen, the others had gotten use to seeing the elf passed out on the counter. Jazer refused to sleep in the room, due to all the spelled furniture and walls. The kitchen felt like the only safe place in the house. Before Jazer fell asleep, he let his eyes can the work he had just done. It would have been funny to see Derek being tortured every time he thought of betraying Jazer. And at least, through Derek’s subconscious, he would be able to view the outside world once more. He had almost forgotten what it looked like.
    For two years he hid in that stone tower, scribbling away. He spends three days outside and now that he is back inside he feels nostalgic? It didn’t make sense, outside scared him. It was big and open and full of danger, yet now that he no longer had a choice, he would rather live outside. Jazer wandered through the forests, feeling the leaves crunching beneath his feet. That is right, it was autumn… Jazer walked over fallen branches to a clearing where he saw the slug like creature Octavius flying in circles. Jazer realized he must have fallen asleep, but didn’t care. Here he was free to do as he wished.
    He watched the homunculus fly around the clearing, like a vulture circling prey. The thing had grown to an enormous size, seemingly gargantuan. The wings spread out over the sky, blocking out the sun with ever beat of the clay. The body was now elongated to the point where Octavius’s hind end now circled beneath his front. The creature sounded as if it was humming but the humming was very soft, almost majestic.
    Jazer walked closer and quickly found what the humming sound was. There in the clearing was a young elven woman, with auburn hair draped loosely over her shoulder. She wore a beautiful sparkling white gown. Her skin looked soft even from Jazer’s distance and was darkened by the sun’s rays. She was absolutely the embodiment of beautiful.
    She was singing as she braided her own hair. Jazer longed to go to her and touch the auburn strands, to run them through his fingers. He began to walk forward, but as he did, the flapping grew louder. He looked up to see Octavius beginning to fly lower and lower. The prey he was circling was the young woman, who wasn’t aware of the giant above her. Jazer began to yell for her to move, but no sound came from his throat. He yelled at Octavius to back away, but again no voice came. He watched as the Octavius quickly flew skyward, gaining altitude. For a minute Jazer thought his yelling had worked, but once Octavius had flown into the sun, he flipped around and began falling toward the earth, straight toward her.
    Jazer’s eyes went wide and he raced toward the clearing, but wasn’t going to make it in time. His mind raced, trying to find the answer, he had to do something. He looked at his hands and quickly tried to cast a spell, yet nothing came, not even a spark. He tried to summon the arcane power within, to tap into the dormant magic, but he didn’t feel it surge or even tingle.
    He pumped his legs, yet came no closer to the clearing. He helplessly watched as Octavius swooped down, and in an instant, the elf with the auburn hair was gone. She was gone, Mary Ann was gone. He knew her, from his younger years, and all chances of seeing her were destroyed. He felt himself wanting to cry and wail, but as he prepared to sob, his creation inched toward him. It had grown so large now it could easily swallow Jazer whole, as he looked at the creature’s face, he saw, it had eyes now. They captivated him for a moment, seeming hauntingly familiar, were they hers? Did he just absorb her and take from her what he wanted? No, Jazer stared more carefully, no those were not her eyes, and they were his. Octavius had eyes identical to Jazer’s own. The beast was him, his creation, his responsibility.
    When Jazer awoke, he did not do so in a cold sweat or in surprise. He knew it was a dream from the moment it started. It didn’t stop it from feeling so real. He knew what he had to do, and it took his childhood friend to show him. He had to get out of this house.
    Jazer looked back down at the papers before him, at the collar he had designed for Derek. If he could change the mechanics a bit, and let Malius use it on him, he might be able to convince the man to let him go outside. If he could get out, he could find Octavius and retrieve him. The homunculus was his only friend in the world, yet Jazer began to fear him. He looked down at the mangled hand, with only stubs left in place of the fingers. The wound was beginning to heal and when it did, getting the fingers back would become an even greater task for Gifford, and more expensive for Jazer. If Octavius is willing to bite his own creator, what else could the poor creature be up to. The thought scared Jazer enough to convince the elf that sleep would no longer be possible that night. Jazer scavenged up some more used parchment and began scribbling notes in the limited free space left.
     
  2. Jinral

    Jinral The yet to be published

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    March 8

    After no sleep form the previous night, Jazer shambled through the empty house once more. He sat down at the table in the common area and placed his forehead down onto the cold wood. Footsteps echoed behind him, telling him that Gifford had woken up and began his morning ritual.
    The dwarf was a creature of habit, spending nearly every day the exact same way. After loudly moving about the place, he would go to the kitchen to make some tea and begin making breakfast. When the others were around he made sure to make enough for everyone. Today however, like most days, it was just him and Jazer left. Gifford still made enough for both of them, and always served Jazer a steaming plate of eggs and potatoes. At first the grand service amazed Jazer, but the elf quickly found out that Gifford did it simply because the dwarf had nothing better to do. When he wasn’t cooking or cleaning, he simply sat at the table, sipping tea. His lethargy must have been recent though, because the dwarf had just begun showing signs of fattening. When Jazer had first met him, Gifford seemed a fit specimen, but over the weeks that had passed he had begun to slowly grow wider around his midsection. Even the look of his face showed signs of lethargy. His eyes were constantly unforced, and sadness wrinkled his face even more then it had been.
    Jazer attributed the change to the dwarf’s realization that he worked for evil men, and Jazer was a constant reminder of just how far these people were willing to go to preserve their ways. Jazer noted that Gifford intentionally never looked at Jazer’s hand and avoided the subject altogether. Even when Jazer would bring it up in passing, Gifford would grow quiet and become distant. Jazer didn’t like the house feeling even more empty than usual, so he too avoided the subject.
    This morning though, Jazer had a surprise for the dwarf, something that might put a smile onto the healer’s face. When Gifford returned with the plate of eggs and potatoes, Jazer lifted his head slowly and began poking at the food with the fork Gifford had provided him. The two ate in silence, but Jazer watched Gifford carefully, trying to discern the dwarf’s current mood. Gifford though seemed even more displaced than usual, not even bothering to look up from his food until he had finished. Once the two were done eating, Gifford snagged up the plates and move to the kitchen to clean them. He returned shortly after word with the kettle of tea, and he retrieved two small mugs.
    After Gifford poured Jazer a glass, he sipped at his own, staring longfully into the dark liquid. Jazer though, began shuffling through the pockets of his robe and found the parchment. He drew it forth and unfolded the bent edges and tried to smooth it out. Once he was satisfied that the paper was as neat as it was going to get, he looked up at Gifford and cleared his throat.
    Gifford didn’t seem to notice or didn’t care; Jazer shook his head and said, “Gifford, today our fortunes may change.”
    His sullen eyes wandered up to meet Jarkal’s own with a look of mild interest, “What do you mean sorcerer?”
    Jazer smiled and adjusted his spectacles, “I mean I have a way for us to get out of here.”
    Gifford’s eyes went wide and he nearly knocked over his tea cup as he slammed his meaty fist on the table, “Jazer, don’t be talking like that. If you want to escape fine, but don’t lump me into your schemes!”
    Jazer shrunk back a little at the sudden display of anger, but continued, “No Gifford, I have a way for Malius to let us walk through that door.”
    “You spelling his mind?” Gifford asked.
    Jazer shook his head, “No, actually I’m spelling ours.” The dwarf looked confused so Jazer continued, “You see I have designed a metal band that fits over our wrist that will act as a hub for a spell.” Jazer began to quicken his speech, excited about the details. He slid the piece of paper in front of the dwarf who looked as if he was trying to make sense of the scribbling and diagrams. “You see, I have calculated a way, using the body’s natural blood flow for it to carry the magic to our minds and back. Using a simple scrying spell, Malius will know what we are thinking and doing, so he will have no choice but to trust us. And if he becomes dissatisfied with the way we are doing things, he can send a burst of magic, no matter how far away he is. The magic causes no real damage, but is still a painful reminder that he is in control.”
    Gifford smiled, and then began to laugh. At first his laughter was contagious, causing Jazer to join in, but it quickly became apparent that the laugh was maniacal and Jazer’s own died away. Gifford wiped the tears from his eyes, “Yup lad, you have lost it.”
    The elf swallowed the lump in his throat, “What, what’s wrong with it?”
    Gifford howled with laughter once more, “The man locks you up, tortures you, and you devise a way for him to control you and torture you even more? You are truly insane!”
    Jazer snatched up the bit of parchment and shoved it back in his pocket, “It is better than just sitting here!”
    Gifford shook his head, “No lad, I am quite content with ‘just sitting here’, I have food, shelter and I am getting paid. What more do I need?”
    “How about a life outside these walls, what about all of those letters you been sending huh? Don’t you want to see them again, or are you content with letting them miss you while you sit safe and cozy in your fortress?” Before the words left his mouth he knew they were the wrong thing to say and wished he could take them back. Gifford stopped smiling and stared at Jazer with nothing but contempt in his eyes. The words were only meant to harm, and Jazer used them without thinking. He had one person in the entire house he could somewhat trust, and he had just burned that bridge. He tried to speak but managed to only stammer, “Gifford, I…I just….sorry, but…”
    “Shut your cursed trap ya bastard!” Gifford rose from his chair and leaned across the table. As he spoke his accent became thicker, “You son of a whore, don’t ya be sayin’ stuff ya don’t knows about. By the Gods if ya ever bring up me letters ag’in I will ring your’s li’l neck. Do you ‘derstand me?”
    Jazer felt himself begin to cower under the healer’s fiery gaze. As quickly as his rage had exploded though, Gifford had it back under control and sat back down in his chair. His eyes stared off into the distance, and Jazer knew he was staring at the person who received all of his letters. He missed them something fierce and by his reaction, Jazer guessed that Gifford too doubted his purpose in being here.
    “I am going to present this to Malius…you don’t have to get involved and stay here, but if you want, I could make one for you too.” Jazer fingered the paper in his pocket as he spoke. Gifford ignored him though, lost in his other reality. The dwarf was a prisoner here, and it was going to be Jazer that set him free.
     
  3. Jinral

    Jinral The yet to be published

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    It took a few more days for the others to finally return. Jazer had tried to refine his work to be presentable to the half-orc, but without a steady supply of parchment, he didn’t manage much. When he heard the multiple locks form the door spring open, he rushed to the door, nearly crashing into Derek. The man was mildly surprised, but after seeing who it was Derek quickly darted out of the way and went upstairs. Jazer only momentarily stared after him, but his attention returned to the doorway where Malius stood, wearing his rune etched armor. The armor flared the devilish red color momentarily, and Jazer immediately stepped back a few steps, letting the beast through.
    The mage was quickly followed by Clair and Stefan. Stefan stepped by with little more than a grunt and a nod. Jazer noticed that his mangy hair had grown even longer and there was a wild look in his eyes, despite his somewhat calm demeanor. Clair on the other hand, gave a small smile. Though it was intended to make Jazer nervous, it only frightened him when she did that. She was the nicest of them all, but every time she smiled at him he felt her prying into his mind, like she could read his thoughts faster than he could read a book. She passed him, intentionally rubbing her shoulder softly against him. She loved to toy with people and Jazer knew he was not the only one who received such attention.
    The door stood ajar for a moment. Jazer expected the Halfling to walk through, but only the only thing on the other side was the cold night, and the quiet hamlet in which the house was situated. There, three feet away, was freedom. Jazer began to wonder what it felt like, to be in the open air, but quickly banished the thought form his mind. He shut the door and the locking mechanisms began to shift into their resting places. When he turned Malius gave a small nod. He had been watching Jazer, seeing how well trained his pet had become. Jazer bit his lip in disgust of himself, but let the feeling pass. There were more important things at hand at the moment.
    “So, you have something for me?” Malius sat down at the table and folded his arms across his chest. “Well, let’s see it.”
    Jazer ignored the suspicion he had that Malius already knew everything that was going on in this house. The house was spelled tighter than a wizard’s prison. Jazer only breathed as long as Malius allowed, even if the mage was leagues away.
    Jazer inhaled sharply, trying to slow his mind so he could speak, “Yes my lord, I have here the designs for an apparatus that would allow you to establish a link between their psyche and your own. You see it utilizes the body’s natural channeling of magic, which I’m sure you know runs along the veins in the blood. Now if you were to follow the energy as it pulsed through the body via the heart’s constant pumping then-“
    Malius held up a hand and Jazer immediately silenced himself. “Okay scholar, give me the basics, not the schooling.”
    Jazer sighed and felt his palms grow sweaty. He clenched them tight into fists to stop the fidgeting of his fingers and nubs, “My apologies Malius, it allows you to see what the wearer is thinking and then afflict them with…spells…from a great distance.”
    “How great of a distance?” Malius leaned forward now, resting his arms on the table.
    Jazer had caught his attention. He felt the swelling of pride in his chest but the feeling subsided quickly. There were more important things here than small victories, he thought. Jazer continued, “From one hundred leagues or more.”
    Malius leaned back and began to stroke his large chin. “And why would you design such a thing? It can’t be used offensively, so it is of little use to me.” He smirked slightly. The man enjoyed watching people squirm under pressure. His eyes told Jazer that he already knew why Jazer had designed it, and only wanted to see how Jazer chose to explain it. He wanted to watch Jazer suffer under his scrutinous gaze.
    Jazer continued, faking the confidence that had just fled from him,”You could use it for hostages, or people you just want to keep an eye on. Like me and Gifford for example, instead of sitting here wasting time all day, we could go out and you would have no worry of us ever betraying you. You would see it coming and we would receive a painful reminder of your presence in our minds.” As Jazer finished he looked toward the kitchen doorway where Gifford had just appeared. His eyes were wide with fear. He knew what Malius was capable of and didn’t want him in the dwarf’s mind. Jazer felt bad, but Gifford didn’t have to wear it, it was his choice. Jazer needed to include him though, to make the presentation all the more convincing.
    (short one today, ill extend later if possible...)
     
  4. Jinral

    Jinral The yet to be published

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    uggghh....okay real hungover this morning, will try to get another update in soon.
     
  5. Jinral

    Jinral The yet to be published

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    march 14

    A small smile appeared on Malius’s face, “So, you say there is reason I shouldn’t trust you and Gifford?”
    “You lock us up in here for a reason and I assume that is it.” Jazer tried to stare straight into the orc’s eyes as he spoke.
    “Perhaps I am just protecting you from the outside world. Did you consider that?” said Malius as he folded his arms across his chest.
    Jazer almost laughed, but contained it to a small grin, “You may try to weave words Lord Malius, but you and I both know that there is no benign intent in keeping us in here.”
    The half-orc shifted slight in his seat as he frowned at Jazer’s words. He didn’t like the elf cutting off his fun of engineering the conversation. Malius was use to getting his way, forcing people to say or think what he wants them too. Jazer was of weak body and little courage, but still he did manage to have his moments. Malius sighed and rose, “Give your material list to Derek, he will buy you what you need.”
    Jazer, who had become worried after Malius showed signs of discontent, allowed a big smile to spread across his face, “Thank you my lord, you will not regret it.”
    Malius began to ascend the stairs when he stopped and looked over the railing at the young elf, “Oh? But you will regret it Jazer. We are going to test it to its full capacity on you, you had better design it well.” He turned back upstairs and went to his room, leaving Jazer speechless in the common room, unable to move.
    Full capacity, Jazer thought, that would kill him tenfold. All of the sudden he wasn’t looking forward to this project. With wide eyes he turned toward the kitchen doorway to see Gifford nearly snarling at him. The dwarf’s voice was sharp and quick, “This is what you get for including me in your little games Jazer. You don’t get to play with me life, but he is going to play with yours.” He turned and walked back into the kitchen, mumbling to himself about the young elf’s idiocy.
    Jazer couldn’t do much else besides sit and rest his head on the table. It was going to be a long few days. He had to do something in the design to protect himself. There had to be something that would keep him safe from Malius’s magic, but if he was protected, then Malius would know it wasn’t perfect. Either he would be killed or the idea was scrapped. They’re had to be something he could do.
    Jazer slowly moved up the stairs, trying to sort out the mess in his head. He was so concentrated that he nearly ran into Derek who was on his way down. The two stopped and stared at each other for a moment. For the first time in months they had to talk to one another. Jazer tried to find the words, but Derek spoke first, “Malius said you had something for me?” His tone was light and seemed almost friendly. He wore a smile on his face, but one with too much sincerity. He knew how much Jazer hated him, and the guilt of it was getting to him. Jazer could see it plain as day on his face. Derek felt guilty alright, it was eating at him.
    Jazer gave a small grin, “No, you’re mistaken.” He then continue dup the stairs, feeling Derek’s eyes burn the back of his skull. No, he wouldn’t let Derek get away so easily, a few more weeks of carrying that burden, then Jazer may begin speaking to him. It sure as the nine hells wasn’t going to be on friendly terms.
    Once Jazer made it back to his room, the familiar feeling of magic clung to the air. The spells in the room were almost overwhelming, but he continued in and shut the door anyway. If Malius was going to watch his every move, that was fine. The half-orc knew Jazer wasn’t going to give up without at least trying. He paced the room awhile, looking at the meager furnishings. He sat down on the bed and a cloud of dust sprung into the air, and then slowly settled. Jazer shook his head and began fishing through his pockets once more. He heard the familiar sound of clinking jars as he scavenged up what remained of his ink bottles. He drove his hand into one of the other pockets and grabbed a quill. It was one of the few unbroken one’s he had left.
    Jazer didn’t even bother searching his pockets for paper, he had used every single corner and every margin he could find on the tattered papers. Malius wasn’t about to give him anymore. His eyes wandered around the room. There was nothing of use in there, the furniture threatened to fall apart, and the linen on the bed stained and tattered. His eyes finally fell onto the walls themselves. The wooden structure had flat wooden panels lining the walls, running vertical to the floor. Jazer sprang up and ran his hand down the smooth surface, a bit dusty, but well kept. He smiled to himself and dragged the night stand over next to him. He set one of the ink bottles down onto it, and dipped the quill. He wanted to laugh, he had just found a lot more places to record his research, and they couldn’t take this one away.
     
  6. Jinral

    Jinral The yet to be published

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    Marh 15

    Gifford quickly became accustomed to bringing Jazer’s meals to his room. Every time he came up to give the food to Jazer though, the elf always told him to just leave it outside the door. After waiting to hear the heavy footsteps descend the stairway, Jazer quickly opened the door and snagged up the food. He act as fast as he could will his body. Eating was wasting time, valuable time. If he could forgo the process, he would do away with it altogether.
    Days had passed, he was sure of that. With no windows in the room, he couldn’t tell when it was day and when it was night. He tried to keep track of the meals, but often times he would fall unconscious only to find his tray had been taken away already, likely by Gifford. With the added confusion he was no longer sure of how much time had passed, but he was making progress.
    Jazer swallowed the last of the bread and looked up at the wall. The equations seemed to start in the center and then branch outward. That was a mistake, he thought. On a sheet of paper, you never start in the center, yet here he was making the mistake a simple child would. He followed the trail of numbers and symbols as they intricately intertwined to bring about fantastic results. He could almost see the effects of the calculations he had written.
    He continued to follow his train of thought as it sprawled in front of him. The left half of the wall was covered in the inked writing. At first he had begun work on the device, but somewhere between the top left and bottom left corners, his focused had changed. He began to apply ideas to other scenarios, other ways to employ the magic he had learned. Yes, there were many ways to use it. He followed the scribbling as it began to cross over to the right half of the wall. Then the ink faded and he adjusted his spectacles to see more clearly.
    His eyes widened as he leapt toward the wall. There was a mistake, a mistake in the equation. No matter, it was easily fixed. He brought forth the knife he had stolen from one of his earlier meals, and craved into the wood. He fixed the symbol that had been drawn incorrectly and stepped back to appreciate the masterpiece in progress. Yes, this was going to be great. The only trouble was he had no idea what it was going to be. The math seemed to be guiding his hand and the numbers that he scribbled were just the next logical step in the process. He had no plans or expectations, he just scribbled and made it up as he went.
    Another knock at the door and there was the familiar sound of a dinner plate being set on the floor. Already?, he thought. Jazer waited for the echo of footsteps to cease and quickly swung open the door, dragging the tray inside. By the looks of the meal it appeared to be around breakfast time. He silently munched on the potatoes as he looked back toward the wall. He followed it until he saw that the etching had begun to bleed onto the adjacent wall. His eyes narrowed as he scrutinized the drawings. He was coming up on something big, he knew it. There just needed to be a few modifications. He began to crave into the wood, but as he did, the brittle tip of the knife seemed to almost fall away from the rest of the blade. He looked at it for a moment. The entire thing looked ready to fall apart, worn down and useless.
    He quickly snagged up the knife from his current dinner and went to work, extending the calculations a bit further. It wouldn’t take long. He held the bit of potato in his hand as he worked. There was no point in slowing to eat, he thought. If he could just keep working then things would be fine. He would find the answer to his question, to all questions. There was nothing that couldn’t be accomplished without science. It was the basis of everything. Mages and wizards, they just manipulate the world around them without truly understanding it like he did. Magic wasn’t magic at all, but science. If he could simply understand it better than any of them, and harness his own power, then he could become the most powerful being in existence. He could end all of the strife, the war, the grief, and crime. Yes crime was going to go first. There would be no one to harm the innocent. Those that did would be severely punished, yes punished. He would kill them, kill them all. All murderers, thieves, and vandals, all dead. He could create his own world for his kind of people. Scholarly types who want nothing more than to understand the world around them. Jazer could give everyone this feeling. They could call feel the joy of it, the exhilaration of understanding. Scholarly types would lead the way in the future, and if the people didn’t want to learn, Jazer would just have to make them, to show them the light that is education and understanding. He would force them to see the error in their ways, force them to convert to his way.
    He went to bite a piece of the potato, only to find it had become hardened and cold. He eyed it once more, but was barely able to see the bit of food. He adjusted his spectacles once more and then turned toward the light. The candle, fresh from the morning, was all but gone. He stared a moment longer at the pool of wax that had formed at the bottom of the bronze dish. He felt the surge of power, a spark of it, flutter through him. Instantly the wick grew tall. It extended from barely an inch back to its full height, nearly two hands tall. The wax swirled in the dish, and as if carried by a twirling wind, it rose, reforming the candle. When the flutter of power left him, the candle was as tall as it once had been. He silently turned back to his work, but once again the wall was full of more etchings and carvings.
    He studied the knife in his hand, brittle and tarnished. He blinked his eyes, summoning the power once more, and the knife reshaped itself to that of a small sharpened dagger. The thicker blade would make for a better tool. He moved to the wall behind his bed and began his work anew, continuing his struggle for understanding of everything. Yes, he thought, this was the path to true enlightenment, on these walls were the instructions for a better future for everyone. Yes, a better future, of his making. He began to work violently, moving quicker with every stab into the wood. Numbers and symbols began to sew forth from the blade’s tip. In a whirlwind he began to see the path that lay ahead.
    Suddenly a loud burst came from the doorway. Jazer wheeled on the bed, which until now he did not realize he was standing on. He extended his hand and the wooden floor reached up to grab the intruder. As it did though, the man rolled to the side, avoiding the warping floor. Jazer began to call the power once more, but his focus was broken by the man’s sudden rush.
    He leapt onto the bed and snatched the wrist of Jazer’s outstretched hand. He twisted it sharply, causing Jazer to lose his balance and crash down off the bed onto the floor. His head landed hard against the wood and instantly he felt the pressure on his wrist tighten as the stranger forced it behind his back. He struggled against the attacker, but quickly found his strength to be no match. He tried to control his breath and slow his racing heart.
    When he did, the attacker flipped him onto his back and pressed a dagger up to Jazer’s throat. He looked up into the eyes of the Halfling
     
  7. Jinral

    Jinral The yet to be published

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    March 20

    “Get off of me!” Jazer struggled against the small attacker, but couldn’t budge. He began to draw on his magical power, letting it course through his veins. Just before the spell ignited however, the Halfling drove his fist into Jazer’s temple. Everything quickly faded to black and the power left him.
    When he awoke, he found he was bound to a chair. He blinked his eyes trying to focus, but everything still seemed fuzzy. He wrinkled his nose, trying to feel for his spectacles but they weren’t there. He tried to move his arms, but they too were tied down behind him and moved no more than a few inches. His feet were locked to the legs of the chair. He tried to twist and turn, but the ropes held him tightly. He felt himself beginning to panic. He didn’t know where he was, or why he was even tied up. His struggling became violent as he grunted with every motion until the chair tipped and he fell over. The cold floor smacked against the side of his head, slowing things down once more. He relaxed a bit and tried to focus his thoughts. He physically couldn’t do anything, but with magic he could break free. He closed his eyes and began to search for the power. It was hidden within his mind, but he needed to find it, to control it.
    A tiny spark shot through him, telling him he had succeeded in locating it. He began to channel it through his mind and body. Before he could sufficiently charge it though, he felt himself being lifted and set back up right. Before he could question what was happening, the blurry shape in front of him set Jazer’s glasses on his forehead. The Halfling stood there, with arms folded. He looked just as mysterious as before, with the high neck grey cloak with the dark blue scarf and top hat. His jade-colored eyes still seemed to judge his very soul every time they landed on him.
    “You know, you pass out a lot.”The figure folded his arms and sat down on another chair. Jazer wasn’t sure where either of their chairs came from, but he didn’t feel the tingle of magic. These weren’t truth chairs like the ones down stairs.
    Jazer cleared his throat, “I’ve been meaning to ask you your name.”
    The figure raised an eyebrow, the upper half of his face that Jazer could see seemed to emanate a smile, “My name, well that’s strange.”
    “How so? What am I to call you?”
    The Halfling rose moved toward Jazer. He reached into his cloak and quickly drew a plain looking dagger. Jazer immediately cringed away from the blade, but two quick swipes later he felt the ropes loosen and then fall away altogether. He immediately rubbed at his sore wrists and stared at the Halfling who sat back down, “You can call me whatever you like, but it does not change who I am. So it is strange you would rather know my name than who I am.”
    The elf pinched the bridge of his nose and adjusted his spectacles, “Everyone has a name, it is how we are addressed, and it is a simple question with a simple answer.”
    With a shake of his head the Halfling responded, “What did I tell you, more than you know is going on here. You have a real problem staying conscious and a real problem listening elf, you would do well to heed my advice. As for my name, you can call me Denith.”
    “Okay,” Jazer bit his lip, trying to think of how to phrase his next question, “Why did you attack me?”
    “Look at the wall,” The Halfling pointed to the wall behind Jazer’s bed. “Do you know what you were working on?”
    Jazer studied the figures and numbers carefully. They were particularly ingenious, he could hardly believe he had made them. It took him some time to find the beginning of the last equation, but as he traced it out, the numbers and symbols no longer made sense to him. They seemed right, but he couldn’t figure out why. “No, I have no idea.”
    “Let me take you on the journey your mind took.” He rose and crossed the room to where the symbols started. “Here, you began to delve into thought magic, and apparently you figured out how to access the realm of the mind, a place of near limitless power, as long as it was contained there.”
    “Yes, I was working on the…” he hesitated for a moment, “the device that Malius wants.”
    Denith nodded, “I am aware of the device and why you are hesitant to build it just yet. Now continuing,” He traced his finger along the wall, “You then began to sort out how to detect good minds and bad ones. Everyone has a type of moral standings, and there are spells in existence that can find murderous hearts and pure souls, but you took it a step further.” He moved now to the other wall. He tapped a particular section and said, “You figured out that if you cast such spells while in people’s minds, then you would be able to discern the pure from the degenerate. No small task I assure you, especially on such a massive scale.”
    Jazer shrugged, “Well why would that be a problem?”
    The one eye Jazer could see shifted, giving Jazer the perception that Denith was snarling at him, “You fool, because you continued on. You developed a way to target people based upon what you sensed. You were about to kill off half the population!”
    “I fail to see how that would be a bad thing!”
    “What gives you the right to determine if someone deserves to die? Who made you a god of gods?” Denith’s hand slowly slid into his cloak.
    Jazer felt the surge of power once more. “Evil men deserve to die, simple as that.” As soon as he said it, his vision gained a blue hue, and the room lit up a bright golden color. Every which direction there were wards placed. Jazer could see the arsenal of weapons that the Halfling carried. Each one gave off the same golden hue as the wards did. They were all magically imbued weapons.
    “You know nothing of the balance!” Denith’s hand now firm gripped one of the objects. Judging by the length, Jazer guessed it to be a dagger. Denith continued, “You have no right to decide who lives and who dies, history will be written as it should be. You have already caused enough damage to the flow of time.”
    Jazer paused in his thinking, “What, what have I done?”
    Denith muttered on his breath something indiscernible, and the far side wall dissipated, giving an open view of the town. The quiet hamlet wasn’t all that remarkable, which made it seem all the more beautiful. It was daylight out, and the people moved about, doing menial tasks. Mothers watched children play, men unloaded wagons and repaired rooftops. Each of the cottages were neatly aligned stone building with thatched roofing. They looked large enough to suit a family of three, possibly four if the children slept close. There were no backyards to speak of, miles of field stretched toward the horizon. It was likely this little village was just a stop along the farms. It separated the fields so that one didn’t have to carry it all the way across the farmland to sell it.
    In the far distance though, something caught his eye. There was a lone woman, moving away from the washing well in the center of the street. She carried laundry toward a house and began to hang it up on a small line. She was tall and graceful and stuck out of the modest scene like a sore thumb. She may have worn peasants clothing, but there was obviously something different even from that great of distance Jazer could see the sharp facial features, the pointed ears and the glowing skin. She was positively radiant, but that is just what set her apart from the other villagers. Something else set her apart from every woman Jazer had ever met, her auburn hair.
    He mouthed her name once more, “Mary Ann…”
    Denith looked back, “What was that?”
    Jazer closed his eyes, trying to burn the memory into his mind. “Nothing, I said nothing.”
    “Well open your eyes elf, the show is about to start..”
    Jazer opened his eyes and the setting was now dark. Before he could figure out the anomaly, screams began to rise up as the sound of wings erupted. A mighty roar hailed from the sky and a giant shadow descended upon the villagers. The ones that had been out and about now darted for cover as a giant creature swooped down, scooping up one unfortunate soul. With the sound of crunching bone the man ceased to scream, only managing a slight gurgle as he was carried off. Jazer only had a split-second view, but the slug-like creature was Octavius. There could be no mistake. That was Octavius. The homunculus was now as large as two of the cottages lined up together. And it was terrorizing people, it was eating innocent people.
    Then she walked outside. She shielded her eyes against the moon to see the dark shape approach. She turned to run as she realized what was about to happen. Octavius dived straight for her home. “Octavius no!” Jazer darted, and jumped toward the scene, only to crash into the wooden wall. He felt his head slam back onto the wooden floor and once again everything began to grow dark. Before it did however, he felt a spark inside of him. The power was still there, and it was threatening to take over. He didn’t fight it, he just let it happen.
     
  8. Jinral

    Jinral The yet to be published

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    March 22nd

    Images began to flash in his mind, images of terrified people, of Mary Ann, running for her life. There was still a chance, a chance to save her. There she was, running to the cottage. Octavius was closing in fast, what was there to do? What could he do? He felt the power surge within him as a reminder, he could do anything.
    He reached out with that power, trying to reach her, but a barrier blocked his way. Something thin, but heavily spelled prevented his power from extending beyond it. With a simple thought the barrier shattered and fell into nothingness. He had just realized his vision had been pitch black, but now the sky greeted him.
    The sun was lighting up the small hamlet, and his blue vision stretched far beyond the horizon. He was acutely aware of every living thing in the area, from the running people, to the scared cattle, to the bugs hiding in the grass, ignorant to the world around them. Now he could even detect those that dwelled within the house he came from. There was a small creature just next to where Jazer once lay. From down the hall, a being of powerful magic began to move about the home, preparing spells as he went. No matter, Jazer thought, there was nothing he could do to stop him from reaching her.
    The elf soared toward the house, feeling neither the sun’s rays on his neck nor the wind on his face. He felt nothing, but sensed everything. Every scent and sound was being processed in his mind, he could discern all of their origins on a whim. What he could not detect though, was what he sought after.
    He flew straight toward her house as the little ant-like people scattered before him. Her home was destroyed, and there was no trace of her. She was gone. The events that the Halfling had shown him had already come to pass, and she was gone. She couldn’t be gone, it wasn’t fair. He hadn’t seen her for years, and then he spent the last few months staying just a few houses down from her. She probably didn’t even know he existed, and now she was gone.
    His anger began to take hold as he let the power focus in the palms of his hands. This was Malius’s doing. If he didn’t keep him there, Jazer could have gone to her, and protected her form…Octavius. Octavius was the one who attacked her. Was it my fault? Jazer wondered.
    Yes it was his fault, if he had evaded capture, he could have trained Octavius properly. The creature was simply acting on instinct, and now had no one to direct its insatiable hunger. What was it supposed to do. Malius was the root of all of this evil.
    He let the power burst from his palms and Mary Ann’s tiny home simply turned to dust. The sounds that had been so quiet before began to echo in his skull. Screams of the peasants as the frantically ran to and fro. Some armed themselves with farming tools, trying to slay the floating elf. They kept screaming and yelling, screaming and yelling. Jazer dug his nails against the sides of his head, trying to release the echoes in his mind, but they wouldn’t stop. They wouldn’t stop screaming.
    Jazer felt his fingertips tighten and then the screaming stopped. The ants stopped moving, in fact they disappeared altogether. The wind now moved unhindered through the hamlet. No buildings diverted the gale, no people burdened the gusts with voices or shouts. Nothing the wind was free to travel through the hollow hillside. Its chill though, seemed to pierce straight through Jazer’s soul. The chill soothed the pain that he had felt since discovering Mary Ann’s shattered home. Now there was nothing except for the chill of the wind, the child of death.
    He felt his feet touch the soft ground. His boots sank in the mud and the blue haze began to wash away. He stood now in the center of a burned field, with the only hint of the village being shattered bits of rubble strewn across the ground. The fire raged off in the distance and a thick ash began to fill the air. Jazer didn’t know why, but tears began to flow down his cheek, clumping with the ash as they streaked across his face. He fell to his knees and buried his face in his hands.
    “Jazer!” The cry came from close by. The elf turned his head and through broken spectacles and watery eyes he made out a faint glowing bubble. Inside the aura of green light stood Gifford, hold his hand high, straining from the magic. Denith stood, crossbows at the ready, Derek was wide-eyed with fear. The only one among them who seemed somewhat calm was Malius, who simply stood with his arms folded across his plated chest.
    It was Derik who cried out again, “Jazer, what have you done!?” He began to move toward Jazer as Gifford’s spell began to fade. He moved in rigid motions as if his mind was unable to comprehend the simple commands.
    Jazer held up a hand and through sobs said, “No, stay back!” The magic began to flare once more in him. The power concentrated in his palm. The familiar tingle compacted itself into his fingers. At the last moment, Jazer thrust his hand into the air and rays of fire shot from his finger tips, illuminating the darkened sky. Jazer stared at his hand in disbelief.
    When he looked back at Derik, the former bard began to edge his way forward once more. He was as pale as the ash that had begun to cling to the ground around him like snow clinging to the mountains. Derik was afraid. Jazer had only seen the man afraid a few times, mostly from Octavius. That was because he believed Octavius a monster. Now he was afraid of Jazer, was Jazer the monster now?
    Derik continued moving forward, Jazer held up another hand, trying to suppress the magic, “I said stay back!” His former friend was no more than a few meters away now. Jazer could hear the ragged breath resounding in Derik’s lungs.
    “Jazer, you aren’t going to hurt me, I know you…” His eyes betrayed his words. Derik looked more afraid than he had probably ever been in his life. Yet here he was, approaching a monster.
    Jazer felt the tears run dry as he choked back a cough. He looked up at Derik and said, “I can’t control it…” The power began swelling inside him once more. His arm became as rigid as stone. He tried to move it but the appendage no longer responded to his commands. His hand snapped upward, directing its palm toward Derik. The fingers moved of their own, the bones and tendons seeming to crack into place. The fingertips all joined together with the thumb, forming a cone. Without another word, the power shot from the cone in a green beam of light. Derik moved out of its path, rolling through the ashen ground. Gifford however, did not see the magic coming until it was nearly upon him.
    Instead of rolling to the side, he tried to summon a magic defense. With surprising speed the green aura returned, shielding the healer from the oncoming attack. The beam of light however, shifted color to a deep violet, and pierced straight through the aura, smashing into Gifford’s chest. The Dwarf stared in horror as the entire beam of light entered his body. He stared up Jazer, and then his skin began to melt away. Before Gifford could howl in pain, the skin had dropped from his flesh, and the muscles beneath rotted away. Already bits of his skeleton shown through the instant decay. Within seconds, the blackened dwarf skeleton that was Gifford, fell to pieces.
     
  9. Jinral

    Jinral The yet to be published

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    Re: March 23

    Images began to flash in his mind, images of terrified people, of Mary Ann, running for her life. There was still a chance, a chance to save her. There she was, running to the cottage. Octavius was closing in fast, what was there to do? What could he do? He felt the power surge within him as a reminder, he could do anything.
    He reached out with that power, trying to reach her, but a barrier blocked his way. Something thin, but heavily spelled prevented his power from extending beyond it. With a simple thought the barrier shattered and fell into nothingness. He had just realized his vision had been pitch black, but now the sky greeted him.
    The sun was lighting up the small hamlet, and his blue vision stretched far beyond the horizon. He was acutely aware of every living thing in the area, from the running people, to the scared cattle, to the bugs hiding in the grass, ignorant to the world around them. Now he could even detect those that dwelled within the house he came from. There was a small creature just next to where Jazer once lay. From down the hall, a being of powerful magic began to move about the home, preparing spells as he went. No matter, Jazer thought, there was nothing he could do to stop him from reaching her.
    The elf soared toward the house, feeling neither the sun’s rays on his neck nor the wind on his face. He felt nothing, but sensed everything. Every scent and sound was being processed in his mind, he could discern all of their origins on a whim. What he could not detect though, was what he sought after.
    He flew straight toward her house as the little ant-like people scattered before him. Her home was destroyed, and there was no trace of her. She was gone. The events that the Halfling had shown him had already come to pass, and she was gone. She couldn’t be gone, it wasn’t fair. He hadn’t seen her for years, and then he spent the last few months staying just a few houses down from her. She probably didn’t even know he existed, and now she was gone.
    His anger began to take hold as he let the power focus in the palms of his hands. This was Malius’s doing. If he didn’t keep him there, Jazer could have gone to her, and protected her form…Octavius. Octavius was the one who attacked her. Was it my fault? Jazer wondered.
    Yes it was his fault, if he had evaded capture, he could have trained Octavius properly. The creature was simply acting on instinct, and now had no one to direct its insatiable hunger. What was it supposed to do. Malius was the root of all of this evil.
    He let the power burst from his palms and Mary Ann’s tiny home simply turned to dust. The sounds that had been so quiet before began to echo in his skull. Screams of the peasants as the frantically ran to and fro. Some armed themselves with farming tools, trying to slay the floating elf. They kept screaming and yelling, screaming and yelling. Jazer dug his nails against the sides of his head, trying to release the echoes in his mind, but they wouldn’t stop. They wouldn’t stop screaming.
    Jazer felt his fingertips tighten and then the screaming stopped. The ants stopped moving, in fact they disappeared altogether. The wind now moved unhindered through the hamlet. No buildings diverted the gale, no people burdened the gusts with voices or shouts. Nothing the wind was free to travel through the hollow hillside. Its chill though, seemed to pierce straight through Jazer’s soul. The chill soothed the pain that he had felt since discovering Mary Ann’s shattered home. Now there was nothing except for the chill of the wind, the child of death.
    He felt his feet touch the soft ground. His boots sank in the mud and the blue haze began to wash away. He stood now in the center of a burned field, with the only hint of the village being shattered bits of rubble strewn across the ground. The fire raged off in the distance and a thick ash began to fill the air. Jazer didn’t know why, but tears began to flow down his cheek, clumping with the ash as they streaked across his face. He fell to his knees and buried his face in his hands.
    “Jazer!” The cry came from close by. The elf turned his head and through broken spectacles and watery eyes he made out a faint glowing bubble. Inside the aura of green light stood Gifford, hold his hand high, straining from the magic. Denith stood, crossbows at the ready, Derek was wide-eyed with fear. The only one among them who seemed somewhat calm was Malius, who simply stood with his arms folded across his plated chest.
    It was Derik who cried out again, “Jazer, what have you done!?” He began to move toward Jazer as Gifford’s spell began to fade. He moved in rigid motions as if his mind was unable to comprehend the simple commands.
    Jazer held up a hand and through sobs said, “No, stay back!” The magic began to flare once more in him. The power concentrated in his palm. The familiar tingle compacted itself into his fingers. At the last moment, Jazer thrust his hand into the air and rays of fire shot from his finger tips, illuminating the darkened sky. Jazer stared at his hand in disbelief.
    When he looked back at Derik, the former bard began to edge his way forward once more. He was as pale as the ash that had begun to cling to the ground around him like snow clinging to the mountains. Derik was afraid. Jazer had only seen the man afraid a few times, mostly from Octavius. That was because he believed Octavius a monster. Now he was afraid of Jazer, was Jazer the monster now?
    Derik continued moving forward, Jazer held up another hand, trying to suppress the magic, “I said stay back!” His former friend was no more than a few meters away now. Jazer could hear the ragged breath resounding in Derik’s lungs.
    “Jazer, you aren’t going to hurt me, I know you…” His eyes betrayed his words. Derik looked more afraid than he had probably ever been in his life. Yet here he was, approaching a monster.
    Jazer felt the tears run dry as he choked back a cough. He looked up at Derik and said, “I can’t control it…” The power began swelling inside him once more. His arm became as rigid as stone. He tried to move it but the appendage no longer responded to his commands. His hand snapped upward, directing its palm toward Derik. The fingers moved of their own, the bones and tendons seeming to crack into place. The fingertips all joined together with the thumb, forming a cone. Without another word, the power shot from the cone in a green beam of light. Derik moved out of its path, rolling through the ashen ground. Gifford however, did not see the magic coming until it was nearly upon him.
    Instead of rolling to the side, he tried to summon a magic defense. With surprising speed the green aura returned, shielding the healer from the oncoming attack. The beam of light however, shifted color to a deep violet, and pierced straight through the aura, smashing into Gifford’s chest. The Dwarf stared in horror as the entire beam of light entered his body. He stared up Jazer, and then his skin began to melt away. Before Gifford could howl in pain, the skin had dropped from his flesh, and the muscles beneath rotted away. Already bits of his skeleton shown through the instant decay. Within seconds, the blackened dwarf skeleton that was Gifford, fell to pieces.
     
  10. Jinral

    Jinral The yet to be published

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    March 27

    Jazer stared horrified at the site. He felt like vomiting, but his stomach wouldn’t respond. His entire body wouldn’t respond. He looked back at Derek, who could only stare in astonishment and fear at what Jazer had just done. The power ebbed and flowed through Jazer’s veins uncontrollably. It threatened to break free once more and Jazer’s hands began to gather power once more. This time though, shadows gathered until a small black void formed in the palms of his hands. The power was about to unleash once more.
    Derek began to scramble away, while the others fled for cover. Jazer stared at the magic in his hands, afraid of what it might do next. He looked up at Denith and Malius and then stared at Derek’s back as the man ran away. Jazer was the monster, he created this mess. Not only had he brought a beast into this world, he had killed everyone around him without even trying. He was evil.
    Jazer forced his hands to his chest and screamed. The magic shot from his hands. Derek screamed for Jazer to stop, but it was too late. The magic flared and in an instant, everything turned black.
    ***
    Jazer awoke once more, bound to a chair. He tried to lift his head, but the weight of it was too great. He could barely roll it around his shoulders. His eyelids felt like lead and they too were impossible to move. He contented himself with trying to breathe which was a painful task in itself.
    Pain, it meant he was alive. He wished it weren’t so, the magic should have killed him. He should have been destroyed, disintegrated like the villagers, or rotted away like Gifford. No, he was forced to live on. Slowly he began to gain feeling in his body. As soon as he could twitch his fingers, the muscles felt as if they were on fire. His entire body was racked with pain. He coughed, struggling to breath as jolts of pain shuddered through him. No tears came though, he couldn’t manage to cry if he wanted to.
    “He is awake.” The voice seemed to dance around his head, like a slow moving tornado. Bits of conversation floated in and out of his ears. The voices were panicked, racing through his mind. Words like evil, bastard, or monster littered the conversation. He couldn’t make out who was who, or where he was. He tried to raise his head once more, but still it failed to move. He wanted to tell them, to tell them all that he was sorry. He didn’t mean any of it. His lips barely managed a whisper.
    Something struck him across the face, sending his mind reeling. He managed to open a single eye, but he could barely see through the haze. A figure stood before him, bathed in a red light. The figure reached out and struck him again, the pain finally registering from the gauntleted hand.
    “Stop it, either you are going to kill him, or you are going to bring the magic back!” The voice was crystal clear now, it was Denith. Jazer opened his other eye, and a shorter man stood next to Malius. The two fuzzed images seemed to mesh as one. By the sound of it, they seemed to be scuffling.
    Malius was breathing heavily and yelling in a bestial tongue. Through the grunts and roars, words from the common language filtered in, “He deserves to die…bastard….see what he’s done.”
    “No Malius, you fail to understand what is going on, you will not kill him.” Denith wasn’t pleading with Malius, he was telling him. Jazer couldn’t recall Denith or any other member of the troupe telling Malius to do anything. Yet here was the Halfling, a third of the size of the orc, ordering the mage to stand down.
    “You little bastard I will cook you where you stand now unhand me!” The two scuffled some more, but then the images fell from view. Suddenly, Jazer’s view sharpened as his spectacles were placed onto his nose. Through the shattered glass, Jazer could clearly see Malius being pinned face down in the ash. Denith had one of his arms twisted and stood on the mage’s back. Jazer looked down to see no rope’s binding, his body had been paralyzed of its own accord. He tried to shift in the seat, but that only heightened the pain. He was leaning against the stump of a former tree, and the ash had nearly covered his legs.
    “I said unhand me or I will-“
    “Or you will do what mage? Cook me?” Denith applied pressure to the twisted arm and Malius cried out in pain. “You don’t know what is going on here, so don’t pretend to be in charge.”
    Malius turned his head to the side, coughing out the ash that had gathered in his mouth. His face was painted grey by that point. He grunted, “Don’t forget who is in charge here you crazed midget!”
    Another twist. Another cry of pain. Denith didn’t ease up this time until a loud popping noise rang throughout the still countryside. Malius screamed in horror and pain as his arm fell loosely to his side, broken. Denith quickly snatched up the other and applied a similar bind to it. Malius, had begun to cry. The beast’s loud sniffling hindered by his coughing. Denith growled, “Because you lead the pack means you are the alpha male, but you should never forget my lord, that you let in a stray dog into your pack. And this stray dog is much more powerful than he lets on. I was content with letting you lead, you were in charge by my good grace, and now I have no need of you, I need him. You have performed your duties and now you are just another pup in the litter. Will you run with me, or will you simply fight for the throne?”
    Jazer couldn’t make sense of what was going on. He wasn’t sure if the ordeal had cost him hat was little left of his sanity, or if the scenario being played before him was genuinely chaotic. Malius continued to sob, his right arm lying misshapen in the ash. He turned his head and his face twisted in rage, “I will never follow a pathetic creature like you!?”
    Malius shuddered and flipped himself over, sending the Halfling sprawling in the ash. Using his other arm as leverage, he brought up his right hand, concentrating the elements around him. The air quickly compressed, resulting in an orb of fire. Denith had recovered and dropped to a knee, a small crossbow already free from his belt. Malius sent the ball of fire screaming toward Denith, but the Halfling merely ducked his shoulder and the fireball missed its target, smashing into the ground behind Denith. Before the fireball even landed however, there was a small clicking sound. Jazer tried to focus his eyes, but only saw Malius crumple over awkwardly. When the scene settled Denith stood to his full height and retrieved the shattered bolt from Malius’s skull. He slid the shattered fragments under his cloak, along with the small crossbow.
    Denith looked toward Derek, “Now, you must make a choice, either run with the pack or be cast out of this world. I advise you think quickly.”
    Derek who had been standing far off, not wanting to be too close to any of the action or Jazer, looked from Denith to Malius’s corpse. It didn’t take long for him to decide, “My goal is to survive, and I believe the safest bet is with you Drakmar.”
    Jazer blinked quickly trying to think of what Derek was even talking about. Drakmar, he thought, who in the nine-hells was Drakmar. A quick glance from Denith told him what he needed to know, that Denith was indeed Drakmar and Jazer needed to keep his mouth shut. Like a stray dog, you can call it what you like, but it didn’t change the fact it could kill you at a moment’s notice.
    Jazer sighed and attempted to shift once more. His arms were moving now, he still had poor control over his body, but it was getting better. The pain though, still remained the same, “I wouldn’t do that if I were you…” Denith kneeled in front of him. “Your body may have protected itself with a magical shield, but some of the effects of that spell still go through. If you move too much it could kill you.”
    “What happened?” Jazer managed to say, but the sound was guttural and unfamiliar to him.
    Denith narrowed his eyes, “You tried to blast yourself with a demon’s fire, the flame was blocked but the demonic embrace still got through.
    “What does….”Jazer had to stop to breathe, “That mean…?”
    “It means your very soul is now battling it out with a demon’s spirit. You managed to somehow reach into the depths of the abyss and bind a demon to a fireball, now you’re wrestling with that demon for control.” Jazer felt himself begin to panic when Denith put a hand on his shoulder, “Relax or else you could pass out, and you’re severely injured as it is.”
    Jazer’s head was spinning now, he could barely make sense of anything that was going on, “Is that…why I have…been crazy?”
    Denith laughed, but there was nothing friendly about it, “No, no you were crazy to being with, that is probably why that demon is having such a hard time getting control, it can’t get a hold of such a shattered mind.”
    Jazer’s stomach began to churn and instantly he felt his entire body regain control. He leaned to the side and expelled the contents of his stomach. When he opened his eyes he saw a thick black mass of ooze on the ground. He wiped at his chin, and then stared at his hand. The black ooze had been inside of his own body. A quick slap on the back from Denith, and Jazer began to vomit again, and more of the strange substance spilled out onto the ashen ground.
    “I believe you have just won Jazer.” Denith slapped him on the back once more, and then the previous day’s meal spilled out onto the ground.
    Jazer slowly recovered and sat up. As he did, the black ooze began to evaporate before his very eyes. In a few moments it was gone entirely, and the only thing left were bits of potato. Jazer tried to rise, but his muscles felt so sore from the endeavor of the past day that it seemed impossible. Denith helped to lift him up and Jazer used him as a crutch. He gathered the strength he had to say, “Where is she?”
    Denith looked up at the elf and shook his head, “She I alive, but she fled, the homunculus did not follow. Is she someone important?”
    Jazer only managed to nod.
     
  11. Jinral

    Jinral The yet to be published

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    Due to work keeping me real busy or real tire, and a low number of hits on the website, I might be out of commission for awhile... I want to finish the book, but I have no spark left for creative writing. Ill return eventually, I always do
     
  12. Jinral

    Jinral The yet to be published

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    Im back 4-10

    I got to step back and take a look at life in general which is always good to do. Hung out with some old friends and it didn't take long for me to begin detailing the events of the 1 book ive written and the 12 that follow it in the series. I plan on going back to that series as soon as I finish this project. Ill keep you guys posted on how publishing is going. Wish me luck.

    Oh and for those of you who sent me a message in response to the break I took, thank you. It really helped me get back on my feet knowing that some of you guys enjoy this story. In fact without u guys, i might not of come back, so again thank you.

    The trio constructed a small lean to out of what bits and pieces of the village were left. If Derek was avoiding Jazer before, not it was as if Jazer was plague stricken. Jazer however, did not care. The man was insignificant in the scope of things. He was an untrustworthy ally and a poor friend, what did he matter? All that mattered were the people Jazer had just removed from the face of the earth and the woman who had gotten away.
    He felt guilty at first, because the first thing he regretted was not finding her, the other villager gruesome deaths only a close second. His mind however, was so enthralled by the prospect of finally seeing her again that little else seemed to matter anymore. When he slept that night, all he dreamt of was her.
    The next morning came quicker than he had hoped. No song birds greeted the sun, but the first light shined in his eyes, forcing him awake. He coughed violently as he felt ash leaving his lungs. It was not the wisest plan to sleep in the center of an ash field, but with Jazer being near crippled, there was little other choice.
    He rolled out from under the tattered rag he had been using as a blanket. The excruciating pain had dulled slightly, but was now coupled with extremely sore muscles. He half wished he had never woken up. When he sat up and retrieved his glasses though, he knew it was better not to have survived. He quickly swallowed the lump of fear that formed in his throat.
    Through the cracked glass he saw two figures approaching. A woman, dressed in black and a man wearing fur. Claire and Stefan had returned. Jazer quickly looked up at Denith who had been standing watch. He too saw them and his hand had already slipped under his cloak.
    “What the devil? What the hell happened?” Claire’s voice was shrill and only added to Jazer’s headache. “Where is the cursed town?”
    No one moved a muscle as the two approached. Stefan was sniffing at the air, like a dog catching a scent. Claire walked with determination straight toward Denith. Jazer looked at the Halfling, watching his ears prick up and his body tense. Claire must of seen this too, because she slowed, sensing the impending danger.
    “A lot has changed since you left.” Denith’s voice was cool and calm, seeming out of place amongst the chaos that poised to strike. A soft wind stirred up the ashes as Stefan too realized the threat in Denith’s voice. Amongst the cloud of ash, Jazer nearly lost sight of the two.
    “Stop playing stupid Halfling, what happened?” said Stefan, with no effort to hide his contempt.
    Denith moved forward slowly, his hand never leaving the inside of his cloak. “Malius is dead, with him gone I am going to assume charge here. We’re going after the slug.” Jazer straightened, the slug, He thought, Octavius!
    Claire approached as well, but was already twirling a small dagger though her fingers. She acted as if it was a common habit, and perhaps it was, but there was no mistaking her true intent. At any moment that dagger would stop twirling and the next moment it would be sailing through the air with deadly accuracy. “It is impossible for the slug to have done this, we have been chasing it for the past month or so, and it was nowhere near here until recently. When it was near, we were right on its tail, and it never came close to town.” The dagger stopped twirling, “So short one,” she said in her usual soft tone, “what happened?”
    Denith came to a stop almost a half dozen paces away from her. Claire stopped as well with Stefan close behind. Denith’s voice became sharp, “Malius had a magic build-up.”
    Stefan stepped out from behind Claire, baring his teeth and claws, “What the blazes does that mean?”
    Denith shrugged, “As far as I know, it is when a wielder of magic does not use the power. It builds up and they go insane with the power until it is released. Malius began destroying everything in the town. Gifford tried to stop him and was killed.” Denith gestured over to Jazer who was struggling to rise, “Jazer there was the only one who had come close to stopping him. When the elf managed to hold him still, I took the shot.” Denith then nodded toward Malius’s corpse a hundred yards off.
    “How come we have never heard of this?” asked Claire, who slowly moved to sheathe her blade. Stefan relaxed a bit, dropping his shoulders. Denith however, still kept his hand in his cloak.
    “It only happens with the most powerful mages, it isn’t common. You have seen it happen with Jazer several times right.” He was answered by a shrug and a nod. “Well with the chaos that slug has been calling Malius had failed to properly use his magic, and therefore he went insane.
    Claire shook her head, “Now what in the holy hells are we supposed to do?”
    Denith eased his hand from his cloak, “We finish the job and kill the beast.”
    “How do you plan on doing that?” Derek approached the three thugs without caution. “We have been trying to kill that thing for months, the most we can do is scare it away from the towns so it can’t eat anymore. Every day that we are not chasing it down, it has a chance to eat, and to get bigger. By the time we find it once more than it will be more than we can handle!” Derek looked back toward Jazer, “Plus this magic build-up you are talking about…” He narrowed his eyes as he stared at Denith. Denith only responded with a slight tilt of his head. “If that is true, and Jazer is subject to it, he is more dangerous than any creature.”
    Jazer couldn’t believe his ears. Derek had been afraid of him for a long time now, but to outright suggest that he was a monster. Jazer had finally managed to stand on his own feet at this point, but walking seemed a monumental task in itself. He had decided it was best to give his body time to remember how to respond to his mind’s commands. Now though, it felt as if his legs were going to fail him altogether.
    He was in danger he knew that. He felt his blood begin to pump though his veins faster, and with it came the pain his body was in. He crashed to the ashen floor, landing on his hands and knees. His glasses fell to the ground and lay in the ash pile. Jazer looked up toward the others though, and his vision was crisp. His hearing was heightened and even as Derek and Denith whispered back and forth, Jazer heard it all.
    “He could kill us at any moment!”
    “He will be contained and taken care of, and if he has an episode we can neutralize the threat.”
    “Neutralize the threat? Who in this cursed world talks like that. Are you a golem or something?”
    “Claire, shut it. Derek, if you are afraid of the scholar you are free to take your leave. However if you do I consider you a deserter and deserters are killed on sight.”
    The crowd burst into argument, each one yelling over the others. Jazer’s sensitive ears hurt as the volume form the whispers increased. He covered his ears with his hands as he stared at the ground in front of him. His glasses still lay in the ash. With one hand he gingerly picked them up, leaving an indent of the spectacles in the fluffy ash. Jazer looked back up toward the others. His vision turned blue. The magic was back.
    As long as he could direct it he would be fine. He just had to control it before it controlled him. He took his finger and began tracing equations in the ground. He focused hard on letting the magic flow into his finger, to guide him in his effort. He wasn’t sure exactly what he wanted, but he knew whatever equation he was drawing, that it was an answer. He just wanted it to top, he wanted all of it to stop. These equations and numbers had cost him everything now. He wished he had never learned to calculate, wished he had never discovered the secret of magic. He wished he never learned to write, so that this couldn’t happen. His finger guided itself though now. Whatever the magic wanted, it was going to have. Jazer however, was still in control of the direction it went.
    Jazer looked back toward Derek. Something was wrong. He wasn’t a threat. He wasn’t going to cause any real harm to the elf. He was just panicking and talking. Jazer knew in Derek’s mind that he couldn’t go through with any plan that involved hurting Jazer. Yet Jazer’s heart was still pounding in his chest. What was wrong? Why was he about to have another melt down?
     
  13. Jinral

    Jinral The yet to be published

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    4-11 a confession

    Okay Im starting to realize why i became spread very thin. The turth, I have been cheating on you...you were my first yes, but I have been posting on a few other forums and a deviantart page. No, its not you its me, I just couldn't help myself. I wanted to log in everywhere, and I dont see myself stopping in the foreseeable future. Everytime I posted I thought of you the WHOLE time...I would be lying if I said I didn't enjoy it with the other forums, but you are my first and just.....i may have caught a virus

    Dramatic much? lol Seriously though it takes me like an hour to update the website and then go through the proces of catching each of the forums up. A real pain I assure you. So i will update the site and then trickle down the updates to the forums. If you want to stay the most up to date, you are going to have to go www.realmofjinral.com. Shhh! dont tell the admins I posted my website on here! and Admins, if you actually do read my posts...I will send cookies....

    ps. I was kidding about the virus
     
  14. Jinral

    Jinral The yet to be published

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    5-13

    Jazer looked up, and there, flying high in the sky, was Octavius. The others had not seen him yet, and if it were not for Jazer’s heightened senses he would have never noticed the homunculus. It was just circling above, slowly coming closer to the ground.
    The others were continuing to argue amongst one another without regard to the flying beast. Jazer wanted to warn them, but his body wasn’t under his own command anymore, not fully anyway. He stood up and began moving toward the crowd, his eyes never leaving Octavius. Jazer willed his limbs and body to move, but his mouth and voice weren’t functioning. He looked down toward Denith. The Halfling still had one hand in his cloak, but the other reached up to his ear, and he lightly touched it. The other three had come in close and were no more than an arm’s distance away. They stared strangely at the Halfling who had abruptly stopped talking and moving.
    Denith jumped up, slamming his boots into Stefan and Derek’s chests. With a surprising amount of strength, the two were thrust several feet away. Denith had propelled himself ell away from the others, landing on his back with crossbows drawn. Claire stared in confusion until she heard the roar. Eyes wide with fear, she didn’t even have time to look up before Octavius was upon her. The slug creature slammed into the ground and Claire’s muffled scream was silenced immediately as Octavius closed his mouth, taking a large portion of the ground with it. The crater that remained left no sign of Claire as Octavius’s body fell flat onto the ground.
    Jazer stared at him. The beast had grown since the vision Jazer had seen. It was as long as a church bell tower and eight times as wide. It could have easily swallowed the four of them if Denith hadn’t acted, and then had room for a few more. Octavius now had large patches of fur sprinkled all around is body in a random pattern. Veins etched his skin, containing both crimson and dark red blood back and forth. The blood was not pumped though, but continuously flowed. The whirring gizmo’s and gears within the creature were audible. Octavius’s mouth could swallow a small house and it was lined with yellowed sharp teeth.
    Approaching slowly, Jazer stared at the homunculus, and he could feel it staring back. Though he had no eyes, he knew Octavius was very aware that he was there. The wings on his back, which reached dozens of paces in either direction, shuddered slightly as Jazer came closer. Its breath carried the smell of rot and decay with it, making Jazer want to vomit, but he resisted the urge. When he was close enough he reached out with his mangled hand. Octavius scooted forward, his slug-like body convulsing all at once to propel the creature forward several inches. Jazer whispered, “Occy…”
    There was a cracking of glass and then Octavius’s side erupted in flame. The homunculus reared back, swing its head in the air. Jazer looked toward Denith, who had another vial of chemicals ready to toss towards Octavius. The Halfling chucked the vile, but with a wave of his hand, Jazer stopped the vial in mid-air. It hovered in air for a few seconds before Jazer directed it back toward Denith. The Halfling though, whipped his cloak around himself. The glass shattered and the flame erupted, but Denith maintained his footing and pulled free a crossbow.
    A large chunk of Octavius’s side had begun to melt, and the blood was spraying everywhere. Jazer gestured towards the mess and the pool of clay and blood remolded themselves back onto the creature. The homunculus ceased to thrash around, now turning toward the Halfling. Denith’s eyes went wide as Octavius began to flap his wings, preparing to take off. The force from each beat of his wings nearly sent Jazer to the ground.
    As the creature left the ground though, a large hairy beast slammed into its side. Octavius used one of his wings to pry the creature off of him, sending the thing crashing into the ground near Jazer. Jazer simply stood there staring at the half-man, half-wolf. Its frame was very large with every portion of the body covered in the dark grey fur. It stood upright on two awkwardly bowed legs. The torso resembled a man’s with two large arms that looked normal with the exception of being very hairy. The head though, was that of a wolf. Complete with pointed ears, snout and canine teeth, the only thing human about it was the intelligence hidden in the golden eyes. They understood the world better than any animal could. In addition to the werewolf’s hulking frame and teeth, sharp claws protruded from the finger tips and feet, making this thing a deadly foe. It took Jazer only a few moments to realize that this was Stefan, the werewolf.
    Stefan recovered and sprang for the creature once more, using his claws to tear into Octavius once more, letting the blood spray everywhere. The blood soaked Stefan’s fur, but he show no signs of slowing as he tore into the homunculus. Jazer raised a hand, preparing to erase Stefan form existence. As he did though, a small knife slammed into the palm of his fingerless hand. Jazer looked at it curiously as blood dripped form the wound. He turned toward Derek, who had finally recovered form his shock. The con artist already had another dagger ready. Jazer narrowed his eyes, the blade in his hand released itself and sailed toward Derek. If by sheer luck or the will of the God’s, it just missed his shoulder.
    The look of fear on Derek’s face satisfied Jazer anyway and he turned back toward the commotion. Stefan was still on Octavius, but the homunculus was now climbing into the air. Jazer willed himself to ascend into the sky as well. He quickly flew towards the two beasts as fought for control. Stefan seemed to be having troubled staying on Octavius, but the homunculus was spraying his blood and mechanical innards all over the area. Jazer had to continuously focus on replacing the essential pieces of his creation so that it could keep flying.
    He heard shouts from the ground below. Denith had been screaming for something. With a sound similar to the cracking of a whip, Denith stopped his yelling. Jazer ignored him, instead focusing on keeping Octavius alive and trying to get a clear shot of the werewolf. To his surprise though, something bit him. Jazer felt himself being whipped through the air as a small gold dragon clutched his leg in its mouth. On the dragon’s back, was Denith. The Halfling held reigns in his hands, directing the creature. Jazer summoned the power, trying to concentrate his mind. He sent a bolt of magic towards both creature and rider, but the spell arced, missing Denith. The blot that did hit the dragon simply bounced off. Jazer summoned even more power and fired once more, this time sending shadows towards them. Once again Denith managed to avoid the magic, and the dragon was unharmed.
    The dragon flew in circles around the homunculus, and Denith hurled vial after vial of chemicals towards it. The ones that made contact exploded, having a variety of effects. The initial ones were all fire, but then acid and even a frost chemical was used. Jazer needed to get free of the dragon and fast. He concentrated all of his energies to the leg trapped in the dragon’s mouth. He held it there, allowing it gather and fester. He released it from there, causing his leg to explode.
    The dragon immediately let go, and began plummeting towards the earth. Jazer hovered in the air, now hundreds of feet above the ground. He watched both dragon and rider fall, along with the remnants of his legs. He had destroyed everything from the knee down. Blood freely flowed from his leg, pouring down like small drops of rain, showering the area.
    With a mere thought, he summoned the blood, tissue, and bone, forcing back up towards him and reforming. The shattered bone pieced itself together like a puzzle and then solidifying its form. The tendons attached themselves and then tightened. Muscles slowly wrapped themselves around the bone and covered itself with skin. Quickly his leg had become good as anew, even the torn robe sowed itself back together. Jazer turned his attention back toward Octavius, who had begun slowing in his movements.
    Stefan was now on the creature’s back, continuing to tear into it with both tooth and claw. Jazer went to work quickly, healing the homunculus’s wounds, essentially putting him back together. More than once Stefan had succeeded in removing the creature’s wing only to have Jazer reattach it. It as a constant battle between sand and tide as the two fought, using Octavius as their battlefield. Stefan however slowly began to tire. His lycanthrope enhanced strength slowly began to wane against Octavius’s thrashing and dodging the constant battery of spells cast by Jazer. Octavius did not seem to lose strength, constantly having his life force replenished and no muscles to speak of. The clock work and gears still dominated the majority of the homunculus’s inner workings. No matter how many cogs and gears Stefan ripped out, there were replacements, fueling boundless energy.
    Octavius’s bucks and turns in the air were becoming more and more violent as Stefan slowed his pace. For the werewolf, it became less about causing damage and more about simply hanging on to the creature which had soared so high the ground was no longer visible through the clouds. Stefan’s lungs began to burn and he quickly became nauseated. Jazer saw this and doubled his efforts, now sending more destructive spells towards the wolf man.
    A harsh roar signaled the return of the dragon. Jazer looked down, seeing that both dragon and rider had broken through the clouds, flying straight toward him. The elf turned his attention away from Octavius, feeling the creature’s safety had been ensured. Jazer willed the power to lash out. His magical reserve seemed limitless, allowing Jazer to continue casting spell after spell with no signs of fatigue or a hint of an end in sight.
    A bright beam of multi-colored light arced toward the dragon. Before reaching the pair, it split into multiple beams of light. They struck both the Halfling and his mount, but only the dragon slightly flinched. Denith took the blow to the chest, but the spell seemed to dissipate on contact. The Halfling let loose a battle roar of his own. Jazer’s ability to maneuver wasn’t the best, so he could not avoid the dragon as it clipped him with its scaly wing.
    The strike sent Jazer spiraling downward, but he quickly recovered, coming to a stop. As he regained his senses, he looked up towards the sun. The light however, was blocked by Denith’s figure as the Halfling came crashing towards him. Denith, having leapt from his dragon, collided with Jazer, wrestling the spell caster as the two plummeted toward the earth.
    Jazer once again gathered the power within him. His very skin began to glow as collected the necessary energy required for his spell. He stared into Denith’s eyes, his magical vision discovering every secret the Halfling carried. His cloak was literally lined with items of a magical nature. The cloak itself glowed in Jazer’s vision, but the Halfling himself did not. He had no magic flowing in his veins. Jazer hesitated for a moment as he watched this pathetic creature attempt to stop him. A being of no magical talent was trying to stop him, a mage of impossible power.
    Jazer finally gathered the energies into the palm of his hand. Jazer cracked a small smile of satisfaction at the impending doom of the Halfling. Denith however snatched up a small vial from his cloak. “Cursed mages, if the Order didn’t want you…!” Denith crushed the vial in his own teeth, Jazer let loose the magic, enveloping them both in the arcane power. The golden glow, meant to rip soul from body, simply hovered about. Denith however glared through gritted teeth as he slammed his fist into Jazer’s chin. For the first time since the beginning of the battle, Jazer felt the blow.
    Another fist crushed his other cheek. Jazer wrapped his hand in electricity and clutched at Denith’s neck but, the electrical shock seemed to avoid Denith’s very skin. The Halfling grunted, “Antimagic potion, you son of a whore!” Another strike landed, this time to Jazer’s stomach. The wind caught in his lungs, rendering him unable to breathe.
    The ground began to rush toward the pair. Jazer was acutely aware as the cold earth grew closer and closer. Denith on the other hand didn’t seem to notice their impending doom and continued to wail on Jazer. The elf’s vision slowly turned from the arcane blue to crimsom red. He felt the power slowly leave his body and once again he was just Jazer, a being of no talent and no real skill. This is how he would die, worthless.
     
  15. Jinral

    Jinral The yet to be published

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    5-13, im back

    Im still alive!

    sorry about the lack of updates, I finally took some vacation time so im trying to pump out some more of the book, its getting aloong pretty well now,we might even get to the end some time this summer. Since you guys are where i started this endeavor, Im giving you the update before I redo the site, so it wont be updated for a bit.

    Thanks for reading and keeping up with the me on this, Your words of encouragement have been very valuable. Look for more soon!
     
  16. Jinral

    Jinral The yet to be published

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    5-15

    Jazer felt himself beginning to let go when he noticed two specks burst through the cloud line. Both slug and dragon seemed to be racing toward their respective masters, flying faster than the two could fall. Jazer watched through the flurry of blows as the specks grew in size. Octavius may have been the larger of the two, but was no natural creature. His shape was flawed, Jazer could see that, allowing the small gold dragon to dart ahead. In mere seconds it had nearly reached them. Denith, without even checking to look, raised his gloved hand in the air.
    Taking the moment of respite from the Halfling’s punches, Jazer turned around to see ground nearly upon them. They could be no more than a couple houses high off of the ground. Denith saw this too, his eyes widening, showing fear for what seemed the first time. In an instant though, the fear was gone, replaced by raw determination. Denith quickly wrapped his legs around Jazer, squeezing the air from the elf’s lungs.
    The dragon began to pull out of the near vertical dive, slipping its reins between Denith’s fingers. The Halfling snatched up the reins, instantly wrenching his arm. A shout of pain escaped his lips as the dragon struggled to lift the two from the steep dive. As his momentum suddenly stopped, Jazer felt his spine threaten to rip through his torso. Jazer’s vision went blurry as the trees began to swarm around him. Branches and leaves raked against his skin at impossible speeds, sending new waves of pain. Denith struggled to hold their weight with his single hand, and the dragon was losing altitude being burdened with the two passengers.
    “Lift higher damn you!” Denith spouted as he collided with yet another batch of branches. The frail wood shattered underneath the force, sending splinters flying. The dragon grunted, beating its leathery wings harder. Slowly the three cleared the tree tops. Denith groaned from the pain in the arm, but was glad to be out of the trees. He called up once more, “Alright, now slow down and take us to a clearing.”
    A roar shook the birds from their sleep, sending a flurry of feathery wings into Denith’s face, causing him to nearly let go of the dragon’s reins. The Halfling turned to see Octavius gaining on them. The colossal creature opened its gaping maw, sundering branches from their base, leaving only shattered trunks behind.
    Denith looked up to the dragon, seeing as how it could barely keep up the effort of staying airborne. He released the reins, dropping into the forest below. He watched as the dragon, now too tired to carry on, disappeared into the gullet of the homunculus. Before Denith could look away, the two of them collided with the low hanging branches Octavius had missed. Denith tensed up, waiting to collide with the trunk of one of the trees, but instead the two suddenly burst into a clearing. The Halfling could barely understand what was happening before he hit the cold water.
    The lake felt as if it was made from stone. Denith tried to regain his senses, but could barely tell which way was up and which way was down. He shook his head as he tried to peer into the murky depths. All he saw though was Jazer, slowly sinking downward. Uttering a silent curse, Denith raced toward him, swimming as fast as his body could go. He quickly shed his heavy cloak and darted through the water. Jazer seemed to be barely conscious, slowly struggling to swim to the surface, but his movements were slow, with no energy behind them. Denith reached him quickly, snagging his body up. The robes he wore made him heavy, so Denith quickly tried to peel them off. Then, snatching Jazer by the collar, Denith pumped his legs and clawed through the water. He could see the light from the sun beaming down through the water, but it seemed so far away. He stretched his arm outward, trying reach, waiting to burst through the surface. No matter how far he thought he got though, the light seemed just as far away.
    His lungs were now empty, his muscles ceased to work. He felt himself beginning to sink. He outstretched his arm one last time. Denith could have sworn that his fingertips had breached the surface, but the last few feet of water seemed to be made of mud, too thick to pull through. He felt it push him down, the burning in his lungs began to dull, as did everything else. The sunlight from above went black as he and Jazer sunk into the darkness.
     
  17. Jinral

    Jinral The yet to be published

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    5-17

    His hand was still outstretched when the dragon broke the surface. His fingers were too weak to grab on to the beast. The dragon instead, latched its teeth on to Denith’s arms. Hauling the Halfling toward the surface. Denith burst into the open air, sucking down the long-awaited air. His lungs stung as they filled with the life giving breath. In his hands he still clutched onto Jazer’s collar. The dragon hovered low, dragging the two to the shoreline. With a final heave, all three of them crashed onto the muddy shore.
    Denith wanted to sleep, to let the darkness envelope him, if only for a little while. Instead he rolled over onto his stomach. Jazer was a few feet away, not moving. The Halfling cursed, the words coming out as a hoarse whisper. He groaned, “Okay what now?” He waited for a few seconds, but nothing came to him. “I said, what now?” he repeated. Still nothing. He rolled his eyes, “Son of a whore!”
    He crawled over to Jazer who was motionless on the beach, facing the sky with a blank expression. Denith’s arm was bleeding profusely, and it wasn’t sitting right in his shoulder. Using his good arm he clutched onto Jazer’s shirt, dragging the elf the rest of the distance between them. He looked down at Jazer, trying to sense life in him. The elf wasn’t breathing and Denith wasn’t sure if his hear was even working.
    “You cursed shit-eating bastard!” Denith slammed his fist on Jazer’s chest. “Wake up now damn it, I have put too much work into you for you to die on me.” Denith slammed his fist once more, Jazer’s body convulsed slightly, as if responding to the blows. His body was still alive, but his soul was already fleeing its earthly bonds. Denith slammed his fist once more, and once again Jazer moved slightly.
    The Halfling sat back, trying to remember something, something he had seen in his childhood long ago. There had to be a way, he knew people can come back from drowning. He had no magic though and all of his gear was now at the bottom of the lake. There had to be some way. Denith gave in to his desperation, slamming his fist repeatedly onto Jazer’s chest. “Fine, you don’t want to breathe I’ll do it for you!” He leaned over Jazer, and blew his own breath into Jazer’s mouth.
    With a gargled cough, Jazer spat up what must have been a pint of water. The elf rolled onto his side and coughed up even more. Denith hit him once more for good measure. Jazer groaned at the blow but could do little more. “Well you son of a whore, you are alive, you’re welcome.” Then Denith rolled onto his back and closed his eyes, exhaustion finally taking hold.
    Jazer however opened his eyes to the bright world. He managed to look around, seeing the forest surrounding them and the serene lake before him. It wasn’t the largest, but the crystal blue waters beckoned him to rejoin it, to embrace the sweet release from the world. Instead, he doubled over in pain, unable to move more than a few inches at a time. A distant roar caused him to look up into the sky where Octavius still flew about. Even from this distance, he could see the gaping hole in the creature’s side. The homunculus would be back once it had healed itself, Jazer knew that. He didn’t want anything to do with him at the moment though, all he wanted was to sleep.
    After what could have been days, Jazer felt himself being shaken awake. It was Denith rousing him from his sleep, mumbling words under his breath. Jazer slowly sat up, feeling a bit more rejuvenated than he should have. His power flared in his fingertips, as if it was trying to escape his notice. Jazer sat up, inspecting himself for wounds, but had none. He examined his bloodstained shirt, but beneath the holes there were no cuts, no scrapes, not even a bruise. He gingerly touched his nose, finding it not misshapen from the fight, but rather perfectly normal. He even had his glasses, which after a quick inspection, seemed almost new.
    Denith on the other hand, seemed to be near death. He had numerous cuts and abrasions across his face. Dried blood crusted on his lower lip along with bits of glass which glistened in the light. His right arm’s sleeve was all but gone and the pale skin underneath had a strange dark coloration near his shoulder. Tears from what appeared to be teeth were strewn across his forearm. The combination of dried lake water and dirt from the shore made him look like a common beggar. His handkerchief was nowhere to be seen along with his hat and cloak. Somehow he looked smaller, but his green eyes were still just as frightening as when Jazer first saw them. They no longer measured the worth of his soul, but seemed to be balancing Jazer’s right to liv or die. His face though, disturbed Jazer the most. Underneath the multitude of injuries was evidence of numerous scars. The largest of them stretched across his left cheek nearly to his ear. The sheer width of it hinted that whatever had gave the scar to him had nearly cleaved his face in half.
    Denith stood, offering Jazer a hand. The elf stared at Denith’s disfigured right arm and decided it was best to rise on his own. Jazer towered over the Halfling, but still that piercing gaze made him feel as large as a common insect. Denith turned, emotionless once more. Jazer saw passed him that the dragon had indeed survived the confrontation with Octavius’s stomach, but not much beyond that. It too had been wounded by teeth and now its entrails had spilled onto the ground, still steaming where they sat. The dragon must have died just recently, Jazer thought. In its own life its last moments were saving them. A pang of regret echoed through his body. Yet another creature dead because of him. Denith drew a knife from his boot and walked toward the majestic creature. With a quick swipe, He peeled off a single golden scale, flaked with the dragon’s blood. Denith dropped it in his pocket and replaced the knife at his hip.
    “Denith, I am sorry…”
    The glare Jazer received made him regret ever speaking, but the Halfling exhaled slowly closing his eyes, “It is time to go.”
    With that the Halfling turned to walk into the forest, undaunted by the veritable maze of trees. Jazer stood on the shoreline, unwilling to move, “Where are we going?”
    Denith didn’t bother to stop, “To kill your pet and take you where you belong.”
    Jazer quickly trudged after him. “No, no I don’t think so.” He grabbed Denith by his shoulder, whipping him around.
    Denith instantly sprang, knife free from its sheath once more. Jazer found himself flat on his back staring into those horrid eyes as he knife slowly bit past his skin. The Halfling’s voice grinded in his ears, “I have had it up to here with all of you bastards. I put enough damn work into this, I am going to see it done. Your pet is an abomination, it must be put down because innocent people are dying.”
    Tears threatened to burst from Jazer’s eyes, but instead he quickly gripped Denith’s shoulder. He cried out in pain as Jazer shoved him over. The elf was quickly on his feet, raising his fists, preparing himself for the fight. Through tears of pain Denith stood, laughing. He palmed the knife in is hands, allowing it to slip back and forth between his fingers. When he regained control of his breathing he said, “You know, I am tired of beating your ass only to have to save you.” He sheathed the knife once more, “I don’t care, do what you want. I’m taking down your beastie, if they want you bad enough they’ll come get you.”
    Jazer lowered his fists, feeling quite foolish, “Who, who wants me?”
    Denith shrugged and walked away once more, “Doesn’t matter, not to you at least.”
    “Denith, you’re not going anywhere!” His own voice scared him Jazer tried to stand tall but despite Denith’s stature, it still seemed impossible.
    The Halfling turned, “I am this close to killing you.” He pinched his thumb and his finger together as he said it.
    After swallowing the lump in his throat Jazer said, “Your arm, it is going to get infected, I need to heal you.”
    “Heal me?” Denith chuckled, “You can barely aim your spells let alone choose one, my arm is going to be fine, you worry about you Jazer Windsoar.”
    Jazer’s vision turned blue once more. The power had sprung on him, but this time Jazer was sure he could command it. Denith’s skin peeled away before Jazer’s eyes, leaving the muscle bone and organs in his body. “Your shoulder, it isn’t sitting right, it’s preventing most of your blood from going in and out of your arm, which is probably why you’re not feverish yet.”
    Denith looked down at his arm. He looked back up toward Jazer, biting his lip as he said, “There is nothing to be done.”
    “I can heal you!”
    The knife was free once more, and Denith’s eyes filled with rage, “No you can’t. I took a dose of a potion that keeps me from being affected by magic, both harmful and benign.”
    “How long does it last,” Jazer asked.
    Denith laughed, “Oh, because you’re the most powerful mage I have ever come across, I had to take a powerful dosage, so probably a day or two.”
    With widened eyes, Jazer exclaimed “But you aren’t going to last a day or two.”
    “I know,” Denith said softly, “C’mon, we need to find your beastie.”
    “But Denith…” Jazer knew he had to make the Halfling see this was the only way, they had to do something or he would die.
    The short warrior turned, “Okay, we’ll deal with it, get me the dragon’s lung.” Confused, Jazer stood for a moment with a questioning look. “Time is not on our side elf.” Denith’s tone was flat as he stared off into nothing.
    Jazer turned and walked back toward the shore. The dragon was right where they had left it, still a steaming carcass. He sidestepped around the beast, trying to get a better view of the wound. His blue vision helped direct him to exactly where he needed to go. With an invisible cutting force, he severed the organ from the rest and floated it into the air. It was glowing with the magic it held, nearly as powerful as anything he had ever seen.
    A scream ripped through the forest from Denith’s direction. Jazer instantly took off toward where he had left the Halfling, the dragon lung followed suit. He found Denith on his knees, holding the knife limply in his hand. He was about to ask what had happened when he saw his other arm. It lay several feet away. The crude amputation bled freely and Denith’s strength was clearly waning. He couldn’t even manage to look at Jazer as he said, “Put it on my arm.” Jazer stared at the Halfling, unable to move. His severed arm bled profusely as Jazer stood frozen in horror. Denith screamed, “Do it!” Jazer immediately commanded the lung to place itself on the wound, but nothing happened. The lung was warm yes, but not even close to scalding. Denith though, seemed unphased. He flipped the knife in his other hand, reached his arm across and drove the blade a few inches into his should, piercing both the lung and his own flesh. Immediately a fiery gust of power burst from the small organ. The knife shot out into the forest like an arrow from a bow string. Jazer turned to cover his eyes as the resulting explosion of power temporarily blinded his magic vision.
    When the power faded and Jazer could see again, the carnage from the blast was almost awe inspiring. The next few dozen trees were blackened, the closest ones having only a stump left. The entire land was scarred by the dragon’s breath, but nothing behind or next to the Halfling was even touched. Jazer’s mind began to break down the magic that had just taken place. He found himself babbling to no one as he processed exactly how the mechanics of it worked. “…pierced the outer shell resulting in a pressure difference, allowing the chemicals to escape at violent speeds. However once the other side had been pierced, the pressure was not great enough to cause such a reaction resulting in a smaller more contained blast of energy. The force from the initial puncture kept the lung in place against the wound, while the second piercing provided enough heat to….” Jazer stared at the charred shoulder, “sear the wound closed…”
     
  18. Jinral

    Jinral The yet to be published

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    A critique

    We have passed into what will be the last third of the book. I have had some time to reflect and obviously there are some things that need fixing. I would like your help to spot the errors. Now I am not talking spelling or grammar, but the content itself, incongruities etc. This was written train of thought so somethings may have been overlooked. To make things easy, I'll go first, and you can add on as we go.

    1.Reorder seqence of events, too much action in one chunk of the book.
    2.Revisit Derek's character and involve him more.
    3.Describe more of what Jazer did in the house.
    4.Expound each chapter by giving better scenery descriptions, but not too muc that it detracts from the storyline.
     
  19. WildPony

    WildPony New Member

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    Glad you're back! The events since Jazer left the house after the vision happen too quickly, a bit of a respite is needed with more attention given to Jazer's emotions and the feelings and worries of those around him, it's a bit vague. Derek, definitely needs to feature more. What has been worrying me is that Jazer has glasses, it doesn't really fit in a fantasy novel, perhaps you could rather invent some seeing device that he invented himself. Just my take on it though. Can't wait for the next chapter!
     
  20. Jinral

    Jinral The yet to be published

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    ya know, i never thought of the glasses issue, i may have to take a look into that. Yeah I started reading some of what I have written, and its quite chaotic. Once I finish the stream of thought portion, I am going to be doing a serious amount of editing. When it is done though, I will let you guys know, I might push it to ebook afterward.

    Oh and as for updates I am trying to keep a regular schedule from now on, so Mondays Wednesdays and Fridays it should be uploaded.