Novel Previews

[Aurius]

Hello there my Star Wars friends and foes!

I'm a writer and an Author. Writing is like, my only thing I can say with absolute certainty I do well.

That being said, I'm going to post the first chapter or so of my second book here for you guys to read and critique. As this is a story that will be published, all the characters, names and elements have been copyrighted. I trust yall, but I still need to inform you :).

Much like the creator of Metro, however, if you find you like the content and want to have an OC cameo or write some content go right ahead.

 

[Aurius]

Summary of Ashes, A Tale of Two Brothers
​

It has been 2 years since the razing of the Scorched Lands, an incident that will go down as a defining and brutal conflict of the 3rd Era. 2 years since I, Kairo, God of Time, intervened in the matters of mortality and set into motion a cycle that cannot be stopped. My meddling has altered the history of this world, and opened it to the threats of the multiverse. My most solemn duty is now to fix what terrible powers I have unleashed upon the people of Menoia and beyond.

Whilst the machinations of the God of Darkness, Anathos, took fold, I guided the hands of fate, so eagerly at play with the children of Fire and Lightning. Aurius, last of the shapeshifting Firebirds and heir to their immense powers, who was but a young boy. And his brother, Griffon, heir to the Tempest Dynasty and a mighty electromancer like his fathers before him. Both have a part to play in the history of this realm, and shall ultimately shape it's fate.

While Griffon has accepted his rightful place as King of Angair and Ruler of Silverwind, the conflict with his father's murderer has left him scarred. In the Scorched Lands, Anathos used his words as poison, and provoked Aurius into eviscerating the town and all of it's inhabitants, hoping to gain an unwilling ally. The three warriors squared off, but neither Darkness nor the Storm could falter the raging Flames. Anathos retreated, allowing Griffon to smite his brother down and, despite his own wishes, imprison him to await judgement. Unable to face the people he once swore to serve, Aurius departed the Kingdom under cover of night and has not been seen since.

Meanwhile, a new and sinister faction has invaded the shores of Greymark, declaring war on the province of Angair and the 4 Kingdoms that answer to it. Griffon and his allies, caught off-guard and unprepared, have suffered crippling blows at their hand. Determined to wipe the "Living Gods of Greymark" from the facets of history, the Valiance march forward as an unending machine of war. Griffon and his council have become convinced that the aide of his brother and former General, Aurius, is the only way to drive this warmongering group away from their land. Dispatching Exus, the God of War, and a Ranger of Lornwood to find his brother, Griffon and the whole of Silverwind continue to flinch under the strikes of the Valiant Wolf. Once again, the fates of the two brothers intertwine, and the decisions they make may bring prosperity or ruin to the Realms as we know it.

Embers
The War of Two Brothers
​

The harsh winter wind whipped past the traveler as she stumbled towards a small town. It was lit and lively, moving and bustling about as the Festival of Life was in full swing. A small, tattered sign revealed the town’s name. Sagat.​

“Sagat?” the traveller moaned, swaying slightly in her shivering temper. She was ill, almost fatally so, and his only hope for survival was this small town. But, to her surprise, the townspeople simply ignored her and her pleas. One even had the audacity to tell her off, as “Sagat didn't need any beggars!”.


She had almost dropped, until a tall man with a black scruffy beard stood forth and helped her back to her feet. She clung to the mask around her face, for both warmth and protection from prying eyes. Surprisingly, the man motioned for her to enter the inn.


“I have no gold…”


“it's alright-”, the man chuckled, his face moving in a joyous fashion. He gave off a warm glow that made her feel safe. “- it's my Inn.”


He guided her inside, moving a seat at a table for her to sit. Then, and only then, did the Traveler find time to look around. The inn was big for a small town, the bottom floor being made up of a well carved bar, and multiple pub style tables. Larger kitchen tables were situated closer to the dingy stairwell that lead up to guest rooms. The inn was lit by a large central fireplace, that crackled warm with heat. The residents of the inn where in the full swings of a party, with music being played and tankards of alcohol splashing about.


“Moore, can you get this young lady something to warm her up? Could you also clean the floor near table three? Thanks.”


“No problem, Horus, sir.”


She gently smiled. The bar owner was named Horus. An outlandish name, which made sense considering his unnatural qualities. His amber eyes in particular were odd and surreal. Her eyes began to blur as she watched him bark orders around at his bartender, explode into laughter as a partygoer tipped his seat and fell, until finally bringing her a cup of warm milk.


“Here. You’ll be able to stay here until you're well. Then we can talk about gold, alright?”


Horus never got about answer, as she slumped into a taciturn sleep on a pub table.


-


Horus winced as the woman smashed her head against the pub table. He immediately reached out through the magical fabrics of reality, and discovered she was not damaged by the blow, but was ill. That could be attended to, a busted skull could not.


He began to collect her and carried her to an empty room on the far left, a most private location. Bundling her in blankets and leaving water on the nightstand, Horus left the room as silently as possible, avoiding the uneven floorboards with a disciplined hop.


Done with his task, he left the room and slumped down near the wall. He was exhausted, he had been awake for nearly a day now. Although he had several tasks to do before the height of the festival tomorrow, he couldn't muster the strength to stay awake any longer.


“Horus, you need sleep. Seriously, man, you look half dead,” spoke Kilian, the local Militia Captain. His friends began nodding and shaking their head for the innkeeper. He had always been willing to lend them a place to stay should they need it, this was no state for such an honorable man to be in.


Horus gently smiled and nodded, getting back to his feet and observed his inn. It was packed, pending 20 order and in a state of disarray that made his heart drop. He could hardly let Moore handle the workload alone, but knew the man would be pleased to have more pay, and better practice managing. One day,he planned to open a Mill, and as he had expressed many times, the leadership experience was worth just as much as the gold he earned working for Horus.


“Moore, inform everyone I'm going to bed. Wake me if you need to, start closing the bar if you need to. Tonight, the Wanderer’s Inn is yours.”


Morris delightfully nodded and began vigorously washing mugs. He was a huge man, standing as tall as a mountain and just as strong, his dark muscular mass accented by his vivid green eyes and round face. His smile erased any assumption of harshness however, the man was as sweet as they came. Horus had chosen him because he hadn't been accepted as a town guard, he couldn't kill. Exactly the kind of man he wanted at his back.


Horus gently brought himself to the topmost room of the Inn, through the attic entrance. It was not neat, by any means. Clothes adorned the far left wall across from the finely carved bed. He had plain walls, dotted with candles that hadn't been lit in the better part of a week. He groaned as he collapsed into the bed, accepting the folds of sleep as they came…


-



Hundreds of miles away, fires rage and the song of swords clashed in the night. A quiet river town had come under siege, assailed by warriors in wolf armor. The town guard could scarcely stand against them. This was no battle. This was was a slaughter.


The small riverside town, built entirely of wood and guarded by men without training. The rickety shacks where alit with fire, as torches were hurled by the enemy of the townspeople. The women and children were being allowed to flee, their screams of anger and anguish filled the sky as their husbands and sons fell to the stark blades of the Wolf.


One such warriors, draped in a mighty red cloak stepped forward out of his flock. His men had surrounded the remaining survivors and held them there, unable to escape.


“Gentlemen! I am an envoy from the Valiant, a holy order located across the seas. We are not entirely without mercy. You worship false gods-”


An uproar began as a young man with filled ginger hair stepped forth. He was tall and muscular, clearly a woodworker by his clothes. The Commander simply looked down at him with his hands on his hips.


“The gods don't burn down villages. You do. Leave. Your kind aren't welcome here.”


The soldiers laughed, and the Commander simply shook his head.


“Pray to your Gods then, boy. Let's see if they save you. Kill him.”


A Valiant bowman notched an arrow and arced his bow towards the young man. His face grew worried, but the man nonetheless dropped to his knees and began praying. The arrow was loosed. It did not hit it's mark. Before the young man stood a warrior clad in rusted, weathered armor. The arrow clasped in his hand, he broke it without effort. Another arrow flew from behind him and struck the archer, killing him on the spot.


“What?!”


The Commander and his soldiers were in shock, but the villagers began to cry in joy. The rusted warrior drew two menacing blades and arced them in a mock salute. Behind him, a mottled ranger emerged.


When the warrior spoke, his voice echoed with power. His very presence was a deterrence to his foes. The ground itself seemed to tremble as the man walked upon it. The warrior turned to the Ranger.


“They only sent conscripts? I'm disappointed. I wanted a fight.”


The Ranger didn't answer, simply rested his bow near his hip and respectfully nodded. The villagers seemed to regain their hope, fueled by the confusion and panic that was setting into the enemy’s heart.


The Commander boldly stepped forward and pointed a gauntleted hand towards his newfound opponents.


“You come alone, but two, against a force of twenty men? You have a death wish!”


His voice was chalked with incredulity. His soldiers gently chuckled in response. The warrior and his ranger did not respond. No emotions were revealed, only the crackling of the burning buildings came as a haunting response.


“Don’t you know who this is?,” the ginger boy laughed, “...This is one of those false gods you mentioned. Exus, God of War.”


The panic began to set in once more as the villagers whispered among themselves, daring to hope the boy spoke true. Such outlying villages where rarely ever graced with the presence of the living Gods. To see one was a blessing, to be saved by one? A miracle.


The Commander did not speak, he did not rebuke with words but with blade. He swung wide, stepping into an attacking stance. His blade was slapped away with a mere flick of Exus’ wrist, his blades swinging in glittering inhuman arcs in response. Where a man once stood, there was left only a corpse that collapsed without its head. Exus stepped over the body, bridging the gap between the villagers and the remaining soldiers. The village was now reaching it's end, leaving a smoldering valley littered with Valiant Soldiers and defenseless civilians. The Ranger...(To be continued as I write the first chapter)