What if the gods are not divided? No ancients, no fallen... just the demigods that have been created through the belief and reverance of the populace. Their immortality is linked to the strength of their congregation's belief in them. But, they have disappeared or been lost. Someone was banished to a deep, deep cave beneath the ground. There is a council of the demigods that holds sway over the land - though none know that they still walk the material plane. Disturbed by the actions of one of their own, they managed to curb their influence and send him/her into exile.

Something is bringing about a change and the Exiled One is soon to be set free. Fatha (new name for the daughter) somehow inadvertantly looses this malignant force or allows him/her to be released. As its power grows, so does the discontent across the land. War breaks out between Hectni and Valyr. The Houses are all vying for control of the empire now that House Ha'suna has been broken.

Everything is just too hectic right now... All my thoughts, plans and ideas are summarily being placed on hold. Inspiration hits and then it leaves. And as always, I'm left feeling empty, hollow and utterly useless. Hopefully, she'll shine on me soon.

Until then....

Ciao

A lone candle burned in an otherwise dark room. Strange shapes flickered across the barren walls erratically as the tiny flame danced, sputtered and threatened to extinguish itself at every breath of moving air. How such a fragile thing could exist escaped Adrastus Ha'suna as he watched the miniature spark play in front of him. The small bit of light it allowed in the dank and damp study seemed to accentuate the darkness rather than abate it. Nightfall was descending earlier each evening in the coming winter days, deepening the depressive state in which Valyran's ruler had found himself lately.

The houses were all in an uproar; it was an ever constant battle over property lines and there was news that a feud was brewing between House Tahrek and House Lin'et. Something about a shipment of corn seed registered in Adrastus' memory but he was not entirely clear on the details. The Emperor lifted a wrinkled, aged hand to rub the bridge of his nose. His eyes were getting tired from reading the worn parchments laid out on the table in front of him. Missives, letters, recommendations, military orders had been collecting on his desk for weeks now. They were all piled so high on his desk that many had been forgotten and lost. It was a sea of work and headaches, a storm of politics and troubles. Adrastus Ha'suna was tired, worn weary by a position that was neither chosen nor given. His birthright had been mandated and he could not ever imagine giving up nor denying his heritage.

The Emperor closed his eyes for a moment. Rest was all he needed. He had been going over the updates on his armies along the northern front for almost two hours now. Dinner seemed a dream lost far away somewhere in time. A servant had brought him a glass of wine and bread at some point earlier on but he had waved it off sending it, and the servant, back to the kitchen. A dull mind would do him no good. Whether by wine or lack of sleep his wife would likely have argued; and even more likely, it would have been followed by a stern lecture on the intelligence of putting his work aside and going to bed. Adrastus smiled weakly at the thought of his wife Cail'lea. For a moment he could almost see her beautiful red hair and brilliant, emerald eyes framed against his eyelids. When he opened his eyes again, the Emperor was met not with an image of his wife's beauty but rather a shadowed figure outlined in the doorway of his study. Adrastus suppressed the look of surprise quickly covering the sudden expression with a clearing of his throat.

"Sire, forgive my intrusion." Ji'ryth's sibilant voice was easily recognized and Valyran's ruler issued a warm smile in response. Whether his guest could discern the expression or not in the darkness of the candle lit room, Adrastus was pleased to have company and a break from the monotony of his work.

"What a pleasant surprise, Councilor. Please, do come in." Adrastus' guest moved further into the room. The indefinite lines of shadow coalesced into the all too familiar form of Ji'ryth Ty'ras as he entered the pale circle of light cast by the lone candle. The councilor’s cream robes almost shone with a golden glow, reflecting the incandescent light as if it were some angelic aura instead of the weak lamp that it was.

 

"House Ty'ras is honored, my liege, by your generosity of time and patience." The robed Councilor bowed deeply before Adrastus, a regal display of both honor and tradition. Ji'ryth's formality was not lost on Adrastus and the Emperor became very aware of the man standing before him. Ji'ryth had been his sole confidant within the tumult of Houses and leaders that held seat within Valyran's capitol city. Adrastus had known the man since they had been children; their fathers had been equally close. If there was one man that Adrastus Ha'suna knew inside and out, it was Ji'ryth Ty'ras and it was because of this intimate relationship he had with his Councilor that told him that something was wrong. He could see it in the stiffness of his shoulders, the placement of the man's hands and even in the shadows of the room, he could see the pained darkness in Ji’ryth’s eyes.

After some feedback from the illustrious Sgt. Nasty and the Yeti, I've come to some very magnificent changes in my story line. Let me see if I can lay them out for you all:

The Ancients are the Gods that rule. They create a new race of people as a next generation, so to speak. This new race grows and develops over time. Powers/gifts are muted as the eons and centuries wane. One family claims direct heritage from the Gods, House Ha'suna. They are revealed through a prophecy of some sort and recognized as having some divine power. Thusly, they rule the land and the people as an empire. Only one member of the family in every few hundred years or so show signs of being "Blessed".

The Fallen are failed attempts by the Ancients. Creations gone horribly wrong, perhaps abominations of some sort and they are bitter about being cast aside. The Fallen (may only be one or two entities...?) work to supercede the Ancients and their golden children - humanity. The ultimate goal of the Fallen is to rule and reap the riches of the world. Perhaps as rejects, they have been sent to do the grueling work of making the earth work and run.... (aka Time Machine-esque)

The Fallen infiltrate the empire and other houses sparking doubt in the minds of the people. What if the emperor's family is not truly divine? There have been no "Blessed Children" in decades (maybe centuries) and the people are losing faith that their Gods may have abandoned them.

Belief provides power to the Gods. If the Fallen can build enough of a congregation, their power will grow.

The Emperor's heir is murdered but somehow covered up as an accident. Then, the Emperor is murdered/assasinated. Clearly someone is looking to end the Ha'suna line. Daughter (Ny'gel) is sent away for safety and hidden across the borders into Hectni. Hectni is the seat of power of the Fallen. This is where they have begun their work and sent spies from other lands into the houses of the Empire. Here, she learns of the conspiracy.

Ariy'nt comes after Ny'gel to aid her?? Or maybe I get rid of Ariy'nt altogether.

Ultimately, Ny'gels destiny is to become one of the Blessed and to return her empire to its position of power. In her absence, someone else has taken over the empire and is running it under the influence of the Fallen. She must return and depose this evildoer somehow. Perhaps she even works to unite the two sides. While in Hectni she develops contacts, liasons that want to see the feud end... (random thoughts)

In the end, the question will become one of fate. Did the Ancients forsee these events and place Ny'gel to conquer the Fallen? Was their prophecy a self fulfilling role? Did Ny'gel have a choice or where her decisions ruled by the effects of divine influence?

All thoughts and comments are welcomed.

I've come to the decision that I've started my novel in the wrong place. It should start further in the past before Adrastus Ha'suna is murdered. There's too much backstory to build up. Create the conspiracy, have him well liked, kill him off and then start the chase between Ny'gel and Ariy'nt. Maybe then it can be more focused. The structure or foundation will be a little firmer.... maybe.

Here's to hoping that I'm not entirely crazy...

Nanowrimo begins in about 2.5 weeks and I'm frothing at the mouth to get started. I've held off on much of the rewrite in anticipation of National Novel Writing Month (where the novel actually began). My attempts to actually create an outline and something to go off of instead of just a whim will hopefully pay off better than last year's measly 7500 words.

We'll see...

The road was dusty with dry silt that hung in the air like a menacing cloud and parched her already sore throat. Her clothes, while usually a deep red in color, were now covered in the fine gray dust dulling it to a darker brown. She was grateful that the winds had slowed. She’d endured the stinging sand for the better part of the day and was certain that an entire layer of skin had been removed from the few parts of her that had been exposed. Pulling the veil tighter over her face and nose to block the choking haze further, Ny’gel felt her own exhaustion. Her journey had already been so long. She yearned to sit, to rest for even a moment but she could not. She must reach her destination before nightfall. All of the trails she’d been following for the past two weeks led here. She could not afford to lose her prey in the midst of a bustling city. If she could circumvent his path, perhaps Ny’gel could get to Deluvian[1] ahead of him. It was a long shot but one she was willing to push herself towards. 

 

Ny’gel shifted her shoulders under the oppressive weight of her cloak to ease the aching of her sore muscles. Despite her discomfort, she would not risk the exposure of her uniform. Undoubtedly, the people of this land would not welcome a member of the Haj’tort[2], especially not the heir of Valyran. Such a find in the desert wastelands would warrant extreme measures, measures that Ny’gel was not willing to endure just yet.

Dark eyes glanced skyward. Through the thick, hazy fog of the sandstorm, Ny’gel could barely make out the sun. The scorching heat had at least diminished some. Its glaring torture had been as much an annoyance as the sand and dust were now. It had been four days since she’d left the relative cool sanction of the border town Indet where she’d bought reserve supplies and a horse. The trek across the desolate desert had promised a long and arduous journey at best. There would be no water for at least the first two days of her passage and any hope of finding food or game had been quickly replaced with the reality of this harsh and unforgiving land. Nothing moved along its smooth, sandy ripples except for the wind. An occasional bird swept silently overhead but the tiny dots disappeared as quickly as they’d come, leaving to search for more promising meals. Ny’gel returned her eyes to the ground below, careful to step lightly on the ever-shifting sands. A quick tug on the reins brought the mare behind her to attention and the pair quickened their pace. Mor Anoron’s capital city, Deluvian would be just over the next rise and she wanted to be behind its walls before nightfall.

 

Nomads by birth and heritage, the people of Mor Anoron had named the small oasis their capitol port thousands of years ago. It was, in fact, built upon the largest oasis in all the surrounding lands. A fortress wall of stone higher than fifteen men encircled the inner reaches of Deluvian making it the best protected of all of Mor Anoron’s cities and villages. Three gates barred entrance and exit to the city and were guarded by several armed men of the King’s militia; one to the North, one to the East and one to the Southwest. Inside, the streets and alleyways of Deluvian spread out like a maze throughout its entirety.

 

Caravans arrived and departed on a seemingly endless trek of circuitous routes. Wagons and carts born by horses and mules were piled high with each merchant’s wares. Food and spices from the more Northern reaches of Mor Anoron found their way into the city as did metal cooking instruments and wooden pipes. Scented oils, colored sands and dyed silks of every shade were sold with a raucous din of voices. Takarii, the coin of the known world, switched hands more times than a man could count.  Deluvian was a city dominated by trade.

 

Though, not all were fortunate enough to reap the wealth of the caravan plunder. Slums and poorhouses lined the outermost parts of Deluvian with panhandlers, pickpockets and thieves as their denizens. It was not uncommon to find the red-robed Priests of Rhys engaged in long-winded and boisterous sermons on every street corner preaching to the disheartened and weak. The Day of Reckoning was at hand. Rhys would return to claim the land and reclaim his throne, they declared. His fiery eminence would evaporate the very waters of Mahalel and make the child goddess rue the day of his imprisonment. Those not bearing the red mark of his Greatness on the Day of Reckoning will suffer a death so painful and blinding. It was inevitable.

 

Echoes of the maddened pitch of the Priests of Rhys eventually faded the closer one moved to the city’s inner reaches. Alleys widened to streets and byways and the poor and desolate gave way to the more urban middle class. Care was shown to sweep the streets and porches, colored silks and ribbons hung as decorations on doors and windows. Torches would light the busier streets at night and here the guards of the militia marched regularly in their polished leather armor. Life moved a slower in the confines of the residential sections of the city. People followed their daily routines with little care of the outside world.

 

As darkness descended upon the lands of Mor Anoron, the draining heat of day moved soon to the deep chill of night. The sandstorm that had previously plagued the outlying areas quieted, leaving in its wake a stillness akin to death. Further inside the walled city of Deluvian, another scene altogether was taking place. Fires were lit on the street corners and lanterns hung by many of the windows and doors. Colorful decorations lined the alleyways and byways, crisscrossing the city’s main thoroughfares in a blinding rainbow of festivities. It seemed a celebration was in full swing and the entire city was taking part in it.

 

Soft and distant music floated on a cool breeze through the city streets, a melody combined of flutes and tambourines, of bells and drums with a distinct rhythmic beat. It was a happy sound, energetic and enticing, full of life, merriment and exaltation. The music seemed to echo off the walls and buildings around Ny’gel as she slipped unnoticed along the empty streets.  It was hard to tell which direction it truly came from and she strained to isolate its origins. Another pull on the reins assured her that the mare would dutifully follow her steps.

I did some brainstorming with Ian last night regarding this story. The problem(s) I am faced with:

1) I have no time.
2) I only have the beginning and a slight history in my head. No real forward motion for the story.
3) I have no ending.
4) I have no time.

So, here is what I have so far.

There is this world. The world is ruled by religion to a hefty degree. Long, long ago the Gods had a falling out. One sect had grown tired and weary of their existence (The Ancients). The Ancients had long ago recognized the need for balance in the world. Without it, chaos would reign and the world would plummet into destruction. The world had been created by the Ancients, but like any Catch-22, they now grew tired of the responsibilities. They felt obligated to maintain a semblance of respectable life for these people but simply did not want the burden. An idea was sparked. If a utopia of balance, justice and harmony could be forged, the gods would no longer be needed to police the people of the land. And so, a seed was planted. Formed in the people as a legend, a myth... a prophecy the Ancients eagerly await the fruition of their labors.

The remaining sect of deities had grown hungry for more power. Ultimately, their goal is complete dominion over the world. The Fallen, as they have come to be known, are mongrels. They exist for sheer enjoyment of terror, chaos and power. Greed drives them to conquer. Seeing the prophecy come true will annihilate all of their plans. They have vowed to not let it pass.

There was a battle between the followers of The Fallen and those of The Ancients. The people were divided and so became their lands. Hectni and Valyar were born of this war. Two opposing forces, each believing in the might and valor of their gods. Enter our protagonists:

Ny'gel is the daughter of Valyar's emperor. Her father, Emperor Adrastus Ha'suna, was murdered a year ago. The court implicated a house steward as the culprit, Ariy'nt. Ariy'nt had been a close member of the house for several years. He had ties to the Emperor, was one of his leading advisors and was in no way possible responsible for his death. Implicated, judged and punished for the crime, Ariy'nt was sentenced to exile. A punishment as finite as execution.

Ny'gel is not satisfied with the justice dispensed and chases after Ariy'nt intending to kill him as revenge for her father's death. Her absence from House Ha'suna leaves a hole in the ruling body. Tradition states that only a blood relation to the house may hold a seat on the council. As the only surviving heir, Ny'gel is forfeiting her family's right and station as House Ha'suna soon falls under scrutiny by the Council. Ny'gels mother is furious that she is being deposed from her seat of power and is planning other means by which to retain control.

Meanwhile, Ny'gel follows after Ariy'nt. Hate fills her and guides every move. Ariy'nt is unaware of the identity of his pursuer only that it is female and she intends to kill him. Fleeing for his life, he enters Hectni's borders.

After a brutal chase through one of Hectni's city states, the pair are captured. Because they are Valyrans they are regarded as animals and treated as such. The king presiding over Hectni has been appointed by the Priests of the Red Hand - an unscrupulous group of fanatics acting in the faith of The Fallen's most devious deity. He immediately calls for their execution.

So, I feel the need to layout the story as I see it. The more I think on it, the more complicated it gets. Maybe putting everything down in one place will help.

--------------------------------

Environment
There are two 'countries' Valyran and Hectni. Valyran is lush, green and rich while Hectni is more of a desert wasteland. The people of Hectni have managed to eek out a meager existence and the majority of the populace is fairly content.

Valyran: Made up of a council of houses. Each and every individual is a member within a House, these Houses are the equivalent of states, banners of each house divide the kingdom into an array of colour. The most colourful of all is that of the city of Valyar, heart of all that the Valyrians hold and cherish as their own and the political tower. Not all of the Houses sit within Valyar, as ever in the path of men the road is not always sweet, there are those that hold power and those that attempt to grasp upon it. Seventeen Houses hold chapter within the capitol and it has been this way since the beginning of scripture and syntax. Some believe that the Houses take too much control over the people within them, exhausting their charge as a means of increasing their authority and climbing closer to becoming the First House. <excerpt written by Chloe>

Hectni: The desert land is ruled by a monarch family whose grip is strangling its people. Angered by their abandonment and perceived exile by Valyrans, the ruling family seeks every opportunity to punish Valyrans.

Religion
The Ancients and The Fallen as defined by the houses of Valyar - The Gods waged a battle against one another eons ago giving rise to a dichotomy of religion. Desposed by the Ancients, the Fallen were resurrected in Hectni. Their hatred for the ruling Gods of Valyar are poisoning their followers and the vile anger is bleeding into their people.

Valyar, on the other hand, is flourishing under the watchful eye of the benevolent Ancients. Their time honored traditions and heritage have encouraged the peace within which they live. Prosperity and leisure seem to rule the lives of all Valyrans. It is a seemingly utopia of commerce, justice and culture.

Both the Ancients and the Fallen have temples all over the country side that have been resurrected in each of the individual Gods. Followers of both sects can be found in each of the two countries, however, overall followers of the Ancients reside in Valyar and followers of the Fallen live in Hectni.

The Gods are as follows:

Mahalel
Tyrsis
Sunari
Vortex
Jamaalyah
Wyr
Zediyah
Graahm
Ny'et

Time: 11:30
Topic: Work

I've tried this time and time again to little avail. I have no idea the content I am to write or even to whom I am directing it. Still, I feel compelled to write... something. I always try to be poetic, or have some sage advice to impart on others. Truth of the matter is that almost no one ever reads my blogs. Therefore, I think I will create this blog as a place to share my novel in progress... Ideas, samples and excerpts as I work on them will find their way inexorably to this screen. (As will big words that I rarely use and sound good when used in awkward places - if only to me.)