Tag: writing

Part 6 – The Colonel’s Quest: Taming Wild Dragons

During the new events, those in charge often look to hold on to what is familiar. This is shown when a small child is scared and hugs one of their parents. Never both mind. They have favourites. Deal with being second. Chances are you will be their first one day. If not, second place still gets a medal. Unless you play a game of ‘5 Towers’, then there is one winner and one loser. Or on those rare occasions no winner. But no one likes it when a player does that on purpose so doesn’t happen. Well, not that often.

But this also happens when anyone grows old. Dwarfs seek comfort with stone. Goblins seek comfort with playing tricks on friend. Elves, probably do something odd with flowers and family. But those who make decisions, they seek what they know. Those in command of lots, worry they will make a mistake, so, they stick to what they did last time.

This, is how 4 days after the Great Expedition returned from their mighty, technically second, arrival from the beyond.

For starters, the group of wild dragons had to be named. The final conclusion was a flock . There was a large debate about what to call a group of dragons. A murder seemed difficult to get past the locals, an army seemed to challenging to the status quo, a caravan gave the impression they would transport too much and although a cloud appeared to work for some, it felt too soft by the Colonel.

It was the lawn, of the very secluded, walled garden that the King liked to stroll around when he wanted some quiet time. But as the dragons could breathe fire, and might cause embarrassment for training if it went wrong. A walled space was thought  best, and this one didn’t have lots of soldiers and flammable material nearby apart from a few canes holding up a few rose beds and a small shed.

With the space found, training had to wait a little longer for some form of netting to be added on top. There was no attempt at making it fire proof, the Great Expedition broke the banks of many wilful donors. To ask again would cause economic trouble for some parts of the Kingdom. But an attempt to look to keeping them penned in had to be made and with the right training, anything would be possible.

The Colonel looked at the flock and despite all his ideas for what to do, and considering what Gerald had told him. Nothing seemed to work for the first few days, except feeding them. That definitely made them go quiet for a while. Also the midday sun seemed to keep be on their backs happily. Not that they were a rumbustious crowd of wild dragons. But the motivation to complete set training, target practice, along with other training exercises that had been set up for them up to speed. All attempts failed. Consistently failed. But failed.

So considering the options, he knew of on team in the army who knew how to training a unruly group of misfits. Then once they failed to make an impact, with more than one of the soldiers crying after 3 days of not only being ignored but having his uniform singed after attempting to pick up and throw one of the wild dragons. The Colonel could only think of one person to start with.

Gerald.

Not just Gerald. He also brought along the animal trainers for the kingdom. They spent their time training animals, some seemed to do anything if you had food. Completely forget what they have been taught if food was not visible, or at the very minimum hinted at. But they knew what they had to do to get the food morsels.

Following a successful start, in that no one got hurt, a plan was formed and a dragon moved in a somewhat positive physical direction. Rolling over was declared not to have counted very early on. With enough options one would generally do it in the way it was commanded to at some point. The Colonel left a bewildered and confused Gerald with the animal training team setting up ramps and things to jump over. This was not the same set up as he had at home and he missed his pet and family with each new box being unopened.

—

Following positive reports coming across his desk each day for an entire moon cycle, the Colonel returned to see what had become of his flock of wild dragons. As he walked down The Princes’ way, crossed through Heroes Arch and finally wandered down the roads of the morning market by the palace. He entered the Walled Garden. In time, what he saw will be described as a flock of dragons flying from post to post, tracking targets running across the ground and with a bolt of fire, hitting a moving target before landing calmly on its mark. How the trainers moved among the dragons, giving orders with no fear of being burned alive.

The reports had indeed been positive. They did, with much surprise, move in formation. It was true that they could set fire to things on command and then eat their prey. Moving targets were tracked and eaten in a display that would make a small child hold on to their favourite parent in fear that that fire would come in their direction and the protective powers of their favourite would keep them safe.

Unlike the imagination of a child, the Colonel saw something else.

The dragons moved in formation behind a leader when that leader held food in their hands and gave a command word. When there was no food, bellies saw sun.

When a rat ran through the garden, the dragons could track, fly even, and hit the living thing with fire. Then sit, eat, and be calmly lying about.

The trainers did move around with a no fear attitude of being burnt. But this was only when they were on the other wide of the low wall, far away from the dragons.

Still, having dragons waddle over to a trainer on command. Sit in front of them and look at the food. Then eat the snack. Was better than just attacking the training team and moving on to roam the city in a mass of fire chaos eating all that they find.

Not quite the new weapon, but as the Colonel felt a familiarity to what he was seeing, and the animal sat by his foot that had dutifully followed him from his own office.

Part 5 – Carrots: The Surprising Link to Dragons

The King, kneeling on a cold and puddled floor, his arms still shaking from the reigns of his horse all day, picked up the creature. It’s eyes glowed orange and its belly grew with steam rising in the spitting rain. As the King rose, he looked up at saw a bright eyes, wider apart than his own shoulders, staring at him. The emerald eyes locked onto our King as he held her baby. The steam slowly left and rain settled on the little ones belly.

Mother dragon, Queen of all dragons, saw in the King’s eyes what power he held. The future he could bring for her kind. With a nod of the head, mimicking a bow, the Queen waved her front arms and the wings attached blew a mighty gust of wind. As many of the soldiers slipped and fell on the wet ground, the King stood and watched as the mighty dragon took off and left for the mountains afar.

There, on that day, our King not only held the kings own, but the very line of dragons that was fit for a king from the Queen herself was handed to him. A baby that the Queen trusted in the care of him and his family from him.

—/—

Well, that’s the story. But, with the review of those early days, the sources about where people were. Most people have come to realise nearly all of the whole saga never happened. This is also without noticing that dragons, prior to their human connection, were only a small creature and at best, came up to a humans knee, and that is if the human wasn’t very tall.

On the day the Great Expedition arrived at the gate, the 37 men were down to 29, there were 5 people in cages who looked petrified by the crowds. Behind the first few carts of supplies, artefacts and people in cages, were a series of cages all covered up. The convoy hurdled over the cobbled street, stopping and starting repeatedly, as the day they were fated to arrive was market day. A time to find a present for a love one. To buy food for the following week or see what may be on sale from a far. It was not a day to transport a convoy through.

The welcome party was similar in that it  was not just thin on the ground, but also in the wrong place. The Colonel who had been speaking with Gerald, and still made efforts to find out about him, had heard about their arrival and made his way to greet the Great Expedition. But their arrival saw them go down the wrong road and enter the grounds of a mansion for one of the Lords of the city, who wasn’t even home to receive them. They waited patiently until a scruffy servant came out and offered them some carrots. Not knowing what to do and having so little, they hoped it was better than nothing. Beer, which was stored a plenty in the basement wasn’t brought up as it was the Lord’s private stock, and this group of people looked more likely wanting to rob the place, than being a returning exhibition to bring forth the greatest wonder seen for a while..

People really were impressed with the water fountain that could track time. It made most inventions or discoveries look pretty basic for a long time. Something that upset a lot of people whose life’s work was to make their mark on the city. Some of the inventions that got through were vertical windmills to support grinding cereals, stirrups to help riders get onto horses to transport cereals and crops safer and quicker. With these leading to better beer deliveries and the creation of wheat beer. The guild of breweries tended to control most of what happened, so most of the money went to items that helped them with their trade or businesses attached to it.

Dragons nearly became used in heating for production of beer but the military was one of the few avenues that trumped the Brewers Guild. That, and there is little need for heating in the brewing of beer.

As the leaders of the Great Expedition chomped down their set of carrots, the phrase “Don’t worry, eat a carrot” came to be known for many as a way to pass the time when things were not going right for you. A phrase that is not used much today, but then it spread through the lower ranks of soldiers, some of whom became midlevel ranking officers. So if enough of them said it slowly it filtered through to others to say for a while. But like the fountain clock, it soon got replaced with more modern ways and became a thing for the past.

Meanwhile, the dignitaries stood and waited for their arrival for a short while but soon disappeared as it became apparent they were not coming. This was yet another event that would not come to pass. But still, the Colonel managed to stumble upon his chance when walking down from one of the side exits to the palace. Which is most exits as from most angles it was the side due to its size. But he walked down The Prince’s Way following it meander through the markets when he paused at one of the gardens in the south sector of the Capital and saw the Great Expedition in the middle of the Gardens. With all 27 soldiers eating carrots. Covered in filth and a number of carts under tarp that with scorch marks.

It would happen that The Grand Expedition made their official entrance to the Palace grounds with the King sparing 15 minutes, or a quarter Peacock as it was called from the Clock Fountain. They marched in clean, in time and their number had somehow risen from 27 scattered men, to 150 tidy, clean and energised soldiers. The Colonel knew how to make an entrance, to either not be seen or to draw everyone’s eye.

Once the parade stopped, one of the soldiers held out one of the creatures and declare, “A gift for our king from the lands afar. May it grow to protect you family, and lead our Kingdom to a brighter tomorrow.”

It certainly had a better ring than, “Got another carrot?”

– Click here to go to part 6 –

Part 4 – The Great Expedition, the mass migration of dragons

The Wonder of the North was at first thought of as a cliff edge that nearly saw the expeditions ration cart fly off. Not, the view point marking the edge of the frontier. Or as it is now seen by those who lived nearby, the end of those who came up and conquered it.

The Distinguished Trade Deal with the Dwarfs, was not, as it became later known, a turning point in the Kingdom and the Dwarfs relations that saw a golden period of peace following 3 years of conflict. At the time, the lead representative just needed to hold back the army from sending in more soldiers before the summer came, which would have seen mass starvation. All for the sake of him not being fired by the King for another failed advance.

But the Marvelous Waterfall, hidden in the Unending Forest, at the end of the Shadowy Path, is worth a visit. But go the other route via the forest bypass, less chance of near certain death.

Names, as it has been seen throughout history, come after the event has happened. But the Great Expedition was penned its name when it set off. To create a sense of importance and a drive to bring in donations. Which then would lead to those with money a chance to have it their bragging rights. Once the Great Expedition returned with something to brag about.

The expedition, which had most of its money spent on the ceremonies when leaving each of the towns and villages that supplied, and paid for, all those who were going, found they struggled very quickly after they all began properly. It was not long until the wheels on the carts needed to be replaced. Then a replacement wheel needed to be fixed, and then another, rations were soon running out and needed to be replaced through foraging, buying, or on a growing number of occasions, stolen.

Then came the hard part of the expedition, when they found where Gerald was reported to have his new pet. Being a soldier, meant he could walk over most terrain, follow the battle as it needed, and simply focus on staying alive. The instructions that the Colonel had managed to get were, in short, useless. The Great Expedition comprised of 37 people. Stories would later imply better organisation, and even the King himself returned from an apparent earlier trip, to hand pick the one that would later be gifted to his future great, great, great Grandson, Raj the Useless.

The 37 members of the Great Expedition quickly split up looking in different areas, completely ran out of food with 9 going off and almost setting up home in a nearby village. Who actually, by sheer dumb luck, found what they were looking for. However, as they didn’t see fire breathing for 3 days they were nearly held themselves for how they demanded more food, beer and had a general unpleasant demeanour to the people in the village. Was it not for the fire, the excitement and the return of the rest of the Great Expedition to explain, and pay, for them. These 9 could have lived out a different life. Albeit probably quieter in the end.

The discovery of the wild dragons in the village later became known as End of the Blessed Route. The truth of what happened is far from the myth of the Great Expedition and with the finding of those who lived alongside the dragons. The myth would grow to include how the wild humans had become to fear these dragons, be subordinate to their ways. With the arrival of the King who freed them from fear as he looked at the Alpha and that she accepted the new way of things.

Just by his look.

Which for all who were there, that was the preferred version of the story. The truth involved arguments between those in the village and the members of the Great Expedition about taking the wild dragons, the throwing of food in cages as the mild mannered creatures stumbled in, with the locals being beaten back apart from those who knew how to be with these creatures. Who shortly found themselves in a cage too to support the future training of dragons.

8 people were placed in cages to be transported. But 3 were placed in cages with dragons. Some parts don’t make the legend.

Eventually, after fighting, arguments and long journeys. The Great Expedition returned home. A set of dragons were brought home. Many questioned why they brought back pups and not the fully grown ones. But no one knew what these creatures were, or how they lived.

– Click here to go to part 5 –

Part 2 – How Gerald’s Dragon Became the Kingdom’s Secret Weapon

Bringing home a new pet that breathes fire. Can fly. Feed itself by keeping local rats under control while also not appear to travel far so not getting lost. It seemed to be the perfect pet for Gerald’s children. Even made his cleaner less scared about going into the basement.

Everyone loved it when the new pet fired, literally,  its first kill.

But after a while, with a pet that sleeps all day, does not keep the attention of small children for long. The fun of watching it chase the rats stops when it’s no longer able to satisfy its hunger once the rats realise they can live somewhere else and not be hunted.

And once those wings are used to get up on a table and eat the dinner. Well, this makes those who run the home less than favourable to its presence.

So Gerald had only one option. This option would forever change the continent and send shudders further across the seas. Or at least for a while. Gerald took the new pet to work.

Having a wild dragon sleeping most of the day was easy to keep quiet as a mid-ranking officer in the barracks. The cadet booked to Gerald scared easily at the first sight of fire, and once he realised that food kept the creature quiet, it took little encouragement for him to bring food. Even less effort as there was no preparation required.

This was fine for a few days, but the level of food coming to his office did bring suspicions. Just how much raw food can one man eat?

On seeing the fire breathing creature, it quickly became a novelty at the end of hard days, it would be brought out to test what this creature could do. It was within a week that the flying capacity, target hunting and those vicious claws got some in the planning department for the Kingdom wondering if there were more out there.

Before anyone realised the impact on feeding a scavenger animal constantly, an expedition was being formed to see what could be found out about the creature in its natural habitat.

The reports of how easy it was to capture the creature were casually hidden but it’s ability to set fire to a house was casually leaked. The ease of capture came from someone dropping food into a cage, by accident, and 3 darting in. By the time someone thought to close the opening, the creatures were tucking down on the spilt box of food equally, oblivious to their capture. It wasn’t until hours later when one woke from a well-earned nap that the concept of a cage  was even considered by them.

Through fear of being burned alive, the young boys on watch  threw more food in. The concept of bribery was not learnt but those watching them believed it worked.

The burnt out house was more of a bad throw of a living rat that attempting to run away and the fire caught the corner of an old, dried out building. Propaganda was also formed that week, but no name was given to it either.

So it was shortly after 7 months when Gerald showed his unemotional offspring a wild dragon, the rumours about the Kingdoms new weapon were filling the courts of allies, enemies and disinterested.

Feeding them seemed to make them grow bigger. Letting them roam and warm in the sun kept the fire burning, and with the right level of challenge, they appeared to follow instructions. Once the food was shown and quickly given after that is.

The beginning of the domestication of the dragon had begun. Albeit with little guidance, a lack of any plan and a lot of guess work.

– Click here to go to part 3 –

Part 1 – The Unexpected Origin of Dragons

It began with a simple decision. To bring back a gift for a son.

It was never a bold general that the stories tell. Or a mighty King slaying a beast. It was a mid-level leader in training who found a small creature running around, actually it wasn’t even do anything that exciting. The story that’s told, in case you haven’t heard, is one where a general sees a small creature nibbling at his feet. Despite the small statue of the creature, they look down and see the potential. A vision of change. A future where he will lead his people. The bold strategy that will mean his enemies bow down before him. Or despites its small stature, it had gumption. And that’s what the general, or king in some parts, liked.

Gerald, or some similar name long since forgotten, actually was walking around looking for his sword, stumbled over what at first was thought to be a rock. It barely moved and half appeared to notice it was even kicked. This, in the wild, is what dragons do. They sleep most of the day, roll over in the midday sun to warm their bellies, and use the fire inside their bellies to keep them warm at night when it gets cold. As in 13 degrees or so. If ever in single figures they would actually move to be near each other. Or a cave.

If they have one purpose, it’s to eat.

Their wings? To fly to find food.

The fire? To cook the food before eating it.

Their sharp teeth? To eat the food and tear it apart, before swallowing it. Unless the next mouthful pushes it down.

Those sharp claws? Not to rip through armour, but to hold and save time for their teeth to tear it apart.

Nothing, actually, has evolved to fight. Put two wild dragons in a space together, the only action you will see is from when a living creature they can eat comes into view, then chances are, they will split it in half it between them.

Wild dragons, at least the original ones, not those that escaped years later, were lazy.

But like all things, a human got involved and things changed. Give a dwarf a new way of forging metal, they will improve their equipment and use it to cut deeper into rock. Give a goblin a means to write in new ways, and they will cause more confusion for beings around them with strange notes or markings. Give a race the change to build walls, and pretty soon a duende will appear inside it. Find some new gold, and sure enough, the local tax farmer will be there taking their share. Some things are just the way they are.

But find something in the wild, something innocent or harmless. Give that thing to a human. Then you get something wonderous. At least for a time. Then it can go in any direction. Normally bad for someone, and something.

A wild dragon, before this meeting, was just a way some villages kept wildlife under control. They were too lazy to breed out of control, but hungry enough to eat so much they couldn’t chase all the local creatures in one causing extinction. Too fat too quick.  But when they got too fat, they would work harder to get food, but give a chance for the surviving wildlife to escape, bread, and not go extinct. Then be eaten.

Balance in action.

Then came Gerald. Who had a thirst to impress his child. And now we have dragons. Big scary ones that grow too fast, too big and eat too much.

But that’s the next bit, the part that one on talks about after Gerald, sorry that General, found the miracle strategy.

–Click here to go to part 2–

Volunteered

Where does the world end?

This surely is a subjective question for many. To many, it is where the physical plane of earth, the rock and the mineral ceases (if it does, unless it just goes around and around). To some, it can be where the last tavern sits before the gates and walls of the city they call home. Some cities have been known to have multiple taverns of similar name, causing many to attempt to trace a route to go drinking through each tavern and establishment through the city as they go. For those poor souls, the end of the world is not normally found in the drink that they choose that evening, but the feeling that they suffer the next morning.

For Roke, the 3rd Commander of the Goblin Guard of the 2nd shift, who had been called into the office of the representative of the Protector of the City Haven, he felt his world coming to an end when given the task of what is commonly called the, ‘Legacy of the King’. Which normally would mean everyone would hate you and you have to build something big enough to leave a mark at the great Goblin Gate, or have an impact on people’s lives that would mean the King, or some rich benefactor, could be remembered long past their final day. Few would ever remember the person who was given the take of administrator. A cursed role that few voluntarily wanted in any organisation, and no one was able to turn down without risking banishment, or worse, a never ending shift on the furthest outposts outside the Goblin Gate itself.

The only solace for Roke when being told his new brief, was that he had actually felt worse. A similar end of the world feeling when he finally, although supported by a few drinks at his local tavern, plucked up the courage to ask his the future Mrs Roke for a casual game of Siege. If she said no, his friends would laugh at him, but it would also mean his own world would collapse as he had dreamed of asking her to play a game for about 5 years, ever since his own growing changes began. It had always been her and nothing but, her.

Thankfully, she said yes, and despite his nerves, he even managed to win the game. He didn’t realise that she wanted to let him win as she knew he had been wanting to ask for at least 3 of those years as he hadn’t stopped staring at her when she worked the in the bakery stretching out the bread each day to be baked.

It is worth noting that it would be the only game she would let him win in their entire life together. “Let them win the first one,” her mother told her when her changes were starting. “That way, they will always feel they can beat you again, and keep trying to get one over you again.”

As a person who had herself, failed to keep any partner for more than 2 seasons since her late husband died in a goblin raid many years before, the advice was weighted, but no one could compete with her father, so her mother’s advice was kept. As has Roke.

So it was today that Roke was being asked, or more being volunteered, “You are being given the honour of reinforcing the 3rd tower of the second line young Commander.” The representative sat proudly, waiting to be thanked. “The village of Pillo have saved for the past 5 seasons to donate this, and we feel this will be rightly spent there, to rename it, the Pillo Tower.”.

Roke stood for a moment wondering how much a small village could actually save when he realised that he wasn’t actually saying anything. “Thank you, uh, Representative. I am sure that we will be able to make great, umm, improvements, to the 3rd tower.”

“Of the second line”.

“Of course. Thank you.”

“The money is being brought in with the volunteers from the village, so they will be eager to see where there money is going.”

This, was in one way great news. As it meant he wouldn’t be needing to now go around making people volunteer. Or worse, volunteer his own friends to support the project. This does mean that they volunteers from Pillo will now see where they money is going to go. But as Roke was about to be dismissed from the meeting, one small thing at a time. 

Planning for NaNoWriMo

This is a goal for a person I won’t meet.

I have never really been a planner. There I have said it.

For some who know me, this is not a surprise. I like to be organised, I don’t always succeed. Files on a computer are very ordered. Folders in folders and all make sense and are logical.

But when it comes to trying to write short story, a collection on a theme, or even when trying to tackle what I just call ‘ze novel’, probably inspired by watch Snatch too often. It has become an ever growing mass of pages in OneNote, interlinked and so much that I have lost the plot of what the original story was.

I did find the different versions of ‘100 questions‘ idea very helpful, but this did actually just add more to the world creation as opposed to creating a story. (There is also this list of 175 questions which is also helpful with some nice titles).

For example, when considering the social make up of the ‘Border’ Dwarfs (Doesn’t everyone have at least 3 separate groupings of dwarfs?), the back history, the short war between them and the human community that lived on the plains that were by the mountains. How this represented the different doorways for the King of this kingdom and how this created the history of both these kingdoms. – This whole thing began from this one tweet using the word ‘bone‘.

The longer story of this encounter can be found here if interested. But I know what you are thinking, will this ever make it into ‘ze novel’? Well we shall see. The problem with those last 4 words is the same reason I have simply multiple pages of brief dialogue, back history, creation beliefs, religions and even games that are played. I have lost the over prospective of what I am trying to write. There was something that at the beginning, promise!

So with the upcoming #nanowrimo I have sat down and actually mapped out a plan. I was in a meeting at work but this can be out little secret yeh?

So I have a plan, I have added this to yet another page on the OneNote file. But I am determined to actually try and write this out. It’s official title is ‘ze novel 2’.

I will say this again. ‘I have a plan!‘

Will this plan be followed through as the month of July moves on. Time will reveal. I have the plan made for my older self, to try to write about 1700 words a day, for my even older self to have most of ‘ze novel’ to potentially form ‘The novel’.

Gifts for the new King

The new King, Tymorth, son of Daumere, sat on his throne as the first door was being put into place. Surrounding him were the gifts from the farm collectives that would feed not only his own kingdom, but had become the vital part of trade and the wider economy of the continent. They were all a reminder, that all Kings would never be able to have such impact as their greatest leader. It was this idea that had sent previous kings searching for a quest to rival it, only ending in their warriors to return, defeated, with their King on his shield to be buried in the Tomb of their kin.

The rough face of the young leader perused the hoard, each a reminder of the connections with the Kingdom that he would have to carefully manage, but also to the links outside the natural barrier that kept them safe from the farthest of enemies that might threaten mankind. There was the usual collection of gold, weapons, treasures from the past that to the right holder would have them giggling with glee to hold such vestiges of history in their hands. The axe that slay the last goblin Grute that entered the natural barrier, heralding such honour that it was the mightiest of Goblins to have marched through the kingdoms of man all those years ago. But to the casual passer-by, it was a half rotten handle that had barely kept its shape along with a heavily oiled axe head to attempt to keep it from ruin. The box it travelled in had been rebuilt countless times, one day it will only be a piece of metal, that if the label got lost, could easily have been tossed away.

What caught the young King’s eye first, was the comb, hand delivered by the Dwarves that live just outside his Kingdom. As jovial relations are with them, the threat they could pose was always in mind. All villages knew the horror that a dwarven attack could bring, every family had tales of what they had witnessed, who they had lost. The Border Wars was not just a story, it kept the warriors well trained knowing a friend can easily become an enemy, and a line in the ground does not mean the same to another as it might to you.

There were a collection of tokens, but the dwarf, who had been dressed in ceremonial clothing and armour, at least for that was what his advisor had told him they were dressed in. The rumours of the Dwarf skill at metal work and fine jewels appeared to be fairy tales from what he saw in their clothing. But those of the Hammer and those of the Smith were different to the Border Dwarfs. To their kin they were seen as wild, untamed and ones to be avoided. The emissary from the Dwarfs of the Hammer had delayed their trip for 3 days, to simply make sure there would be no time for them to meet, or even be in the same land as each other if possible.

His accent was strange, but one that was understandable to the young King. ‘Greetings young King,’ Was this an attempt at insult for meeting a freshly crowned head? ‘You have a strong line behind you and your ancestors will be proud. The runes speak of a strong arm for an axe, or a sword if you prefer. A steady shield we see in your future, one that protects not just you, but those behind you.’

It wasn’t until his uncle made a sign to do something that the young Kind realised that they were all waiting for him to respond. ‘My thanks to you, emissary of the Dwarfs.’

‘I am not an emissary of the Dwarf. I come from my own kin and we are here to welcome you to your new seat. I see that you will have to add some elements of the world to your learning in between your weapon, and farming, lessons.’

The mottled grey of chainmail and the wolf skins on top might look more for show than those standing behind the Dwarven figure, but the shining axe by his side and shield held on his back made it clear that he could use them if required. The young King looked at the dwarf,  now testing the water with the him, the warnings of how he should be with them, and not to anger them was clear, but if his uncle was to be in charge, he would be doomed to be a King in name only.

‘I can see that we both need lessons, one of my understanding of the dwarven kin and kingdoms, and for you,’ a moments pause to collect a breath, it was only a moment but the stories of the young boy in front of a dwarf in the wars and the rapid changes that can happen in a blink of an eye, a slice of an axe, a moment can appear to feel a long time when there is suddenly one in front of you not attempting to hide slight insults to you. ‘For you, I feel we need to explore more how we shall talk to each other. We do not call our leaders young or make fun of them in front of others. It can be seen as rude and challenging.’

It had slipped out. His uncle visibly froze to hold his hand back, the phrase had almost been written on every wall in each village, never challenge a dwarf. The young King held his gaze and waited for what would be coming. In the middle of the throne room stood the dwarf chosen to represent the dwarfs who were called wild by their own kin, with 6 ceremonial guards to follow. Each with gilded weapons but the steel was there to fight if needed.

‘I knew you would be a good choice for this Kingdom!’ The laughter echoed around the room with a sigh from the guards at the door who heard every word. ‘I told our chief that you were a good one, your father always spoke of you kindly, but said you had a stubborn streak that was not to be tested.’

With the abrupt laughter, came an about turn, and they left.

No one spoke until the King’s uncle came to speak but the first words were the Kings. ‘Before you try to lecture me on how to talk and greet these dwarves into my kingdom remember, I am the King that makes the call to the villages to put down their seeds, and pick up their swords. I am the one who sits and sees the first shield come in from the war. I am the one who needs to not flinch when an axe holder is there in front of me. Leave my side now uncle. I will call for you after the moon has gone.’

Slowly the room filtered out, the entourage of his uncle followed, allowing the King’s own guards replace themselves elsewhere to guard down the corridor, leaving the new King and his personal aid to review the gifts they had been given and the great catalogue could begin for the start of his reign.

‘You didn’t need to be so hard on your uncle there Tymorth.’

‘What would you have me do? Let him order me around in front of everyone?’ His eye were drawn to the Goblin Axe, the history of the great deeds always were a reminder to a new king. The long corridor for all visitors past the archways. A reminder to the new bearer of the throne that there could be a door added to each to show their great deeds. Or, as the axe whispered to all that held it in their possession, their actions can leave behind stories when they themselves have passed to be collected by one of the family.

‘So what did the dwarves bring?’ Ja’Mar was always interested in symbolism, the idea of a gift being given had to have a meaning. He always wanted to find something that had a meaning to the person he was giving as opposed to the large golden jewel encrusted pieces that people might choose to give. The small objects often had pride of place, jewels were to be hidden away if possible.

The idea of these dwarves giving a gift to a new king was rare, his father was given a chest of items, an axe made by their blacksmiths, but it was designed for a strong warrior meaning his father could never weald it. His childhood disease stopped him from being able to use both arms properly. To those that live by what they produce, it was a mark of dishonour that took many years to repair as they had made the gift, finely balanced to excellent detail, but the choice of metal meant it was wrong.

When Tymorth was born, they attempted to bring a small gift, a toy that their young would play with, to make them grow up to be strong warriors. Not many knew, but he still had it in his most prized possessions, but never dared ask anyone how he was meant to play with it. It would be ignorant to ask his father as he should know, and to ask anyone else would reflect on his father failing to teach him.

‘So here we have the most unknown community around, giving you a light axe, I guess they didn’t want to repeat the last time.’ His eyes spoke with fondness of the past King, a beloved leader to his people and a personal mentor to Ja’Mar. ‘Interesting, they have given a comb, I guess this is to welcome you to manhood when you decide to grow a beard of quality. Dwarves like a good beard, tells a story by how you plate and decorate it.’

He passed the comb over to Tymorth. The weight was light but strong to sort out what must be messy beards for them. They always seemed to glisten in the light from the torch light. The oils they used must resilient to heat or that would cause a problem in itself.

‘What else have they given me then?’

Ja’Mar had already laid out the items to review and record. Writing was a skill not all got to learn, but one that he liked to use whenever it was possible to. ‘Let me see. We have the comb, the axe, a series of 5 golden coins with some markings on each. A map of our border with them on hide. I guess this is a reminder that they honour the treaty. Looks to be the same. Might be worth having someone check it for fine details.’

Tymorth was listening but the way comb was shaped. It fit into his hand as if it was made for him. There were numerous finger points for when it motioned the combing of a future beard, if he were to grow one. “Say what you will about the Border Dwarven Kingdom, but they mighth produce the best beard combs in the Kingdom.”

“You know they use the bones from their enemies to show how they have conquered them, meaning our grandparents from the Border Wars?”

“Well that ruined that gift from the King.”

Carefully, the comb was placed down next to him as he pushed it over the Ja’Mar to add to the pile for sorting and storing. Each gift would have to be responded to properly to make sure no slight was given to those who have joined in the celebration of a new King.

The returning of a bone from someone who was killed in combat, the Dwarfs had been said to have different traditions, this was one that might need to be explored further.

My daily exercise to practice editing

So I have a daily thing I do, it brings me joy, normally, and it doesn’t often take me very long to do it. I wake up each morning ready and willing. So I turn over look for the email without fail. I open it and straight away my brain is woken up considering ideas. I have found I either come up with something quite quickly, or it seems to take until the end of the day for it to form. There are many different examples out there, but I simply follow the daily inspiration from @vss365official on twitter along with getting the email.

As I said, there are different feeds on twitter, and elsewhere, but I have started with this one, and I feel anymore will just take me down a path where I won’t get out of and be lost in a thick forest not sure where I started from with every 7th word a hashtag. Which will probably stop being fun and more of a brain teaser but on an epic, and futile, proportion. But why do I enjoy it?

Well, the first reason is that it is a great way to be creative. Not being in one story that seems to be twirling around in my head and on the digital page when I get time to write. I have realised I have started to create a character called Todd. There have been other names I have used, but Todd just seems to have been the one that I seem to stick too. There was the voice called Steve once, but he doesn’t seem to come along very often. There is no consistency, yet, for the character. I can see I will try and stretch myself to create something for a future character, probably called Todd, using the daily word to develop a story. As of yet, not done so.

The second reason is, when you have gone through the enjoyment, or anguish, of trying to create your story with the limited letters available on the platform of twitter, the enjoyment from reading what others have created enters a whole new level.

The third reason, and this is why I highly recommend it for anyone who is writing at any level, it has been amazing for editing. If I were still teaching I would be sharing this with my class each morning to have them send in their short pieces by the end of the day for a daily prize. Having a clear defined character limit on what you can write, with a dialogue, poem or other forms in mind, requires you to cut that little darlings, to consider each space that you are using. Quotation marks are great, but for each line that’s 2 spaces, are they really needed today? Do you need to write ‘Todd said’? I have altered so many phrases, lines and each word that I have put in, so when I look through what I wrote months ago, compared to now, I can see how I have changed what I write the more I do it. When I am editing my own pieces of work, there is often no real limit on what I write, but I am editing them not only better, but quicker. The more your practice, there better you will hopefully become.

I am in no way trying to even suggest I am the best out there, I just enjoy the fun. I am always amazed when someone comes across one of mine, likes it, comments or even retweets it. There seem to be many people out there who go through them more than me and explores what have been made, their selections are fun to scroll through if you are busy. Having a different host for half a month also allows there to be more variety of words which then, gives me, and you, more variety in what we can come up with.

When you start looking through the word of the day, following the hashtag that has kicked off as more people join in, there are those that create amazing poetry, visualise what the word could mean through emotion, some who can just seemingly create jokes or puns with what appear to be no effort at all (mainly because they do it each day without fail).

So if you are new to writing, or just want something a bit more than wordle to get your brain going on the journey in the morning/afternoon. Find @vss365official on twitter and explore what people have made. There are other examples out there for daily inspiration. As a creature of habit, I have found this one, but my main enjoyment is as I have said, reading through what others have made, practicing my own ideas out, and then being able to practice, daily, my own editing skills of making sure everyone letter counts.

But as always, whatever your inspiration, right now my dog sitting in the grass that we have let grow a bit longer in a our little garden, he is rolling around in the sun with a very general carefree life, or maybe you are seeing a person sitting in a café drinking coffee that is a bit too hot. Perhaps the wonder of a goblin behind a tree waiting to see you walk past so they can get on with escaping from somewhere. Either way, Just Write. Then see what you have written and the editing can begin.

A jumbled mess…

There have been many benefits to my decision to leave teaching. There are also many things about teaching that I miss. But there is one thing I have noticed, by not constantly thinking about planning lessons, reviewing lessons and wondering how I can add something new to the curriculum for my History department, my creativity has gone all over the place.

So I have attempted to explore the idea of writing stories. Some have even been published in different forms, something I am unbelievably proud of and still in disbelief. Being a person with ADHD, I find that I can have my ideas go far and wide, and often stray from one point. This is probably why I have multiple WIP stories at the same time.

The creative process has always intrigued me. Knowing authors who can sit down on a rigid timeframe and just write for a few hours in the morning, or in the evening. I am amazed. I sadly find the idea of sitting down at 9am to punch in to create the dialogue between The Captain and Kajuna while they discuss the changes currently happening in the city of Coombe with the threat of a Goblin invasion. Well some people can hold it in until their allotted time. I can’t.

But today I seem to have found a good thing to help move forward on something bigger than a short story. The humble whiteboard. It was something that I used everyday. Every revision lesson, or just a general lesson in the classroom, the whiteboard with a spider diagram united many of my classes by visualising their ideas.

The image from today’s point isn’t going to be ground breaking, I have tried to do something similar on OneNote that I use for all my writing. But it has never had the same impact that I would have expected. But using it, I almost feel that I have a potential story arc to build on today past the 5k word count and link what I have already written.

I just need to remember to step away from the computer to eat and sleep tonight when trying to merge, blend and create the bigger picture of ‘the novel’.