#The Blade of Arandus

[fusewrites]

The Blade of Arandus Intro:

Jahal, Luwyn’s guardian

Luwyn picked at his stew. Jahal grumbled to himself across the table, eyeing Luwyn every other minute. Their eyes caught each other and another question popped into Luwyn’s mind, a familiar one. His lips formed the words out of habit. “Jahal,” he started, “why did we leave Rodan? Why did we come to this place?”

Jahal’s eyes opened quickly, and he sputtered and choked on his stew. “I’ve told you over and over,” he said between coughs. “It is ti-”

“‘It is time, Luwyn, it is time!’ You will give me a new answer, old man,” Luwyn spat. “You’ve ripped me from my homeland and shipped me to a new place, where I have to work harder than you do, and you still get to boss me around. You will tell me.” There was a fire in Luwyn’s eye, and Jahal saw it flicker. He knew Luwyn wouldn’t back down anytime soon.

He let out a deep sigh, tossed his spoon into his stew and leaned back in his chair so that the wood creaked and moaned.

“First of all, Rodan is not your homeland,” Jahal started. He scratched his chin and watched Luwyn’s face open with surprise. “You were born here, in Siros. We—you, your parents and I—moved to Rodan after…” He paused for a long time, as if choosing his next words carefully.

“After you were born, the previous ruler of Siros took power from her husband. King Miotus was starting his reign when he married the Lady Irona of Ioba, a powerful sorceress from the Isles of Magic. Their union brought about King Liandros. Miotus was killed when Liandros was a boy, and Irona took power for herself as Regent until her son was of age.”

“So we moved because my parents didn’t agree with the monarch?”

Jahal shook his head. “Irona’s regency was a dictatorship, and its sole purpose was to syphon the power from the Kingdom and the rest of Gaelenor. Fortunately, the queen died several years ago, and Liandros took the throne. No better, I say, but less ambitious than his mother. Irona wanted it all, Liandros seems to only want fancy clothes. “

Luwyn chuckled and looked down.

“I have wanted to return to Siros for nearly two decades, Lu,” Jahal whispered. He stared out of the window into the night sky, a dreamy look in his eye. “This isn’t just your homeland, Luwyn. It is also mine, and I have missed it dearly. The air in Rodan was stale. Inhale, boy. Breathe in the air you were meant to breathe. You are Sirosi, through and through. Never forget that.”

Tags: @jtheseagoat @ourpasteldream @lady-redshield-writes @marewriteblr @starrywritingg @indecentpause @night--crawler @thewriteblrarchives @avatarthelastchickentender @atbwrites (lemme know if you would like to be tagged/removed!)

[reesewestonarchive]

Over at the WriterlyThings discord (here) I just started a Featured Writers segment where, apparently every Thursday, I’m gonna feature a writer.

To kick off the weekly featured writers segment from the Writerly Things discord, we have @fusewrites! Tre has been writing fantasy and YA for seven years and is currently working on two novels and two prompt series, where you can check out HERE.

Details from their WIP page regarding their current two novels: The Blade of Arandus- The story of Luwyn, a teenager who discovers he is the long lost prince of the kingdom of Siros. He journeys to find Nazul, the mystical axe wielded by his ancestor, the founder of Siros and god of war, Arandus, to take back his true homeland. Hum- Cal Guardia discovers his mother is a witchguard, the chosen protectors of witches, and that his father is a demon and Duke of Hell. His best friend Juka Elize, granddaughter of the most powerful witch of her era, chooses him to be her’s. 

(Personally, these short summaries have me pretty intrigued already! I’m looking forward to reading more :D) 

Tre’s writing strengths lie in names, characters, languages, culture and worldbuilding, and voice. In their own words, “I've always enjoyed reading and writing poetry, but writing fics didn't really attract me until my junior year of high school when a friend got annoyed with my ramblings about characters or abilities that would be cool and told me to just write about it. I continued to write to experiment and see if I was actually any good. After spats of quitting and starting again, I continue to write because through all of that experimentation, I found my passion for writing and I can't go back!” 

Give Tre’s work a peek and help support another writer!

apply for the featured writers segment

[fusewrites]

ayyyyyyy

The Blade of Arandus is about a kid named Luwyn who moves to the kingdom of Siros and finds out he’s a long lost son of the former king. Banished by his half brother and current king, Liandros, Luwyn roams the land to with Fila (a free spirited, promiscuous sorceress with an affinity for earth magic, granting her the nickname “The Mud Witch”) and Garu (a calm and collected half-elf mercenary and hunter with an interest in Luwyn and his own secrecy agenda) in search of Nazul the weapon wielded by his ancestor, founder of Siros, and the God of War, Arandus, to prove his worthiness to rule and take back his true homeland 😬😬😬

I need more WIPS to get invested in. Reblog this and tell me about yours!

[fusewrites]

The Blade of Arandus Clip:

The Story of Mokur & Imak

“My head is killing me,” Garu croaked from the corner. He sat up slowly, and rubbed his forehead. “How are you two not miserable?”

“You’re overthinking, half-elf,” Vojamarsi’s smooth voice floated across the wagon. Luwyn didn’t notice him at first, but there he was, perched upon the seat of the wagon. His back was to them, but his head was turned halfway around, smirking. “Relax. You’re extremely uptight.”

Garu huffed and rolled his eyes. “I’ll relax when we’re on the ground.”

Luwyn blinked. “What do you mean?”

Garu didn’t look at Luwyn, he just pointed down. Luwyn peaked over the edge of the wagon, and saw anything but blue sky underneath them. He panicked gain. He turned back, clenching the sides.

“Why are we so high up?” Luwyn asked, panic shaking his voice.

Vojamarsi shrugged. “The only way to travel this fast is this high up. This wagon moves faster than any vessel in the world. Also...you do know that the Oru’kai is an ancient forest with many, many precautions to not be found?” Vojamarsi asked, an eyebrow raised. “And that it’s guardian, Jorr, can sense when trespassers are even looking for Oru’kai, much less on their way? Do you want to get to Oru’kai in fewer than two decades? Because that was your trajectory. Not to say you’ll survive your visit.”

Garu sunk into the wagon, a sour scowl on his face.

“Wait,” Luwyn said. “Jorr knows were coming?”

Vojamarsi chuckled and nodded. “Well, you know what they say...”

Luwyn shook his head and waited for a response. Vojamarsi leaned back and said nothing. Luwyn looked to Fila and she shrugged.

“Lighten up, Garu,” Fila chimed. “We’re on our way, making incredible time, with a lovely host. And all we have to pay him is a story.”

“Just because you’re flirting with the god of voyages doesn’t mean ours will be any smoother.”

Fila stuck her tongue out at Garu.

Vojamarsi chuckled and looked back at the trio. “You lot are funny,” he said. “Speaking of stories…”

Fila hopped up and clapped. “Yes! Everyone pay attention. This is the story of how Mokur, God of the Sea, met his queen, Imak.” She cleared her throat.

“Long ago, when the waves were young, Mokur Azsar, the Great Seaking, ruled over all the waters of the world. Son of the sea and sky, Az and Ky, Mokur was a spectacle. His blue-black tresses flowed down his back, his skin blue-green like seafoam. He was charged with the protection of the creatures of the deep, sailors and islands. But he was a lonely god, sitting on his throne alone, deep in his beautiful coral palace.”

“Wonderful! My grandfather in all of his glory,” Vojamarsi called out in dry tone.

“Anyway,” Fila continued after a quick glare at Vojamarsi. “One morning, Mokur set out on a routine patrol his kingdom. He woke up early that day, urged by something to search his waters. He spent the entire day patrolling, from to the shallows and beaches to the deepest pits of the ocean.

Mokur ventured to an uninhabited corner of the ocean, when a faint whine echoed through the water. It was pained, and Mokur’s heart began to ache when he heard it. He could smell fear and blood. Mokur followed the trails until he found a dolphin floating in the dark, murky waters. Mokur swam to the creature, and saw the wound in its side and blood streaming out.

A league away, a pair of hungry sea dragons, eels really, eyed the wounded beast. They wanted that kill, and wouldn’t let the Sea King get in their way. They thrashed their teeth at Mokur, a challenge to the god of the waves.

Mokur raised his mighty brow at the beasts and grinned. Soft spoken as always, Mokur swam forward without saying a word, and stared down the sea dragons. Her raised his mighty hands and brought them together. The sound of the clap was faint in the deep, only a muffled thump, but it sent a long, thin, horizontal current of water surfing silently toward the sea drakes.

The dragons snickered and sneered at Mokur. “With that, Azsar?” they mocked. “You will be us with a mere ripple?”

Mokur said nothing. He only grinned and chuckled quietly as he turned away, and swam back to the dolphin’s side.

The current sailed through the water, and the dragons swam to meet it. They rushed closer and closer together, until the current was inches from them. They puffed out their scaley chests to laugh again, when the current sailed through them, and left a red line on their chests.

The dragons did not laugh. They were silent for a moment. Then their bodies split into two pieces each. Their blood spread through the water.

Mokur grinned again, and turned his attention to the dolphin. He laid his hand upon the beast. ‘Be still now, child. I will heal you.’ And he did just that. Mokur pressed his hand onto the dolphin’s wound. It winced back. Mokur then gave the creature a portion of his power, the very thing that made him a god. The dolphin squirmed in his arms, then went still. The wound closed underneath Mokur’s palm.”

Fila leaned in, her eyes wide. “Then something amazing happened; the dolphin began to glow with a bright light that filled the depths. The light flickered out and Mokur uncovered his eyes to see the beautiful figure of a woman, complete with the marvous, colorful tail and fin. Her skin and eyes were pale blue, and her indigo hair rippled around her body.

‘Hello, Azsar,’ she whispered. Mokur floated in the water, his mouth agape. He was captivated by her beauty.

She swam toward Mokur, and held her delicate hands out for his. ‘You saved my life. Not only that,’ she said, grasped his large hands. ‘but, you have also given me a piece of your life. Life everlasting...will I need a new name, my king?’

Mokur shook his head. ‘Whatever you wish to be called, I would sing it from the deepest pits of the ocean, so that the monsters of the Void could hear me,’ he whispered.

‘I had a name...in my former life. Imak…’ she said.

Mokur nodded and spun her around. ‘And Imak you shall be!” the great god of the sea bellowed.

Mokur hoisted Imak in his arms, and took her back to his coral palace, and married Imak in front of every creature of the sea. Quiet Mokur has never been jollyer since meeting his bride.

Fila turned and grinned at Vojamarsi. The god of travelers nodded back from the front of the wagon and waved lazily.

“Beautiful,” he said. “Truly. My maternal grandparents’ story is a lovely, lovely tale. Did you know how my paternal grandparents story? The living black pit above us birthed the sky and the earth, and they popped out my father, Sofos. Romantic!” Vojamarsi chuckled and slapped his knee.

Fila shot a confused look at Luwyn. Luwyn only shrugged and grinned.

Garu clapped slowly. “Terrific story, Fila. Quite long. I did enjoy Vojamarsi’s quick tale, however, it was so wonderfully brief.”

{Tags}

{@jtheseagoat @ourpasteldream @lady-redshield-writes @marewriteblr @starrywritingg @indecentpause @night--crawler @thewriteblrarchives @avatarthelastchickentender} (lemme know if you would like to be tagged/removed!)

[fusewrites]

The Blade of Arandus Snippet:

Luwyn meets the Urkai

The cluster of horses enclosed around them. The woman in front still waved her spear in Luwyn’s face. Her face was marked with red and blue paint, and elaborate patterns swirled around her arms and thighs. She wore a tiara made of pale blue beads, and the same beads dotted her scarlet braids.

She thrust her spear out again. “You. Come with us.”

Garu stepped in front of Luwyn.

“He will be going nowhere with you,” Garu hissed. His swords were extended and he nearly growled at the woman.

She shook her head and curse and waved her spear’s blade at Garu’s neck. “Move, elf of Reilin. Your home is far from here.”

Garu shrugged. “I’m on a job. And that job is to protect this one here.”

She shook her head again. “Our job. He is our blood.” She turned and looked at Luwyn with large, sad, pale blue eyes. “My blood.”

Luwyn looked into her eyes, and stepped in front of Garu, ignoring his protests. The woman get off her horse and stepped closer to Luwyn. She was nearly a head taller than him, and thin muscle lines her arms and legs. She was an imposing figure, but her face was so tired and sad, as if she was remembering someone she had lost long ago.

Luwyn swung his pack around and pulled out the tattered little leather bound book that the strange old woman had given him at the Late Market in Siros. He flipped it open and turned to the page with the drawing of an Urkai tribesmen. Luwyn lifted the drawing next to the woman’s face. The red colored hair and dark skin matched, the pale blue eyes matched. He flipped to the next page and read a line. Horse lords who ruled the grasslands of Gaelenor.

“Asai,” Luwyn said fluently. The words snapped of his tongue, the pop echoed through the air.

The woman smiled and nodded. “U arume asai, me arume, me ara,” she sounded off in the god-tongue.

“What did she say, Luwyn?” Garu asked, calling Luwyn by his actually name for the first time in nearly a week.

Luwyn understand her just fine. He looked back at Garu. Fila smiled at Luwyn behind him and nodded.

“She said, ‘your family are asai, shaman. My family. My blood’,” Luwyn explained. He turned back to the woman. “Do you know someone named Kya?”

The woman’s chest swelled and her eyes watered until fat tears fell down her cheeks. She held her chin high, but Luwyn could see the tremble in her jaw.

“Me serr,” she said. “Te’o mar, te’o fe siir! Asha Anwe, asha Ise e Isani!”

Luwyn choked up. Tears pooled in his eyes as the woman stretched out her hands toward Luwyn.

“My name is Kaea,” she said. “Kya was my serr, my sister. Which would mean you are—”

They embraced, hugging each other hard, as if they hadn’t seen one another for a very long time. Luwyn cried into her shoulder. He hugged her for the father he never met, the mother he has never met, and the uncle he had lost. They embraced for what seemed like forever.

Tags and such

Tags: @jtheseagoat @ourpasteldream @lady-redshield-writes @marewriteblr @starrywritingg @indecentpause @night--crawler (lemme know if you would like to be tagged/removed!)

[fusewrites]

The Blade of Arandus Snippet:

Luwyn meets Garu

what should have been Garu’s intro lol

Eight armored guards jumped out of the trees and highs shrubs, each with a long sword pointed at Luwyn.

“We found you, bastard!” one of them yelled.

“We’ll make this a quick death for you.”

Luwyn’s arms shook and his shoulders were locked into place. He wanted to move, but he couldn’t. Fear froze him in its cold grip, and his stomach plunged to his feet. This is where I’ll die, Luwyn thought. I didn’t even make it out of the kingdom…

A streak of grey and black soared over Luwyn’s head and landed in front of him. Luwyn recognized the pale grey skin, strange pointy ears and giant sword. It was the stranger he’d seen leaving the palace earlier. Before, he scowled at Luwyn and rolled his onyx eyes. Now he was between Luwyn and the guards, his own bow knocked and aimed at them, crouched like panther.

“And who are you—” the guard was cut off by an arrow through his helmet. He crashed to the forest floor, his comrades shifted away from his body.

The stranger rolled and shot another arrow through a guards chest plate before he could flinch. He stood and slid his bow through a strap on his back and drew his claymore. The metal was thick, solid and heavy, Luwyn could tell, but the stranger wielded it with ease. He swung it over his head, then lunged for a guard, knocking him to the ground with a knee. He swung his giant blade down like an executioner, and Luwyn heard a distinctive crack.

Another guard yelled and charged, but the stranger flipped back gracefully, and swung his sword down with his landing, cleaving through the guards armor, into his shoulder. The guard sputtered and landed on the ground, writhing.

The remaining guards looked at the scene with dismay. Luwyn could see their eyes through their helmets. Fear froze them the same way it froze him just minutes before. The stranger lunged before with guards could run away and jabbed his sword threw one of their backs, the tip sticking out of his chestplate. The stranger lifted the guard’s body and tossed him aside and slashed his sword back around, toward the last three. The blade sailed in the air, and his body and connected with the necks of two guards. The last one managed to duck and clattered away in his armor.

The stranger cursed, and jiggled his sword. The blood slid off the blade of water off of down feathers, and dribbled onto grass. The stranger stalked toward Luwyn, his eyes fixed onto the arrow pointed at his check. Luwyn backed away, and Fila stirred behind him.

“Luwyn, what’s going on?” Fila said, rubbing her head.

Luwyn shrugged.

“I’m not entirely sure. We were ambushed by the king’s guards, but then this…” Luwyn looked the stranger up and down. He wanted to call him a man, but his grey skin and pointy ears and inhuman grace suggested otherwise.

“...guy, jumps out of the bushes and kills nearly all of them.”

The stranger let out a rye chuckle. “I saved your life. You should be grateful, you know,” he said. His voice was full and monotone, but musical, like one long note.

Luwyn lowered his arrow an inch. “P-put your sword away, then. I can’t be sure you won’t cleave us in half with that thing.”

The stranger snorted. He swung his sword up and around and sheathed it in a scabbard on his back. Luwyn looked closely at his clothes; his sleeveless tunic and tights were leather, but looked as if they were made of leaves. Thick leaves, bound together with beautiful threadlike vines, embroidered with elegant patterns.

“Satisfied?”

Luwyn nodded and lowered his bow slowly. He slid the arrow back in his quiver and stood. Fila grabbed Luwyn’s arm and hauled herself up and skipped gingerly toward the stranger. She bowed and grabbed his hand, shaking it furiously.

“Thank you!” she chimed. “Thank you for saving us. I didn’t get to see much of the display, but from what Luwyn tells me, and the carnage that surrounds us, it must have been delightfully entertaining.”

The stranger peaked around Fila, and looked at Luwyn. Luwyn shrugged and shook his head.

The stranger stepped sideways and toward Luwyn. “What brings you to the deepest parts of this forest? What is your name? And yours?” he said, nodding at Fila.

“My name is Luwyn,” Luwyn replied. “And this is Fila. What about you?”

“My name is Garu. And you’re welcome by the way. I never got any thanks from you,” he said, smirking at Luwyn.

Luwyn shot Garu a confused look. “Thank you, I suppose. You did save our lives, we would have ended up…” Luwyn nodded at guard whose shoulder Garu slashed through. He was still writhing and squirming just yards away.

Garu nodded. “Worse, probably. Seems King Liandros wants you minced.”

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Tags: @jtheseagoat @ourpasteldream @lady-redshield-writes @marewriteblr @starrywritingg @indecentpause (lemme know if you would like to be tagged/removed!)

[fusewrites]

The Blade of Arandus by @fusewrites

In the mythical kingdom of Siros, founded by the war god, Arandus, lives and works an orphan boy named Luwyn.

Luwyn was raised by a man named Ja’hal, who isn’t his father, and gives him no insight as to who he really is. After meeting a witch named Fila who Sees a prophecy that involves him and Arandus’s fabled axe, J’kul, and coming across old scrolls and books, Luwyn finds out that he is the long lost son of the former king, Miotus Arandus and his wife, Kya and his real name is Kyus Arandus. He believed that he would finally have a family, a place where he belonged.

When Luwyn goes to the current king, his brother, the flamboyant and tyrannical Liandros, he is dismissed and banished from Siros. He employs Fila, and a mercenary named Garu, to help him find J’kul and take back Siros.

as per this post,

reblog this and tell me about your WIP!

[fusewrites]

creating a language so i’m learning french, swahili, japanese and high valyrian on duolingo lolol

[fusewrites]

The Blade of Arandus Snippet:

Arandus, God of War & Rossu, God of Peace

Arandus gripped his axe, Nazul. It’s golden eye peeked up at him through cracks in the bark near the blade. A slab of gold from the sun, bathed in the light of his mother, the moon. Arandus forged it just as his father had forged him so long ago. In his rage, Arandus named the axe Nazul, or “Wrath”. That was the beginning of this war. He didn’t feel so wrathful right now, just tired.

Arandus looked to his cousin. Rossu stood next to him, his chest rose and fell steadily. His crimson red hair and skin glistened with divine sweat, his armor peeled away, and his arms and shoulder bare. He held his giant saber in his hands. The blade was huge, as wide as the god’s muscled leg, and longer than he was tall. The metal gleamed scarlet, forged from the innards of a volcano, and bathed in the magma. He named it Efir o’Rossu, “Rossu’s Fire.”

Arandus remembered a time when they were young gods, hair barely on their chins, batting together in the name of justice. There was the rare occasion when peace god Rossu, would clean up the squabbles his war god cousin would start. Now they stood together on the battlefield that might be their last.

Arandus sighed. He missed his home in the heavens, Orthu, and his brothers. His family. Each night, he looked up into the sky and stared at his mother until morning.

“Rossu.”

The Red God grunted a response.

“How many times have we done this?”

Rossu blinked, a clear sign that he was thinking, quite deeply. “Somewhere around five billion, seventeen thousand, three hundred and fifty five. Plus that skirmish with my mother.” He shivered.

Arandus bellowed laughter, the hearty sound echoed across the field. “Leave it to the son of the Sofos the Wise to remember all of our battles, to fear of Rosiag, Torturer of Souls.” He paused.

The horde of vile monsters of the Void waited across the battlefield. They slashed their claws and flashed vicious fangs at Arandus and Rossu, eyes burning with black fire. Their hideous shadowy bodies writhed and hummed with anger. They stood around Oni, several times even the old god’s size, who towered over his nephews. He held a hand in the air, holding his army in place.

Oni’s black mane flowed in the wind, his ruddy grey skin glistening with his power stolen from the sun. His armor was black and gold, emblazoned with runes exclaiming his grace and strength. Oni twirled his spear in his other hand, the golden blade long and wicked. Arandus huffed and glared into his uncle’s onyx eyes.

Arandus chuckled. “We may die here today, Cousin,” he said. Rossu nodded. The God of Peace was never wasteful with his words.

“Shall we make it worth it?”

Rossu nodded again. He swung Efir around his head and slammed it into the ground. The earth separated at his feat, magma bubbling to the surface. The magma rose and morphed, and dryed into the shape of red molten rock warriors, each equipped with swords and axes, maces and spears. They let out guttural sounds that boomed across the field, then charged, hooping and flaying their weapons.

Oni raised his spear, gesturing for his monsters to charge in return, a devilish wrapped grin across his face.

Arandus took a deep breath, then he and Rossu lunged, weapons raised high. They let out a battle cry and crashed through the army of monsters, moving for Oni.

“You took my father from me,” Arandus yelled, sliding underneath a large wolf shaped creature, slashing the length of its belly with his axe. “You took my mother, my home.”

Arandus hopped up and spun, slicing off the head of a tall shadowy figure behind him. He grabbed the limp body and slammed it into another monster. He hacked at the ground, and Nazul’s blade gouged into the soil. He propelled himself through the frey, his eyes locked into Oni.

“For that, Oni, you will feel my wrath!”

Tags: @jtheseagoat @ourpasteldream @lady-redshield-writes @marewriteblr @starrywritingg @indecentpause @night--crawler @thewriteblrarchives @avatarthelastchickentender @atbwrites (lemme know if you would like to be tagged/removed!)

[fusewrites]

this is the roughest sketch ever, but this is how I picture Nazul, the mythical axe forged and wielded by Luwyn’s ancestor and the God of War, Arandus.

Tags: @jtheseagoat @ourpasteldream @lady-redshield-writes @marewriteblr @starrywritingg @indecentpause @night--crawler @thewriteblrarchives @avatarthelastchickentender @atbwrites (lemme know if you would like to be tagged/removed!)

[fusewrites]

The Blade of Arandus Character Intro:

Arandus Solandusiir, God of War, Fortune and Thieves, 1st King of Siros

“I want to show you what happened the day Arandus snuck into Oru’kai and stole a branch to complete the great axe he forged, nazul,” Jorr said. “I will show you here.”

She waved her hand, and the air in front of them started to turn in on itself. The leaves dulled in color and the sky glowed any eerie grey.

In front of them, instantly, was Jorr. She was mounted atop a huge green elk covered in moss and mushrooms. Luwyn faintly recognized it from her camp. Jorr looked young and less worn. The white of her skin shone like moonlight and her emerald eyes glinted with anger. She had a huge, knocked arrow aimed at Arandus.

This was no statue, no painting or drawing. This was what Luwyn’s ancestor looked like and he took all of him in. Luwyn first noticed how beautiful he was. His appearance didn’t differ much from the statue in his temple or in Siros; his golden skin shimmered in the faint light. His curls bounced like gold chain links whenever he spoke. His eyes were like pools of amber and his jaw was strong and square. Though he knelt before Jorr, Luwyn could tell that Arandus was much larger than her, and maybe two heads taller. His muscles bulged in thick straps under a gold and bronze leather tunic. He was clad in heavy gold boots and gold tights; a casual outfit, not suited for battle. A dozen arrows with red tips stuck out from all over his body. His golden blood trickled down and stained the grass.

“Having the same enemy doesn’t make us friends, allies or comrades,” the past Jorr said, annoyed. Her huge green eyes were dim and peered down at Arandus with an incredible amount of disinterest. Her mount shifted beneath her.

Arandus shuffled his foot. “Jorr—sister—your brothers and I need your help. We must find a home. Should I remind you whose father it was that killed our father, took our home at Orthu and took our own mother as his prize?”

Jorr’s eyes flashed with anger. “We’re only have siblings.”

Arandus continued, “Oni. The Void, The Ursuper, Isanisarnath, masquerading as the Sun. Your father. You know that he raped her, our mother. I’m not sure if that is how you came about, little sister, but Bulugoba, definitely—”

“Enough!” Jorr interrupted. With a wave of her hand, her elk thrusted her sharp, foliage ridden antlers at Arandus’s throat. “You do not speak of my mother that way. You do not speak of Oni here. Not in this forest, not in any.”

“Anwe was my mother first, and will always be,” Arandus barked, though he stayed eerily calm. “Don’t you know that I am chiseled from gold, sister? You can never really cut me.”

His shoulder began to shake and writhe, the divine bones shifting underneath his golden skin. Arandus looked Jorr in her eyes as a solid gold hilt jutted from somewhere near his neck. Arandus grasped the handle and pulled until a giant, solid gold axe appeared. The blade was as large as his head and had a wicked curve. Nazul. The arrows popped out of his body and his wounds healed instantly. Arandus stretched his large muscles and swung nazul around, extending it towards Jorr.

“I am Arandus Solandusiir, the god of war and bounty and fortune, eldest son of the old god Solandus, Isanisaris, the real Sun. You cannot fight me and win, Huntress, especially not while I wield nazul. You will not stop me. I will cut down every forest, ravage every plane, and drain every ocean to make a home for my brothers and I if I must. But I do not want to. Spawn of Oni or not, you are still a child of Anwe. And you hate your father as much as I do. Help me, sister. Do not fight me.”

Jorr waved her hand again and the elk relaxed. She ran her long fingers across her bald, moss covered head, and shot Arandus a challenging, inquisitive glare.

“Arandus reminded me of her, faintly,” present Jorr said to Luwyn. “My mother, Anwe. Supplant her pale, white gold hair with his gold laden curls and she could very clearing see the resemblance. But in the end, Arandus shared a face with the old god I’ve never met, his father.”

“We all look like our fathers, in some way, don’t we?” present Jorr asked no one in the god-tongue, staring at the imagine thoughtfully.

Luwyn looked back to the past Arandus and Jorr.

Arandus lowered nazul slowly, and planted its hilt into the ground. “We cannot do this alone. I made this weapon to defeat Oni, which means through it, you will have also be responsible for bringing the Usurper to his demise. Help us, please.”

The image faded away and Jorr turned to Luwyn.

“I let him have the branch, partly because he already took it. But mostly, because I knew it was the right thing to do. I hate Oni,” Jorr said, her voice shaking. “I hate that I have no choice but to think of him as my father. Do you know why Jorr the Huntress is bald? I saw my father too much in that black hair I was born with. So I cut it.” She rubbed her hand over her smooth, shiny head.

“I wanted Arandus to strike him down. I prayed to my mother for it. They day I heard that Arandus had fallen, was the only day I have cried in this long life. I felt like I let him down. Should I have picked a better branch? Should I have left this damned forest to aid him in battle? I will never know. But I do know that I can help you. I will stand by your side on the battlefield if you would have me.”

She knelt down so that their faces were close. “I need you now, Luwyn Arandus.”

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[fusewrites]

The Blade of Arandus snippet:

The Story of Iassa

(told by Fila, to Luwyn)

“You know,” Luwyn started. “Your magic is beautiful and incredible. A bit scary sometimes, but beautiful nonetheless. How do you do all of those amazing things? Controlling the mud and dirt, creating a prophecy out of demonic rotten hair and bear claws and green fire, healing me and yourself. How do you do it?”

Fila shrugged. “It’s beyond my comprehension. I am gifted and blessed and I do not take this gift for granted. I appreciate my power, so maybe it just appreciates me back,” she replied with a giggled. Luwyn chuckled back.

Fila stared blankly into the distance for a moment, then asked, “Would you like to hear how magic came about? The true origin of all the magic in the world?”

Luwyn quickly sat up so that Fila’s head was in his lap and he looked down at her. “Go for it,” he said, truly intrigued.

“Ok, ok. Long ago there was a god named Iassa. He was the third of the old sun god, Solandus’s, four sons. You know of his brothers, Arandus, Torsu...”

Luwyn nodded quickly. “And Luwyn. I’m named for him, apparently.”

Fila’s eyes opened wide. “Interesting! Anyway, Iassa was a trickster god, and enjoyed mischief and games. After Solandus was cut down, and his sons chased out of the heavens, Iassa grew cynical and closed off from the world, even his brothers. Iassa eventually left his kin, and travelled the world alone.”

“During his travels, he learned to apply his power and condense it, and channel it through words and movements. Iassa learned that he could harness the power of the old gods, the elements themselves and much more. He labeled this new power mak’ia. Overtime, Iassa recorded and collected his many, many accomplishments and findings into thousands of grimoires. Eventually, mankind caught wind of Iassa’s research and sought offer his guidance. At first, Iassa refused, but after he met a beautiful woman named Osera, he gave in and taught her and many others mak’ia. Iassa has to give a little bit of his power, a bit of himself every time he taught someone mak’ia. It drained him, but at the same time, it fulfilled him. Iassa loved giving himself and helping others with his power and enlightening others. The more he gave of himself, the more it diluted his divinity and immortality.”

“And then what?” Luwyn asked.

“Then, he became mortal,” Fila said, shrugging.

“His life was long, longer than any natural mortal being, but he sacrificed it for his passion. He met the love of his life through mak’ia and created a purpose for himself. When Iassa died, his body faded into mist and it sparked into every crack in the earth, every wind current and wave and some living creatures. Through mak’ia, Iassa is responsible for all of the mystical, wonderous and terrifying creatures and beasts that walk the earth, like dragons and demons and elves and ogres. It was passed down and inherited, mutated nature and created beautiful and terrifying and mystical things and became what we now call magic.”

“So,” Luwyn started, pondering. “Magic is just Iassa’s life force?”

Fila laughed and sat up, making it hard for Luwyn to look her in the eye. “In layman's terms, yes.”

She rolled off of the bed and strolled across the room. She barely pulled on her robes, so that her bare torso was fully exposed and grabbed a large package next to the doorway. It was wrapped in canvas and twine.

“Here is your meat,” Fila chimed. “It would be best if you go now, though. I have more work to do and must be left alone.”

Luwyn was surprised by her shortness. He crawled to edge of the bed and grabbed her hand. “What do you mean? You don’t want me to stay?”

“Not particularly, no,” Fila replied, a small smile still on her face.

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[fusewrites]

The Blade of Arandus Clip:

Luwyn, Fila & Garu vs. Leli

“So this is Leli,” Garu groaned and unsheathed his claymore. “How nice of Vojamarsi to drop us off in front of our immediate doom.” He swung the sword around and stepped forward, in front of Luwyn. Luwyn stepped around Garu, his dagger drawn.

“And what do you suppose you’ll do with that?”

Luwyn stuck his chin out. “I will fight, Garu. You’re not always going to protect me, I’ll have to look out for myself at some point.”

Garu blinked, his face blank. “You’re a wild one, King Lu,” he said, grinning. He twirled his sword around and dipped into a fighting stance. “Let’s try something, shall we?”

Garu took a deep breath. He put two fingers to his lips and whispered.

“Iloarch shi imnori arahar.”

Luwyn didn’t recognize the language. The words were elegant like the god-tongue, but lighter and more elaborate.

“It’s elvish,” Fila whispered. “Particularly Ursiac, the Mountain Elf dialect.”

Luwyn watched on in wonder as Garu’s body went completely still.

Garu’s fingers glowed blue when he spoke the words. He pressed his fingers into the blade, and repeated the words, his voice rising into a chant.

“Iloarch shi imnori arahar!”

Garu slid his fingers down the blade, and a fierce blue stripe flared down the middle.

“This should help a bit,” Garu said.

Luwyn shook his head. “You never said you knew magic.”

“You never asked.”

“You no pass!” Leli wailed and bounded for them. He grew closer and closer until a giant stone foot loomed over them. Garu ducked, and flailed his sword above his head. The blade sliced the bottom of Leli’s rocky foot, and sparks fell down and sizzled in the grass.

Leli yelped and hopped back. The ground lurched as the golem bounced. He grabbed his foot and winced. “You hurt Leli!”

Garu smirked, The arm his sword arm glowed a dull blue, and black veins crawled up his forearm. He lifted the sword to Leli.

“The words of Erocunyr will sharpen a blade to its finest point,” Garu yelled up at Leli. “I can cut through diamonds and steel, what will I do to you, great Leli?”

Leli swung an arm down. Garu flipped back and slammed his blade down on a rocky finger, cutting straight through. The tip of Leli’s finger crashed to the ground. Leli howled, a terrible sound that filled the valley and rattled Luwyn’s bones. He brought down another arm and caught Garu’s side as he landed. Garu was thrown across the clearing, and sent rolling to the grass. He struggled to get up, and clutched his side.

Luwyn wanted to run to him, to help him, but Leli stood between them, and stared him down.

“Red! I hate red!”

Great, the giant rock god hates my hair, Luwyn thought.

Leli loped across the clearing for Luwyn. Luwyn hopped back and ran around the clearing, curving toward Garu. Fila stood yards away, hurling magic balls of mud and rock at Leli. The golem charged forward, unphased by Fila’s attacks.

“Is he not earth himself?” Luwyn called back. “Can’t you magically rip his head off?”

“It’s not that easy!” Fila called back. “This is a sentient, ancient being. Ancient can either mean incredibly brittle, or incredibly powerful. This one happens to be the latter!”

Luwyn thought for a moment. Ancient. He thought of the words Garu used, the words Fila used. He knew words too; he knew a language only a select few, including the gods spoke. Luwyn turned and puffed out his chest, and held out his dagger. He stood on a little hill and faced Leli. Something swirled inside of him. It filled his belly and swirled around his chest. He hardly heard Fila’s protests for him to run, or Leli’s murderous shouts. His chin quivered. His throat was warm.

“Me use’o Isanar,” he called out. “I am a child of the gods! Like you! Me unarc arin a Siros, me unarc sar a Siros! I am the rightful heir and king of Siros!”

Leli charged forward still.

“Isanusar ulu avi taran, taran a vi a ulu omia isanusar,” Luwyn called out the words inscribed on his dagger. His father’s dagger. “The Godking is every blade. And every blade is the Godking’s!”

The dagger glowed white and morphed in Luwyn’s hand. The blade stretched, long like a sabor. It was smaller and sleeker than Garu’s claymore, but Luwyn still felt the heft in his hand. The etching swirled around the golden blade like vines and a roaring lion was carved into the bronze hilt. Something still bubbled in Luwyn, and it urged his legs forward.

Luwyn rushed Leli. The golem halted, his fiery eyes were wide and afraid. Haunted. Luwyn ran up to the golem, and sliced across his knee. Leli howled in pain and fell back.

“You will not stand in my way,” Luwyn growled, his blade pointed at Leli. “I will enter Oru’kai.”

A bolder crashed against the back of Leli’s head, and Fila came soaring around his shoulders on a floating mound of mud.

“Ir e nira for roz!”

The earth around Leli trembled and four rock pillars lurched upward. They wrapped around his limbs and held them like tendrils. Fila controlled the tendrils with her fingers, and then balled her fists. The rock tendrils crashed down, pinning Leli into the ground.

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[fusewrites]

I’m about to post FOUR snippets and I’m hype as fuck about it

[fusewrites]

The Blade of Arandus Character Intro:

Jorr, Goddess of the Hunt and Guardian of Oru’kai

The mud marionettes stopped battling and felt back to the ground. Fila was panting as soon as she finished her story.

Garu clapped sarcastically. “That was wonderful—oof!”

An arrow zipped through the air and nailed Garu in his shoulder so hard he flew back. The arrow was large and made of dark, burgundy wood, with a purple stone arrowhead. Blood ran down Garu’s arm and he tried to stand, but the right side of his body was completely limp. His eyelid sagged shut and the corner of his mouth hung. His arm and leg were useless noodles and he struggled to hold himself up. He tried to speak but his voice came out in gurgles and grunts.

Another arrow struck Fila in her thigh, this time with a blue arrowhead. Fila waited for herself to go limp, but it never happened. A spell snapped from her lips and she waved her hand their attacker’s direction. Nothing happened. She tried another spell and hand movement, and still nothing worked. Fila looked back at Luwyn, her eyes wide and frantic with fear.

“My magic is gone!” she wailed, tears falling down her cheeks.

An arrow flew by Luwyn’s ear, but he ducked and rolled down a small hill, out of the way. He stood and crawled back up the ridge to see someone looming over Garu and Fila.

He couldn’t tell if it were a man or woman; they were bald and their facial features were severe, yet soft and beautiful. They were inhumanly tall and, nearly twice Luwyn’s height and their body wrapped with thin muscle. They wore layers of green and brown furs and leaves and their dazzling, marble white face was hooded and painted with mud and moss. They used a log strapped to their back as a quiver and carried a bundle of human length arrows. The attacker knelt down and examined them. They ripped the arrows from Garu and Fila’s flesh, and threw a large net made of vines over them.

“I am Jorr, the Huntress,” she said. “You are trespassing on hallowed and scared land.” Jorr’s voice was booming and mesmerizing. She sniffed and looked it into the trees.

“There is a third,” Jorr said finally. “I will return for you! You have no business being here. You may try to retrieve your friends, but god’s help you if you do.” Jorr galloped into the trees and disappeared.

Luwyn hopped out of his hiding space and drew his dagger.

“I’ll cut you free,” he said. But every time he managed to break the surprisingly tough vine, it sewed itself back together. There was a loud whistle that echoed through the forest. The long vine at the end of the net started to reel in, until it pulled taut and the net tightened around Garu and Fila and they were dragged away into the forest.

Luwyn tried to keep up with them, but whatever was pulling them went at speeds he couldn’t think of keeping up with. He peered past the net and saw the bald attacker riding away on what looked like a giant green elk, but he wasn’t sure, it was too dark.

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[fusewrites]

The Blade of Arandus Character Intro:

Liandros Arandus I, 101st King of Siros

The Royal Guard stalked about, all large and brooding adorned in black armor, snooping behind stalls, pushing through the crowds and posted on every corner. They each had grim black eyes that glowered down at the citizens with disdain.

Luwyn could see a few clustered together, protecting whatever was between them from old ladies and beggars that flocked around. They turned and marched straight for Luwyn. In the center of their formation strolled the king, Liandros.

Liandros was an imposing figure, even among the Guard. He looked several years older than Luwyn, but he was handsome, with a youthful glow. Tall and well built, with striking blue eyes. He dressed in fancy blue riding clothes, wrapped in a brilliant purple cape with blue butterflies embroidered throughout, clasped with a diamond moth brooch. His golden curls were tamed by the same ruby emblazoned golden circlet and he wore a sour, smug expression. Little blue butterflies floated and swirled around his head.

Liandros turned and examined Luwyn up and down and tapped his chin with one finger. He gestured for Luwyn to approach, and Luwyn nearly jumped out of his skin. He scuttled over to Liandros, ducking his head.  

“What is your name, boy?” Liandros asked. Luwyn had only seen the king once, and was pleasantly surprised to hear his voice. It was full, but lithe and silky, with a noble old Sirosi accent and a bit of femininity.

Luwyn had been holding his breath and released it in a whoosh of warm, damp air onto the king’s chin. Liandros frowned.

“M-my name is Luwyn,” Luwyn said, ducking his head again. His cheeks were hot and he could feel sweat starting to trickle down his forehead. His eyes shot open and he bowed awkwardly, wishing he could ram his head into the dirt.

Liandros gave a short, snide chuckle.

“Luwyn,” Liandros mouthed his name obnoxiously. “Why give a rat a god’s name?” he asked his guards. Luwyn peered at Liandros.

The king had addressed his guards, and insulted Luwyn, but not in the common tongue, Luwyn realized. It wasn’t god-tongue either, but something in between. Old Sirosi, he remembered from Jahal’s ramblings. He also remembered Jahal’s warning.

Be careful around him

“Anyway,” Liandros continued, breaking Luwyn’s concentration. “Why are you so damn filthy?”

“I was...uh,” Luwyn started but he didn’t know how to finish. But the king’s wide, impatient eyes and cocked head told Luwyn that he should think of something quickly. “I was hunting a stag. I thought that I killed it, but when I knelt to skin it, it hopped up. I tried to wrestle with it, but it got away,” Luwyn lied, kicking at the dirt.

Liandros seemed completely uninterested and looked into the distance just passed Luwyn and droned, “How unfortunate. Well, clean up, will you.” And with that, he continued strolling around scowling at the common folk. The butterflies trailed behind him. Luwyn didn’t know if it were a coincidence or the king’s magic.

___________________

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