In the wake of the last days of the last war the people rejoiced. The people thought the days of trouble were over. They thought wrong. As the time of wars ended a new time of pestilence and plague began. The people came to call the time of wars a golden age. When men were heroes and there was never a man who couldn�t find his way in life. But now peace brought new troubles. The soldiers returned home to find their farms worked by new men. Food was plentiful in the first days, but only for those who could work. After time men who lived by the sword, returned to the sword to make their living. Those who fought for their country and were left homeless banded together to form some of the most successful of bandit guilds and began to take their livelyhood from those who they fought to protect.

That sounds like an interesting start to something....actually, when I was reading it, I thought it sounded like an intro to an rpg. If you have rpg maker or something like that, you might have a game on your hands! :p But anyways, I think it needs a little more in the way of content (not that it wasn't well written- it was- it just was a little brief) and you have quite the story on your hands. Whatever you use it for, I'm sure it'll turn out great.

.....The two men stare at each over five spans. They know what they are there for and they know they know thier destiny. One will strike the other will reply. They shall tangle as brothers, as lovers, as one soul with one goal. They both will fight, they will love each other, they shall form the bond that will never be broken, and no matter the out come they will both rule the land.
They will become one man with two bodies. In the end thier struggle will not be over which man will rule, but which vessel shall carry on. In the end one man walks on, and an empty shell lies in the wake.

I remember when you showed me 'The Wake' that one night, so you know what I think about it, and I got to give you mad props on 'The Dual' son, and I only had to leave it once, your right, very deep and poetic

The pass through the mountains can only be crossed for a few short weeks during the summer months. The rest of the year it is covered by snow and ice. The people of Antala could survive only by trading their precious wares, so every year at the peak of summer the traders of Antala set out and return. Their quest last one year, and a bad deal good mean death for the people. So hence lays the best secret in Antala, they are not a race of traders, but a race of bandits. Each year they set out and fall upon the lands of the south. They prey upon the caravans of honest people, so that their race can thrive. The lands of the south don�t know their story, and the people of Antala don�t know how they are hated in the south lands. A great and peaceful race rises in its secluded valley, growing a society that does not know that they live off the pain of others.

I still maintain that you are a far, far better writer then I am. You manage to create a more detailed world in a paragraph then I could in pages. I'd love to collaborate with you in Tridex, if only to hone in on some of that talent...

We are a different breed, we are writters, some of us express our talent in different ways. Some concentrate on being vile and evil, some want to be indept and profound. And most believe I am of the later, But if there is any talent running from my soul to my hands, it is just that, I dont' care if what I write passes the approval of other when I write it, I must I like it after the fact, but when I write, I pute onto paper of onto the computer the thoughts that have swirled in my mind, I am not an artist, I am the tool ofj a chaotic mind, I am a messenger.



Terra is god, All hail Terra.

That is all any of us are my friend, messangers answering only to ourselves opening up to the world our very souls in the form of verse and words, weaving together something maybe no one else will ever truly understand or enjoy. But it is ours, and we are only what we are born to be. Chaos, living chaos. . .

The Captain looks with weary eyes down the sleek lines of the mana ship FireStorm. He grows tired, for once he fought other great manaships to build his name, and now he fight pirates. Today he kills but five, but tommorrow, how many will follow, thier numbers seem to forever grow, and they fight with more and more desperation, and more and more people come to call apon them to survive.
The port cannons fire off two more beams of engergy from the mana core, two more ships of men who only wish to feed thier families, burn and are destined for the deep. They must know that there is point there are too many Mana ships left, and too few warships that can raid upon the merchantmen that they protect.
Gaurd Dogs, thats all we are, The captain returns to his brooding and waits for the next call. It won't be long until his carreer is over too, and he too must scronge through to scraps of society and find his spot, and maybe he too The great Samuel Vinya, will be forced to pirate again.

I know almost a year has gone by since my last post, but there are reasons for all things in life. We Roam this would with no destination or visible end to our quests. We handle one task then move along to the next, and then the next. And so on and so forth. This is not a spill or an excuse this is the answere to my few friends who have emailed me and asked of my future plans and if they return to the shrine. To be honest I never planned to leave. So I cannot tell anyone if I plan to return. A plan can fail so I have abandoned them long ago. No I just drift and live, and that is the way it should be. For if you do not live. You cannot write, and If I cannot write I might as well not live. I know my few brief stories and partials are the only things many have seen from me in a long time, but I have not been overly moved to write in a long time.