Category: Patriklironomicon

sample #2 with notes.

The man in the black kimono waited for the elf king to die with honor, and even offered him a knife, to carve out his guts and incriminate himself.

“Here, have my dagger, it can hasten your untimely death”.

The elf king smiled. He fell to his knees and conserved his strength. He did not want to die quickly.

“For four hundred years, no elf has died in a war. Our magic and our solitude have kept us safe. How are you so certain I will die?”

At that, the man in the black kimono lifted his unsheathed sword, a great bastard looking sword, longer than the common kitana of his people. He wielded it in both hands and grasped the long, glittering, jeweled hilt in both hands.

“This sword … is magick. There is a demon in it. It thirsts for elven blood.”

The elf looked at his wounds, mere glances, yet already, black bile had magically surrounded the wounds. He thought briefly on the situation.

“What is this? Magical Poison?”
“I die without honor, therefore.”

Suddenly, there were tears in the man in the black kimono’s eyes.

“We were too cocky…” he stated, as a matter of fact.

“Tell me…” the Elf King said, suddenly strong again, though only briefly. Then, he felt rather tired, and with one hand on the ground, sat himself down to die.

“Who gave you this sword? Was it an elf? I would know his name.”

It was the man in the black kimono’s turn to smile.

“The time for talking is over. Now that you’re kneeling down, I might behead you, and save you some small dignity.”

“Tell me! Tell me his name! Who gave you this sword?”

The Elf King thought on his short reign – several millennia, during which he had not fathered a son. Ever elusive and rather difficult… He only had one daughter …

“There will be a war, a-now…” he trailed off, and spat black blood.

“Promise me, stranger. Do not kill my daughter.” Black blood gathered at the corners of his mouth. He spat.

“She is the last of her kind … mayhaps, one day, she might have a son …”

The man in the black kimono was wary.

“Promise me! And I offer you my head.”

“Very well.“You have my word. The Kuroki clan will never harm her.”

The man in the black kimono did not say these words lightly, and took his promise to heart.

But the elf was clearly dying and took no heed, though he tried to smile. He was foaming at the mouth. A vile cloud of black surrounded his wounds. He retched as the magick of the blade ate at his innards.

“Are you ready?” the man in the black kimono said, and, not wanting to spare him any more dignity, without further warning and with one brief strike, the man in the black Kimono beheaded him.

—
Notes: April 27-28. 12:15am+

I like the idea for this scene: but I find that the dialogue could probably use a polish. Just a grazing wound kills the elf king. I want to emphasize that a little more. Things I’m looking to work on: perhaps show the fight scene, which I tend to avoid for now. I find fight scenes awesome in movies, but awful in books. I sped up the action and only ever showed the conclusion. It’s short, concise and tries to be to the point. That’s the good news. The bad news is that the writing, well, kinda sucks. But the idea is good. On to the next scene, the next idea, and we’ll leave this for subsequent drafts for sure (I’m a man of two, three and even four drafts. I’m just getting ideas down for now and I’ll polish in the subsequent drafts).

The Good: The man in the black kimono sounds badass and should be mysterious, with a demon sword no-less.

The Bad: The elf king slouches over and dies like a wuss.

The Ugly: I write quickly, and don’t care for errors. On to the next scene, and I’ll fix this in subsequent drafts once I have a complete story of many scenes.

Written: Wednesday 27 April 2022. 11:40pm+ “Thursday Morning”

—
2.0 “notes for subsequent drafts”

-The elf king retched. “Die with dignity!”
-possible alternative: “His soul exited his mouth and entered the Demon Sword’s blade.”
-“This is my avatar: my host. I am older than the oldest elven king” the demon blade spoke in his head.

I like the idea of a talking sword. Many magical weapons talk in my stories, especially those of some importance. This is a throwback to old-school Dungeons and Dragons, I suppose. I might expand on this … theme?

She drank the tea, but not too eagerly, though she was thirsty and curious. It had been a fortnight since Nana read the cups, and what else was there to do, in these uncertain times, but worry about the future?

Perhaps the cups would bring her bad omens, and the nightmares would start again. Nana did not know of the nightmares, she never told anyone about them, for fear of being cast off as weak or insubordinate. Men didn’t have nightmares. Men were soldiers. She would grow one day to be a fine young man. She would sit on the throne of her father. She would be an elf prince and no longer a woman. Oh, how she wished it were so. For now, she must weather the storm and become strong.

Finally, the cups were drunk and nana took a peek at the bottoms and smiled. 

“A wish that is in your heart will be granted”

X smiled in secret joy. “Would that it be so”

Just then, the soldier came in from the field. His helmet was flung off in frustration, and she could see his long, lanky light hair brushing against his shoulders. For not the last time, X wondered why her father had chosen a young boy, not even yet a man, to be her lifelong companion and guard her. This boy couldn’t even properly fit into his armor.

“Why this boy?” She grumbled to nana “Why not a knight or even a soldier?” She looked at him approaching.

It was nana’s turn to smile. “When you’re older, you’ll know more of these things than the leaves could ever tell you. For now, be happy that your cups didn’t foretell nightmares!” she said wistfully, as if the old soothsayer knew far more than she let on.

But before X could question her, the boy nearly broke through the door. “We need to go. Now.” He plopped on his oversized helmet and gripped the sword at his side.

X had been secretly prepared. She always was. She grabbed her things quickly, then fled.

—
notes: This is my first time writing fantasy. Heck this is the first scene i’ve constructed. It has some flaws and errors, which I would hope are minor and fixable in a second, third, even a fourth draft. I anticipate many drafts, at least two, maybe three, possibly four.

In the first draft I just sort of write stuff down and hope it’s coherent enough to edit. In the third or fourth drafts I’ll connect all the dots and revise; perhaps even finish the novel. At least, that’s what I’m thinking.

Maybe I should practice writing more, and editing less. But at any rate, I’m a novice.

decades of reading and I can barely write a novel. For shame!

To Arms! For Art’s Sake!

PS: One thing I’m worried about, when posting online, is that I somehow lose the right to print said work in a novel and publish it. I would hope this isn’t the case, and that this will be deemed a “sample”. You’re welcome 😉

Steve Mini from the 6.

2.0

I didn’t realize this, (this is how novice I am), but I was reading that each scene is supposed to have a conflict. Maybe Nana and “X” (yet unnamed) can argue a little, so I can show that there is some struggle and a scene goal. The main character aught to fail this goal, and struggle with another conflict or scene goal in the next scene or chapter. At least, I think that’s how things should work. I’m hopeless. But this is a start.

There’s only one way to learn how to write. To be a writer you actually do have to write a little, is what I’ve realized after all these years. I need to write, and fail, and write again some more. Stay tuned, I’ll post some samples with notes!