So in high school, I made an role playing game. Custom die system and everything. Friends loved it, and it went through many revisions. The original story arc of the 3rd edition, has got to be my favorite one of all time. So I was inspired to start writing a book on it. So tell me if I have anything good here. I don't mean to be a kiss ass but I defintely appreciate the thoughts of Monkeystyle, Moonlight Drive, Sex Power and anyone else who has a knack for reading and writing to tell me if this is something worth reading, or weather I am just chasing pipe dreams.
Genre: Science Fiction/Fantasy
Basic Story: There are 4 heroes who have been blessed at birth with 4 different elements of Aqua, Pyra, Aera & Gaea. They are unaware of this blessing, and have lived lives thus far in vastly different paths. But there is a Pillar of Destiny that is hidden in Gaea's Yewood, that is said to be able to unlock the imbued traits of these elements. Multiple factions are looking for this Pillar, so that they may find a way to control its power of unlocking hidden potential. It is said that the four heroes will join forces in the day of reckoning, and bind together to create the ultimate spell to defeat the reign of darkness before all life is lost to the Abyss. This is the story of the four heroes and their journey.
Champions Of War
Book #1: Pillar Of Destiny
By Quinten James (pen name, real name is James Milligan)
Chapter #1: Vincent Talon, Humble Hero
It's been a hard life, if I say so myself. What I mean is, overall people, the economy, military, government, production, its all been running smoothly.But as for me? I am a wanderer. All my life the idea of walking alone has been beaten into me. Not that I wish to walk the path of least resistance, hell no. But I find it best that I have no extra baggage, let me explain.
Several years ago, it was a surprisingly comfortable late Autumn. You usually figure its pretty cold around that time of year, but not so here. It must of been an omen, like mother earth giving me one last comfortable breeze upon my face. One last pleasant rustling of the golden fallen leaves near my ears. One last glimmering clash of oranges, pinks and blues from the setting sun. A gift, before my life became so much of a struggle for survival that my senses are now more attuned to detecting danger rather than enjoying peace.
But I digress. I was young, and could not fully grasp the importance of the strange visits from armor clad individuals coming into my families village and homes. But from what I have discovered is that apparently a contingent of barbarians had wished to possess the resources and labor from my family. Naturally, not being ones to fall to slavery, we had refused. My father was always a proud man, and that day, we paid the price of pride.
It had all happened so quickly, I was actually reparing and enchanting a mechanical blade in my room when I first heard the screams. Almost instantaneously, the burning scent of charcoaled wood and fiery crackling of rooftops was all too apparent. Followed by a rather quick, decisive and utterly cruel hostile takeover.
Before I even had a chance to know what was going on, I knew the seige was virtually over. I never had considered myself a great fighter, I was only repairing the Shot Blade for my father as a part of my training to actually become a warrior in the first place. "Know the blade before you know the enemy" he always said. Unfortunately, I was to be acquainted with my enemy far sooner than expected.
I nearly fell to my doom as I rushed to the aid of my friends as I slipped on a streak of blood splashed on the cobblestones outside our home. Upon my fall I was almost impaled by the pike of an oncoming beserker. His hellacious screams of bloodlust frightened me more than I could of imagined real combat to be. And yet, as if guided by an imperial hand of fate, I pivoted to the left. The bulk of my Shot Blade seemingly just moments before too much a burden to carry, suddenly shot up with my arm at the prospect of battle. With miraculously ease a sputtering of electric sparks as well as the elemental lacings of Aqua from what I can only assume were inner magic imbuements into my blade, burst into life. My counter was swift, and provided a gruesome yet dazzling end to the charging maniac. My first triumph!
I took a silent prayer of thanks for the blessings of combat mastery, only to be humbled once more by the powers of fate. The rest of the raiders descended upon me and tackled me to the dirt and blood mud mixed stone street way. Searing pain shot through my arms and shoulders as I was pinned by white hot iron tipped spears to the softened earth below. Before I allowed my head to turn back to my now burning former home where I was raised from birth. I became fixated on the horror that was the source of the very streak of blood I had slipped upon moments prior. My father, my hero, the protector, impaled upon the structre of our home. Mockingly raised as if a morbid ornament for a memorial of warriors.
I did not see my mother or sister, but my eyes had burned with enough vengeance for my father. Over all else, my pain in my bones and of my heart, I vowed to avenge his death. In a herculean feat of valor, I pushed off my entrapments and fought as valiantly as I could. Until once again it seemes as if I was cursed with only temporary moments of dominance.
The largest of all men approached. The very ground upon which he traveled trembled beneath his enormously toned and muscled frame. And yet for his bodily strength, his facial features showed the wear of ages. Harsh and lined with wrinkled cheeks and furrowed brow, his balding auburn hair betrayed a sense of youth. Fur boots of browns and grey rose up amongst his armor and shoulder pads. Carrying an astonishingly large Martel De Fir, he was the leader of these barbaric tribesmen. Before I could even fully respond I felt the crushing weight of the wooden mallet splinter against my chest cavity, and I was brought to the ground sputtering blood uncontrollably.
The menacing figure stood above me, as if ready to finish off his unworthy challenge. If only that were true, as my fate was far worse. I still remember his harsh, gutteral words of mock pity and triumph.
"Little man, you are far too weak to live up to your fathers name". He pointed towards the impaled cadaver of my once proud father, before bellowing a deep echoing laugh and resuming his taunting victory.
"Just as he hangs in glorious defeat in death, you lay sniveling like a coward! We leave you now in shame! I expect you to follow me, hunt me like a dog. Until you are strong enough to match me in battle! Never forget the name, Koskovich! Murderer of your comrades, reaper of your family. Go now, I will be waiting! Hah!"
As the barbarian giant took his leave with his men, I too struggeld to escape the burning wreckage of my village. Dragging the malfunctioned Shot Blade along my side, I sought refuge from the chaos on the graveled hills above. As I lay on the grainy, ashy earth below, I looked down upon my home as the final blaze overtook my memories. I vowed to do exactly as Koskovich wished me to do. I would hunt him down to the end of days, and I would not stop until my victory was complete. This was my real test. I could not consider myself a warrior until I had defeated Koskovich.
That was several years ago, and I have been tracking him ever since. I walk alone in this journey, for I would be a fool to expect anyone to engage themselves in such a deadly and lonely road. Even now I look back upon that cold Autumn night, disbelief overwhelming as I still viewed my fallen village. My mission would start here. I would succeed not just for me. Not just for my father and friends. But most importantly, I would do everything I could to stop Koskovich from taking away the innocence of another child. The blood of another father, the hopes of another generation. Little did I know that my journey would encompass far more ground than anyone could of ever imagined.
Genre: Science Fiction/Fantasy
Basic Story: There are 4 heroes who have been blessed at birth with 4 different elements of Aqua, Pyra, Aera & Gaea. They are unaware of this blessing, and have lived lives thus far in vastly different paths. But there is a Pillar of Destiny that is hidden in Gaea's Yewood, that is said to be able to unlock the imbued traits of these elements. Multiple factions are looking for this Pillar, so that they may find a way to control its power of unlocking hidden potential. It is said that the four heroes will join forces in the day of reckoning, and bind together to create the ultimate spell to defeat the reign of darkness before all life is lost to the Abyss. This is the story of the four heroes and their journey.
Champions Of War
Book #1: Pillar Of Destiny
By Quinten James (pen name, real name is James Milligan)
Chapter #1: Vincent Talon, Humble Hero
It's been a hard life, if I say so myself. What I mean is, overall people, the economy, military, government, production, its all been running smoothly.But as for me? I am a wanderer. All my life the idea of walking alone has been beaten into me. Not that I wish to walk the path of least resistance, hell no. But I find it best that I have no extra baggage, let me explain.
Several years ago, it was a surprisingly comfortable late Autumn. You usually figure its pretty cold around that time of year, but not so here. It must of been an omen, like mother earth giving me one last comfortable breeze upon my face. One last pleasant rustling of the golden fallen leaves near my ears. One last glimmering clash of oranges, pinks and blues from the setting sun. A gift, before my life became so much of a struggle for survival that my senses are now more attuned to detecting danger rather than enjoying peace.
But I digress. I was young, and could not fully grasp the importance of the strange visits from armor clad individuals coming into my families village and homes. But from what I have discovered is that apparently a contingent of barbarians had wished to possess the resources and labor from my family. Naturally, not being ones to fall to slavery, we had refused. My father was always a proud man, and that day, we paid the price of pride.
It had all happened so quickly, I was actually reparing and enchanting a mechanical blade in my room when I first heard the screams. Almost instantaneously, the burning scent of charcoaled wood and fiery crackling of rooftops was all too apparent. Followed by a rather quick, decisive and utterly cruel hostile takeover.
Before I even had a chance to know what was going on, I knew the seige was virtually over. I never had considered myself a great fighter, I was only repairing the Shot Blade for my father as a part of my training to actually become a warrior in the first place. "Know the blade before you know the enemy" he always said. Unfortunately, I was to be acquainted with my enemy far sooner than expected.
I nearly fell to my doom as I rushed to the aid of my friends as I slipped on a streak of blood splashed on the cobblestones outside our home. Upon my fall I was almost impaled by the pike of an oncoming beserker. His hellacious screams of bloodlust frightened me more than I could of imagined real combat to be. And yet, as if guided by an imperial hand of fate, I pivoted to the left. The bulk of my Shot Blade seemingly just moments before too much a burden to carry, suddenly shot up with my arm at the prospect of battle. With miraculously ease a sputtering of electric sparks as well as the elemental lacings of Aqua from what I can only assume were inner magic imbuements into my blade, burst into life. My counter was swift, and provided a gruesome yet dazzling end to the charging maniac. My first triumph!
I took a silent prayer of thanks for the blessings of combat mastery, only to be humbled once more by the powers of fate. The rest of the raiders descended upon me and tackled me to the dirt and blood mud mixed stone street way. Searing pain shot through my arms and shoulders as I was pinned by white hot iron tipped spears to the softened earth below. Before I allowed my head to turn back to my now burning former home where I was raised from birth. I became fixated on the horror that was the source of the very streak of blood I had slipped upon moments prior. My father, my hero, the protector, impaled upon the structre of our home. Mockingly raised as if a morbid ornament for a memorial of warriors.
I did not see my mother or sister, but my eyes had burned with enough vengeance for my father. Over all else, my pain in my bones and of my heart, I vowed to avenge his death. In a herculean feat of valor, I pushed off my entrapments and fought as valiantly as I could. Until once again it seemes as if I was cursed with only temporary moments of dominance.
The largest of all men approached. The very ground upon which he traveled trembled beneath his enormously toned and muscled frame. And yet for his bodily strength, his facial features showed the wear of ages. Harsh and lined with wrinkled cheeks and furrowed brow, his balding auburn hair betrayed a sense of youth. Fur boots of browns and grey rose up amongst his armor and shoulder pads. Carrying an astonishingly large Martel De Fir, he was the leader of these barbaric tribesmen. Before I could even fully respond I felt the crushing weight of the wooden mallet splinter against my chest cavity, and I was brought to the ground sputtering blood uncontrollably.
The menacing figure stood above me, as if ready to finish off his unworthy challenge. If only that were true, as my fate was far worse. I still remember his harsh, gutteral words of mock pity and triumph.
"Little man, you are far too weak to live up to your fathers name". He pointed towards the impaled cadaver of my once proud father, before bellowing a deep echoing laugh and resuming his taunting victory.
"Just as he hangs in glorious defeat in death, you lay sniveling like a coward! We leave you now in shame! I expect you to follow me, hunt me like a dog. Until you are strong enough to match me in battle! Never forget the name, Koskovich! Murderer of your comrades, reaper of your family. Go now, I will be waiting! Hah!"
As the barbarian giant took his leave with his men, I too struggeld to escape the burning wreckage of my village. Dragging the malfunctioned Shot Blade along my side, I sought refuge from the chaos on the graveled hills above. As I lay on the grainy, ashy earth below, I looked down upon my home as the final blaze overtook my memories. I vowed to do exactly as Koskovich wished me to do. I would hunt him down to the end of days, and I would not stop until my victory was complete. This was my real test. I could not consider myself a warrior until I had defeated Koskovich.
That was several years ago, and I have been tracking him ever since. I walk alone in this journey, for I would be a fool to expect anyone to engage themselves in such a deadly and lonely road. Even now I look back upon that cold Autumn night, disbelief overwhelming as I still viewed my fallen village. My mission would start here. I would succeed not just for me. Not just for my father and friends. But most importantly, I would do everything I could to stop Koskovich from taking away the innocence of another child. The blood of another father, the hopes of another generation. Little did I know that my journey would encompass far more ground than anyone could of ever imagined.
