Discussing Tragedy 2

Say what you will of my work, it's often a dark and winding road with no hand to guide you. Things seem to be without purpose and nihilistic in every sense of the word. I've never denied that, and at times embraced it. However, at the same time I tell you to look deeper. To find more than what I've given you on the surface. I'm not a flat writer. I write everything with intent and purpose. There is nothing completely black in my heart, and therefore nothing completely black in my writing.

I live in a world of grey. Nothing is definitive, nothing is certain. At times it is maddening, however, it is this life that has helped me develop a taste for humanity. Humnaity in all its forms. The good and the bad. You could say I'm dark and unrelenting in my pessimistic views that I care nothing for the good, and joy in life. But, you would be wrong. While I view so many things with disdain I also see thigns worth saving.
Humans are not good with virtues. We're selfish, greedy, backstabbing creatures. Compassion fits us awkwardly and even then we'll calculate how to benefit from it. Honesty is something we know nothing of.

There's no truth to us except we're corrupted. However, despite all this, despite our flaws there are times when we shine past all the grime and ash that covers our virtues. Somehow, sometimes we rise past what we are and become something more.

Life, God, the Universe

It's become a habit of late to simply sit here and stare blankly at my screen. I'll admit the novel isn't going as well as I had hope, I suppose my current mental state does a lot of damage to my progress. Not sure even where this post is going, but life is going somewhere and nowhere all at once. No one is reading this, so I doubt it matters. Fuck this shit. I'm worn out, but I'll keep writing, even if it kills me. Welcome to life, praise God, or whatever, mayber the universe...

A Brief Look

It is said that out of all human follies, a sense of justice and righteousness is the worst. As if humans were the one and only arbiters of the world. As if humans were unbiased in filling their pockets with gold, and washing their hands in their own blood. Only to ever wonder why the stains do not fade. Indeed, wondering why they grow darker the more they wash. The sense of justice, the sense of righteousness, within humans is a dangerous seed. For the moment that that seed take root, the moment the vines of justice begin to creep through the earth of the soul, beware. Nothing can stand against humans deluded with…purpose. Not even gods.

Here lies a tale of a place long forgotten. And as the pages creak with every turning you will find that this tale is , in itself, an arbitration of sorts. A judgement on all that has passed. Reader, know that this is not a tale of heroes and great deeds. It is a tale of humans. And such tales are never the lofty things we imagine them to be. Tales involving humans are never simple, never neat, and never pure. They are corrupted to the core, and while that may indeed turn some aside, for few like the truth. Let is embolden you, let it give you strength knowing that while the truth is indeed a curse, it may also be a blessing. In the tales of gods and men, the truth is the last thing revealed.

Reader, behind these pages lies the Saga of Eurwa, in all its vain corrupted glory. May you find a glimmer of hope, and a nugget of truth.

(The start of chapter one)

Cover Art Contest

I am holding a cover art contest for my current work in progress, The Saga of Euwa: All That Lies Bare

The contest rules are simple you must email me a 9x6 (inches) picture depicting a sword  in a wasteland. Whatevere else is, or isn't in the picture is solely up to you. However, YOU MUST have a sword in a wasteland. Anything not meeting these requirements will not be considered for judging. Secondly the cover art must be your own work, whether you hand draw it or use computer imaging is up to you. I would prefer something designed on the computer, but I am aware that this is not always possible.

I will be offering cash prizes to the the top three entires at which point I will contact you. Such contact of course will require me to gather a mail address from you, so, if you are unwilling to devulge that information please do not enter.

One further note, you must include the title of my novel, and my name on the cover art, as if it were an actual novel cover.

Requirements:

1. Picture must be 9x6 inches maximum

2. Must depict a sword in a wasteland

3. Must include title (The Saga of Eurwa: All That Lies Bare) and Author's name: Tyler P. Kent

Deadline is May 25, 2011

Prizes are as follows:

1st: $100

2nd: $50

3rd: $25

You may submit entries to tytex200@hotmail.com

Eurwa: Magic

I've always been someone who loved the idea of magic. Of course I've always questioned some of the limits on magic. You know, the whole counter measure to magic. Mainly it takes a toll on the body, so that magi are not overpowered. I never liked that idea. So I developed my own system, naturally. My magi are limitless in the power they can weild, physicalities are no barrier, however, there is a system to manage the checks and balances.

1. The magi must have the ability to concentrate to weild his power. The more powerful the spell the more concentration needed. Simple, and effective.

2. Glyphs. Glyphs are magic negating symbols. The twist here is that only certain glyphs negate certain types of magic, also if there's a glyph already in contact with a person, another glyph will be less effective. The more glyphs the weaker the protection of all the glyphs. Of course there is an All Glyph, and yes it protects from all magic, however, it's been lost to time.

3. Magic is RARE. By rare I mean You may have 100 magi in a city of 100,000 people.

4. Magic users live longer. Believe it or not this helps magic from dying out. And I'm talking maybe an extra hundred years, nothing overly long.

So, the Schools of Magic (areas) are as follows:

Elemental: The name is self explanitory. This is the easiest form of magic to weild, yet it can be some of the most devestating. Areas of study include:

Ice
Fire
Light
Dark
Earth
Wind
Lightining
Water
Shadow

Spirit: The spirit school is something of a mixed bag. Depending on your area of study, depends on the difficulty. Spirit Magi are often used as Warders (they cast wards) because spirit wards are some of the best. However Spirit Magic also includes summoning creatures from other realms, raising the dead and healing. Therefore areas of study include:

Warding
Necromancey
Healing
Summoning

Abstraction: Abstraction is tricky to describe because it involves a mixture of Elemental and Spirit Magics. Abstract Magi are some of the most powerful magi out there. They often rely on illusions and penetrating the mental defenses of oppenents. Since the mind of a person is so complicated it's hard to control them, or make them believe what they wish them to believe. Aside from illusions of deceit Abstraction Magi can be devestating in unleashing raw power. It's more subtle than Elemental magic in the fact that it's often seen as shapes and geometrics, not the actual physcial element. Areas of study:

Illusion
Warding
Mental Assults
The Chaotics (Abstraction name for offensive capabilities)

Death: The term Death Magic is misleading. It implies summoning or raising the dead, when in fact Death Magic involves blood rituals to control individuals. It also involves several summoning rituals, along with catastrophic offensive capabilities, all fueled on the blood of the Magi him/herself or those bound to him called Givers. Givers are often enslaved individuals through Death Magic. Because of Givers, Death Magi are notorious to battle, because their Givers will sacrifice themselves powering wards or offensive spells to unimaginable levels. It is also rumoured that Death Magi have rituals to extend their lives almost infinitely.

Discussing Tragedy

     For those of you who do not know anything about me please be advised I am not one for happy endings. In fact I am not one for happiness in general when it comes to writing. The reason is quite simple. Life doesn't work that way. Yes there are moments of joy that we should all learn to cherish and value, however, in my experience, these moments are few and far between. More often than not the world is plagued with tragedy. An untimely death, a pointless war over untangible ends, lies and deceit, and whatever the human mind may dream in its delluded dreams of righteousness and self serving means. This is the world I try to capture with my words. It is not the most heartening of reads, and yet it poses you the challenge to think for yourself, to wonder at life and the world we live in.

Explaining Eurwa

     I know I've told people that I'll be updating weekly, but that may or may not be true. I may try for daily updates or at least post something. Mind you I don't know if I can promise anything great from such a scheduel. Of course as the introduction said this isn't going to have the entire book on it. It's hard to decide what to tell my small audience and what not to tell, simply because I don't want to give away the story or any of the later developments. I think I know where to start though.

     If you're wondering how to pronounce Eurwa it's pronounced Ee-yur-wah. Now, I'm aware that isn't the easiest thing to say, but I could have made it something worse. I still can't pronounce a lot of Tolkien's Elvish or Dwarfish. So if we compare to that, Eurwa is a piece of cake. Now someone requested a back story, and I'm going to have to deny that request because the back story, at least bits and pieces are going to be revealed throughout my story. I will give you some other details though, mainly geographical and cultural.

     Eurwa is roughly 1100 leagues from east to west. Running north to south it measures 750-800 leagues. Large portions of the northern latitudes of Eurwa are sparse grasslands, tundra and ice fields. This area is known as the Northern Wastes. Of course the name is somewhat misleading because the "wastes" mostly refer to the tundra and ice fields. In fact Ansurim and Cirion are technically in this area, though their political borders do not extend very far into the tundra. As you move south the climate becomes almost tropical, much like Florida. Much of the continent is covered in a large grassland which has led several nations to rely heavily on horse warriors instead of regular infantry. Strangely Rôit, which lies in the central plain, never developed such a dependence, prefering to use heavy infantry with tower shields.

     Euwa has several mountain ranges running through the continent. As you travel further east the land becomes increasingly rugged, and eventually you will reach the Damaskus mountains. On the western coast you will find the Ring Mountains. The mountain range is a peculiar thing as it encircles the much of the peninsula it is on, forming a ring. Of course the range does extend outward, north to south, but unlike the Damaskus Mountains it does not span the entire continent's length. The last mountain range of note is the Werelite mountains. These mountains have had tales of strange lights appearing near them and are rumoured to contain Linvesti ruins inside the various caverns that dot the range. The range runs west to east and on the southern edge of Frelenda and the northern edge of Redina.

Prologue

Winter, 1143 After Fall
The Northern Wastes

Dread Captain Feln surveyed the blasted landscape from within the Death Magi Sanctum. It was, he reflected, a most suitable place for what was to come. No life within sight, he thought. Wasteland, cold and dead as far as the eye can see. Decades of preparation after so many centuries of recovering, both their numbers and their abilities. The Kregs had been all but annihilated during the last Fall. And, if not for the foresight of even the most unlikely circumstances, the Death Magi would have followed. No matter though, they still existed, still plotted, and that was what counted in the grand scheme of things. Feln smiled to himself. Yes, this time we will succeed. With that though he turned from the window and strode down the dimly lit hallway. The black stone that the Sanctum was constructed from had an unearthly property of stealing the light from the few torches interspersed throughout the corridors of the Sanctum. It was a fitting quality, though, Feln reflected, unnerving at times, even for him. No one knew where the stone had come from after all, and despite attempts, it did not seem to be invested with any sort of sorcery that the Death Magi could detect. At an the intersection Feln turned right and began heading toward his chambers when he heard a voice call him. Turning he saw that an acolyte was running toward him.
     “Yes?” he asked.
     “Sir, the Grandmasters require your presence in their chamber.”
     “Very well, I will attend, you may go.”
     “I am to escort you sir.”
     Feln narrowed his eyes gauging the youth who stood in front of him. It wouldn’t do to have the Grandmasters wait on him, but, the escort of an acolyte was peculiar. He shrugged, intending to enquire at some opportune time, perhaps after the meeting. “Very well, lead on.”
     They walked through the hallways passing various Magi going about their business, all of whom paid their respects toward the Dread Captain. Feln’s only response was a simple curt nod. Upon nearing the Grand Masters’ chambers Feln discerned voices coming from within, shouting. As the approached the doors burst open was Dread Captain Dref Anil stormed out. Feln chuckled to himself, Dref Anil and him had been long time rivals, and any misfortune that befell the man always cause a well of dark glee to spring up in Feln. As the passed Feln caught Dref Anil’s eye and grinned. The man shot him a look of pure loathing. Then, gone, and Feln proceeded inwards to the Grandmasters’ chambers.
     The room was scarcely lit, as with the rest of the keep, yet, in here the dark permeated everything save for where the Grandmasters sat in a semi circle facing the center of the room. From where they sat a sickly blue-white glow emanated casting shadows about them. The glow only extended so far to barely touch the mosaic on the floor. A picture of a human skull dripping tears of blood while the God of Misery, Chains, loomed in the background. Upon reaching the center Feln bowed on one knee and swore his oath. “Within these walls lies silence. Within these walls lies death. From within we shall corrupt our enemies, ever remaining silent, and so, bring death.”
     The Grandmasters spoke as one, in a monotone befitting the dead. “Rise, Dread Captain Feln, and hear what we wish to tell you”. Feln rose while Grandmaster Sillan spoke, “Dread Captain, how go the preparations of our Magi?”
     “As well as can be expected Grandmaster. Our numbers, however, are fewer than the last Fall. If we wish to gain more Magi we will have to send forays into Ansurim, and possibly Cirion.”
     “That will be…unnecessary.”
     “Grandmaster, how-”
     “You are not here to question us Dread Captain,” Grandmaster Hellick cut in. The woman’s voice was as cold as ice and Feln audibly gulped at her interruption. “Yes Grandmaster,” he mumbled, “My apologies.”
     “Now, Dread Captain,” Hellick continued. “Have your spies within the Kælitine Empire sent word yet of the Emperor’s intentions?”
     “No Grandmaster, though I suspect the delay will not be long.”
Grandmaster Tenus was the next to speak, “And what of these rumours? These tales of the gods moving openly once more in the mortal realm?”
     Sillian: “Surely not! The gods did nothing when we brought down Chains did they? Oh no, they dared not then, so why should now be any different?
     “Perhaps it is out choice of…candidate,” another put in.
     “It seems unlikely,” Hellick interjected, “Most unlikely indeed. No, I suspect it is something other than our intentions, we must not allow conceit to blind us. However, we must discuss this amongst ourselves first.” A lengthy pause. Dread Captain Feln stood uneasy by what he had just heard. The gods moving in the open? No longer content to simply watch indifferently as the affairs of men dragged ever onward in pointless circles? Preposterous. And yet…no, best not to think of that just now. Not while he was in the midst of the Grandmasters of the Death Magi.
     Sillian spoke, “That shall be all Dread Captain, for now. Please inform us when you hear word of the Emperor’s intentions. We wouldn’t want to miss the opportunity to influence him for our own benefit, now would we?”
     “No Grandmaster,” Feln said. He then knelt and left. It seemed that things were not quite as he had expected. He frowned, troubled once more by the notion of the gods being active once more. Shaking his head he headed toward his apartments in order to prepare contact with his chief spy. One problem at a time.

Spring, 1144 After Fall
The Ring Mountains

Sooth sat down, crossing his legs so that he could rest his kan’tath across them. The night breeze blew a gentle chill like the caress of a lover. Neither the cold nor the dark bothered him overly much. The cold was nothing but something to be taken note of, but of no concern to him and his kind. And the dark, well no dark could veil the eyes of a Linvesti.
     From where he was seated he could look upon the valley stretching out before him. A large forest of pines stretched out below like a carpet of knives swaying in the breeze while the sounds of nocturnal creatures roamed in search of food. Some would scavenge the plants and insects that crept upon the earth, while others would hunt those that hunted the insects, and when the hunters of plants and insects were not but carcasses beneath the ever swaying knives of the pine trees, then what remained would be picked clean by insects and scavengers of all sorts. Such, it seemed, was the cycle of life. Or, at least, how life should be if it weren’t for the men who walked upon the earth claiming it as their own. Why we ever suffered them to live I have yet to fathom. But such thoughts were better kept to himself. Indeed, the few remaining of his kind would take his thoughts as treason of some sort. Naught but cowering fools. We still have the numbers, few though we are, and the Old Way. Yes, but such musing were not part of his mission.
     He stood, suddenly, kan’tath in is talon like hands. His gaze was drawn to the glow of fire peering out of the eaves of the forest, torches. Alas, the peace was so…invigorating. Sooth began walking, slowly, quietly, and if anyone could have seen, could any mortal eye have pierced the darkness of the night and gloom of the forest boughs, then they would have noted a most peculiar sight. A being of dappled while and black skin, with talons of a bird for hands and feet, walk straight down the vertical face of the valley wall. As it was, none saw the Linvesti known as Sooth.

Spring, 1144 After Fall
Northern Ansurim

The patter of rain on canvas was nothing new to him. He found that he rather enjoyed the sound despite the fact that the water would leak through the thin materiel and eventually leave him surrounded by his own private lake, which would then, if the rain was steady enough, would undermine the sodden ground upon which his bedroll rested, and creep slowly through the bedroll until he was lying the midst of his private lake. Yet, despite this mischance, which occurred only every so often, he was content.
     He was not happy, happiness had long eluded him, and, he suspected, it would always elude him. No, he was content, and while others my confuse his contentment for happiness, he knew the distinct and defining difference between these two states. How this was, since he had yet to recall a moment of happiness, he was quite sure, perhaps some hazy childhood recollection, regardless, he knew the difference, and to him, that made all the difference.
     He sat polishing the only thing of worth in his possession, his sword. How he came to possess such a thing he was unsure, but it mattered little to him. What good would it do to fret over such inconsequential details anyway? Was it not here, cool as morning dew, in his hands, right this moment? Wasn’t that what was important? The questions never concerned him, not because the idea of thinking about them frightened him, but because thinking about them did not necessarily mean he could answer them. Oh, simple enough questions to be sure, however, a simple question does not guarantee a simple answer. So he would not bother with the questions, no he would oil his sword and return it to the battered wooden scabbard that held it when it was not being oiled, or used. Though, thankfully, it had not seen any of that. So far this had been a journey of peace.
     Though I wonder if it will last.
     Such thoughts were a distraction though. The world was never as simple as one would have hoped for, and it was rarely peaceful. Though this journey had begun peacefully, and may continue so--if he was lucky--for some time, there was no guarantee that it would end that way. In truth, he suspected, that before too long, the journey would become one weighted in the blood of innocence.
     Sighing he returned his sword to its battered scabbard and rolled off his sodden bedroll and into his own private, miniature, lake surrounding it, and passed through the flap of his tent and into the damp air of the evening. He turned his gaze south east and studied the line of a broken ridge. It was pockmarked with craters and nothing but the sparse, half dead grasses. Black Heart Ridge. He frowned at the knowledge, or was it knowledge? He shook his head, another question best left unanswered. Sighing once more he returned to his tent for the coming night. Before the dark of sleep overtook him he had one last clear though. I ride the winds of war. Oh Holy Tywane…save my mortal soul.

Introduction

It's been five years since I began this journey. And that's what it is, a journey. I was first inspired by the philosophical and doomsday prophet, Ansurimbour Kellhus; who is the creation of  Canadian author R. Scott Bakker, writer of The Prince of Nothing Trilogy, and, The Aspect Emperor Trilogy. Though my character, who shares the same name, was first inspired and written as a cheap carbon copy, was first inspired by Bakker's work, the only similarity left to him is his name. I am proud to say I am coming into my own as a writer.

While my world began with the inspiration of Bakker it drew on several other authors, such as Tolkein, and even a little Terry Goodkind. However, it wasn't until recently that the world of Eurwa started to come together. The ideas had always been floating in the back of my mind, but I never could put them down on the page. They just seemed too...vague, too vast and complicated for me to ever write. I tried several times, but nothing ever seemed feel right. Even the first attempt at this seemed perposterous. That was until I picked up Gardens of the Moon, byt Steven Erikson. My first observation was that he had a very similar writing style to mine. As I continued on in the series I began toying with the idea of working out my story in a similar structure as was set up in The Malazan Book of the Fallen. I even came to break out of my idea of a trilogy for my story. That's when I took on the world. My world.

When you create a world you need a lot of things. Mainly some sort of cultural motivation behind each and every nation, people, culture, race, you name it, in your world. You also need to be able to sort out the complexities of the histories of these nations, have the always existed? How did they come to be? Who knows who, and how do they get along in the political spectrum. All this and more, geographic locations, how has this affected them? Isolationists or not? It can be daunting. And, for me it is. My world is simply huge and it keeps growing, every time I begin to think about it new things come up. When I first started I viewed the world as small, simply part of a continent, the majority of that continent mind you, but that was it. Now I have six continents and each one is going to be showing up in one way or another throughout this series. And yes, it is a series. No longer three books, now I'm looking to double that, if not match Erikson's megolith of ten novels. Ladies and gentlemen I intend to succeed. I hope you enjoy this look into a world that I am still fashioning. I have everything needed for All That Lies Bare. Now I must write it.

You will not get the full story here. This blog is merely a means to talk about my writing, give you ideas on where I am going, and on how well the story is progressing. I will provide snips of the rough draft, but you'll have to forgive me if I enjoy to keep my work close until it is finished. I will provide you the prologue, and if I receive any requests about information you may want about the world of Euwa and my work, that won't give away my story, then feel free to contact me.

You can reach me by email at: tytex200@hotmail.com

Let us begin.