Bek’dal stared his accusers hard in the eyes, hand tightening on the pommel of his sword and spoke softly, but bold.
“If my life is of no value to my friends, then it is of none to me.”
Then, with one swift, fluid motion, he drew his sword, reversed grip and rammed the blade into his chest. As Bek’dal fell to his knees, both hands on the hilt, he stared at the men seated around him, never wavering, his eyes screaming defiance as they sat in shock, unable to take in such a sudden and rash event.
As the blood seeped out onto the floor, it filled the arcane designs of Death, the Goddess who presides over the Hall of the Condemned)
As the light faded from his eyes, the temple shook. And he changed (was transformed). Flesh turned to shadow and his eyes, casms of flame.
The quote above will of course be changed (being an actual quote and not quite in context), but this passage is a copy/paste from my word document that I wrote right when i got got the idea. The feeling of betrayal, that is what I wished to convey. As you can guess the idea at the moment is that he is wrongfully accused of a crime, a grievous crime, that those of his Order who commit it are punished by death. As he stands on the symbol of Death herself, he kills himself, wishing vengeance on them with shame as one who is sentenced to death escapes under their watch. However, by committing suicide, in such a reckless manner, with his blood covering the symbol of Death he is claimed by her, as her slave, her most powerful servant (he was very powerful and skilled in life, with strong blood and refined as the most elite of the elite of knights and warriors). She transforms him into a completely unique and terrifying creature: a Death Knight. He gains many names, but all are passed down in infamy in fear as he becomes Death's most terrible tool, kept in torment and reminded everyday, every hour by the Bloodstone that adorned the hilt of his sword. Before his transformation it was of the most precious and clearest crystal, but filled with his blood when the blade pierced his heart. Death, then, fills it with all of his sins and crimes, including the atrocities he is forced to commit. However, after some time he buries the sword with the bloodstone, as the torment grows too much, and after a 1000 years of (something) he begins, subtly, becoming a guarding for the people of the continant, finding those who start to find themselves on the wrong path and uses his many abilities.
The actual story, however, will be on one young man, the only young man in the Age like Bek'dal (name subject to change) was in his: Herowraught. This young man begins as the Knight did, innocent, good, but heading toward the Death's Knight fate, almost to exactness. The Death Knight finds him, for the boy finds the Bloodstone, which is the beginning of his Fall... and salvation, for it is the Bloodstone that can throw off the cycle. The book(s) (as of now) will be about the Knight's persuit of the boy (who is joined by his friends who were with him when they find the bloodstone who do not know the Knight's intentions or true history, just the horror stories from ages long gone and the fact that the Death Knight uses all his powers to find the boy, which many are not unlike necromancy and the like, being endowed with these powers by Death herself), then his training of the boy, to become a Hero (better name needed) so he does not end up like himself, and their battle against Death as she attempts to both capture the boy once she finds out about him (which may or may not be during the persuit). There is also a woman in white that I haven't quite figured out how I want to integrate her into the story as of yet.
Those few avid fantasy readers who recognize the phrases used in the title of this post and this blog know their feelings, history and significance. For those who haven't I'll attempt to explain their meaning and significance to me. I say "attempt", not because anyone who hasn't read the books necessary to understand them (Wheel of Time series and Faded Sun Trilogy) are inept in understanding, but rather true understanding of these phrases comes from all the thoughts, feelings, culture, and circumstances of the characters in aforementioned books.
I am one of those creative people that get a million ideas, good ones too, but... can't seem to take them anywhere. Back at my parents' house there are a few boxes full of papers with ideas, scenes, and even a few sketches from when i was a kid through high school. Most of the ideas that made it through my last purge before moving out are from high school, and a few from junior high. All these ideas could make good (some even great) books or movies, but... I haven't been able to develop these ideas enough. The few times I sat down to a computer and tried to write I felt so blocked. There were always key things missing, always something that kept me from being able to get farther than barely starting.
So... I had a bit of an epiphany while listening to Brandon Sanderson at the release of The Gathering Storm, the twelfth book in the wheel of time that he took up when the original author, Robert Jordon, died. After I got my book signed, I stayed the rest of the night leaning against a bookshelf and listened to him answer questions. At one point he was asked how many books he wrote before he got published and he answered 12. I realized that he had to start somewhere that every book, every story he wrote, was once just an idea. As I was walking home I thought about a phrase from The Faded Sun: Shon'ai. Of course, it's not actually a word, but in the book it is a crucial concept. Literally, it means: it is cast. However, it is also the name of a cultural game, where knives are thrown at, and caught by each of the players, to a rhythm. There is a lot more to the game, things each player learns for him/herself, but that is the basic idea. This game i think is the best way to describe the true meaning of Shon'ai, for it is so complicated it cannot be given a straight translated definition, but I'll try to illustrate the same emotion with basketball. Think of yourself playing a game of basketball. The other team is closing in on you and you have two choices: pass or shoot. Shon'ai is the very moment the ball leaves your hand, for "it is cast". Another like phrase it "it is done", a sudden "point of no return" from an immediate decision. When a guy meets a girl, he will ask her for her number. Shon'ai. He has thrown himself from the comfortable void of acquaintanceship into the unknown, usually either rejection or acceptance. Either direction forever alters their perceptions of each other. Either way, he is immediately set with a new set of choices, should the best happen and he gains her number and a smile, he now must present himself carefully for to call too soon could seem over eager, but to wait too long will seem insensitive. Shon'ai. Everyday, we are faced with choices and make decisions to cast ourselves before the world, each one with an equal chance of succeeding or failing.
It is with this idea in mind that I write this blog. Here I am, casting myself into this blog for one purpose: to write! I have heard many times that the key to writing is to just start writing, but this is easier said than done, I'm afraid. So, I write about my writing (maybe include a little) in the hope that it will help me as I attempt to develop my ideas because I have noticed that most of my development comes while I am in the very act of explaining my idea(s) to someone.
