wu: mgp (my game plan): steampunk story update

Greetings, ladies and gents,

It is I, Harry, the author of this blog. I am here to tell you that My Game Plan is officially in progress. I’m thinking about my steampunk book more, and I’m getting further in settings and characters. Plots are a little harder, however.

I would like to put a section I wrote here. Forgive me if there are typos or grammar mistakes.

The wind brushes my cheeks as I soar just 100 feet above the forest canopy. I look to my left. There’s the sphinx tree. I’m getting closer.

I nudge Lastar, my griffin, and he responds with a shallow dive low. We’re skimming the top leaves now. If I reach over I bet I can touch them. And lose my hand on a branch we’re shooting by.

After another nudge from my heel, Lastar spirals down through an opening in the canopy. I’m here. Most Mavorians call this place no-mans’-land. Danger grounds. Off limit to the public. But thankfully, I know how to not get skewered by some spear that suddenly just appears in my chest. That would be bad. So I quickly dismount Lastar and land safely on the mossy ground.

I know I’m being watched. Probably a couple dozen arrows aimed at every exposed part of my body. Maybe even my armored chest too.

I raise raise my right middle and index fingers above my head, slowly turning in circles so all the invisible eyes can see. Then with one swift motion, I draw my fingers down and raise my left hand up in a fist.

I hear three dozen arrows come off their strings and slide back into quivers.

I’m in.

I pat Lastar on his flank as men start to come out of the trees and foliage around the clearing. Darker skin, besilisk pelt coverings, and spears, bows, and even dark katanas. These aren’t normal Mavorians. These are the Vaenar, the natives of this land.

I nod as a tall warrior comes near me. His complexion makes him seem like a tame teen, probably one of the ones fooling around with matches at night, but I know that is not the case. Though this warrior is really nice inside, he can unleash a maelstrom of attacks with his twin katanas, dozens of darts, and gliding throwing stars. He stands without a shirt of any sort, revealing his strong abdominal muscles and chest. Two sheaths slung over his back, both with the hilts of his curved swords sticking out at the ends. A half-tunic hangs from his waist, sort of like an armored skirt. Most of my friends call it girly, but to me, it’s majestic.

“Ilrick,” I say, addressing my personal friend. Though I know Ilrick’s not his real name, he allows me to call him it. His true Vaenar name, Il’raydia-vjrick, is too complex for me.

“Drade,” Ilrick says. “It’s good to see you indeed.” We claps forearms and and nod to each other. Ilrick’s one of the few Vaenar that can actually speak our language. And I’m glad for it. Since we can communicate, we easily became friends, and Ilrick’s the kind of guy you want to have by your side.

Ilrick turns and shouts a few things in the Vaenar language to some other natives, then turns back to me.

“You have arrived in time,” he says. “Our chief has returned from his fasting, and he has word from Daravas’ Word. Today we feast, as is our custom, and we praise the God of our people and of this world.”

I nod. Daravas. The Vaenar are the only remaining people who believe in Him. All others have turned aside. Ilrick’s been preaching the “good news” to me since Da’ introduced us, and…I’ve been thinking about it. But that’s it. Nothing more.

“Ricky,” I say. See? That’s even simpler. “I can’t stay long. I’ve got to go back. Training, ya know? I’ll come to your feast, but I can’t stay when—”

“—when Chief Nek-trinx says what he’s discovered in the Word?” Ilrick finishes. I sigh. It pretty much comes down to that. My friend’s face becomes grim, but in a sad sort of way. He’s trying to get me to believe in their God. To convince me. To make sure I go to the Holy Realm when I die. And I respect that. I really do. He just wants to secure my welfare. And I know something or someone had to make this world. I mean, it couldn’t have just appeared one day, could it? No. This world is to complex for that. But who’s to say that Daravas created it? That’s where I don’t believe. There’s hundreds of idols and so-called gods that people worship. Which one is real? Which one had the ultimate power to design such a world as this?

I follow Ilrick into the woods, observing the men around me. Warriors, each and every one. Maybe I should say I believe in Daravas. Then I’ll have all these guys with me as I avenge Da’.

I hope you liked it! I’ll see ya next time!


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