The Stone Men of Raksaka

This is my third piece of writing to receive a First - 79% in fact, and supposedly 80% is publishable. I had a good feeling about this piece before handing it in and I thoroughly enjoyed writing it too. It is almost an intervention or retelling of a piece I did for Fiction for Children, Royalteen. It's a more adult, less superficial version at least. I was reading Game of Thrones at the time and you may see some similarities between the two. So if you loved that, you'll love this.
It's only the first 2,500 words, but I am planning on finishing it as a novel and hopefully getting it published. I said I would write it this week but instead I've been watching Disney movies. It's an addiction.
Sci-Fi and Fantasy was my favourite module of this year and in hindsight I really wish I had done a fantasy for my dissertation. But what's done is done.

I hope you enjoy reading this as much as did writing it.

The Stone Men of Raksaka

He piled sand upon his knee and watched as it skittered down his leg, catching in his dark hairs. Between his dry fingertips he crumbled more, creating a gritty mound. Sighing, Emin leaned back on his elbows, the sand tumbled back to earth. It was warm on his skin; the sun had yet to bake it to blistering heats. Staring far across the desert he was sure he could see the grasslands of Helmriche, but it was more likely to be a mirage.

He’d foolishly tried to walk there when he was younger. At sundown, he had snuck from the hut and started out across the Desert Lands. Even at night the desert could be a dangerous place. Dirt dogs tracked his every step and he had not been sparing with his water. He’d still been able to see the huts of Raksaka when he finally decided he had to turn back. He’d slunk back in as quiet as a whisper, but his baba had heard.

                ‘You want to go walking? Let’s see how far you can walk after this.’

                Emin ran a finger across one of the shiny white scars that laced his legs. He hadn’t walked for a week after the whipping; every time he’d tried the wounds would reopen.

He rolled over in the sand, savouring the peace. When the sun rose between the Eastern Lerrnayin Mountains, Raksaka would awaken. The women would be the first, tending to the skinny goats and the dry crops. Then the children would come from the mud huts, begging their maminka’s for food they didn’t have. The children would have to be satisfied with wheat and water.

The men would rarely leave their mud homes, preferring the coolness inside. His baba cursed the gods if he was ever called from his hut - even if it was a summons from the High Leader.

The Savasci had to be at the training yard an hour after sunup. Emin was expected to be there.

When he heard the bustling maminka’s and their squalling children Emin knew it was time to get ready. He looked back into the distance, over the Desert Lands, to Helmriche. It would always be a mirage.

* 

The Savasci hut was dry and dusty. The hot air and the stench of sweat suffocated Emin. His mouth felt like it was full of sand and he could only think of water and fresh air. He stood straight like the other boys, all wearing rough leather tunics, with notched swords at their hips; swords taken from the corpses of raiders. Emin was not the tallest, but he was the oldest at six-and-ten. He’d been in the Savasci for three years and knew what Chief Devrim was saying by heart.

                ‘They steal from us. Every day they steal a little more. First it was land, then our riches, crops, and animals. In the night they kill our men and rape our women. Everything they have is rightfully ours. We shall take it back.’

                It was the same each day. The Easterners of the Six Kingdoms were deceitful, thieving bastards that deserved to rot in the pits of Felaket for robbing the Raksaka’s of their land and birthright.

                Emin joined the boys as they raised their swords to the air. Some of the novices had to hold their sword with two hands to hold it steady. The Chief spoke in his booming voice.

                ‘Out of the sand come men of stone. These men are brave and strong. These men shall not be defeated. These men are the Savasci of Raksaka!’

Emin fought in the yard against Direnc. He was only small, aged two-and-ten, making him one of the youngest of the Savasci, and barely a challenge. Emin had been training with Direnc since the last turn of the moon, but his swordplay still lacked the Savasci passion. His long dark hair was tied back with a piece of knotted grass, a frown of concentration screwed up his face. Emin blocked the boy’s attacks easily with a flick of his sword. They were unlikely to ever claim back the East with only a handful of children. Especially as the men of Raksaka lay in the shade, sweat beading on their wrinkled faces, being served by their sandwives. They don’t deserve the Eastern lands anymore, Emin thought bitterly. With a sudden burst of anger Emin swung his sword hard at Direnc, who made a clumsy block, tripped over his feet, and landed heavily in the sand. Training with Direnc reminded him of his first suns with the Savasci. He had been worried about joining; he never wanted to kill anyone. He had thought that it might earn him Baba’s respect. Yet he’d been part of the group for three years and done nothing more than train with battered swords, and his baba still treated him with contempt. He was beginning to wonder where the honour in being Savasci lay.

                Sheathing his sword, Emin then gave a hand to Direnc. ‘You fought like a true stone man,’ Emin told him.

                ‘I felt more like a mud man,’ the boy replied, dusting off his tunic. ‘You are a true stone man, Emin. I heard Chief Devrim say so to Cetin.’ Direnc grinned.

                Emin pursed his lips; anything said to his baba was not a good thing.

                ‘Go train with Tarik,’ Emin ordered the boy. ‘I must speak to Chief Devrim.’

                Direnc chewed his lip, his eyes wide. ‘Did I say something wrong?’

Emin smiled. ‘A Savasci should never doubt.’

Direnc nodded eagerly. ‘Never doubt. Never fear. Never flee,’ he recited.

He ran to Tarik’s side calling out over his shoulder, ‘I’ll beat Tarik, and then you, Emin!’

 *

Emin couldn’t find the Chief that afternoon. He searched the Savasci huts, the yard, and down by the Kushca tree. When he asked Devrim’s sandwife about his whereabouts she shrugged and shook her head. Emin knew that it was too hopeful; why would Devrim share his business with a sandwife? Maybe the Chief was taking the watch. Many had heard the Dirt dogs howling at night, and torches had been spotted in the darkness.

As the sun dipped below the peaks of the Western Lerrnayin Mountains, Emin trudged back to the hut he shared with his baba. With any luck he would be asleep. The fat man was snoring loudly on his bed of straw, flies buzzing around his head. Every so often he would raise an arm and try to swat them away. Emin removed the sword from his hip, but was too tired to take off his leather tunic. With a yawn he collapsed onto his own straw bed. He briefly wondered why the Chief would talk to Baba before his eyes shut and darkness enveloped him.

Women’s screams woke him. Fire flickered shadows around the hut – a hundred demons of Felaket. Emin leapt to his feet, sword in hand. His baba snorted and rolled onto his back.

                ‘What’s going on,’ he slurred.

                Emin didn’t answer.

Never doubt, he thought to calm his racing heart.

He flung back the grass curtain that covered the doorway. Outside huts were on fire; people were running and screaming, flinging sand on the flames. In the chaos men in chainmail ransacked huts and grabbed women and young girls.

Never fear.

On his left, Emin saw a child crying for his maminka, watching as she was dragged away by a tall man, his armour glowing red in the firelight.

Never flee.

                Emin charged the man, but he was too quick. He shoved the woman away and unsheathed his own weapon. Their swords rang together in a clash of steel. Emin sidestepped a swift blow, then another. The man was taller and heavier, with much more protection than Emin. But that didn’t stop him. He took a deep breath and swung his sword low. His blade caught the attacker in the knee, in a gap in his armour. The man’s leg buckled, but he wasn’t seriously hurt. Emin wasted no time. He brought down the hilt of his sword on the back of his head. The man fell face down into the sand. The woman squeezed Emin’s hand before running to her child. They disappeared into the night.

                Emin had no rope to restrain the raider; he only hoped he would stay unconscious. He gave him another smack with his sword just in case. Hurrying to one of the burning huts, the heat leapt at Emin’s face, tears stung his eyes. Grabbing handfuls of sand he helped the others to put out the flames.

The fire was almost smothered when more screams filled the air. Emin grabbed his sword and ran. Down near the Kushca tree an intruder was fighting two Savasci at once. The boys’ old dull blades were no match for his longsword, but they battled on, parrying and blocking. Lying by the enemy’s feet was a small crumpled body. Long black hair covered the face of the child. Emin’s blood boiled. For the first time in his life he finally understood what the Chief had been saying. These Easterners did rob them of everything - even their children’s lives. With blood coursing through his veins, Emin lowered his sword and stormed the attacker, taking him by surprise. It was in those precious moments that Emin managed to plunge his sword into the man’s side. It tore through leather, skin, muscle alike, getting caught on the bones of his ribcage. He let out a gasp of scarlet spittle. The two young Savasci stared at Emin, their faces pale; one’s leg was drenched in dark gore from a gaping wound on his thigh. Emin’s heart pounded in his chest. His lungs burned with every breath. Adrenaline pumped through him. He kicked the fallen man before turning to the small body. Pushing the hair aside his heart stopped.

Little Direnc.

Emin dropped to his knees and cradled the boy’s head in his lap.

‘You are a true stone man.’

 *

Devrim, Baba, and the High Leader, Hakan, stood in front of him. He’d never met the High Leader before. He was one of the darker skinned men of the clan, with oiled black hair that hung around his shoulders. His face was beardless, uncommon in the Raksaka. Thick dark brows lowered over his narrowed eyes. A massive cudgel looked weightless in his strong hands. He rearranged his fingers round the leather grip causing the muscles in his arms to flex.

Devrim was talking animatedly while Hakan stared at Emin, his face hard. Baba had his huge arms crossed, scowling darkly, bearing his yellowing teeth.

                ‘I told Cetin four suns ago that Emin was one of the best Savasci and what happened at the raid only proves that,’ Devrim insisted.

                Hakan’s eyes roved over Emin, who tried not to squirm under his intense gaze. Was he one of the best Savasci? He hadn’t intended to kill that man, but he’d been so angry. The dead man plagued his dreams. Direnc haunted his nightmares.

                ‘Pah!’ Baba interrupted. ‘This boy is a runt. Not worth wasting your time on.’

                Emin had expected that, but Devrim seethed.

                ‘This runt killed an Eastern raider and allowed us to capture another, while you sat on your craven arse, hiding with the women.’ Devrim spat at Baba’s bare feet.

                Baba lunged at him, his clenched fist slamming into Devrim’s jaw. Hakan watched them fight, his lips pressed into a thin line.

                ‘Enough!’ He slammed his cudgel down on Baba’s back. The man buckled with an agonised cry. Emin knew it would take more than that to bring down his baba for good, though. Devrim shielded away from Hakan’s cruel cudgel. His lip was broken, and his left eye swollen shut. Blood dribbled down his chin. Hakan heaved the fallen man to his feet. Baba’s nose was bent and one of his teeth was missing. The High Leader leaned in close to Baba’s face.

                ‘Your boy is of the Savasci, a stone man,’ he said in a deathly quiet voice that Emin strained to hear, ‘and he is more of a man than you will ever be.’ He threw Baba back to the mud-packed floor.

Emin looked up at Hakan careful not to show his fear.

‘Emin, son of Cetin, because of your deeds three suns ago, on the night of the raid we have an Eastern solider as hostage. With some persuading he told us news of the Six Kingdoms.’ He pulled out a leather pouch from his jerkin and emptied the contents onto ground. ‘Six fingers for six kingdoms.’ His smile was wicked, and Emin saw his baba pale at the sight of the bloody digits. ‘The greedy king of Adruhal has arranged a marriage between his daughter and the prince of Minadril.’

Emin nodded, unsure why the betrothals of far off kingdoms were so important. His baba sat up and spat a glob of blood onto the dismembered fingers.

‘Who those thieving bastard-kings sell their whore-daughters to is no concern of ours. We should be sending our strongest swords to the boarders, to avenge our dead and take back our women.’

Hakan’s jaw clenched. ‘Devrim, take Cetin back to his hut. Make sure he stays there this time.’

Devrim yanked Baba off the ground, wary of the man’s fists. To Emin’s surprise, his baba let himself be dragged away. A dry zephyr fluttered through the grass curtain that hung across the doorway. Emin was aware that he was now alone with Hakan – and his cudgel. He stood straight, shoulders back, even though his hands trembled.

‘Cetin was always rash, as I’m sure you know.’ His eyes flickered over the scars on Emin’s legs. ‘But he was a strong Savasci in his youth. He grew too attached to his sandwife though, some woman he stole from Helmriche,’ he said in musing.

Emin eyes went wide; his lazy baba had been a Savasci and his mamika had been from Helmriche? He’d always been told she was a weakling woman from the Feros tribe.

Hakan noticed Emin’s confusion. ‘A tale for another day perhaps,’ he said, though his dark eyes glittered. ‘Emin, I have a task for you, one only fit for a true man of stone.’

Emin had a feeling he wasn’t going to like what the High Leader was about to say. Killing one man shouldn’t make him a stone man, yet he was the eldest Savasci and the best with a sword, rusty and notched as it was. But he never liked fighting, or ever truly believed in the Savasci way.

Hakan’s wicked smile was back. ‘I want you to go to Minadril. Infiltrate the castle. Become part of the royal guard. Befriend this little prince. Go with him to Adruhal to meet his bride-to-be. Then kill him.’

Emin finally spoke. ‘Kill him?’

‘Slit his throat from ear to ear,’ Hakan agreed. ‘Or kill the princess. Whichever one you kill, the blame will fall on the other. Minadril and Adruhal will be at arms soon enough. The other kingdoms will be quick to join sides. The Six Kingdoms will be in chaos.’

Emin’s heart pounded in his chest. They wanted him to kill a boy? He couldn’t do it. He would not. Savasci meant brave warrior not sneaking murderer, he thought. Hakan sensed his reluctance.

‘Never doubt, never fear, never flee, Emin. You will kill the Minadril prince, if not you’ll be left to Cetin’s mercy. I’m sure he would hate to have a son as gutless as he is. Or maybe, I’ll kill you myself.’ He hefted his cudgel onto his shoulder. ‘What will it be?’

‘I’ll do it, High Leader. I’ll start a war. For the Stone men of Raksaka.’

House Sigils - Game of Thrones Style

I've been terrible at keeping on track with this, a whole month since I've last posted something. Terrible! In that time however I have read nearly all the books in the A Song of Ice and Fire series, more commonly known as The Game of Thrones. I've only got a Dance with Dragons left. It has been good inspiration for my Sci-Fi and Fantasy module creative piece, which I am currently writing. It's also my last assignment! So sad.
This Fantasy piece is a spin off of my Fiction for Children piece, Royalteen. It's darker and more adult though. But as I was writing it I looked at the maps I had drawn to go with Royalteen, and then I thought about their crests. Long story short I used the website Join the Realm to create some awesome coat of arms of the kingdoms of Kardenia in the Game of Thrones style. The last one isn't really a house but more of a tribe, which is where my creative piece is set.

University Grades - The Final Semester

Once again I am posting my grades with links to the pieces so you can read them too.

Year 3 Semester 1
Advanced Fictional Writing: Re-Writing Rationale - 63%
Advanced Fictional Writing: Creative Piece Margaret Jones and the Weedy Dealer - 64%
Writing History Fiction: Essay Why Are the Tudors So Popular in Contemporary Historical Fiction? - 68%
Writing History Fiction: Creative Piece Toil and Trouble - 65%
Comic Books and Graphic Novels: Essay Is The Dark Knight Returns a Successful Novel? - 66%
Comic Books and Graphic Novels: Creative Piece Mr Impossible - 62%

Year 2 Semester 2
Fiction for Children: Creative Piece Royalteen - 66%
Fiction for Children: Presentation - 68%
Writing and the Environment: Creative Piece From Earth with Love - 57%
Writing and the Environment: Creative Piece Gaia's Final Revenge - 58%
Textual Intervention II: Essay All Works of Art Either Uphold the Status Quo or Challenge it - 67%
Textual Intervention II: Creative Piece Mark Desade's Misfortune of Curiosity - 65%

Creative Voice II: Critical Evaluation – 68%
Creative Voice II: Sketches - 67%

Year 2 Semester 1

Media Writing: 1500 Word Critique of Article – 67%

Media Writing: 2000 Word Article Holly's Happenings – 65%

Short Story: Parody Surrealhabilitation – 68%

Short Story: Creative Piece Stockholm – 64%

Textual Intervention: Creative Piece The Diary of Lucy Van Helsing – 72%

Textual Intervention: Rationale – 66%

Creating Short Screenplays: Film Script The German – 64%

Creating Short Screenplays: Essay Film Analysis of Valgaften: Election Night – 65%

Year 1 Semester 2

Creative Non-Fiction: Creative Piece My Doctor Who Experience – 66%

Creative Non-Fiction: Essay – 54%

Creative Voice I: Critical Evaluation – 60%

Creative Voice I: Creative Piece Delirium – 68%

Creativity II: Exhibition Piece Animations – 62%

Creativity II: Evaluation – 63%

Poetry and Poetic Expression: Creative Piece – 64%

Poetry and Poetic Expression: Rationale – 68%

Year 1 Semester 1

Language – Writing – Reading: Essay – 62%

Language – Writing – Reading: Portfolio of Writing Exercises – 53%

Fictional Writing: Creative Piece Obsession – 65%

Fictional Writing: Rationale – 63%

Creativity I: Presentation Evaluation on A Written Affair – 63%

Creativity I: Research Essay on Oscar Wilde – 68%

Script Writing: Essay on Rob Reiner's Misery – 64%

Script Writing: Pitch Presentation – 72%

I recently received my grades for last semester and while they are good I am disappointed with the comments I got. None of them were particularly constructive. They were like 'Good story, but I would have written it with this person as the protagonist'. Well, I didn't, so please mark my work by what I've written not how you would have written it.
This was especially annoying for my Margaret Jones and the Weedy Dealer piece as the marker wrote: 'What occurred to me on reading it again was it could make a great teen (young) book if only Margaret was at home/base camp and Andrew (something I can't read) was the protagonist - doing his mother's bidding because she was (something else I can't read)'.
It's annoying because he's missed the point of my piece entirely! Margaret is this eccentric botanist on the run from a drug lord, it's weird and funny. Having a teenage boy do it is so mundane.
I always used to think I was better at the creative pieces but strangely it appears I am actually better at the essays. I only have one semester left and I am going to try my hardest to get a First again. Hopefully in my ECP.

Second Year Complete - Grades and Assignments

I have handed in my last assignments of second year. I am now done! How quickly those two years have gone by, only one left now. It's actually quite sad, I don't want university to end.

So, the three final pieces I handed in today were called From Earth with Love, Gaia's Final Revenge, and a textual intervention piece, Mark Desade's Misfortune of Curiosity. I'll be posting them here in the next couple of days.

Today, I also picked up my grades.

I had butterflies in my tummy as I stepped up to the counter. I thought I was only able to pick up one piece of work but the guy behind the counter handed me three. I waited till I was outside to look. And then I peeked at the grades...

67% 66% 67%

Wow!

I got 67% for my presentation. That's right, I did well in a presentation! Me! I just read through the comments and the only bad thing seemed to be that we read from a script. Not totally fair as she did say we could do that, but whatever. I am so chuffed! I knew making those cakes would get us a good grade.

The 66% was for my Fiction for Children piece, Royalteen. It's a great grade but I'm still a tiny bit gutted. I thought it may be First Class material, but obviously not. The comments were good, it just seems like I need to make my writing more funky, get into the teenage voice more. I suppose this will all help towards my ECP. And this was marked by the lecturer who I thought would be harsh. But she marked this piece and the presentation nicely so I'm not too worried about having her as a supervisor any more.

The other 67% was for Creative Voice, all the Sketches I did. My marker particularly like The House at the End of the Road, so that's good. The criticism was that I should 'show not tell' but I think that's something that everyone does and takes a while to grow out of.

Overall, I'm a pretty happy bunny. Let's hope the other three grades are just as good. 

Collecting Grades = Bundle of Nerves

I actually completed my Writing and the Environment pieces. And I'm pretty pleased with them, hurray!

On the down side I have marked pieces to collect tomorrow...

Getting the grades for work is like a warped kind of Christmas. You know, you can't get to sleep and you're really excited about what awesome presents you may have gotten. That's what I'll be like tonight, lying in bed thinking of all the potential Firsts I may, or may not, get.

I have only got one First before (I got one in the first year too, but that year didn't count). The thing is, I knew that it was First material so I wasn't too surprised when I got 72%. It was The Diary of Lucy Van Helsing, and I felt pretty confident when I handed it in. I haven't really felt like that with any of my other pieces. I once thought my essay was good, but I have come to learn that my essays aren't as good as I think they are.

So, the marked pieces of work I have to collect tomorrow are my Sketches from Creative Voice, that's The Armani Assassin, The House at the End of the Road, Agricolaphobia, and Your Housemate Hitler. I'm feeling a little bit confident, though I have thought about how I could have made them much better, but too late for that!

I also have a presentation grade to collect. This presentation was about a children's book called Secrets, Lies, and My Sister Kate by Belinda Hollyer. I thought our presentation went all right but compared to everyone else's it seemed a little scripted and not super-duper acted. Other people had memorized their entire scripts, or re-enacted scenes, one even used a sock puppet! Personally, I don't think our group should be penalised for not being great actors. We're quiet people and that's how we like it.

The last piece I have to collect is Royalteen. I really liked this piece and I worked hard on all the extra bits, like back story and maps. I'm only worried because my lecturer, who is marking it, is very meticulous. She writes YAF and children's books so she knows what works and what doesn't. She also knows what she likes. So, I am a little worried that she'll find loads of things wrong with it or just not like it at all. She's really nice though, and she's my ECP supervisor for next year so hopefully I won't begrudge her too much if she marks me down.

For the rest of the day I am going to be rereading and doing some last minute editing to my last three creative pieces of my second year. I can't believe I will have finished my second year of university tomorrow! Crazy! Keep watching this space as I'll be posting them soon. 

Royalteen

So I finally finished my 2000 words of my story Royalteen. It's all submitted, including maps and everything! Yay! Only one assignment left this term, woo!

Royalteen

Princess Prudence’s Royal Decrees

5. Governesses should teach interesting things like horse riding or history, not how to wave like a princess.4. All maids should be nice and friendly, not total bitches.3. Annoying younger brothers should not be allowed inside the castle.2. Parents are not allowed to be bossy and controlling, even if they are King and Queen.1. There should be no arranged marriages!

They’ve arranged a marriage for me. That’s right; a marriage!

My parents are so frustrating; they’re always bossing me about and telling me what to do. If you think your parents are bad, try having the great King Cedric for your Dad and the beautiful Queen Annette for your Mum. Seriously, they never stop telling me what to do, from ‘don’t bite your nails, Prudence’ to ‘stand up straight, Prudence’. One time they even told me to stop tapping my foot in public. It’s not my fault that the royal band was playing some good music for once. And now they’re telling me to get married! That’s right, I’m not even sixteen yet and they’re already trying to marry me off. Not even someone good looking; they’re going to just give me away to that pathetic Prince Percy. I’ve met him before at a Royal Ball, and believe me, they don’t call him the Pimply Prince for nothing.

Sometimes I wish I had evil step-parents, like in those fairy stories, who would just lock me in a tower and never speak to me again.

But no, they never leave me alone. They’re always coming into my room and talking to me, even when I would rather be on my own. As if I don’t see them enough at breakfast, lunchtime, and dinner in the Grand Hall. I mean, Mum just came into my bedchamber, without even knocking.

I was sitting at my cherry-wood dressing table, brushing my auburn hair, my head still reeling from the news, when she walked in. She closed the door behind her with a sad look on her face. ‘Prudence, I know this is a lot to take in, but it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be,’ she said.

Admittedly I had thrown a bit of a tantrum after they had told me the news at breakfast, it wasn’t very princessey of me – my governess would have been very disappointed. It wasn’t much, just a bit of royal foot stomping and yelling that made even the servants blush.

I looked at the reflection of my Mum in the gilded mirror. ‘I thought after you had an arranged marriage you wouldn’t want your daughter to go through the same thing,’ I said. I could feel tears forming - I don’t usually cry but it had been a rather hectic day. I covered my face so she wouldn’t see them. ‘I thought you would understand.’

Mum’s heels clicked as she glided across the wooden floor, decorated with silver and blue rugs brought over from Esteria. She sat down on my four-poster bed and patted the satin sheets beside her, beckoning me to join her. I got up begrudgingly from my dressing table and sat down next to her.

‘I do understand,’ she said, giving me a hug as I buried my face into her thick, black hair. ‘But it is an Adruhal tradition and I can’t change the rules. It was hard when I had to marry your Father, too. I was your age and he was twenty-one but Esteria needed protection and Adruhal promised it.’ She gave a little sigh and hugged me tighter. ‘I know you’ll do the right thing.’ She let me out of her embrace and squeezed my knee. 

I could feel the tears spilling over. Before Mum could say anything else my annoying younger brother burst into my bedchamber as if there wasn’t a solid oak door there. If anyone can make you feel worse it’s horrible siblings, especially when they’re simpering creeps like Damien. He was even wearing his blue tunic with the Adruhal crest of the lion’s head decorating the front; could he be any more of a suck up? 

‘Here you are Mother, I’ve been looking for you all over,’ he said in his whiney voice, though I swear it should have broken by now.

‘What did you want, dear?’ Mum asked.

He stood next to the door, looking down at his feet; like he was shy. ‘Well, after Prudence’s dramatics this morning I wanted to let you know that I would do anything for Adruhal, even an arranged marriage.’ As he spoke he looked up and gave me a slow smirk that Mum apparently didn’t notice. My tears dried up instantly. Mum smiled at him and patted the other side of the bed. He sat next to her and snuggled in close. He’s only two years younger than me but he always acts like a baby around Mum; little brat.

‘I know you would do anything, dear, but Prudence is the eldest so it’s her responsibility right now. You’ll have your time soon.’

I threw Damien a smug smile. He’d been trying to usurp me ever since he was born. I remember when I was given my first tiara and the next day I had caught Damien stealing it from my dressing table. That was the first and last time I was ever letting Damien near my crown.

Mum then gave both of us a hug (I made sure mine lasted longer than Damien’s) before she stood up.

‘I must be off, darlings, there’s a lot to be done before Prince Percy arrives next week.’ She patted us both on the head and left. As soon as the oak door shut behind her Damien turned to me.

‘I don’t know why anyone would want you to be Queen when you throw hysterics like that,’ he sneered.

Trying to think of something smart I said, ‘I don’t know why anyone would want you to be prince when you look like the back end of a horse.’ Okay, maybe not the smartest thing to say. ‘Now get out of my room.’

Before he had time to retort I grabbed him by the collar of his tunic with one hand (which is hard to do when he’s nearly the same height as me) opened the door with the other and shoved him out into the hall, slamming the door shut. The loud bang echoed down the stone hallway. I hoped Mum didn’t hear it.

I turned from the door, collapsed onto my bed and pulled the plum velvet curtains closed, blocking out the glare of the midday sun. My parents told me that this marriage would be perfect as it would unite Adruhal and Minadril. I did want what’s best for my kingdom but I also wanted to marry for love not convenience.  It sounded pathetic but I had always imagined marrying someone tall, strong, and handsome, manly yet with a sensitive side. I admit it; I was just imagining Raymund. I knew he was only a knight but I figured that when I was Queen I could alter the rules a little and marry him instead of a pimply prince. Prince Percy would be arriving any day now and I would never get to live out my Raymund fantasy.

Unless I was to go riding today, maybe I would bump into him at the stables.

With no time to waste, I threw back my bed curtains and grabbed my horse riding outfit from the cherry-wood wardrobe. It was a pain to ride in a dress but my governess would go crazy if I ever wore trousers. It was made of a hideous green fabric that always gathered thickly around my tummy, making me look twice my normal size. It wasn’t the best outfit for Raymund to see me wearing but it would have to do.

I hurried down three corridors, two flights of stairs and across the castle foyer, my riding boots clomping with every step. Once outside I tied my hair up and half ran, half walked to the stables; I didn’t want to look too keen.

I was around a hundred yards away from the stables when I saw him. His shoulder length blond hair gleamed in the afternoon sunlight and his armour was perfectly sculpted to his well-built body. With each blink of his ocean blue eyes his long black lashes brushed his sun bronzed cheeks. His laugh was as lyrical as the phoenix’s song and it was only then that I realised he was laughing with somebody. A short girl, with strawberry blond hair tied back in a bun, wearing a plain simple dress with a white apron. She smiled up at Raymund and touched his arm. She turned slightly and I could see her face. A pointed nose, sharp chin, and feline eyes: Cathie.

She spotted me just as I saw her.  

‘Princess Prudence,’ she cried, a wide smile stretched across her face. ‘How delightful to see you.’ She curtseyed deeply. Raymund followed suit and gave me a polite bow with one of his dazzling smiles.

‘Are you going riding, your Highness?’ he asked, my heart fluttered as he looked into my eyes. I opened my mouth to reply when Cathie cut me off.

‘Of course she is, silly, can’t you tell by her lovely dress.’ She gave me another smile, yet her eyes narrowed cruelly as she squeezed Raymund’s arm. I felt my face flush. I knew if I were to sink to her level it would get nasty very quickly. So instead of losing my temper like I usually did, I tried to play it cool.

‘Don’t you have to clean some chamber pots?’ I asked in my best royal tone that would have made my governess very proud. The smile dropped from her face.

‘Yes, your Highness,’ she spat bitterly. She quickly curtseyed, this time without the sarcasm. She then turned to Raymund. ‘See you around, Ray,’ she said in a sultry voice with a wink. He smiled and winked back. My cheeks burned as Cathie threw me one last vicious smile and sauntered off.

‘Shall I fetch the stable boy, your Highness?’ Raymund asked absently, still staring off after Cathie and her sashaying hips. I looked at him hopelessly, and felt like chasing after Cathie and shoving her head in a pail of dirty water, but I knew that was not a very princessy thing to do. Instead, I smiled graciously at Raymund, even though he wasn’t looking at me.

‘No thank you, Raymund. I don’t feel much like riding, anymore.’

Cathie had now disappeared into the castle and he finally turned to me. ‘Very well, Princess.’ He bowed once more, picked up his sword that had been resting on the stable wall, and walked off towards the knight’s quarters. I watched him as he walked away, his armour clanking lightly. Typical Cathie! She ruins everything.

I guess that was a sign. I shouldn’t have got my hopes up.  Disappointed, I made my way back to the castle. I suppose I should focus my energies on being a better princess rather than indulging in girlish fantasies. Maybe Prince Percy’s pimples have cleared up since I last saw him. It was three years ago, after all.

*

I had never been so nervous before in my life. Prince Percy would be arriving any minute, and the whole castle was in pandemonium. The maids were running around doing some last minute dusting. The cooks were slaving away in the kitchens preparing the feast we were to have this evening. And every citizen was waiting in the city centre for Prince Percy and his royal precession to parade through at midday. I wasn’t nearly as excited as the citizens though; in fact, I thought I might vomit. As a family we walked out onto the castle’s balcony. The cheers were deafening. I saw the blue banners and bunting hung from the buildings with our lion’s head crest printed across them. Stalls lined the cobbled streets selling the traditional goods of Adruhal; pears and apples covered in sweet sugar; candles made of scented bees wax; bouquets of Bluebells our national flower; and lion figurines sculpted out of the finest woods. Musicians roamed through the crowds playing their pipes, flutes and accordions; their hats filled with silver and copper pieces. I wished I could be as free as the children that ran up and down the streets fluttering flags and streamers, begging their parents to buy them delicious treats.   

If everyone got this excited about a royal visiting I dreaded to think about what it would be like when we had the royal wedding. My Mum looked down at me with a smile. I knew she wanted me to be happy but I couldn’t stop myself from shaking. I held out my hand and my Mum grasped it firmly in her own. Damien stood to my left waving gleefully at the people, soaking in all the attention. My Dad put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed tightly just as the horns sounded.

Prince Percy was here.

Character Profile Sheet - Tobias

I have no idea what to write at the moment. I am completely stuck. So I decided I would do another character profile in hopes that it would get the creative juices flowing. This is just a rough idea of how one of my characters might be like.


Name: Tobias of the Raksaka Tribe.

Age: 17

Birthplace: The Raksaka Settlements.

Marital Status: I am not married. The men of the Raksaka tribe do not marry, but instead take on women to bear their children.

Children & Ages: I do not have any children. It is unlikely that I shall have any children as I would have to choose a woman, and none of the females in my tribe appeal to me. I would not want inflict that misery on anyone, either.

General Appearance (Height, Hair & Eye Colour): My head used to be shaven when I lived in the Desert Lands, but since moving to Minadril I have grown my hair out, as it is rare to see a shaven head in the Western lands. I have dark eyes and skin, and this makes me stand out in Mindaril as most of the people there have very fair complexions. I am about 6 foot tall - the Desert Lands do not produce small, weak children. If they look like they will be runts, the children are left in the desert. Sometimes a person may take pity on the child and leave them on the Adruhal or Helmriche boarders. But that is very rare.

What do they sound like: I have long since lost my Raksaka accent as I have lived in Mindaril for many years. I took on their accent very quickly as I did not want to stand out too much. My dark skin and hair was already a problem.

Typical Outfit: In the Desert Lands I used to wear thin clothing as the heat was unbearable. But here in Minadril I wear expensive tunics, often with the Boar's head embroidered on the chest.

Where do they live (City, Countryside): I used to live in a small hut in the south of the Desert Lands, my tribe was known as the Raksaka. Now I live in the kingdom of Mindaril and have for three years.

Living Arrangements (House, Shared, Rented): I live in the Palace and share a bedchamber with seven other royal guards. I have my own bed, with a trunk for possessions. But I don't have many.

Who do they love: I do not love anybody. My tribe viewed love as a weakness and did not encourage it.

What is their home like: My home was a dreadful place. I despised the dry desert from an early age and wanted to leave as soon as possible. My tribe consisted of around thirty huts made from wood, grasses, stone, and mud. The Lerrnayin Mountains that surrounded our tribe meant it was almost impossible to get to the Abhainn River on the other side. It was torture having water so close and yet so far. Sandstorms were a regular occurrence and last for many hours. They destroyed our homes and what little farmland we had managed to grow. During sandstorms it was best to stay indoors, a bad storm could easily blind you, or tear your skin off.
Many times knights from Adruhal and Helmriche invaded our tribe, claiming the men had attacked their boarders or stolen from their lands. Usually, they had and many of them were taken away as prisoners. The tribesmen hated the knights and especially the royal families. They thought that it was unfair that they should have the rich, prosperous lands, while we rotted in the desert. They firmly believed that our ancestors had been cheated out of what was rightfully theirs.

How do they get around: In the Desert Lands you had to walk, but there were not many places you would want to go anyway. Horses did not often survive the desert. However, now I am in Minadril I have my own horse, Kale.

Occupation: I am the Prince's royal guard.

Degree of skill at occupation: I believe I am very good at it, he has not come to harm in the three years I have been with him.

How does the character feel about their occupation: It is a ruse. I am to wait until orders are given. Then I am to kill him.

Family background: I was raised by my father. My mother died during labour. Yet the women were only chosen to bear children, not for love, so my father was not sad. He was angered at her death though, as it proved that she was weak and he feared I would be weak, too. As I grew up I strove to show him otherwise but he was uninterested. He was moody and temperamental, he often shouted and tried to beat me. I sometimes wondered if he did actually love my mother and was angry that I killed her.
When I was thirteen I was recruited by the tribe leaders with the other boys from the tribe. They trained us as to be assassins. They told us that the royals were the enemies. They told us that when the time was right we would kill every last one of them. The leaders were lazy men, thirsty for the royal's blood. I only joined to show my father I was a man. He did not care. I was glad to be sent away to Minadril. I was only fourteen. When I left I vowed that I would make my father proud one day.

Names (Nicknames, work name, parent names): I am simply Tobias, I have left my tribe now. Many of the people at Minadril call me Guard. I respond to any name I am given and do as I am told.

What would you find in the pocket/handbag: I do not carry a bag. I only have a belt, which has my blade on it. I carry it around with me at all times. Inside my boot is hidden a knife that would go undetected if I were to be captured. When I go riding, or am guarding the prince I also have a sword. I keep my more personal belongings in my chest; I have the clothes I wore when I arrived at Minadril, they are my last ties to Raksaka. At the bottom of the chest is the only thing I have of my mother's. I found it in the hut when I was younger and took it for myself. It is a simple necklace, made from the seeds of the Kushca tree, one of the only trees that grow in the Desert Lands.

Do they have a best friend or someone they can confide in: I do not have many friends at the Palace. I do not wish to have them; they would only make my task harder. I am not friends with the prince. I find him weak, insufferable, and pathetic. I often think that I do not need to kill him, he will die soon enough by himself.

Did they have a happy childhood: No. I was neglected and beaten. I despised my father and he despised me.

What were they like in their childhood: I was quite and reclusive. I did not wish to interact with the rest of my people. My father would find any excuse to beat me so I avoided him at all cost. If I could make him proud now it would all be worth it.

Have they lost anything important to them: I suppose I lost my mother, but I did not know her at all. Some nights I do miss the idea of her, though. Maybe if she had lived she would not have let me controlled by the tribe leaders.


What is the thing that worries them most: I worry that if I fail my task I shall be exiled, or worse killed.


What is most important to them: I want my father to acknowledge my existence, to be proud. Sometimes I doubt whether it really matters. If I kill any of the royals he probably will not even care; all he cares about is lying around in the shade, occasionally throwing stones at the pathetic goats we keep.

Has their heart ever been broken: No. Never.


When were they happiest: Truthfully, I was happy when I left Raksaka. Being a guard at the Palace is a fulfilling job, I almost hope that the order to kill will never come.


Favourite food: Anything that is not covered in sand.


Favourite colour: Colour is not that important to me.


Hobbies: I like practising my swordsmanship and riding Kale. Mostly I have to follow the prince around so do not have time for hobbies.


Pets: At Raksaka we had goats, they were emancipated and scrawny and never produced milk. I felt sorry for them and thought they would be better off dead. Now I have Kale. I suppose he is my only friend here.


What do they hate most: Unlike the rest of my tribe I do not hate the royals. I am indifferent to them. But, the royals must do what is best for their kingdom, I must do what is best for my tribe. If it comes down to killing one of them I will. However, I do hate that my tribe have become mindless wasters. We deserve to live in the Desert Lands, we would only ruin these beautiful countries.


What are their obsessions: I do not have time for obsessions.


Do they have an ambition: Only to make my father proud.


What do they dream about: I have dreams where I am born to a happy family in Minadril. I wake up feeling disappointed and guilty.


What are their secrets: My greatest secret is being an assassin. If the royals of Minadril were to find out I would be executed. If I escaped Minadril, but failed in my mission, my tribesmen would not be any more welcoming. Then again, if my people found out that I did not truly believe their ideals they would also desert me.


Do they believe in religion or life after death: I believe that after death you are dead. I would like more for my mother, but that is the way it is.

Do they get on with other people or avoid them: I avoid them. I do not want to get close to people in case they discover who I am and where I come from. I am close to the prince but we rarely talk about personal things, he complains mostly. 

Another Character Profile Sheet

I found another Character Profile sheet, this one was given to me last year in Creative Voice. It's quite similar to the other Character Profile I did on Princess Prudence but with a few different points. It's more specific this time, and mentions a lot of modern things like TV and Films, so may not be as easy to do for Princess Prudence. I may do it one someone else, like Margaret Jones, who I haven't written about in a while.

But I'll leave the list here while I decide on what character to do it for.

Basic
Character's Name:
Gender:
Date of Birth:
Age:
Marital Status:
Nationality:
Social Class:
Morals:
Ambitions:
Education:
Favourite Subject:
Most Hated Subject:
Family Background:


Physical Appearance
Height:
Weight:
Hair Colour:
Eye Colour:
Tattoos or Piercings:
Any Other Info:


Personal Information
Hobbies or Pastimes:
Favourite Films:
Favourite Books:
Favourite Album:
Favourite TV Programme:
Favourite Sport and Team:
Favourite Food:
Favourite Drink:
Perfect Weekend:
Ideal Holiday Destination:
Accommodation:


Personality
Best Point:
Worst Point:
Mannerisms:
Fears:
Looks Forward To:
Temperament:


Profession
Job Description:
Salary:
Hours Worked:
Job Satisfaction:
Reputation at Work:

Raymund the Knight

This is a little doodle of Raymund the knight. He's so dashing and good looking.  Here's a pretty cheesy quote from Royalteen about him: 


'I was around a hundred yards away from the stables when I saw him. His shoulder length blond hair gleamed in the afternoon sunlight and his armour was perfectly sculpted to his well-built body. With each blink of his ocean blue eyes his long black lashes brushed his sun bronzed cheeks. His laugh was as lyrical as the phoenix’s song...'
 

Fantasy Maps

So I've become a little carried away with map drawing, but I guess it does help with setting. I know my fantasy kingdom like the back of my hand now!

First there is the Province of Kardenia, which I have posted before.

Then there is the Kingdom of Adruhal, which is where Princess Prudence lives. The place now has a little more character. The Lerrnayin Mountains are off limits, over the other side of them is the Desert Lands where lots of dangerous people live. The Maranya is a dry hot place where not much grows and not many people venture. The few people that do live there are patrolling the boarder, protecting the kingdom from attack. Most of the people of Adruhal live in the capital though there are few settlements around the rest of the kingdom. The Adruhal farmlands are vast and very prosperous, and the farmers are happy. Princess Prudence likes to ride out of the capital and through the Welvarend Woods sometimes, but her Dad warns her not to go too far.

And finally, a detailed map of the Capital. You'll notice a cathedral and a grassy areas. Next to the cathedral are all the richer, upper class houses. The East side of the city is where the more lower class people live, but they're still happy. The street down the middle is Main Street where all the shops are. It's also where all the festivals and parades are held. The royals can look across the square from the castle, this is where they address the people. The castle was its own stables, which can be seen on the West side.

Royalteen - First 1000 Words

Here is the first 1000 words of my story Royalteen. My classmates and lecturer have both looked at it and I got some useful and some silly comments back. My lecturer said that I should put more visual imagery in as she can't 'see' the setting very well. That is a valid point. I also recieved a lot of 'show not tell' comments. However, she didn't seem to understand that Damien says 'Mother' instead of 'Mum' because he is a creepy suck-up who likes to act older than he really is to impress his elders. She also said that I should lower the target age group to 8-11 year olds as Prudence's voice sounds young. I don't agree and don't want to change it but also don't want to lose marks. So here is the version I gave in yesterday. Notice how it has changed from the first 500 words.

Royal-teen

Princess Prudence’s Royal Decrees

5. All maids should be nice and friendly not total bitches.

4. Governesses should teach interesting things like reading and history, not how to wave like a princess.

3. Annoying younger brothers should not be allowed inside the castle.

2. Parents are not allowed to be bossy and controlling, even if they are King and Queen.

1. And finally, there should be no arranged marriages!

They’ve arranged a marriage for me. My parents are so frustrating; they’re always bossing me about and telling me what to do. If you think your parents are bad, try having the great King Cedric for your Dad and the beautiful Queen Annette as your Mum. Seriously, they never stop telling me what to do, from ‘don’t bite your nails, Prudence’ to ‘stand up straight, Prudence’. One time they even told me to stop tapping my foot in public, it’s not my fault that the royal band was playing some really good music that day. And now they’re telling me to get married! That’s right, I’m not even 16 yet and they’re already trying to marry me off to someone. Not even someone good looking, they’re going to give me away to Prince Percy, and I’ve met him before at a Royal Ball, and believe me they don’t call him the Pimply Prince for nothing. Sometimes I wish I had evil step-parents, like in those fairy stories, who would just lock me in a tower and never talk to me again.

But no, they’re always coming into my room and talking to me, even when I would rather be on my own. I mean, Mum burst into my room, without even knocking.

‘Prudence, I know this is a lot to take in, but it’s not as bad as you’re making it out to be,’ she said. I had thrown a bit of a tantrum after they had told me the news, it wasn’t very princessey of me – my governess would have been very disappointed. It wasn’t much, just a bit of yelling and foot stomping.

I sat at my dressing table, looking at my Mum in the mirror. ‘I thought after you had an arranged marriage you wouldn’t want your daughter to go through the same thing,’ I said. I could feel tears springing in my eyes. I don’t usually cry but it had been a rather hectic day. ‘I thought you would understand.’ Mum sat down on the bed and patted beside her, beckoning me to join her. I got up from my dressing table and sat down next to her; sure, parents can be annoying, but they’re also always there for you when you’re upset.

‘I do understand, believe me it was hard when I had to marry your father. I was your age and he was 21 but I knew I had to do it for my country; Esteria needed protection and Adruhal promised it. It was the best decision I made, and I know you’ll do the right thing, too.’ She squeezed my knee and I could feel the tears spilling over. Before Mum could say anything else my annoying little brother barged into my room. If anyone can make you feel worse its horrible siblings, especially when they’re simpering creeps like Damien.

‘Here you are Mother, I’ve been looking for you all over.’

‘What did you want, dear?’

‘Well, after Prudence’s dramatics earlier I wanted to let you know that I would do anything for Adruhal, even an arranged marriage.’ As he spoke he gave me a slow smirk. My tears dried up instantly. Mum smiled at him and patted the other side of the bed. He sat next to her and snuggled in close. He’s only two years younger than me but he always acts like a little baby around Mum; little git.

‘I know you would do anything, dear, but Prudence is the eldest so it’s her responsibility right now. You’ll have your time soon.’

I threw Damien a smug smile. He’d been trying to outdo me ever since he could walk. I remember once when I was given my first tiara and the next day I had seen Damien wearing it. That was the first and last time I’m ever letting Damien near my crown.

Mum then gave both of us a hug. ‘I must be off, darlings, there’s a lot to be done before Prince Percy arrives.’ As soon as the door shut behind her Damien turned to me.

‘I don’t know why anyone would want you to be Queen when you throw hysterics like that,’ he sneered at me.

‘I don’t know why anyone would want you to be prince when you look like the back end of a horse,’ I replied coolly. ‘Now get out of my room.’ Before he had time to retort I grabbed him by the collar of his blue tunic with one hand, opened the door with the other and shoved him out into the hall, slamming the door closed.

I turned, collapsed on to my bed and pulled the curtains around me. My parents told me that this marriage would be perfect as it would unite Adruhal and Minadrill. I do want what’s best for my kingdom but I also want to marry for love not convenience.  It sounds really silly but I always imagined marrying someone tall, strong, and handsome, who is caring and brave. I admit it; I’m just imagining Raymund. I know he’s only a knight but I figured that when I was Queen I could alter the rules a little bit and marry him instead of a prince. Prince Percy would be arriving any day now and I would never get to live out my Raymund fantasy. Unless I was to take my riding lessons a little early today, maybe I would bump into him at the stables. With no time to waste I threw back my bed curtains and changed into my horse riding outfit; it was still a dress as my governess would be outraged if I were to wear trousers. It was a plain, more hardwearing dress, that wasn’t very flattering. It was made out of a stiff dark green fabric that gathered thickly around my tummy, making me look twice my normal size. It wasn’t the best outfit for Raymund to see me wearing but it would have to do.

I hurried down the many corridors of the castle, my riding boots clomping with every step. Once outside I tied my auburn hair up and half ran, half walked to the stables; I didn’t want to look too keen. I was around 100 yards away from the stables when I saw him. His blond hair gleamed in the afternoon sunlight and his armour perfectly sculpted to his well-built body. His laugh was like the song of the phoenix and it was only then that I realised he was with somebody. A short girl, with strawberry blond hair, wearing a plain simple dress with a white apron laughed along with Raymund.