Monday, April 30, 2012

The Dryad And The Hunter-Original Story

The Hunter and The Dryad
The hunter treads carefully as he aims his bow and arrow at the grazing deer. Tiny steps, he strolls forward for a better shot. Leaves shuffle and twigs snap as he edges closer, despite his efforts at discretion. Suddenly he topples over, tripping over a log. He curses in spite of himself as the deer looks up and prances away. His leather feathered cap falls off from a head sleek and shining golden hair, which is now covered in dirt and leaves. He reaches out a rought, yet slender hand to retrieve. He stands to his feet, digging his hard leather boots firmly in the ground. He bends down to retrieve his bow.

A soft and curious sound echoes from somewhere behind him. Was that a giggle? He looks around to find himself alone in the serene Gray’s Wood. All he hears now is the gentle song of many birds. All he can see as his eyes dart and his head turns to and fro is a canopy of intricately connected trees, and the beautiful beams of light shining through between their leaves. He continues forward. His heart pounds and he turns abruptly at the sound of another soft and subtle laugh.
“Who’s there?” he calls, but no one answers.
After some time he continues his stroll and finally stumbles upon another deer. A sly smirk crosses a young and smoothly shaven face and he retrieves another arrow.

“Please don’t shoot her!” a soft and feminine voice calls out from behind. The voice is kind and gentle in tone, filled with sweetness. The man feels a warm feeling somewhere in his chest inexplicably. The voice is filled with the sweetness of honey and sugar.

“Who are you?” the hunter asks.
“I am Tanysia. I help to watch these sweet little creatures.”
“Nice to meet you Tanysia, I am Raymos. My job is to hunt these creatures and feed the townspeople. Survival of the strong.” He places the arrow on the tip of is bowstrings, pulls it back with strength and precision, and releases it. The arrow flies straight and true and strikes it in the throat. The deer falls without a sound save for the thumping as its mass meets the earth. Raymos hears a soft, shuddering whimper behind him. He approaches the beast trying to ignore her. He retrieves a hunter’s knife from the small, black leather sheath.

“No, don’t!” she cries, reaching a soft and slender hand.
“If I don’t finish her off now, she will continue to suffer until she bleeds to death or chokes on her own blood.” He urges her gently. The bronze skinned beauty walks to the hunter, Raymos. As her jet black, silky hair shuffles slightly in the wind she kneels next to him. She looks at the deer with puffy dark brown eyes, watering with tears. The hunter sees the sad look and frowns himself as he finishes the deed and kills the deer.

“I’m sorry you had to see that.” He sighs.
“It’s ok. You did what you had to in order to provide for your people. I understand.” She shudders softly. He sighs again as he places a firm hand on her shoulder and speaks in a reassuring tone. “Don’t be so upset.” He urges her. She looks up at him with a smile that warms his heart and even brings a tear to the hunter’s eye.
“You know,” she says softly as she wipes her eyes. “You are a very handsome man.”
Raymos blushes in spite of himself and smirks from ear to ear.
“And you have such a nice smile.” She adds with a wink and a grin of her own.
“You have the most beautiful eyes I have ever seen.” Raymos responds. “And your hair is like perfect shining silk.”
She smiles again, blushing now.
The hunter lies his head down to sleep that night. Restlessly, he tosses and turns in his bed. The thoughts and memories of the day flood his mind. He grows anxious. He can’t wait to see her again. Then suddenly a warm feeling washes over him and stills his pounding heart. Sweet relief flows and he rests at last. Slumber arrives and with it sweet dreams.

“Where are we?” Raymos asks. He finds himself surrounded by a forest, but shrouded in mysteriously sparkling fog. He sees a waterfall behind him, flowing like smoke and shimmering steam rather than water. He still hears the water running though, even in the stream of mist. The sun did not shine, but the sky was gray and the many leaves were changing colors. Yet last he checked it was still spring.
Tanysia smiles as she wraps her arms around him. “We are in the woods my silly hunter. Except they are the woods as they appear in the world of dreams.”
“Then I am asleep?” he asks.
“Yes, but don’t worry I’m real. As a spirit being I can travel in dreams just as easily as walking in the real world. Do you not know what I am?”
“What are you?” he asks.
“I am a dryad, the living spirit of an ancient oak tree. Every tree has a dryad, but most do not choose to appear in the mortal realm. They prefer this world, the world of dreams. Some are not even powerful enough to travel there. But for you my love, I will go anywhere.”
“How can you love me?” Raymos’ eyebrows raise in question. “You just met me.”
“Oh I have my ways.” She giggled gleefully stroking the hunter’s chin and winking. Raymos could barely breathe as he fell captive to her seduction. “But you know, sometimes love just has a way of happening. I don’t really know the answer. I just love you.”
Over the next few weeks the hunter visits the woods daily. He no longer hunts wild game, or does much of anything. Any time he has is spent with Tanysia. Together they talk and take strolls in the woods. She teaches him the many herbs and plants, and even about the creatures that dwell there.

As she walks with him one day she takes him to the falls that he saw in his dream. The mighty stream is not as it appeared in his dreams, but much like what he would expect from a real body of water in the world he is used to.
“It’s beautiful.” He says. “But not as beautiful as you, fair maiden.”
“Hmmm yes, but where were you yesterday?” she asks.
The hunter scratches his head nervously. It had been a busy day for the hunter who was cutting meat for friend who had a feast planned that week. “I fell asleep after a long day of work, and I awoke too late.”
“It’s ok…” she forces a smile. “I just missed you. I was afraid you would never return again. I feared you did not love me anymore.” She sheds a tear. He caresses her face, holding both cheeks and bringing her face closer to his.
“I will never stop loving you. Look how much joy you have brought me.” Their lips meet in a brief, but sweet kiss.
Raymos continues his stroll home alone as night approaches. He knows he cannot stay in the forest after dark, for the creatures will make the attempt to claim him, or he will be lost. He brushes through many overgrown trails, employing his knowledge of the woods to avoid poison, thorns, and beasts along with other hazards. He comes to a clearing and is free at last to exit the woods into the nearby meadow. Just as he approaches the forest exit, however, his legs fail to move. He feels something wrapping around them and squeezing tighter. He looks down to several green vines entangling him at the feet, growing and moving on their own.

A heavy fog ascends out of nowhere. He sees the mist seeping upward from the earth until he can see nothing else but the fog and few trees around him. The birds in the air suddenly grow silent as do the crickets that were just beginning their symphony. All is silent save for the whistle of a chilling wind. He struggles relentlessly to be free of this natural entanglement. The vines wrap him tighter and fight more fiercely with every move he makes. He can barely even feel his legs now as the circulation is forced from them.

Suddenly he sees a great bear approaching from the clearing of the trees. A certain mist exudes from white fur with a glowing tint of blue. Pale orbs of blinding light resound from otherwise empty eye sockets. A lion’s mane of glowing gold surrounds the head, adorned with the horns of a bull. The hunter draws his bow and retrieves an arrow. He fires at the beast, but the arrow passes through as it would a cloud of mist and dew.

“Such weapons will not prevail against the likes of me.” A deep growl of a booming echo resounds from the creature’s throat.
“What are you?” Raymos gasps in wonder and in terror.
“I am a spirit guardian, chief guardian of Gray’s Wood.” He says. “I watch over the creatures great and small and I guard the trees and many vines. I do not interfere with you human. I have never stopped you from slaying my many children. I recognize it is nature to kill and eat. However, my most sacred duty is to preserve the order of the woods. The balance of man and nature.” He explains.
“What do you speak of?”
“The most sacred law you would violate.” He answers. “Your time with the dryad, the spirit of the oak, has not gone unnoticed.”
“What has she to do with this? I’ll kill you if you hurt her!”
The bear laughs a low growl of a laugh. Even as he speaks in normal tone he speaks with the voice of more than one, it seems. Raymos realizes, as according to legend, he is the voice of the woods. “You would need great weapons of magic to fight me, even if you were a more capable warrior to stand against me. I have fell warriors and even armies greater than you. Yet there would be no purpose in such a battle. I have no desire to hurt one of my subjects.” He says. “Yet your actions would hurt not only her, but the very balance of nature. It would hurt her homeland; these woods. I come only to carry a warning. Stay away from her.”

“But I love her and she loves me. Who are you to force her to…?”
“Silence mortal! It is you who brings harm. Who are you to violate our sacred laws, to conflict with the order of this world? I give you one day to say your farewells, but if you return after I will set the woods against you.”
“I will fight them all.”
“Human, do you think even without me as an enemy you could survive here? There are insects and diseases that would devour you, and creatures that would make you their prey. Not to mention the winters, do you not understand how harsh they are? You cannot survive here.”
“Then I will bring her home.”
“And take a dryad from her tree? She belongs in the woods and among nature. You do not. It’s that simple. If you take her from her home she will die.”
“You have been warned.”

And with those words the beast crawls away on all fours, and vanishes into the fog, which quickly fades thereafter. The vines release him and the sun, though setting returns. The birds sing once more. It almost seems as if the beast was never there, but Raymos knows better. The event was very real.
Raymos meets with Tanysia a final time and kisses her on the forehead after he tells her the story. They join hands and she looks up at him with the familiar sad and puffed up eyes. He brushes her hair aside to reveal them. His heart sinks as he too chokes up with tears.

“Take me with you.” She says. “Wherever you go I will go.”
“But take you away from your home, where you belong? Your tree, your companions, your future will be taken away in exchange for me.”
“You are all I want.”
“I…did not know your love was so deep.” He says with a smile now. “Come then.”
For the first few days all is well. They enjoy a new life together; a life of bliss and perfect love. The former hunter is now only a butcher, cutting and preparing meat from either cattle or game caught by other hunters. He avoids the woods at all costs and enjoys his life in the city. Tanysia, his new love, also enjoys a new life with her handsome man. Yet as time progresses they both grow weaker.
He watches as the dryad grows sicker and weaker. She no longer smiles, except for those forced smiles he remembers all too well. Seldom do they speak. They simply stare blankly and try to force conversation, and speak words of love they once meant but mean no more. He watches sadly as once bronze skin grows pale, and once beautiful dark eyes grow lifeless and weary. Tanysia spends her days on a bed, staring out the window and longing to be among nature. When they visit the city park, she can only compare it to the beauty and freedom she once found in the wild woods. When she hears the call of a bird a sad and distant look comes to her eyes.
“Are you alright?” he often asks. She simply nods and smiles.

The day finally comes when he awakens in the morning and she does not. Raymos shakes her frantically.
“Wake up!” he begs. He has long feared this day will come. “Please!” he begs. He scoops her up in her arms and runs with her to the only place that comes to mind.
The large double doors slam open as he storms into the temple and sets her down at the altar. “Please help, she won’t wake up!” He calls to the priest standing before him. A tall but slim balding man stretches out his hands to welcome them and kneels by the dryad. He examines her, hands and feet and face. He forces her eyes open gently, and then examines her hair, nodding.
“It’s obvious what has occurred.” The white bearded man informs him. “She is a dryad. She belongs with her tree and among nature. City life can only sustain her for so long. You must return her home.”
“But if I do…” Raymos shudders, weeping desperately now. “I can’t leave her. I love her!”
“Your love is not enough, it’s killing her. Do you love her enough to let her go?”
Raymos kneels before the mighty oak tree, having entered the woods against his better judgment. Tears fall as he lays her down at its roots. The journey back feels like it has lasted a lifetime, but he here he stands ready to walk away with nothing to show for it. No love, no peace, nothing will leave with him, but love was not enough. Certainly not his love, he thinks to himself. Maybe if his love had been stronger he would have been able to sustain them both, but deep down inside he knows he did not love her the way that she loved him, otherwise perhaps it could’ve conquered all.

“Do not wait for me my love, I will not return. Please do not be in despair without me, but find happiness in your home among your people and among the denizens of the woods. Please do not wait for me. Find your happiness elsewhere.” He says with a tear. “I will not return.”
“See to it that you don’t.” he hears the deep, resounding voice of the guardian who watches from a distance. “You’ve done the right thing. I do not expect to see you again.”
When the dryad awakens she feels more alive, and free. Yet her heart aches inexplicably.
“Where has my love gone?” she demands. She gasps and looks around frantically. “Why would he leave me?”
“You would have died if he didn’t, and he would have died with you. Even with him you would have wandered alone. His love alone was not enough to sustain you.” The guardian answers her from nearby.
“No! You drove him away…” she gasps in a sudden realization. She puts her hand over her mouth in disbelief. “Maybe I drove him away. I was an undue burden.” Her eyes well once more with many tears and she returns to her knees, weeping.
“He loved you enough to release you.”
“If he loved me he would have kept me with him. If he loved me he could never live without me. He never loved me as I did him.”
“So he would have watched you live in misery, and bore the burden of knowing you would never be happy with him, no matter how much you loved one another? At least give him credit for this: he loved you enough to let you go.”

And he did indeed. For Raymos would never forget his first and only love. The dryad of his dreams, but he was sure he could never return to her. No matter what, however, he would always remember his sweet Tanysia. Even in tears he would remember…

Sunday, April 29, 2012

New Youtube Contest, possibly win a free copy of my novel

What is Destiny? Answer for a chance to win a free Ebook copy of The First Free King of The North, original fantasy novel available on

Wednesday, April 25, 2012

Dryad's Dance Original Poem

Dryads Dance
by Jenni Faye

I feel a sense of magic as
The wind blows through the trees
I watch the leaves in motion
Swirling, shaking, falling free

In the dark of the woods
Where it is damp and cold
I hear the dryads whisper
In a language queer and old

They speak of things that only
Faeries of the trees can tell
You can only hear them if you
Truly believe and listen well

They make sounds enchanted
With coos and moans haunting
To stay your ground amidst your fear
Is a task that is quite daunting

Their songs will surely impale
Your soul like sharp swords
And expose your inner being
With their ominous ancient chords

You will never be the same
If you have the strength to stay
In the darkness of the woods
As the dryads dance and play

Sunday, April 22, 2012

What I Am Not

This poem is not fantasy related, but it is one of my most recent works nevertheless, and I wanted to share it with you. Thanks for reading and God bless...

I am not a healer I am not savior
I am not a knight in shining armor
I walk alone and ride no steed
I am not what you want, I am not what you need
I am not a lover, I am not a hater
I know no emotion
I am not the sky I am not the ocean
I am not the silence, nor am I the answer
In all the commotion
I am not God, I am not Christ
I am not your all, I am not you cure
I cannot help you
I cannot heal you
I cannot save you
If you have no happiness, no love, no fulfillment
You will find none in me
I am not who you think
I am neither what you hear nor see…
For that I seek your forgiveness
For all the things I can never be…

Friday, April 20, 2012

Pixie Light-One of my Earliest Works

Pixie Light
Martin a simple man, a lonely wizard lived as a hermit in the woods. This life was forced on the old man, because in his nation the practice of magic and wizardry were strictly prohibited. Anybody who studied or practiced magic, would be burned and labeled a witch or a warlock. Martin knew he was neither, only a humble wizard. He would have tried to tell them if they’d listen, but he knew they wouldn’t. Gabriel had become a blind and foolish nation. Once others had believed as Martin did. Magic was not a devil’s tool, but a gift of God to the world of Diamic. Now, however there justice and freedom did not exist, and in fact no wisdom prospered on the Northern Continent. Martin knew it wasn’t better in the south in the desert lands of Calamaria and Calashaman. He longed daily to live in the east among the elves. Such dreams were farfetched, however, so Martin continued his lonely, humble existence. Nobody could leave their continent without a lot of money, power, and supplies. He had none of these so he lived his life contentedly in an old cabin he’d built with his bare hands.

He studied everything he could find. He discovered magical energy in every living being. He even began to find magic in the rocks and the dirt itself. He made new spells, and devised various potions. The wizard did more than magic spells and potions though, he was not afraid to work with his hands to survive. He was also a great hunter and a not a bad cook. Martin stood in the doorway of his cabin and rubbed his large rounded belly in up and down motions. He was ready to make himself some stew in the pot under the mantle of his fireplace, which was on the left side of the room in his small cabin. The man stumbled clumsily through papers, books, magical apparatus, and many other conventional items that cluttered his home. Unlike most wizards he never cared for the waste of time and effort it took to pick things up and put them in their proper place. The way he saw it, cleaning simply took time from more important things, like his studies. The fireplace crackled softly as it burned the round logs of wood. The dancing flames under its mantle illuminated an otherwise dark house.

Suddenly his balding head jolted to the side, his long white beard waving gently. He squinted his eyes to try and see better whatever it was that caught his attention. He walked over to the desk on the other side of the room before him. He picked a small pair of bronze framed spectacles from a cluttered heap of other apparatus. Then he put them on his aging gray eyes. “What was that?” he whispered softly in astonishment as he continued to peer around the room. Suddenly he saw it again and jolted his head in its direction, but it disappeared as soon as it came into sight. He could have sworn he saw a bright, small, ball of light flying by him at a high speed. He knew too, that it must be something magical. Suddenly he looked behind, hearing the magical, high pitched buzzing sound again. He looked and saw two, no three of the specks of light. This time they weren’t just flying. They were on the shelf where some of his brand new potions sat. The little specks of light crashed right into all the glass bottles and vials and knocked the potions to the floor. The glass of the vials all cracked and tinkled, as they landed on the ground. The chemicals oozed and spread out on the floor of the old man’s cabin. A large cloud of fumes began to rise from the potions. Dark green in color, it filled the cabin. The old man began to wheeze and gag as the fumes entered his lungs through his mouth when he gasped for air. The smell of the fumes was absolutely putrid and so strong it eventually caused the old man to pass out and collapse to the ground. Everything went black and ceased to exist. He slipped into a relaxing state of unconsciousness, where thought and awareness did not exist. This state was a blissful one and yet entering it for eternity was one of the most frightening prospects the old man could imagine.

Finally he felt his thoughts and memories returning to him, his cares and hopes coming back to him. Slowly his body regained consciousness, and nausea that went all the way from his stomach up through his throat and to his forehead, was back on him at once. He opened his eyes to see the blurry cabin about him and slowly his sight returned. At last he put on his spectacles and stood to his feet. He staggered around the room for a moment drunkenly, until he regained his composure. He looked around his cabin in dismay; it wasn’t a dream! He had hoped when opening his eyes that the memory of the little glowing creatures was merely a midsummer’s nightmare. Now he saw however, that his cabin was an even more terrible and chaotic mess than it had been before. His potions in the vials and bottles that held them were now turned to vapors. The glass containers all lay in shambles. The fireplace sat empty but wood and soot made marks all over the little cabin. His sheets, pillow, and blankets were torn off the bed and ripped into shreds spread across the floor. Pages were ripped from the books that now lay no longer supported by the broken shelves.

The wizard put his head between his hands and pressed it hard as if to either try and squeeze his own brains out, or perhaps in an effort to keep them from erupting out of his ears. He fell to his knees and screamed out in frustration. The books could be mended, the bed things repaired, the cabin could be cleaned, but it would take a lot of work. A few simple spells could help, but even then it would take all day. The glass of the vials could perhaps be repaired, but the potions and the months and months of research it took to create them, could not be restored. No spell could bring back the information on the pages the creatures had burned in the fireplace nor could any amount of work short of starting over the years of research. He put his head down and sighed. The day was cut out for him. He’d spend the rest of that day fixing what damage he could, cleaning up the cabin. He took breaks only for his meals. By sunset the cabin was completely cleaned, and everything that could be restored was. The old man exhausted and ready for bed now, lied down and went to sleep.

Hours slipped by quickly as the old man slept soundly, exhausted from the days work. He snored like a cave monster. Suddenly a small sphere of light glowing brightly came to Martin and illuminated his white bearded face. The little creature giggled gingerly. It fluttered its glowing wings and flew back just slightly. It grabbed Martin by the beard gave it a strong tug. The old man, pulled forward by this mischievous little being, awoke abruptly. He gasped in a fright but silenced himself, not wanting to scare it away. He slowly took his right hand and then lurched it forward, grabbing the little creature by its small, clear wings. Immediately the creature stopped short, dropped to the ground, and let go of the old man’s beard. Its glow fizzled abruptly. Martin took the little person to his desk, and lit a lantern, still holding its wings. He put it up to the light and watched the tiny person, futilely struggle, squirm, and kick. It screamed in its high pitch but soft voice to be let go, but Martin had other plans. He cast the creature into a magical jar he had found long ago. He poked tiny holes in its lid. He grinned widely now as he realized now what the creatures were who invaded his home earlier. “Pixies!” he exclaimed softly. It was early in the morning, maybe three o’ clock. The sound of singing crickets still rang loudly all around Martin. In the distance he could hear croaking toads coming from the flowing water of a small stream in the woods. He gathered a few supplies. First a magical net that shimmered just slightly under the light of the moons and stars. He then grabbed a small metal hammer, like those used for forging and shaping weapons. Then he hung up a small contraption that he called a pixie-net. It was a small net-like decoration that he could hang from his doorway. It looked like a dream catcher but with a small, green glowing orb in the center of the web-like structure made from brown bowstrings. Green and brown, as everyone knew, were pixies’ favorite colors. When all was ready and in place, Martin went off.

He marched angrily out into the woods. He made his way through the trees, hanging vines, animal holes, rocks, and countless other obstacles of the forest. Finally he came to a plain field of green grass. Then he saw it, a huge gathering of glowing little balls of light. An actual field of pixies! The field glowed faintly under the stars and hovering pixies, and a few wildflowers revealed themselves in various places across its glorious terrain. Martin stood in awe for a moment. He felt his anger subside. Eventually he walked hesitantly over to the field of fairies with his net and hammer still in hand. The fairies just looked at him in horror and dismay. They whispered amongst themselves and discussed the impending massacre they were sure the old man would bring. The mage looked up at the beautiful, clear and starry sky. He glanced to the north, and then to the south, seeing all four of Diamic’s moons illuminate each of the horizons. Then he admired the stars. He couldn’t help but see the resemblance between them and the pixies. He hated to do what he was going to do, to catch the fairies one by one, and smash them with his hammer. But reluctantly he walked over and began his bloody job.

He caught his first set of pixies, maybe half a dozen all in one swing of his net. He lifted his hammer to the heavens and prepared smash them each one by one. He heard them all whimpering together in their soft, high-pitched voices. He looked down at the creatures struggling to escape. He looked closer at them and saw the look of terror that came to their faces. They got on their knees and begged for their lives, crying the tiniest, most silvery, fairy tears you’ll ever see. The man’s sadistic scowl turned to a frown of pity. He put down his hammer and lifted the net. Then he looked around at the other pixies gazing curiously and fearfully at him. “Oh…” he moaned.“Alright!” he told them. “I won’t hurt you! But you must all stay away from my home and promise to leave it alone!” he said. Somehow he could sense them nodding in agreement, in a certain magical way. “And I want the ones responsible for the damage to my home. They will be kept in my jar for my personal use!” Suddenly one of the pixies came up to Martin and shouted in his ear as loud as a pixie could, which was about the volume of an average human whisper.

“Good wizard,” it said in its soft, fairy voice. “The two of the three, that have been invading your home have gone to rescue the third. They said you captured one of our own and went to rescue him!” The old man’s eyes widened in horror…what would they do to his home now? He immediately grabbed his net and hammer, and ran as fast as his old and stubby legs could take him. He panted in exhaustion but kept running through the woods and eventually came to his little house in the wilderness. The old man looked forward in dismay, walking up the hill to his home. He wondered what his cabin would look like now. He came to his door and sighed in relief when he saw the pixie net hanging above. The pixies had flown right into his trap to try and obtain the beautiful glowing orb before they saved their friend. The old man laughed, imagining their disappointment when the magical net collapsed and closed in on them, entangling them in a small fairy prison. The old man giggled gleefully as he took the net down. He brought it into his home, opened the jar cautiously, and released the two mischievous pixies in with the third.

Later on the old man discovered that the pixies for the most part, slept and ate and lived their lives peacefully in the jar. But when he blew into one of the holes on the lid, they squirmed, struggled, and tried to fly free of their entrapment. When they did this they glowed like the pixies they were, and made a bright light as good as any lantern.

He gently stroked his magical jar, now filled with the peacefully sleeping pixies. “Ah,” he breathed contentedly. “It would seem to me there was a bright side to this otherwise dark day. Out of this whole mess…I’ve acquired myself a Pixie Light!”He said to himself. He chuckled happily as he tapped the jar with his finger.“Isn’t that right my little friends?”

Friday, April 13, 2012

A free Guide to The World of Diamic

Now introducing Xerxes Book of Lore, your FREE eBook that will tell you everything you may want to know about the world of diamic. Download it today FREE at the Storefront
Here you will find a guide to places, people, faiths, and more. Packed with free information about the world to act as a guide to familiarize yourself with your fantasy experience here in Diamic.

Thursday, April 12, 2012

Dark Elves

Among the dark elves there are many creature that lurk about the Dark Realm, and there are two major factions: The Queen of Spiders, which many worship as Gothica the goddess of death. Dark elves who worship her comprise very matriarchal and feminist societies, while those who Worship Centipede King tend to promote more equality among the sexes. Those worshipping the Centipede King are considered evil, but more moderate and neutral in nature, not as keen on conquest and empire like their counterparts, and are also a minority in the Dark Elf Empire.

Breath-taking artwork by Sarah Helsley, all rights are reserved to the original creator.

Monday, April 9, 2012

Davainia-A National Anthem

The nation of Davainia is unique and freedom is enjoyed by many here in the world of Diamic. The national anthem was inspired by the epic tale of its founding, which can be enjoyed in the novel The First Free King of The North. The song can be enjoyed below. Thanks for listening and enjoy...

Davainia Davainia
Land of peace and liberty
A haven of power the eyes of many see
Davainia Davainia
The sword of an empire did not prevail against thee
Your walls withstood their fire
You survived though things were dire
Davainia Davainia
Man and orc fight side by side
Only for freedom do they stride
And justice prevails while ignorance fails
Davainia Davainia
Escape for the refugee
A haven of hope in you the hopeless see
Giving glory to the god of all
You protect the innocent, the righteous great and small
Davainia Davainia
Davainia Davainia
Glory to Dragonia for Davainia!

Wednesday, April 4, 2012

Introducing: The First Free King of The North (video)

Dabuse Foxington has spent most of his life growing up in a nation and under a set of circumstances he does not understand. He comes to realize that his destiny is to fight for a nation he has come to hate for the oppression, hypocrisy, and the over all narrowmindedness of his people. He wishes to be free. The time will come to choose if he will follow his fate as a soldier or make a choice to be something more. In doing so he will face monsters of epic proportions, barbarians, and the most powerful nation in Diamic, the nation of Gabriel. He will be hunted like a dog. Worst of all, however he will have to answer to Destiny the goddess of fate, who does not appreciate the will of a mortal man contending with her own, only time will tell if he can overcome here and become...

The First Free King of The North... (click link for more)

Check out the video for an audio excerpt...