Flames of Balance - A WiP Story By Stalins Ghost

Hey guys.
I've long wanted to write a fictional piece, but never had the time. This summer I'm going to be writing a short novel of sorts to occupy my rather extensive amount of free time. It's based on a fictional setting some of you I will hope instantly recognise, but I'm not going to make it big on exposition just yet- it's going to be a slow burner, but knowing a thing or two about the setting will make some of the early references a little easier. That said I'm trying to make the slow introduction of characters/plot/settings/factions entertaining and part of a fairly grand setting. Hopefully I'll be pushing out a good A4-sized chunk a day (this is one and a half).

Unfortunatly, due to the use of a swear filter on the forums, there are some starred out words. I'd prefer it if it wasnt in place, but I understand that it's there for an all to valid purpose, but I'm including the use of strong language non-the-less for literary and atmospheric effect, even though its a bit of a pain to not be able to read certain words

I'm going to explain how I am revealing meaning behind events in the story as it unfolds. There's alot of exophoric references to things the reader will not be familiar with. Some of which (such as the Hammerite Order), I am explaining through the main body of the story- explain the impact of these factions on the city as the main character(s) go about their "business". This is a literary feature I am using for factions and some characters. The other way which I am "explaining" the story is by using the main character's (Julian's) diary extracts as a way of explaining the significance of certain events (e.g. His "meeting" with another character in Chapter 1, Part 2) which, at the time seem a little...confusing to the reader. My main reason for this is that I dont want a story that revolves around "Jim ran into Bob. Bob is this chap did X....Y....Z etc, and for this reason Jim hates him". It breaks the flow of the story, but I feel the Diary extracts will be a nice way of clearing up anything "confusing" about certain characters or events.

Here's the first part of Chapter 1, beginning with the diary entry of our protagonist...

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Chapter 1

Its funny ain't it. I've been in this wretched city for three and a half decades, and not once have a put pen to paper about myself. The first thirty years of my life were spent learning the art of glyph writing, of training in the arts of a Keeper, and not once have I put into writing my own thoughts. My feelings. My fears. Yet, now, I finally get ink on the page for the first time, and fate and the prophecies may make it the last time I've got enough life in my bones to lift a quill.

I've been trying to find the self styled Lord of the Immortal Youth's hideout for about a year now. The sick bastard has been praying on the kids in the city for far too long. The City Guard wont life a finger against him. Partly though fear, partly through laziness, but mostly sheer incompetence. I'd say those overweight, thick skulled taffers couldn't find crime in this city if it hit them in the face, if it weren’t already hiding in their back pockets. The Hammer's are too busy struggling and toiling away to scrounge together enough gold to fill the congregations, let alone put their own special brand of order back on the streets. And as for my dedicated former masters, high and mighty as they are, they can't tear their heads out of the books to just once look up and see that the balance they so greatly profess to be keeping packed its bags when the Old Quarter went up in smoke. So all the City has left is me. I sometimes think I'm the only one who's seeing the hell hole that the City has become these days.
I said to myself five years ago that when I left that hypocrisy ridden, corrupt and ignorant excuse for an embodiment of balance that'd I'd stop watching, and deliver some real justice. Until today, I've had **** poor luck with that. Sure. I've taken down the odd City Warden who's been robbing the poor saps who just try to scrape a living, but never anyone as twisted as my next bounty.

It started a year ago. I'd just made a name for myself assisting a take down one of the Wardens who'd been abusing the upper class *****s in Audale. He'd ****** off a rival for the last time, and the City Watch wanted his head on a plate too- they just didn't want to run the risk of starting a gang war themselves. Not long after giving him an early retirement, I was contacted by one Lady Roxanna. Her son had been kidnapped- not something unheard of; kids go missing in the City all the time. At the time I didn't think much of it, but after digging around in the local crime rings, I started to hear more stories. Some rogue mage who'd been forced out the guild for indulging in some risky practices was kidnapping kids around the City. Mostly from the dregs of society- dockworker families were hit hard. It wasn’t long before the stories were getting worse by the day. Stories of them coming back to the parents houses in the night. Not the same though. The twisted **** had killed them, and, using his 'unique' education from the mages guild had brought them back to life as his slaves. Some attacked their families- a few deaths here and there. Mostly they've ransacked the places, stealing whatever wealth they had. Roxana was found one morning with the flesh stripped off her bones while her Husband Flavius was out of town. Every penny in the house had been taken, and the private bodyguards weren’t even found.

After making some enquiries at the Mage's guild, the surviving families and opening the purse strings for the odd body merchant, I found him. He'd taken up residence in the Old Quarter, not far from the Keeper library. Sometimes I wonder why I took this up. I'm risking my own death with this venture. Hell with Roxana dead the only pay I’m going to be getting is whatever I can pull from this Necromancer’s cold dead fingers. That’s if he doesn’t jump up and take a chunk out of my neck once I’ve dealt with him. I guess it’s because like I said. There's no-one else in this place willing to do it.

Time for some real balance

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Julian mulled on the last line for a minute. Realising that if he was to meet his end tonight he’d be the only one in the city with the skill and desire to bring about some real balance rather than the faux excuse for it the Keepers preached to themselves. “I’m gonna have to be careful out there tonight” he said in a whisper as the light from his lamp flickered, engulfing the room in a dark shroud for barely a moment.

Thumbing his broadsword for a moment before sheathing it in its sleek, dark scabbard, its weight dragged his lightweight black trousers down slightly. Tying his leather jerkin over the top of his shirt, he wondered if it would be enough to stop the tooth and nail of a lifeless shell of the children he’d probably have to vanquish for the second time tonight. He tied around his belt a number of flasks- holy water. At least the Hammer’s were good for something, even if it had cost him a week’s bounty to bribe a local member to get them for him. Around his thighs he strapped four steel shelled orbs; flash-bombs were notoriously effective against mobs of the undead. He just hoped it wouldn’t come to being mobbed. Lastly he picked up his cloak and quiver, slinging the ammunition holster over his back, and covering his head and body with the cloak, the gaunt face all but hidden by the black and darkness, his lightning blue eyes the only thing showing, as they reflected the dying light of the gas lamp. With a heavy sigh, he unlatched the heavy wooden door, walked out the room, shutting the door as he left; the back-draught finally blowing out the flame that was clinging onto the last vestiges of fuel until the wave of air expunged its fire. The room went black.

***

Well, despite the rather disappointing lack of interest so far, his is part 2 of Chapter 1. I hate to double post. I'll only do so this once. Gotta advertise now and again

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Julian began to move swiftly down the streets, heading east towards the Old Quarter and its mammoth barricades. No-one bar the city guards and the odd beggar was out at this time, and there was a certain calmness to the air. It was coming up to summer, and the spring showers were beginning to wane in the face of what the cities official soothsayers were saying would be a glorious summer. The only sounds in the air were he low humming of the street lamps, powered by the Hammer’s arcane technology, and the occasional steady clunking of a generator here and there- again a testament to the technological revolution the Hammerite order had brought about. Julian began too increase his pace, gradually becoming anxious to reach his destination, and enact justice on his quarry.

Moving through South Quarter, the path he was moving down began to show tell-tale signs of the catastrophe that befell the Old Quarter. Subtle at first, the quality of the houses in the area showed a steady decline- none of the rich and affluent in the city wanted to live near an undead infested hole, and the barricades had a negative aesthetic all of their own. The closer he got, the more foreboding the buildings began to look. The seldom maintained lighting in this part of the city was beginning to show its age; a sign of the Hammerite contempt for this part of their city: The place where their order began its slow decline.

As he neared the gargantuan barricades erected outside the old quarter, their ominous figure was matched only by the colossal shadow of the Hammerite Cathedral just rearing its spire over the shape of the walls. Rumours of the cause of the collapse were pure speculation at best, and entirely outlandish at worst, and Julian himself only knew part of the truth- such knowledge was reserved for the upper echelons of the Keepers, but all Julian knew that the Cathedral was where the cataclysmic events originated from; something to do with the order of the Vine he wondered. At any length, he took heart knowing that his target lay away from the Cathedral. If there was one place more knee deep in the dead than the Lord’s fortress, it was the Cathedral.

At this point, the city had all but given away to a slum community, the lighting network barely operational in the area. A small river tributary lay ahead, and, walking across the wrought iron bridge, he cringed at the heavy, metallic footsteps- the last thing he wanted was to wake up the local slum dwellers, replete with their bowls and outstretched hands. As if he had enough money to give them anyway. Suddenly, the movement of a shadowy figure caught his eye. This meant one thing to him: The pit of his stomach churned. His old employers had come for a visit.

“Artemus!” He called out “I know you’re there. Show your face old man”

“You would not be wise to wake the people of this area friend” Replied a voice from the shadows. “I have little time, and more pressing issues at hand. I know why you are going into the fallen city tonight, and let me say that the word of the taverns serves foresight into the future of one man better than any glyph-”

“Get on with it. I havn’t got all night”

“Very well. You are not the only one entering the Old Quarter tonight. You must not lead them astray, for their mission far outstrips the urgency of your own.”

“I take it you mean your precious Garret, Artemus, I need no warning to stay out of that menace’s way. Take your words and leave. I have no desire to associate myself with your kind, you know this.”

“You should not be so willing to expel your allies from the reach of your call Julian. One day you will regret doing so.”

“When I need help, you can bet I won’t be coming to the Keepers Artemus.”

There was no reply. Artemus had vanished. “No matter to me. I’ve got bigger issues tonight.” He whispered under his breath.

“Spare a coin for the infirm sir, or at least copper for breaking ones slumber.” A world wearied voice called too him from the gloom of a nearby shanty.

“If I live through the night you can have a pouch of gold, for chances of me living are but little.” With that he turned to face the massive walls blocking his route.

***

SG is the don :wink:

i wrote a story based arround warhammer 40k once... posted that on forums somewhere

Thanks Phate

Once a good few episodes have been released, I'm going to put them all into a word document too, so that saves you from having to scroll through the posts to get to them. I'll distribute to anyone that PM's me about it

Just a suggestion - If you're going to write fantasy it's better practice for yourself to make your own universe instead of writing in a pre-existing one - more demanding of yourself.

I thought about that, then decided that it'd only end up as a contrived attempt to create what would inevitably become a rip-off. This is more so an attempt to practice stylistic features. Thanks for the input though