Tribes Of The Earth - Part Two

It's taken me a little while to get this one up since I'm still figuring out my editing workflow without Scrivener. I didn't realize I'd miss it so much. I need to consider buying it. 
Also there was a short section that just needed rewriting, and I procrastinated on that. But I think I've got it fixed so it flows better and shows more of that character's nature.
Anyway, here it is, Part Two: 

Kazimir Camp

      Deidre ran for an hour and a half before she stopped for a rest. She had just crested a hill overlooking an empty valley.

      Not quite empty. She corrected herself. A small cabin sat at the base of the hill, a touch of faint smoke rising from the chimney, evidence of a dying fire.

      No one would settle here unless they had a water source. Stretching her arms over her head, she breathed deeply. Favor is gained with a gift. All I’ve got is this scraggly squirrel.

      With a heavy sigh, she sat down and began to think. She was in no condition to hunt a wolf right this moment, and setting a snare for a deer would take too long, and had no certain outcome.          Unstoppering the waterskin, she took a healthy swig, then swished it around, listening carefully to judge the amount left. She heard water. Not just the water in the skin, but actual running water.

Her hopes soared, but she quickly pushed them down. Just because there was water didn’t mean it was safe to drink. Putting the skin back over her head, she stood and listened, turning slowly to divine the direction of the sound.

      As she started forward, something checked her. If this turns out to be a false lead, I lose valuable time and energy. The safest bet is to keep going.

      “Well, then! Are you coming down or aren’t you?” A voice called out, startling her.

      Deidre whirled around, staff ready. A wave of annoyance passed through her. This was the second time today someone had been within earshot and seen her first. She had to pay closer attention.

      At the door of the cabin stood a man holding a lantern up in one hand and clutching a sword in the other.

      “Come down here, mister, or I’m coming up after you!” He added sternly.

      Deidre realized that the moon was at her back, rendering her a silhouette to the man. Using her staff to steady herself on the steep slope, she made her way down.

      Once she had come within the circle of light, he hastily corrected himself. “Oh, ‘scuse me, ma’am. Just tryin’ to be careful.”

      “Very wise of you.” Deidre said, gracing him with a smile. “I was just passing through.”

      As she spoke, he studied her carefully. She had dark hair that was lightly streaked with gray, which seemed out of place around her youthful face. Her clothing was rough and sturdy, but skillfully cut, and she handled her heavy staff with practiced ease.

      “Most night travelers I get are more trouble than they’re worth.” He adjusted his grip on the sword as he spoke.

      “I was left no choice.” She explained. “Earlier I was delayed by an attack. My water supplies are running low and I was heading for the next source I knew of when I happened upon your valley.”

      “You’re wanting water, then?”

      “Yes, sir.” Deidre retrieved the squirrel from her belt. “I have this to exchange.”

      The man eyed it. “Kinda scrawny.”

      She sighed. “I know. But if you’ll let me sleep here for a few hours, I’ll hunt for you at first light.”

      Now he eyed her. “Oh, will you? And what will you bring back?”

      “A wolf.” She promised. “A wolf with a healthy pelt.”

      The man laughed, sheathed his sword and offered his hand. “Rath, son of John.”

      She took it, but did not give her own name.

      “Well, come in,” He stepped aside to let her enter. “We’ll cook that squirrel of yours for a snack, and tomorrow, after you’ve gotten me a wolf, I’ll fill your waterskin and give you another besides!”

      She stiffened at his familiar and commanding tone, and didn’t move towards the doorway. “I’ll sleep out here, and make a fire with your permission.”

      He frowned, then finally shrugged. “Eh, suit yourself. Just keep it under control.”

      “I will. You have my gratitude.” Deidre turned and walked away.

      Kneeling at the far end of the valley, she unstrapped everything from her back and rolled her shoulders in relief. As she organized her sleeping bag and her pack, she noticed that Rath was still watching her. It made her uneasy.

      She decided against building a fire and set the squirrel to the side, a plan for it slowly forming in her mind.

      After unhooking the cape and cowl wrapped around her shoulders, she began to untie the bandages wrapped around her arm. She grit her teeth as the dried blood tore away from the tender skin. Even in the faint lantern and moonlight, she could see that it wasn’t faring well. Opening the waterskin she used half of the remaining contents to flush the wound clean and rinse out the cloths. Then she retied them, glancing at the cabin as she did so. Rath was still watching her from the window.

      Sitting down cross-legged, back straight, she faced the cabin, staring back at him. After only a few moments, he left the window and then lantern went out. With a smile, she laid down, still facing the cabin, and soon fell asleep.

      The sun’s rays were just beginning to think about reaching up to touch the horizon when Deidre opened her eyes. It took her a moment to get her bearings, but once she realized where she was, she got up quickly. She had a wolf to hunt.

      Several miles away, a large camp was woken by a large brass gong. Two long lines of tents were filled with the moaning and groaning of men as they rolled off their cots and dressed quickly. They lined up quickly, glancing down to the end of the row. There sat a tent so large, it was really more of a draped pavilion. A man stepped out of it just as the last stragglers jumped into line. He was tall, and heavily muscled. His face was rough and weathered, but surprisingly pale. However, it was his attire that attracted your attention first. His jerkin, leggings and boots were darkest black, but his belt and scabbard, which was not empty, were purest white. Over all these he wore a long, finely tailored coat, red as blood on the outside and as white as his belt on the inside. Finally, those who dared, or were allowed to approach him were drawn to the fact that his hair was an unnatural white and his stunningly green eyes were always completely bloodshot. All in all, he cut a commanding, if not terrifying figure.

      He let his gaze rove over the lines of men, appraising them as harshly as he had the first day they had joined his tribe. One man in particular caught his eye. He walked down the line of men slowly, gaze fixed on the recruit that seemed to offend him. When he stood in front of the recruit, he said nothing, but looked down at him with a mix of disgust and challenge in his eyes. The recruit was trembling slightly, but continued to stare straight ahead as if his commander were not there.

      The commanding man drew back and punched the recruit across the jaw. Or he would have, if the recruit hadn't brought up his forearms to block and absorb the impact. He had to dig his feet in to remain standing, and even then he was driven back nearly a foot by the power in his commanders fist. Then he straightened and stepped back into his place in the line.

      The man nodded, satisfied, then signaled to one of his attendants to begin calling the roll and returned to his oversized tent.

      His name was Haemon, Son of Carl, and he was the Chief of Kazimir Tribe. He walked over the many skins that covered the dirt floor and crouched at a low table. It was covered with more gadgets than you could imagine. Cell phones, mp3 players, headphones, calculators, and car keys. But the prize of Haemon’s collection was a handgun, loaded and fully ready to fire. He had found a box of ammunition near the gun and had carefully figured out how to reload and operate it-mostly by letting some of his men play with it privately. Two of them shot themselves before he finally got any useful information. Already he had used it to rid himself of three would-be chiefs. Picking up a cloth, he polished it lovingly.

      “My Lord Haemon!” His attendant burst into the tent.

      Haemon moved fast as a snake, pulling his knife and darting forward to grab the man’s throat and press the knife against it.

      “You were not given permission to enter.” He hissed.

      “But, my lord,” The attendant gasped, “There’s a man missing.”

      “Did you search the tents?”

      “Aye, my lord.” Choking, the attendant added, “He’s one of the loners. A tracker, my lord.”

      Haemon released him. “What is his name?”

      The attendant did his best to answer through his coughing fit. “G-gavin, my… my lord.”

      “Gavin.” Haemon repeated the name thoughtfully, “Wasn’t he the one I punished for insubordination last week?”

      “Aye, my lord, and laziness the week before.”

      “He was the scarred one.” Haemon said softly. “I remember him. He was an idiot. Where did he come from?”

      “He was one of the Farze, my lord.”

      “Was that the last tribe we helped, or the one before that?”

      The attendant cleared his throat surreptitiously, “Farze Tribe was the first tribe we… er, helped.”

      “Ah.” Haemon turned, his green and red eyes boring into the attendant, and growled, “I want him found and brought to me.”

      “Aye, my lord. How would you like him found?” The attendant had learned long ago not to guess at Haemon’s methods.

      “Send a tracker and two fighters after him. I don’t care if he can still see, if he’s in three pieces or they have to break every bone in his body to get him here. All I want is for him to still be alive when they get back!” His voice rose with each sentence. “And tell them that if they aren’t back within a week, we’ll send more men after them.”

      “Aye, my lord.” The attendant turned to leave when Haemon added,

      “And tell them we won’t be here for longer than two days. Ilismach Tribe and Averill Tribe lie ahead and beyond them is another of the Old Cities.”

      “Aye, my lord.”

      Haemon turned back to polishing his gun and grinned savagely. No one left Kazimir Tribe without his permission. Soon the Kazimir would be larger and wealthier than ever. 

And now you've met my villain. Haemon, Son of Carl. He's going to be starring in my next character post. I find him quite interesting as well. I think I'll probably say that for every character, though. Each one is unique and distinct, at least in my own mind. The test of my writing skills will be whether or not I can translate that into the story. I hope I have, but I'd like your opinion. 
As per usual, comments can be left below, and are not only appreciated but anticipated. Seriously, you have no idea how happy I get when someone leaves a comment. It's like a mini-Christmas morning. 

Sé onr sverdar sitja hvass! 
~ Trinity

Character Post - Deidre Traviat

Deidre Traviat ~ The Sorrowful Wanderer
(Dead-dray Trav-ee-ought)

She had dark hair that was lightly streaked with gray, which seemed out of place around her youthful face. Her clothing was rough and sturdy, but skillfully cut, and she handled her heavy staff with practiced ease.- Tribes of the Earth

Deidre is quite an interesting character to me. She is the first character that I created for TOTE, aside from the characters in the prologue, which I had a hard time abandoning. I have to consciously make sure that I don't just duplicate her from other characters that I've created, because there are similarities to Rienna (from Aouthentica). 

Deidre's a traveler. She doesn't stay in any one place for very long, and she lives in an age where travel is very dangerous. Not only have all the animals of the past century been turned loose and become wild and bloodthirsty, but the tribes are slow to trust strangers, and often the safest course of action is just to remove any possible threat, meaning that strangers are often killed on sight.

She travels the same route every year, or every season-cycle, depending on which tribe you're from. She goes from tribe to tribe, so she's safer than most travelers because the tribes know her. She keeps her past to herself, rarely gives out her name to anyone, so she's known merely as the Sorrowful Wanderer, which happens to be the literal meaning of her name (quelle coinky-dink, eh?).

She has dark hair with grey streaks, though it's because of genetics, not age. (Pay attention to that.) In her past life, she was fairly well off, as evidenced by her clothing, which is stylish and flattering but made of leather, wool, and other materials better suited for her rough lifestyle. On that note, she wears a cape and cowl, which I find a little difficult to describe. It looks like the picture above combined with ←this picture.

Pictures really are worth a thousand words, and because I had the freedom to create Deidre however I pleased and my brain didn't have any preconceived notions of what she should be like, I based her off a couple of different pictures. The two up there and this one → which I've posted before. 

Mostly the first and last one. Those are the ones I look at as I write (Scrivener!) for inspiration. 

Okay, now a little more about her personality. 

Deidre's ultimate goal is to have complete self-control. She doesn't want to let anyone know that they made her angry, or made her sad unless she wants them to know. She wants to be in control of herself. Not that she desires not to have emotions, but she wants to keep a tight leash on them instead of letting them flow. She wants to cry when it's appropriate to cry, laugh when it's appropriate to laugh, and be angry when it's appropriate to be angry.  

Which I think is something that I myself desire, especially being a teenage girl. Sometimes you get upset and when you think about it, you have no idea why.

She is a woman of many skills and when her control slips, she sometimes finding herself doing things she wouldn't have done had she thought it out rationally. And she prefers to be very rational and logical.

She has a great respect for the sanctity of life, both animal and human. However, if it's a choice between an animal's life and her own, she will always choose her own. If it's a choice between another human's life and her own, she will do her utmost to choose both.

As for why she's called the Sorrowful Wanderer (I keep writing "warrior" instead of "wanderer" for some unknown reason. Please ignore that mistake if you come across it.), she's seen a lot of terrible things in her relatively short time. At one point (that is yet to be posted) she tells someone that she comes from "a scattered tribe". She's seen many tribes rise, fall, and reform, usually violently. Sometimes, I imagine, she was even involved.

She has had to develop the skills to fend for and defend herself. Some she learned, and some she was taught. Her weapon of choice is her iron staff, which when manipulated correctly becomes more like a trident, only with the tines in a circle, like a claw, rather than lined up. If that makes sense.

For lack of a better explanation it looks like this, but on a staff. Then, when she's finished, or when she needs more of a javelin than a trident, she can slip the tines back in, close to the core, so it becomes a spear. It's very precious to her, as it was designed and crafted by someone she loved very much.

Deidre reached over and picked up her staff, holding it up for him to see. It was about an inch and a half wide on one end, narrowing to a point on the other. Near the sharp end, a wide leather band was wrapped around it. Deidre set it upright, wide end in the dirt and grasped around the leather band, pulling it downward in a quick motion. The top split apart into three razor sharp prongs.  

~Tribes Of The Earth

She also carries a long knife, which becomes very useful to her in the near future of the book. She also uses it for skinning, making tinder, and chopping small branches. Very useful. In a pinch, she won't hesitate to use it in self defense, though she prefers to use her staff.

Deidre's goal in her travels is basically justice. She intends to prevent what happened in her own tribe if at all possible.

And that's about it. I decided against putting any spoilers in this time, though I did hint vaguely at some things, which may not make sense until you've read the rest of what I've written. Besides, what's more fun than trying to figure out what's going to happen before it's happened when you actually had possible clues and hints to go on?

Sé onr sverdar sitja hvass! 

~ Trinity 

Tribes Of The Earth - Part One

Okay, first TOTE post! For those who may be new please check out the prologue at the tail end of this post. You really should read it before continuing on. Unless you've already read it, in which case, jump right in! 

Oh, one more thing. 

Feedback is not only appreciated, it's sought after. I wouldn't be posting if I didn't want feedback. I want the good and the bad. If something didn't make sense, or there was a confusing change in POV, please tell me. I can take it, I'm a big girl. All I ask is that you keep...

A: ...in mind I have not gone through to edit most of these sections yet.

and 

B: ...your comments clean, or I'll vaporize them with my dragon fire.

100 Years Later - 

“Argh!” Deidre snarled, clutching her upper arm. Blood poured from the wound.

Her attacker said something in a strange language, obviously taunting her.

Deidre grimaced and replied in kind, startling the man. She continued speaking, then darted forward in the middle of her sentence, iron staff whirling. The butt of the staff hit him soundly in the gut. He doubled over even as Deidre scolded him in his own language. He heard a dull whir, then crumpled to the ground.

Back in the land of the conscious, Deidre was examining the knife that had wounded her. It was dull where it wasn’t nicked and rusty where it wasn’t dull. She curled her lip in disgust and flung it as far away as she could, which was a good distance.

Keeping one hand pressed to her upper arm, she started going through the man’s duffel bag. She couldn’t help but smile as she as she unzipped it, once, twice, three times. She hadn’t seen a zipper in a long time. The fact that he carried such an antique meant that he was a desperate man. Most people these days carried leather bags with straps to hold them shut. To have an actual duffel bag would mean he had ventured into one of the Old Cities, a dangerous proposition.

She rummaged through the contents. There were several pretty baubles, a sharpening stone, three old books, as well as a collection of dirty garments, most of which had been wrapped around the baubles. She lifted one up to catch the fading sunlight. Though tarnished, the necklace sparkled with jewels of every shape and color.

“Worthless.” Deidre murmured regretfully. She liked jewels as much as any woman, but her lifestyle forced her to be practical. A necklace like that would make her a target. People would be too busy ogling it to notice her long knife or her heavy staff.

Blood dripped onto one of the books, reminding her of her current plight. She hurriedly pawed through the rest of the contents, but couldn’t find any medical supplies. With a sigh, she selected the cleanest shirt she could find and began tearing it into strips with one hand and her teeth. Before she began binding her arm, she took a close look at the cut and sighed again. She wished she could wash it out, but the only clean water she had was for drinking, and she couldn’t spare any for anything else.

It’s been well flushed by the blood, she assured herself. I’m fortunate it was a downward slash, and not sideways. I probably wouldn’t be able to move my arm otherwise.

After binding it up tightly, she pulled a length of rope out of her own pack, cut it into two shorter pieces and used it to tie up her attacker, hand and foot. She paused, then, with a smile, attached the ornate necklace around his neck. Finally, she slipped the sharpening stone into her pack and stood, holding her staff. It was completely dark now, and a full moon loomed huge in the sky. In the distance, a wolf howled. Much closer, another answered.

Deidre hesitated, glancing at her captive. She had fully intended to leave him to his own devices, but with the wolves out, he would almost certainly be seen as an easy meal. On the other hand, if she had only two days worth of water left and the nearest safe water source was exactly two days away. Any delay cold mean going without water, something she had had to do before, but was loathe to do again.

One of the wolves howled again, joined by several of it’s brethren.

Muttering at her conscience, she unslung her pack, retrieved her flint, and set about building a fire. Once she had a nice blaze built up, her captive finally began to stir.

“As ye heid feldin?” Deidre asked, asking him if his head still hurt.

“I feel like I’ve been stomped by a horse,” he growled in reply.

“You do speak a civilized tongue, then.” Deidre sat cross-legged on the opposite side of the fire.

He struggled to sit up, his movements awkward. “Is that what you call this tongue? Civilized?”

“Yes,” Deidre said calmly. “That’s what I call it.”

She drew her knife, laid it across her lap, and began to run the sharpening stone across it.

“That’s my stone, grisfath!” He cursed.

“Watch your mouth.” Deidre’s voice remained even, but her glare was dangerous. “It was your stone, and you’re lucky I didn’t just leave you here for the wolves.”

As if on cue, the wolf pack gave up it’s cry once more.

“What’s your name?” She asked, not looking up from her task.

“Gavin.” He answered, after a moment’s hesitation. “Aren’t we going to eat?”

“Even if I had food, what makes you think I’d give you any?” When he didn’t reply, she added, “I may go hunting later.”

“With what?” He snorted. “Your knife or your stick?”

Deidre reached over and picked up her staff, holding it up for him to see. It was about an inch and a half wide on one end, narrowing to a point on the other. Near the sharp end, a wide leather band was wrapped around it. Deidre set it upright, wide end in the dirt and grasped around the leather band, pulling it downward in a quick motion. The top split apart into three razor sharp prongs.

Gavin shifted uneasily. “You gonna throw it? A deer won’t stand still for you.”

“Why would I hunt a deer when there’s so many wolves about?” She asked quietly, reverting the staff to it’s original form. She sat back down and continued sharpening her knife. “You’re a strange man, Gavin. You expect to be served, yet you’ve been in one of the Old Cities, where only the desperate and insane go.”

She paused her work and looked at him. “You have been in one of the Old Cities?”

“I’ve been in many of them.” He said, sounding cautious. “How did you know?”

Deidre answered with another question, “Why did you attack me?”

“I thought you were someone else.” His reply was curt.

“Who?”

“None of your business, grisfath!” Gavin snapped.

Deidre didn’t say anything more. Despite her calm demeanor, though, she was furious. 

Not only had she kept him alive when it would’ve been more practical to kill him, she had delayed her journey to protect him. As if his apathy wasn’t enough, he continued to insult her.

After several more minutes of working silently, a thought came to her. It was so brilliant, she laughed aloud.

“What?” Gavin demanded.

Deidre put the stone back in her pack, sheathed her knife, and picked up her staff.

“Where are you going?”

Smiling, she winked at him and said, “Hunting. I’ll be back very soon.”

As she checked his bonds over again, he asked, “How long does it take you to track and kill a wolf?”

“I’ll be back very soon.” She repeated. “If I even have a suspicion that these ropes are looser when I get back, I will kill you.”

Gavin snarled, but didn’t doubt her.

True to her word, she was back very soon, with a rusty knife in one hand and a squirrel over her shoulder.

“That won’t feed us both.” He protested.

Deidre shot him a look of disgust. “I know that.”

She knelt behind him to check the ropes, and once satisfied, she moved to the fire, building it up twice as wide and three times as high. Gavin scooted away as the heat intensified.

“What are you doing now?”

Deidre picked up his rusty knife. “You posed quite the problem for me, Gavin. My conscience did not allow me to kill you for the sake of convenience. Nor did it allow me to leave you at the mercy of the wolves. So here is my solution. This fire will burn for several hours. Long enough to ward the wolves away until they’ve settled for the night.”

She tossed the knife into the center of the blaze, where it was quickly obscured by the flames. “At that point you can make a choice whether to use the remaining wood to stoke the fire back up or wait for it to cool enough to retrieve your knife and cut yourself loose.”

She slung her pack over she shoulder, her water skin across her chest, attached the squirrel to her belt by it’s tail, and picked up her staff. “Iysh hyoe pahth eigns gowe llwe thye.” I hope things go well with you.

He glared into the fire as she walked away, then said in a grudging tone, “Ansh llwe thye. Ye hawe lin gatatin.” And with you. You have my gratitude.

Deidre turned and nodded once. “I’d leave the squirrel with you, but it would only attract the wolves.”

“Just go!” He snarled, not looking the least bit grateful.

Deidre adjusted her grip on the staff and sprinted off into the woods, satisfied with the arrangements she had made. 

So don't. 

Because these works are my babies.

And if my babies get stolen...

I become a territorial, fire-breathing, revenge-driven dragon, that in my rage and grief I will tear off the roof of your most sacred dwelling and turn your electronic devices into a mass of molten metal and plastic.

And you don't want that.

(Also, this work is licensed under a Creative Commons 

Attribution-NonCommercial-NoDerivs 3.0 Unported License.)

[Big Sigh Of Relief Here]

Aaaand, it's Trinity!
NaNoWriMo is officially over, and I'm sure whatever little bit of audience I have is tired of hearing about it, so let me be brief. (Relatively brief)
I failed. I lost. I did not complete the goal. I failed spectacularly, too. Because not only did I fail to reach the original goal, I failed to reach my namby-pamby goal as well. But! I did get 21, 273 words completed, which is a lot more than I had when I started. For that, I am thankful.

Moving right along! Not only do I think you're probably tired of hearing reading about NaNo, quite frankly I'm tired of writing about it. So now I can focus on my actual writing that I've done. And am planning to do.
Tribes Of The Earth has formed in my mind like no other story I've written. I add little pointless details here and there and then further along, they weave themselves back into the story and become an important part of it. Go figure. Something I am missing a little is getting to know my characters a little better. Deidre, Gavin, Jerod, Cassandra, Ramona... etc. etc. You'll learn more about them later. I'm planning to put what I've written so far up a little at a time. And be very afraid, because I write (in my opinion) excellent cliffhangers and I know how to use them!
Anyway, I haven't really had time to get into the minds of my aforementioned characters, even though I've defined their personalities.

Deidre is almost always in complete control of herself. Or she tries to be. She rarely gives out her own name, but those who know her know her as Deidre Traviat, The Sorrowful Wanderer.
Gavin is wild card, and he knows it and intends to stay that way. He is driven by desperation, anger, and a will not only to survive, but to come out on top.
Jerod is burdened with glorious purpose with his own sense of responsibility. He's slow to anger and thinks things through carefully.
Cassandra adores her cousin (Jerod) even though he's serious and quiet. She tried to emulate him, but usually ends up letting her temper get away from her. She likes to reason and is known for turning phrases.
Ramona.... is a new character, just recently added. I know very little about her. She isn't strong or athletic like most of the other characters, because she hasn't needed to be. She spends most of her time reading, studying and writing.

Actually, just in writing these, I've learned more about each one. Makes me think I should start doing character posts. That would be fun. A lot of fun. I think I shall. Although, I'll wait until they come into the story before writing out their innermost workings. Just so you can see how they play in. I may have to include spoilers, but I'll warn you first so you don't have to see them if you don't want to.
I'm re-catching the blogging bug, so look out for more posts very soon! :D

Sé onr sverdar sitja hvass! 
~ Trinity