Orpheus Lupus
The Pretty-Okay Doctor
- Joined
- Feb 11, 2007
- Messages
- 384
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- Age
- 35
T.C.D.A, Or Yet Another Swineherd Prince
Reath.
A planet whose size was comparable to that of a suburb.
A planet where castles and magic still reigned.
A planet with an unforgivably bad name.
And a planet that easily, over the course of an hour, went through more crises than one of HALF Industries' daylong sessions of the "Whose Fault Is It Now?" game.
It was the sort of planet than went largely unnoticed. People barely gave it so much as a passing glance as they flew by in their expensive luxury space cruisers. No one cared much about kidnapped princesses anymore. Evil empires were thought to be a perfectly acceptable and routine fact of life, and there were now teams of well-trained suicidal maniacs you could hire to get rid of that nasty dragon problem.
And yet while the rest of the universe slowly marched on into financial oblivion, Reath stuck to its lords, ladies, and mystical beasts from alternate dimensions like a moth to a light source. It has been this way for centuries, and no one really remembers why. No one cared. Individuals from the many races that inhabited Reath just accepted this as the natural order of things. But...
Perhaps, just perhaps, the answer lies within the heart of one boy currently sleeping inside a little house just outside of Gog Tinn village, north of the foul-smelling continent of L'Bark.
The house itself was not unordinary. It was small, and white. Almost blindingly white. It was white enough that the winter snows looked beige when they fell around it. If you looked at it through a prism, it would suddenly turn into a rainbow and spread out in several directions. And when the moonlight hit it just right, the resulting reflection helped guide distant ships into port. We’re talking the brilliant epiphany of white.
There was a small, perfectly square rug that said "Home Sweet Home," presumably in reference to this house. It was currently placed in front of a perfect little wooden door that stood in front of a perfect little stone walkway. On either side of the door were perfect little flowerbeds filled with perfectly formed little red roses placed a perfectly equal distance apart. Obviously, this was the home of a completely unhinged single Human mother of one.
This particular mother went by the name of Karina Miggarfinkle. She had bright red hair that was always tied back into an oversized bun, exposing some ill-gotten wrinkles. At least, they would have been exposed if they weren’t covered with enough make-up for five elephants (if elephants were to wear make-up, that is; they tend to be less self-conscious of their wrinkles than other species). Her eyes seemed to change color with her mood, though for the past two decades they had remained a particularly maddening shade of bright, nauseating yellow more often than not. The men and women of the local fishing village absolutely despised her. She made them nervous.
But they loved Gideon.
Gideon was Karina's son. Her only son. And he was the one person who lived with the poor woman and took care of her.
Gideon often made trips down the mountain path to the village where he could buy fish and vegetables from the locals, or in some cases traveling merchants if he was lucky. He also performed the occasional odd job.
He wasn't viewed as terribly intelligent, but the villagers thought it kind of him to do the jobs they were supposed to be doing. Gideon himself wasn't entirely sure why he did these things for people. He just felt like it was the right thing to do.
Even the Emperor of Sandwich loved Gideon, it seemed. Only a year ago, the Emperor and his highest officials had made a surprise visit to the sleepy village, looking for promising individuals to join the Agents. The Agents were the most prominent rank in the Empire's military. They were paid well, and were often sent on important missions to the far reaches of Reath. During his visit, the Emperor had seen Gideon sparring with his friends Luke and Xavier, and had immediately rushed off to have a conversation with Karina.
Within the next month, Gideon found himself training in Azurel's castle. Six months later, he was home again. But he was home with a black jacket, black pants, and a black shirt with purple sleeves.
Plus, he now had sunglasses: the universal sign of popular cold-hearted killers everywhere.
This morning, his alarm clock rang with a sort of anxiety known only to objects and animals designed to wake people up when they least expected it. Gideon woke up almost immediately and hurriedly tossed off his rumpled covers. He felt a certain giddiness that even Enchilada Empire's infamous burritos and his yearly monsoon of nightmares could not cure. There was, however, the matter of gunk in his ears. Oh well. Everyone'd just have to speak louder, then.
Gideon started to slow down after a bath that almost burned his skin off. He slowly stumbled from the upstairs bathroom back to his room wearing only a towel. The clumsy boy walked past a small table, glancing at his new copy of the best-selling book, How To Be a Loyal Henchman, by General Yizade of the Emperor's armed forces. In this brief moment of distraction, Gideon tripped over a chair and fell through the closet. After regaining balance's awkward third cousin, he checked through his wardrobe. Then he checked again. One more check and it suddenly occurred to him that his uniform was missing. He fell, rolled over to his drawers, and attempted to check them while lying down. After a few uncomfortable seconds, he slowly realized that he had left them on the chair he had knocked over. Slithering his way over to the object that looked like a seat, Gideon now faced the challenge of figuring out which article of clothing fit over which body part and in what order. First he put the underwear over the pants, but then realized that this wasn't right and tried again. This time the pants ended up on his head. Two more tries and a nice sit down later coupled with a long hard look at his life and he was finally able to tuck his shirt in and zip up his faux leather jacket.
He headed back into the bathroom and spent somewhere in the neighborhood of five minutes and forty-five seconds making sure his light blonde hair looked sinister enough when slicked back with hair gel. He slammed the door shut soon after, and cheerfully skipped halfway down the stairs before stopping abruptly. It dawned on Gideon that skipping wasn’t quite menacing enough for an Agent of the Empire. He sneaked back up to the top of the stairs and came down again with heavy footsteps.
"Honey! Your friends are here!" his mother yelled from the kitchen. Gideon poked at the inside of his ear, and then checked to see what was on his finger. He recoiled in horror.
"Gideon?" his mother asked again as he entered the room.
Gideon blinked a few times, looked up, and said "What?"
Karina sighed. "Do you have gunk in your ears again?"
"What?"
"Poor dear," she cooed. She approached Gideon and examined her offspring as one would fruit at the supermarket. "You can clean them out when you go down to the village. But right now, you need to eat your breakfast!"
"Huh? I can't hear you!"
Karina muttered to herself, grabbed Gideon, and shoved him onto a wooden chair at the table. Gideon took this occasion to glance at his egg breakfast, completely missing the words "Reserved for the color blind" that were written on the plate in a color he couldn't see. Glancing around the table, he noted that, of course, his friends were there. They were always at his house before he woke up.
“’owdy, Gid,” said Lucas, his brown snout stuffed with bits of egg and bacon. Lucas was a coyote the size of a man. Quite literally. He was from a species known as the Fuizans, who seemed to represent every known breed and variety of canine and vulpine known to man, and then some. Gideon had often heard a rumor that Fuizans had a very deep connection to their ancestors, to the point where some had been known to have shouting matches with their dead great-great-great-great grandfathers on a daily basis. Lucas had never shown any inclination towards this despite Gideon knowing him their entire lives and, Gideon reasoned, it was probably just a rumor.
Gideon turned his eyes towards Xavier, a muscular, quiet dark skinned young man sporting long flowing braids he referred to as “dread locks”. Why these locks were dreaded was unknown, and considering Xavier’s tendency in the past to use curious souls as examples whenever a question was asked, no one cared to learn.
This is the first chapter of a novel I've been working on for quite some time now. I figured I'd post this chapter (and only this chapter, as I don't want my whole novel stolen 
No offense). Some important things to remember:
No offense). Some important things to remember:-Reath, the first planet introduced and the one where most of this particular story takes place, is only one of many...And the least technologically advanced
-Science and magic both are common place in this universe.
-Don't take it too seriously...
I'll probably occasionally update this until I have all of the first chapter uploaded. It also hasn't been edited for the last time yet.
Chapter I: The Prince, The Wolf, And The Tin Can
Reath.
A planet whose size was comparable to that of a suburb.
A planet where castles and magic still reigned.
A planet with an unforgivably bad name.
And a planet that easily, over the course of an hour, went through more crises than one of HALF Industries' daylong sessions of the "Whose Fault Is It Now?" game.
It was the sort of planet than went largely unnoticed. People barely gave it so much as a passing glance as they flew by in their expensive luxury space cruisers. No one cared much about kidnapped princesses anymore. Evil empires were thought to be a perfectly acceptable and routine fact of life, and there were now teams of well-trained suicidal maniacs you could hire to get rid of that nasty dragon problem.
And yet while the rest of the universe slowly marched on into financial oblivion, Reath stuck to its lords, ladies, and mystical beasts from alternate dimensions like a moth to a light source. It has been this way for centuries, and no one really remembers why. No one cared. Individuals from the many races that inhabited Reath just accepted this as the natural order of things. But...
Perhaps, just perhaps, the answer lies within the heart of one boy currently sleeping inside a little house just outside of Gog Tinn village, north of the foul-smelling continent of L'Bark.
The house itself was not unordinary. It was small, and white. Almost blindingly white. It was white enough that the winter snows looked beige when they fell around it. If you looked at it through a prism, it would suddenly turn into a rainbow and spread out in several directions. And when the moonlight hit it just right, the resulting reflection helped guide distant ships into port. We’re talking the brilliant epiphany of white.
There was a small, perfectly square rug that said "Home Sweet Home," presumably in reference to this house. It was currently placed in front of a perfect little wooden door that stood in front of a perfect little stone walkway. On either side of the door were perfect little flowerbeds filled with perfectly formed little red roses placed a perfectly equal distance apart. Obviously, this was the home of a completely unhinged single Human mother of one.
This particular mother went by the name of Karina Miggarfinkle. She had bright red hair that was always tied back into an oversized bun, exposing some ill-gotten wrinkles. At least, they would have been exposed if they weren’t covered with enough make-up for five elephants (if elephants were to wear make-up, that is; they tend to be less self-conscious of their wrinkles than other species). Her eyes seemed to change color with her mood, though for the past two decades they had remained a particularly maddening shade of bright, nauseating yellow more often than not. The men and women of the local fishing village absolutely despised her. She made them nervous.
But they loved Gideon.
Gideon was Karina's son. Her only son. And he was the one person who lived with the poor woman and took care of her.
Gideon often made trips down the mountain path to the village where he could buy fish and vegetables from the locals, or in some cases traveling merchants if he was lucky. He also performed the occasional odd job.
He wasn't viewed as terribly intelligent, but the villagers thought it kind of him to do the jobs they were supposed to be doing. Gideon himself wasn't entirely sure why he did these things for people. He just felt like it was the right thing to do.
Even the Emperor of Sandwich loved Gideon, it seemed. Only a year ago, the Emperor and his highest officials had made a surprise visit to the sleepy village, looking for promising individuals to join the Agents. The Agents were the most prominent rank in the Empire's military. They were paid well, and were often sent on important missions to the far reaches of Reath. During his visit, the Emperor had seen Gideon sparring with his friends Luke and Xavier, and had immediately rushed off to have a conversation with Karina.
Within the next month, Gideon found himself training in Azurel's castle. Six months later, he was home again. But he was home with a black jacket, black pants, and a black shirt with purple sleeves.
Plus, he now had sunglasses: the universal sign of popular cold-hearted killers everywhere.
This morning, his alarm clock rang with a sort of anxiety known only to objects and animals designed to wake people up when they least expected it. Gideon woke up almost immediately and hurriedly tossed off his rumpled covers. He felt a certain giddiness that even Enchilada Empire's infamous burritos and his yearly monsoon of nightmares could not cure. There was, however, the matter of gunk in his ears. Oh well. Everyone'd just have to speak louder, then.
Gideon started to slow down after a bath that almost burned his skin off. He slowly stumbled from the upstairs bathroom back to his room wearing only a towel. The clumsy boy walked past a small table, glancing at his new copy of the best-selling book, How To Be a Loyal Henchman, by General Yizade of the Emperor's armed forces. In this brief moment of distraction, Gideon tripped over a chair and fell through the closet. After regaining balance's awkward third cousin, he checked through his wardrobe. Then he checked again. One more check and it suddenly occurred to him that his uniform was missing. He fell, rolled over to his drawers, and attempted to check them while lying down. After a few uncomfortable seconds, he slowly realized that he had left them on the chair he had knocked over. Slithering his way over to the object that looked like a seat, Gideon now faced the challenge of figuring out which article of clothing fit over which body part and in what order. First he put the underwear over the pants, but then realized that this wasn't right and tried again. This time the pants ended up on his head. Two more tries and a nice sit down later coupled with a long hard look at his life and he was finally able to tuck his shirt in and zip up his faux leather jacket.
He headed back into the bathroom and spent somewhere in the neighborhood of five minutes and forty-five seconds making sure his light blonde hair looked sinister enough when slicked back with hair gel. He slammed the door shut soon after, and cheerfully skipped halfway down the stairs before stopping abruptly. It dawned on Gideon that skipping wasn’t quite menacing enough for an Agent of the Empire. He sneaked back up to the top of the stairs and came down again with heavy footsteps.
"Honey! Your friends are here!" his mother yelled from the kitchen. Gideon poked at the inside of his ear, and then checked to see what was on his finger. He recoiled in horror.
"Gideon?" his mother asked again as he entered the room.
Gideon blinked a few times, looked up, and said "What?"
Karina sighed. "Do you have gunk in your ears again?"
"What?"
"Poor dear," she cooed. She approached Gideon and examined her offspring as one would fruit at the supermarket. "You can clean them out when you go down to the village. But right now, you need to eat your breakfast!"
"Huh? I can't hear you!"
Karina muttered to herself, grabbed Gideon, and shoved him onto a wooden chair at the table. Gideon took this occasion to glance at his egg breakfast, completely missing the words "Reserved for the color blind" that were written on the plate in a color he couldn't see. Glancing around the table, he noted that, of course, his friends were there. They were always at his house before he woke up.
“’owdy, Gid,” said Lucas, his brown snout stuffed with bits of egg and bacon. Lucas was a coyote the size of a man. Quite literally. He was from a species known as the Fuizans, who seemed to represent every known breed and variety of canine and vulpine known to man, and then some. Gideon had often heard a rumor that Fuizans had a very deep connection to their ancestors, to the point where some had been known to have shouting matches with their dead great-great-great-great grandfathers on a daily basis. Lucas had never shown any inclination towards this despite Gideon knowing him their entire lives and, Gideon reasoned, it was probably just a rumor.
Gideon turned his eyes towards Xavier, a muscular, quiet dark skinned young man sporting long flowing braids he referred to as “dread locks”. Why these locks were dreaded was unknown, and considering Xavier’s tendency in the past to use curious souls as examples whenever a question was asked, no one cared to learn.
