The-Monoblos

Ten Years Later; winter of the year three hundred and fifty two, the village of Darrian. Harrillen side of the border between warring sovereignty states of Harrillen and Sorset. Smoke filled the sky from torches all over the front line of the war, just five hundred metres away from the small village he was in now. Stepping out of the muddy alley with long, tall, walls into the cobbled street he looked around. It was raining hard and whole scores of people ran through the streets with hoods over their heads or their faces in their arms to keep the water away. As an old nearby man coughed in a deep tone he moved his hand off the mossy and rui

Religion, or whatever people believe in, is an interesting thing because it requires people to believe what they’re told. Knowledge is control over the masses. There are many cases in which control is quite forceful but religion, it would seem, is not one of these cases. People want to believe in it; not strictly believe exactly what they’re told perhaps but there are elements in sermons and preaches that adhere to what we truly want to believe in. That there is something more to life. Nicolas Worthing A study on the condition of being human   X December, 2E.1064; on an island in the Vimé lagoon The mist hung in the a

“For years I hunted down those bastards, getting closer and closer, and then they’d vanish I’d have to start all over again. At times it would seem hopeless and I would return home, to Léo, to Caterina. And then everything would be better again.” Hassan of the House of Allarror   IX December, 2E.1057; the home of Gian Regaino, in the town of Léo. “When is dad’s ship getting in uncle Gian?” “Caterina, you know how much Hassan doesn’t like it when you call him ‘dad’.” “Yes, but…” “But what?” “Hassan doesn’t li

The subject, or the protagonist, of a story, is often referred to as being the character subjected to the story. And the story gives them an arc to play out, a journey to undergo. However, we create stories in our lives with ourselves as protagonists, and we interact with hundreds of other stories going on at the same time – those of other people. A story of fiction then, that we may ground ourselves in, also takes in this level of interaction and merging together. This means that we may find a number of protagonists to the stories we tell. Know then that an antagonist (a person or force who represents a direct contradiction to the succ

Following the death of Emperor Victor Francisco in 2E.1048 the imperial courts went into meltdown. After the death of a revolutionary who had left no heir, the empire was in dire straits – a regency council was declared (said council would later take full power) but it was across the burning sea in the new continent where the empire truly lost control. It was now that the new world gained its second name – the name still used by inhabitants of Vimé and Rialto today – The Independence States. Imperial historian Anna Avana One-hundred years on; The life of Victor Francisco Politics is solely for the politicians. Unfortu

Let it be known that the following individuals are wanted for the heinous crime of regicide: Manuss Ofelia, Hassan Allarror, Lentz Allarror, Rolunn de Tchekkov, Zainsurra Sybban, Felde Grana, Romunn Pellinor & Bron de Terre WANTED ALIVE IF POSSIBLE Be warned that these men are so called ‘immortals’ – heathens and freaks who delight in making others feel pain. Do not approach unless armed. A bounty of two thousand ducats shall be paid for each conspirator brought to justice. Imperial proclamation send to all four corners of the earth One of the many as yet unsolved questions in the history of the imperial navy remains the

Victor Francisco’s reign as Emperor over the known world was marred by war. The way is it is remembered; he never lost a war, even though he only fought in one battle. From his own revolt for the throne to defending his throne from revolt in the opening weeks of the year 1048. The man who, today, is never remembered for his role in Victor’s wars though perhaps should be, was Manuss of the House of Ofelia: an immortal. Imperial historian Anna Avana One-hundred years on; The life of Victor Francisco   V March, 2E.1048; in the grand city of Rialto in the old world. Gimignano squeezed the shot glass in his hand as hard as he

Rialto has often been referred to as the real capital of the empire of Vimé. The city of Vimé has the courthouses, the archives and the imperial palace for sure but the city of Vimé is a city of officials only. It is a city of fake smiles and fake power. It is in Rialto where the true power lies. It is in Rialto where the florins flow freely with the current of the canal, for is it not known that money makes the world go round? Introduction to a guide on Rialto, published 1E.1045 I remember in 1040, ten imperial florins could buy you a large cake to feed twelve, with your colour of icing and a personal message on the top. And

All crimes are bad. That’s why they’re crimes and that’s why criminals are punished: for doing these bad things. Human nature tells us that some crimes are worse than other crimes and that the punishment for these must be greater. As an example murder is just one ‘greater’ crime. Humanity argues over what punishment to give. And it never seems to be enough. For whatever reason, to some people, the punishment is never enough whether the crime be murder or whatever else. Nicolas Worthing A study on the condition of being human   III January, 2E.1048; Suralla Gimignano sat on the stone spiral steps which l

 Commander Katisch Moss's Report on the final battle of the war, NOT TO BE REMOVED FROM THE NOBLE'S LIBRARY UNDER ANY COST SAVE FOR INVASION, THE PENALTY FOR THE SAID CRIME IS DEATH, BY THE HANGMAN'S "SINNER'S" NOOSE. Western Bank Of The Baylern River, Sovereignty of The City State Valiquet And Land Of King Solourn, Winter Of The Year Three-hundred And Forty-two Of The Sixth Era Of This World. Cold, wet, dreary, the mist had risen up and now swirled all around them. All around men coughed, it didn't do much to ease the tension, just prolonged the eternity of waiting before the final reckoning in the hundred years war. Either they would win

Ten Years Later; winter of the year three hundred and fifty two, the village of Darrian. Harrillen side of the border between warring sovereignty states of Harrillen and Sorset. Smoke filled the sky from torches all over the front line of the war, just five hundred metres away from the small village he was in now. Stepping out of the muddy alley with long, tall, walls into the cobbled street he looked around. It was raining hard and whole scores of people ran through the streets with hoods over their heads or their faces in their arms to keep the water away. As an old nearby man coughed in a deep tone he moved his hand off the mossy and rui

  He woke, unsure about many things. For one thing Kahlan, the whore, was laid across him as he woke up, completely naked with her arms wrapped around his back. She slept peacefully but it was scary because he remembered from the night before that she had her own bed and that she had been dressed when he had fallen asleep. There was a glass of strong alcohol, some sort of liquor, on his bedside table and he could not remember actually what time he fell to sleep though he could remember trying at every simply every opportunity to come his way. A second thing was the large piece of parchment that had been pushed under the doorway since he had

Crickets made sharp, high pitched annoying noises in the background as they slept. They were in a farmer's stable who had been kind enough to lend a place to sleep to a man who had just killed, supposedly, five men of the Harrillen army. Kahlan couldn't stand the constant sound, it got on her nerves and just wouldn't stop. She held her new dress close, she had finally won over Tris after a quarter of hour of arguing and had gained a green silk dress out of the day. Tris was asleep, as was the man who was clearly drunk out of his mind, the drunk snored loudly and seemingly demanded as much hatred of his snoring as the cricket's did for their n

 It had not been a dream, when Stella woke in the morning, still bound and gagged with blood over her face and much of her body she instantly remembered what she had gone through. She could feel herself moving, yes she remembered – she was in some sort of cart, it made little difference though where she was. Life was not worth the time to live any more, it was a cruel world, and to make it worse, she didn't know where the man, Herrier, even came from or where he was dragging her now. She could feel the weight of who knew how many bales of hay on top of her and when she tried to breathe found that she could not. Instead all she could feel

 Two guards accompanied her as she left the palace, Malek and another man whom she knew as Datria. Datria was Rachel's brother and was a good laugh, after finding out that she was to have a bodyguard Keila had made every effort to have a bodyguard she trusted, it was also like that with Rachel. After the incident in the war that they had been through she thought it was only fair that it was the case. Rachel, scared after what happened in the last war, didn't want to lose touch with her family ever again and, with her brothers conscription to the army coming up she thought of a better use for him than going off to get killed. Even after the wa

 Battle of Gomatz, winter of the year three hundred and fifty two. 'Get to the stables!' Tris shouted at the top of his voice as he turned on the spot and lashed out with his weapon. The broadsword tore through the soldiers chequered red and black tunic and the man crashed to the ground clutching a death wound where his kidneys used to be just seconds before. Sorset arrows whizzed overhead and at the far side of the square four Harrillen defenders dropped dead. Another soldier charged round the corner where a constant flow seemed to emerge from and with an almost vertical cut Tris left a gash on the soldiers face, killing him with a single

 Herrier stormed down one of the main roads in Harrillen, just trying to stay one step ahead of everyone else was beginning to become a bit of a problem. It had Reisern back into the problem after being out of it for the last ten years. His own bad luck now meant that he had also got himself caught up in invasion territory whilst he spurred the horses for his cart to go faster than ever before. The whore would help him get even with everyone though, show that he was not to be troubled with. There was no other way he had told her in the nicest possible fashion, inside he gritted his teeth and thought about the ideas he would do to make her wis

 Today was the day that he left his home, his kingdom, his people, to go to war in an attempt to hold back Sorset from Harrillen. How was he supposed to feel knowing that he might never return? How was anyone supposed to feel? He looked at himself in the mirror and tried to evaluate himself. He was just the same as any other man in reality, yes he was royalty and took the benefits that it gave him but really, truthfully – out there on the battlefield he had the same chance of survival as any other person if he wasn't making himself more of a target. Prince Seneseral cleaned his hands in the washbasin as commander Moss knocked on the d