《Marauding Gods (First Draft)》A new start
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In primordial times, there was nothing but fire, lightning, light, and earth. Then she appeared, a Primordial Godly being, and from her other half she separated the yet unborn dragon, and from the smithereens of their severance, they were born, imperfect dragons.
From her own blood and scales, she birthed them, two-headed, mighty and absolute. They brought forth a new order; they brought forth darkness, water, ice, and wind. From their grace and the goddess's warm embrace were born life.
She would stay for an age, only to leave behind powerful and almighty remanances of her passage.
From their grief, he was born, a powerless yet beloved being, born to one day trigger, through a war between dragons and the involvement of a new god, the birth of a new order.
The birth of a new primordial is always the birth of a new order. But you? Are you going to be the one who will, through your existence, bring forth a yet new order? Or will you become one that will allows the old one to live through?
Huh.
Where am I? Why am I unable to move?
For some reason, I couldn't even open my eyes. I attempted to call out, but nothing came out. After some time, I tried again, and this time, finally, a sound came out, but it certainly didn't sound like my voice.
In fact, it didn't sound like a voice at all. Instead it sounded more like a baby’s cooing than anything else.
My own voice? Wait, what did my voice sound like in the first place?
I couldn't even remember what my own voice sounded like. One thing leading to another, it didn't take long for me to realize there was nothing I remembered—or, to put it another way, trying to remember anything felt like remembering a non-existent souvenir.
What is this strange feeling?
My heart swelled with a strange feeling of longing for something, something I couldn't even recall the name or shape of. I just knew that whatever it was, I missed it.
This is so weird.
What the heck? What the hell is happening to me?
It was then amidst all this panic, that a strange metallic smell reached my nostrils. I had no recollection of either of my names, nor my voices, and even less of my past, but I strangely recognized this smell.
It smells like blood—no, I'm certain it is blood.
How did I even know that when my name is a complete mystery to myself? No idea.
Being in the dark and having this smell lingering around wasn't really very reassuring so, I, once again, tried to open my eyes, and this time, I managed to do so.
It was dim at first but gradually, I became aware of what the surroundings were like; my vision was hazy at first, but it became clearer after a while.
Holy, hell, was it always so challenging to keep one's eyes open?
From what I could see, I was wrapped—veiled in a thin layer of white cloth.
I tried to reach for it with my hand, and then I noticed it.
My hands. There was something off with them. Well, technically, there was nothing wrong with them, it was just that there was something bizarre.
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They were small, chubby, and adorable. Those hands were clearly not those of a child, nor one of an adolescent, and even less one of an adult, but one of what I imagine would be of a baby.
What the hell is this?
I tried to move them, and they did. Those baby’s hands responded to my will as if they were mine.
When I tried to touch my face with those little hands of mine, I felt a gentle and smooth sensation emanating from both my face and fingers.
"Waouh!"
I thoroughly examined my mouth with my tongue. I tried to send my hands anywhere they could reach in my body, and when I was done inspecting it, I eventually realized.
Small and chubby hands, smooth skin, missing teeth, and a body of such an odd proportion, there was no doubt about it. This body, my body, was that of a child, a newborn one.
Why would I be a baby? I am not—or at least, I don't think I was a baby. And even if I was a baby, why would I be like this? Aren't babies supposed to be thinking about baby things, which can be summarized as pretty much nothing?
Wait, how do I even know all of that in the first place?
I know I've said it before, but what the hell is going on with me? Even I realized how much of a weirdo I was.
Wait, the bloody smell. I'd completely forgotten about it, but if I were a newborn, that could explain the smell.
"Aaaaeeuhe," I heard, escaping out of my mouth quite naturally.
This left me to ponder for a while before deciding to set aside those obviously premature existential crises, in order to focus solely on the present.
Okay, where the hell am I? Once again, I stumbled upon the same answer, "I don't know."
Let’s say I was really a newborn. Why would someone wrap a newborn in a veil like this one?
Even though I was, hypothetically, not claustrophobic, in such a cramped space, it felt suffocating now that I realized its existence. That was how bothersome this veil was.
It took some effort on my part, but I was able to remove the veil that was enveloping me, and I could finally see what my surroundings were like.
Being a baby, a newborn one, laying on my back, I got a contemplative view of the ceiling.
I was not a ceiling expert, or at the very least, I don’t think I was, but that ceiling was super well decorated. It was kind of nice to look at, at least a thousand times better than a veil. From that alone, I could tell that the room I was in must be quite luxurious.
Projected on the ceiling I could see several people's shadows . I wasn't sure, but I believe there were at least five of them.
For the time being, let’s inform these people of my presence.
"Cough-cough."
I can’t speak yet, so I guess a cry would suffice.
Wait, what do newborn cries sound like anyway?
"Gnah~ Aaaaeeuhe..."
Aaaah, Lord! This is so embarrassing!
I hid my face in shame.
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Never again. I refuse to face such humiliation once again.
Yet, it didn't take me long to realize that the humiliation I endured was not in vain, for a few moments after my "cry", I heard footsteps approaching and finally saw the one who they belonged to.
I never realized it, but from a baby perpective, people appear enormous; the person who showed up appeared to be a giant to me.
It was a woman. She was neither particularly old nor young, but she, as if having witnessed something extremely shocking, when our gazes met, immediately covered her mouth.
Hey, Madam, Is there something wrong with my face? Have you seen a ghost or something? For all I'm aware, I'm quite harmless.
The woman returned to where she had come from, presumably to inform the others about what she had found out, for a few moments later, I could hear several footsteps approaching me.
And I saw their faces.
There were three of them, four including the woman from earlier, two men and a masked one.
The two of them were extremely pleasant to look at if I could say. One of the two was in their late forties, maybe, had silver hair and a full-set beard of the same silver color, and blue eyes. The other man was, once again maybe, in his early twenties with blonde hair, but what stood out the most about him was his eyes, which were red like those of an albino, which he definitely wasn't. I can't really describe the last one's face since he was wearing a mask and under his cloack.
From above, all three of them and the woman were staring at me.
It was a small crowd that I had here.
And I would have appreciated it if they hadn't been staring at me like I was some kind of circus freak.
"Hag zanek ghi? Zhid zerphiroth gusik dar!"
"Hegnek shi fikul! Kurk gusik? Luke zudwig janak!"
"Zod Melasi Zug."
They began exchanging words in an unintelligible language, at least to me.
I couldn't understand what they were saying, but it appeared that the youngest man, the blonde one, was arguing with the woman from earlier about something, but was quickly silenced by the woman's response.
Even though I didn't know what they were talking about, I knew it had to be about me.
They continued blabbering for a moment, and when they finished, all of their focus befell, once again, upon me.
The blonde man moved in closer and extended both of his hands to me. And he lifted me in the same way that someone would lift a baby; which was a pretty normal thing to do given the fact that I was a baby. It was very comfortable, but-
This guy?! You’ve never held a baby before, or what? His hands were trembling like a newborn calf.
"Zuk gerh ddal zogleight"
"Efe"
The young man issued an unsettled demand to the masked man. He then started walking back toward where they had come from, where he slowly knelt. From the way he cradled me, weird as it may be, allowed me for a short second to get a clear view of what the room was like. I could see that I was in one of the two cradles within the room, but it also permitted me to see me why they had all gathered here earlier.
There was a bed in the room, and a truly gorgeous black-haired woman was laying on it.
She was probably in her early twenties, like the blonde man. She may be the second woman I've seen in my life, at least from what I could remember, but I'm confident she could outclass any beauty in the world.
She appeared to be sleeping beneath a white blanket that exposed only the upper half of her body. Her expression and the sweat beading on her face clearly indicated that she was extremely exhausted.
She was dressed in a white thin cloth that I assumed was a labor gown, and while venturing my eyes further, I noticed several red stains on the white blanket.
If we assume that I was a newborn child at the time, then this woman must be my mother.
I'm not sure what happened, but it appears that my birth was difficult.
My heart began to churn with a strange feeling. Is this guilt?
This is obviously unreasonable. Why would I feel guilty? This isn't my fault. Is there anything I did that should make me feel guilty?
First, that existential crisis, now this? What’s next?
My thoughts were cut short by the masked man appearing on our right. He was holding in both hands a golden box adorned with two jewels on each side and three on the front, for a total of seven jewels of various colors.
"Zaks fijit Zhid Luke zivon Barbara doval."
I couldn't understand the language, but what he said earlier sounded eerily similar to an incantation.
The old woman approached the masked man's side, holding a bowl, and was shortly followed by the old silver-haired man, who positioned himself between the two of them. He then reached into the bowl, retrieved something that looked like... an umbilical cord, and placed it in the golden box held by the masked man, to then finally closing the box.
The blonde man began to hold me in a way so that my head was just around the box level. We were now positioned in a way to form a triangle.
What the hell are these people doing to me? I couldn't help but wonder.
"Gaze Ugar zelv gora, Ronandt, Gel zae Zuk Luke Albrecht. Egih Fifnor Ghelekt firak Djeem Kile faag migni isul. "
This time, it was the blonde man who recited a strange incantation.
I felt a strange and yet comforting warmth slowly engulfing my body.
Okay, this has been weird from the start, but this is getting out of hand.
The jewel in the box started to glow with a light that I could only describe as magical. I gradually became oddly sleepy, and strangely, the more sleepy I felt, the more gleaming, I noticed the box appeared.
Unable to bear with the sleepiness any longer, I gave in, I lost consciousness.
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The Lotus Bearer
In the beginning, The Creator shaped the world with her pure magic. With what was left she filled those souls she deemed worthy of experiencing the highest levels of existence. A blessed few are born with pure magic, most are not; that's just the way it's always been. Until a synthetic magic emerged from the dark depths of a hidden laboratory. With power capable of matching that of the Purists at the fingertips of any willing to seize it, the world has changed. A war has been sparked between the substance-fueled Lotus and the naturally talented Purists. Follow the catalysts that drive that war; The Lotus Queen, the brilliant alchemist hell bent on cleansing the world of pure magic. And Alaric Sampson, a Purist that has taken it upon himself to gather the forces necessary to stop her. Travel with those bound to each as they get swept up by the whirlwind of death and betrayal that has been unleashed on the empire. Like Jameson Wicket, a Purist with ties to both sides of the war. And Urman Gant, a cunning commoner with a bounty on his head for more than one crime. Which form of magic will reign supreme?
8 265The Fat Prince: The Saga Begins
Prince Cyrus is the greedy, spoiled and selfish twelve-year-old heir to the Coates royal family. Cyrus doesn't need to lift a finger; magic does all his bidding. With a magic spell, he can do everything from floating food up to his room to penning beautiful sonnets to send to Princess Trinity Toccatta, his one and only desire. But one day, Cyrus makes a dire mistake that puts his beloved Princess Trinity in the hands of the nefarious Everblood vampires. Cyrus, along with Archibald the Majester, his magician-jester mentor, and Sir Henry, a noble knight hiding a shocking secret, must leave his cozy castle and venture on a quest to save his heart's desire or risk losing her forever. Join Cyrus as he blunders his way through the kingdom of Aristillus and learns that even a sheltered, self-centered noble can become a great hero when pushed to the limit!
8 94Los Caracteres Perdidos [Fantasía oscura] - Español / Spanish - (Completo)
[participant in the Royal Road Writathon challenge] Digamos que nuestra relación es demasiado compleja como para explicarla en unas meras palabras, pero si estás interesado en husmear la vida de otras personas, pues estaría encantado de contarte mi vida. Mucho gusto, mi nombre Adam y esta es mi historia. +)Mi nombre es Adam y esta es mi historia. -)Su nombre es Adam y esta es su historia. +)Si su nombre fuera Adam, esta sería su historia. ¿Qué irrelevante, no? Todos son Adam y en todos los casos esta es su historia. El libro entra en un proceso de edición (Corrección gramática mediante proceso TTE= No obstante, dejaré intactas la primera edición del libro para el interesado. Por tanto: E1-01-Nombre de capítulo. Es la opción correcta para el lector que busque menos errores gramaticales.
8 115The True Jack of all Trades
A boy Named Dean Ashford lives alone, or at least with the help of his childhood friends, Silvia and Gavin. Dean's parents died when he was young leaving him traumatized and alone. He fought through his hardships eventually and started to live a normal life. That was until a blue light surrounds Dean and sends him to an unknown world of magic and war. What will he do with his new power. Live a normal life, or will he become the slaughterer know as The Jack of all Trades?
8 143Golem Armor: Building a Mech In Fantasy World.
He died of old age, surrounded by not people but machines built by his own hands. Join him as he reawakens in a fantasy world, once again, trying his best to reach his dream. A different person molded by his new surrounding, Adrin had to adapt to survive. The journey towards it would be slow as he had to start from the bottom and build everything from scratch. He had to adapt to using unfamiliar tools to recreate the things he had built, or using science to get ahead. The world, however, wouldn’t open a path for him to travel. Monsters big and small, people kind and cruel would stand in his way whether he liked it or not. Author’s note: English is not my first language. For young adults (light adult content, not romance focused). A remake/revamp of an original story. It will take a while before pieces are put together.
8 76marauders x reader oneshots
Since my writing has gotten better I decided to unpublished my old stories and just continue on from there.But this book is mostly oneshots (and maybe scenarios?👀👉👈) about the marauders.Except Peter...
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