Chapter 1

Melcantin poured over the latest magical tome he had found. Unlike his brother, Aarkleon, he chose to augment his latent eldritch powers with magical spells, which he seemed to have more of a knack for than the blades of a warrior. This latest book was the most difficult to acquire, very difficult to track down and even more difficult to pay for. The merchant had no desire for money, he dealt only in exceptionally rare items and had asked for a dragon's heart enchanted to continue beating forever. These items were expressly forbidden because you had to kill a dragon to create such a n item and dragons are some of the most highly revered beings in the world, second only to the gods themselves. Melcantin, however, held no such beliefs or reverance. He, unlike his kinsfolk, worshipped Necraval, the master of death, as the most powerful being and since Necraval hated dragons, Melcantin had no qualms about the task he had performed. Although, if Melcantin were being completely honest, he couldn't actually remember defeating the beast. He knew the fight had ended quickly but couldn't remember the spell he had used to defeat it. He didn't have tike to consider this, however as he was preoccupied with the tome he had acquired as a result. It was a tome of magic that was strictly speaking illegal. The spellbook of a dark wizard who had died so long ago that his name was no longer remembered. The spell he sought was very dark magic, darker even than the one used by his father to harness a demon to help him rape Melcantin's mother. Melcantin was frustrated though, the book was so old that it was in a language that was all but forgotten and in the case of himself, never known at all.

Prologue Pt. 2

Aarkleon's dance came to a crescendo, an explosion of unfathomably fast movements, it seems impossible that any foe would be able to withstand such an onslaught. This ending is the culmination of all of his years of training, an addition to his D'Qashal that took him years to perfect and master. This was the part he saved for one enemy, Zarroff, the demon who cursed him with the powers he wields. The demon whose power the human wizard used to rape his alesyl mother, Sylhanna, who died giving birth to Aarkleon and his brother, Melcantin. This is what he has trained for, revenge against the demon and his father for those dark deeds commited so many years ago. Aarkleon's fury played out and his glowing blades shrank back to reveal the daggers he used to channel the energy, weapons of exquisite craftsmanship, wrought of adamantine and mithril, deadly even without the energy he suffused them with.

Aarkleon sheathed his weapons and started the walk back to his home in the Sylvani Castle...

Prologue Pt. 1

Aarkleon's twin swords flashed through the air as he danced in the growing morning light, the blades of eldritch essence growing longer or shorter at his will. The daggers he held allowed him to transfer his innate magical energies into them producing blades of magnificent power that he had learned to control almost without thought. He trained every morning so that his eldritch powered blades would become extensions of himself, requiring no concentration to produce or alter, so that he would not be distracted from his foe. Aarkleon slashed and stabbed, twisting in the air, fighting an army of imaginary enemies. Sweat flew from his arms and hair, his movements so precise and yet to any onlooker they would have seemed random and unplanned. This was his D'Qashal, the fighting dance taught to every Alesyl warrior. Every person's different and yet all sharing the same grace, beauty and deadly accuracy...

Intro

This is my first attempt at a 'blog novel.' I will start writing tonight after work, just a few paragraphs probably, but hopefully a full chapter by the start of next week. The story will be a great (hopefully) epic fantasy.