DKC Atlas Forum

[WesternTanager794]

This is where I will be posting some of my chapters when I get time to post my writing. All handwritten.

[Sledgehammer44]

I look forward to this! Your stories have always been enjoyable.

[WesternTanager794]

Thank you!

[WesternTanager794]

Part of chapter 1:

Spoiler!

The door was certainly an ornate one. Elegant trim enclosing the jamb, and encasing that were red-brown sandstone bricks worn smooth with seams almost undetectable. A hickory door, a stain accentuating its golden hues. And a wood carving engraved into the door. A simpler door may have possessed a simple geometric pattern, but this door bore a symbol. A mysterious symbol. Engraved deep into the heartwood; into the core. Unworn by time. Few saw it but for the prowling diurnal animals that passed it by sunlight, and the nocturnal dwellers that saw little of it by moonlight. The reason so few had ventured within eyesight of it was for its concealment by vines, drooping branches, and the undergrowth; and the fact that this door, this exit, resided within the remotest jungle, the hottest, the muggiest, the most mosquito-laden of them all, the most dangerous. For the creatures here are far from docile. Some called its inhabitants: the Devil’s own menagerie. This jungle, this hellhole, was encircled by forbidding peaks of glacial qualities. At lower altitudes, the temperature begins to rise, and the transition from frigid to feverish, abrupt. The jungle within the encircling mountains stretched for miles until the other side of the ring could be reached. Many geographical projections could be found here. Including this hilltop, an acropolis, where our door is to be found. But what no one guessed, was that beyond this door, shrouded by tendrils and brambles, tropical flowers, and sometimes from a very certain angle, the sun; was an exit chamber to this world. And all of this was unknown, until a wizard happened upon it. The symbol of the door had axe diverging from the core running north, south; and east, west. Two branches diverged from this cross, running northeast and northwest respectively. At the end of each offshoot was a circle, and at the core of this eerie symbol was a circle within a diamond. For what this symbol represented, no one alive knew. But it represented a time of creation, a time of destruction, a tale of good and evil, battles raging between the most powerful entities ever known, and a warning. That this time could come again.
…
Once upon a time, there was a great war between the wolves and foxes…

It begins!

[Super Luigi!]

I like it so far. Keep up the good work, Tanager.

[WesternTanager794]

Thank you guys!

[WesternTanager794]

The continuation!

Spoiler!

…Many battles were raged, and many casualties borne. The result of this “great war” was unresolved, as no clear victor was ever established. And still the feelings of rage and hatred boiled and festered beneath the surface. During the war, one of the casualties was different. Unassuming in the difference, but different nonetheless. This casualty shaped the time to come. Randorn was a great general of the wolves, and the leader of the Wolven armies and he was able to win considerable battles against the foxes. He was also purported to be the greatest wizard in many a lifetime. All of these things were true, but he was not the casualty. He had two sons: Sabre and Dagger. One fateful battle took the life of his eldest son, Dagger; and filled with grief, Randorn left his tribe to live alone. The older brother, Dagger, fought in his Father’s Division as all sons whose father is of rank are compelled to do. Upon hearing news of his death, Randorn broke down into sobs, and collapsed. And then he began to tear his fur out as a sign of mourning. This is the price of war. The next evening, Randorn and his extensive family made a midnight ceremony for his son’s spirit. This was a tradition for all Wolven warriors. Randorn left in the middle of this. Skulking away in the middle of the night. Filled with grief and guilt, he ensured that his other son did not bear the same fate. Now he would not be drafted. The next morning, his disappearance was discovered. A note had been left of his stationery announcing his immediate resignation, and his disappearance. As the war was still raging at this point, an act such as this, resignation, would have had execution levied upon his head. Cases such as that, and now heightened more so due to his position, were treated as harshly as treason, cowardice, and desertion. His act of desertion made Randorn deemed disloyal to the cause of wolves. The law of the pack dictated death. But as he was not to be found, it was to be his family that suffered the fate of the ax. Likely, it was to be just Randorn’s wife and remaining ten-year-old son to be executed. Randorn knew this, but there were countless precedents of mercy on the family. The magistrate presiding on the matter reluctantly ruled to spare them. He was one of Randorn’s friends, but his superiors in the justice system, and the generals in the military, were calling for blood. Randorn’s disappearance had left them in the lurch and now they were in a major discoordination, and were losing much of their hard-fought efforts. The magistrate, Diniel, in compensation for mercy, ruled Randorn banished and to face the penalty of death if he ever returned. For a general, his family would technically pay the price for a single incompetency by the former, but this was rarely enforced, but that is what was being cited for revenge. Some even were wanting to order a mission to track him down and put him to death. But luckily, the verdict stood. What his note said was that he escaped to avoid death, seek revenge on the vixons, (what they preferred to be called) and to prevent his other son from being forced to participate on the drafted slaughter that would’ve been imposed upon him once he came of age. As mentioned before, due to his father being an officer. Now the conflict of the wolves and vixens, was due to the difference in governing. The wolves, as could be guessed, were a patriarchal society. The main focuses were combat and the trades. The vixens were a matriarchal society. The vixons’ focus were on the arts and literature. And as for the trades, agriculture and carpentry were the most common. Carpentry was popular for the art form of it, and agriculture was good for hard workers with skills in the field of arithmetics. This difference in society and culture was what stemmed the many wars and estranged the two species. With this bit cleared up, let us return to Randorn. The Wizard, as many called him, spent night and day in the woods. Living off of roots and berries as well as the occasional kill of venison...

I have much more written, but it's slow going in general this is probably two thirds of chapter 1. I have three chapters written.

[Super Luigi!]

Take your time, Tanager. I don't want you to ruin your story by rushing it out. We can wait.

[WesternTanager794]

And more of chapter 1!

Spoiler!

…For the elderly wolf, he used his staff to assist his walking in unsteady terrain. As a picture helps us understand a character, let us take a look at Randorn. You might catch a glimpse of him in a wood padding along the forest floor; Or conversing with a bird on a branch. As with wolves and vixens above about four years of age, he walked on two legs. He used his staff for support, but rarely ever leaned into it. His age could've been much younger than it was, for he looked very youthful, as wizards often are. But he held a feel of years long past, and an ancientness that made him seem much older than he looked. His facial features were extremely masculine, and he possessed a kingliness that evoked respect. But a kindliness in his blue eyes, though they could become as fierce as a storm if aroused. He was very strong, which contributed to your confusion surrounding his age. He was believed to be around 55. No one knows exactly, as he gets rather annoyed when asked. Now fifty-five may not seem old, and the wolves and vixens have similar life expectancies to us humans, but fifty-five to them is indeed a ripe old age for them, as death from war, disease and famine are not uncommon. He was a wolf with fur that was orange-brown, what some might call tawny. His staff was polished-smooth, and was of the Aldernos tree, and was straight and unwavering. It was knotted, but it was more or less smooth, with a green stone fixed at the top of emerald. Either way, whatever his appearance, his six foot stature, among all the other things, gave him a very handsome and distinguished appearance. Talking with the birds, you could hear a hearty laugh, and he was always interested to what was happening in the avian world. If he was from our world, one would say he had a Scottish accent, but there, no one could quite place it.
…
One morning, after the conclusion of the war: He was trekking through the Northwood Forest…

[WesternTanager794]

Sorry, I've been busy. More is here!

Spoiler!

…Where it was a cloudless, and a starry night, but the full moon glowed, casting long shadows, and illuminated. But it also washed out much of the sky. Randorn loved the stars, and he often gazed at them for a long time. He knew all forty-seven of the constellations, and was able to locate many deep-sky objects with his keen eye. Most stars he knew by name, and many other things as well. Some said he could even such objects such as the Andromeda Galaxy! Things such as that were no small feat. He could also guess at his location by them. Padding on the soft forest floor, covered with soft moss, dirt, shade-loving plants, and ferns, he spotted light coming up from ahead. Switching his pace to a slower more-measured gait, he heard two voices conversing. He cocked his head, and edged his way towards the clearing. Spotting a figure stand up, he realized what this clearing was. He had stumbled across a camp of Vixens. His blood boiled, and a new rageful fury filled him. Enraged about they as a people had done to his son, he unleashed a berserk attack on the thirty or so inhabitants of the camp. The two watchers, assigned to keep their eyes out for foes, saw their third companion who had stood up with his canteen be smote down by a bolt of lightning issue from the cloudless sky. He spasmed violently before collapsing. The other two vixens rushed to his aid. “Are you ok?” one asked. The dying vixen feebly raised his arm, and shaking, he pointed. The two sentries who were attempting to comfort him, followed his gaze. A cloaked wolf with a staff was walking into the clearing. His hood was down and he had a staff that was blazing fire. Before their eyes, the wizard seemed to rise up and grow, and the green stone on his staff blazed bright green as fire. The Wizard’s eyes were blazing fire, as two coals amidst a cavernous darkness. His presence that of a thundercloud. He brought down another bolt of lightning on a tent, and it burst into flames…

Randorn is a scary guy when provoked. Rareware describes him best:
A legendary wizard and wise historian, haunted by certain dark deeds in his past. Randorn has roamed the world the ten long years since the elder of his two sons was killed, but has now come to terms with the grief and learned to control the rage. His reunion with the son he left behind will come about sooner than he thinks, as the old wizard finds himself in way over his head...

The last bit is a bit of a spoiler, though.

[Super Luigi!]

I wonder if he's like Uncle Iroh from Avatar: The Last Airbender? He was also a fierce leader of the military, but once his son was killed, he left the Fire Nation and was branded a traitor. I suppose that would make Sabre Randorn's Zuko in a way, although I doubt they're completely the same.

[WesternTanager794]

Sounds similar.

[WesternTanager794]

The rest of chapter 1!

Spoiler!

…The two guards stood up and yelled. “Ai! Durbatuluke! Nash! Malorn! Wolven bonyande! Vos Zhe Falumin! Engelise turya sopora! De ameo, Vixens! De ameo!” This was all in the vixen tongue, and unknown to all wolves excepting the most learned. Randorn of course understood every bit of it, and of course, paid no heed, since it only indirectly concerned him. One of the guards caught a glimpse of his face and facial features. His hood was up, though, and he made out little in the dark. He was clearly descended from the ancient Wolven warrior lines. Flames lept from his staff and set much of the camp ablaze. Many vixen soldiers were now attacking. But their swords, pikes, spears, and bows, were of little use against the incensed wolf. Taking on the whole camp at once, the Wizard’s adversaries were sure that his defeat was imminent. This was not so. From positions above in the treetops, the previously sleeping archers were now raining down arrows. But all of them, with a barely noticeable flick of the staff, sent the point of the arrow directly into the shooter. Flames now lept high, emboldened by the growing breeze. Soon all of the archers had fallen from their lofty perches. Weapons held by the foxes were of no use, since with more flicks, their weapons were either rended into knots of metal, or cast into the trees behind Randorn, hopelessly beyond reach. Before long, the whole camp was subdued, with every single inhabitant of the camp dead. Randorn now realized what he had done, and broke to the ground in tears… End of Chapter 1

[Super Luigi!]

This must be one of the dark deeds that he's haunted by. I probably won't comment on every post you make, but this story is shaping up nicely.

[WesternTanager794]

Thank you, Super Luigi!

[WesternTanager794]

I just realized that the first segment of the story I posted was missing the first half. Here is the amended version.

Spoiler!

The door was certainly an ornate one. Elegant trim enclosing the jamb, and encasing that were red-brown sandstone bricks worn smooth with seams almost undetectable. A hickory door, a stain accentuating its golden hues. And a wood carving engraved into the door. A simpler door may have possessed a simple geometric pattern, but this door bore a symbol. A mysterious symbol. Engraved deep into the heartwood; into the core. Unworn by time. Few saw it but for the prowling diurnal animals that passed it by sunlight, and the nocturnal dwellers that saw little of it by moonlight. The reason so few had ventured within eyesight of it was for its concealment by vines, drooping branches, and the undergrowth; and the fact that this door, this exit, resided within the remotest jungle, the hottest, the muggiest, the most mosquito-laden of them all, the most dangerous. For the creatures here are far from docile. Some called its inhabitants: the Devil’s own menagerie. This jungle, this hellhole, was encircled by forbidding peaks of glacial qualities. At lower altitudes, the temperature begins to rise, and the transition from frigid to feverish, abrupt. The jungle within the encircling mountains stretched for miles until the other side of the ring could be reached. Many geographical projections could be found here. Including this hilltop, an acropolis, where our door is to be found. But what no one guessed, was that beyond this door, shrouded by tendrils and brambles, tropical flowers, and sometimes from a very certain angle, the sun; was an exit chamber to this world. And all of this was unknown, until a wizard happened upon it. The symbol of the door had axe diverging from the core running north, south; and east, west. Two branches diverged from this cross, running northeast and northwest respectively. At the end of each offshoot was a circle, and at the core of this eerie symbol was a circle within a diamond. For what this symbol represented, no one alive knew. But it represented a time of creation, a time of destruction, a tale of good and evil, battles raging between the most powerful entities ever known, and a warning. That this time could come again.
…
Once upon a time, there was a great war between the wolves and foxes…