Writing in Your Own World

I have a world, one that I have renamed Arakani. It used to be named something else but unfortunately, even when you think you’ve come up with something original the internet proves you wrong. So I recreated the logo and this is the unveiling. A few friends helped me pick which font worked. I’m a bit of a font whore and couldn’t decide which one to use.

The great thing about a homebrew world is I don’t have to limit it to one of my pen names. So much can be created from it. While I have a few stories started aimed for Kastil’s audience, one story has already been published under my real name. Yes, folks, The Mark of the Brotherhood is set in Arakani.

Today I have a snippet of a story featuring an outcast from an area known as The Frozen Tundra. It is comprised of three tribes: Lejon, Tala Bjorn, and Geit Lumse. Two tribes have been wiped clean as far as representing their ancestors: Varg and Skyggerev. Each tribe is marked with a tattoo to denote which clan they belong to and it gives them special powers.

The story below involves the last remaining Varg. The Varg are the wolf clan, able to transform into wolves. Azril is half-Varg but still a proud lost son. After the Varg were wiped out, cursed to their wolf form and sold as pets to a clan of ice giants, Azril managed to escape and travel to more hospitable lands. He grew up in Valyan Woods, the home of the elves. He fell in love and learned the ways of his new family. In this scene, he’s scouting with his lifemate.

“Here.” Azril ran his hands across the upturned moss. The tracks were fresh, perhaps two hours old. He shrugged off his pack and handed in to Carowynne. “I’ll scout ahead.”

“You’re taking all the fun away again, my love.” Carowynne twisted her tawny hair, smirking. In no time her long tresses were up and out of the way. She shed her own pack and he stopped her with a firm hand, shaking his head.

“We still don’t know what this thing is.” He pointed to a cluster of bushes. “Set your trap there in case I can get it to chase.”

“You’re just trying to keep me away, again.” Carowynne narrowed her eyes. “I’m with child, not an invalid.”

Azril just smiled softly as he stripped out of his clothes.

“And that’s how I got in this condition.”

He drew her in for a brief kiss before he vanished, jumping through the brush. Carowynne shook her head as she watched his body mutate into a large white wolf. Sighing, she gathered his discarded clothes and crawled into the bushes.

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  1. Pingback: Six Sentence Sunday: Fate’s Path | The Eclectic Zaftig Chick

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