Shop Mobile More Submit  Join Login
About Literature / Hobbyist SamUnknown Group :iconpowerfulwriting: PowerfulWriting
Find your voice.
Recent Activity
Deviant for 5 Years
Needs Core Membership
Statistics 270 Deviations 1,570 Comments 16,109 Pageviews

Newest Deviations



Delta-13's Profile Picture
Artist | Hobbyist | Literature
Hi, I’m Sam, also known as Ham, and I’m a recent escapee from the Virginia Military Institute (VMI).
I'm an extreme history nerd (seriously four bookcases full of history books) and a comic book geek. I am very spacey and it can take me a while to reply, but it's not because I hate you it's because I'm lazy.

Currently, my sister, :iconinprismed:, and I are working on six major projects:

1. The first project is my fifteen book science fantasy series: Nothing but Glory:

“It’s never good versus evil, it’s nothing more than a game of god damn chicken. Who is willing to sacrifice more? That’s all it’s ever been and the roles are assigned after the war is over. The good men are the ones who win the war"-Kingsley Montivelo.

The Second Shadow War is over, but veteran Alexander Phillips cannot let it go. After interviewing the surviving participants, Alexander publishes a fifteen book series that follows thirteen leaders as they rise to power, how they handle a world war that is catastrophic in scope, and watches as some are overtaken by their sins-both intentional and unintentional-and some rise to lead a stronger, but dying world into an uncertain future. The first nine book are ‘regional’ books (they focus on each region of my world) while the next six are the about the war itself. Think of my series like the Avengers movies. The first nine books establish my characters (like Marvel phase one) and the next six books are one huge Avengers movie.

2. My second project is the first book for the Nothing but Glory series: For the Next Killer Who Dies: Selected memories of a Revolutionary::

Killers never forget, they never forgive, and they never apologize, but sometimes they explain.

Killers never forget, they never forgive, and they never apologize, but sometimes they explain.

The Second Shadow War is over, but veteran Alexander Phillips is not ready to let the war go. Kingsley Montivelo, one of the grand architects of the war, is willing to speak to Alex if he agrees to publish his memoir about his time as the leader of the terrorist organization, the Killer Liberation Army (KLA). Alexander agrees and soon discovers that truth if relative and that winning the peace is just as important as winning the war.

3, My third project is the second book in my Nothing but Glory series: Strangers in a Familiar Land

It focuses on the rising king of the desert, Sargon, and a leader of a multi-organizational terrorist group, Karif. Both men struggle to shape the desert in the midst of familial strife and a series of colonial wars and only time will keep who will merge as superior ruler of the Ignis Desert.

4. My fourth project is Heroes: a dystopian novel about Singularity gone wrong.

“We offer you Peace, Security, and Prosperity. We ask for your Privacy and your Obedience.”-Turing

Heroes is a world where there is no death, no war, no disease, and no crime. It is a perfect world as long as everyone follows the rules and does not mind being observed by the four guardians at all times. There is a small movement known as the Time Keepers who are desperately fighting the Guardians and bringing freedom back to the world.

5. My fifth project is Stairway to Heaven is about Greg an individual with a very special talent-he can morph into an anteater. His parents were superheroes during the golden age of superheroes and, unfortunately, the apple has fallen far from the tree.

After years of boozing and whoring, Greg hits a depressing low and starts to think about his life choices. While doing so, he is pulled over for reckless driving and must perform 300 hours of community service. His solution? He opens a boarding school for other gifted people and quickly regrets it.

6. My sixth project is The Undesirables In the 1850s the Ancient Ones were nearly brought to Earth, rendering the Heavens and Hell apart and merging those worlds with Earth.

Now the angels live on Earth, running a complicated holy Interpol while Satan and his Devils slowly take over the world. Archangel Michael, desperate to win the war, enlists the aide of ten damned and irreverent, but gifted individuals. They are the Undesirabes and they will go into the blackest parts of the world-places that the angels dare not go-in order to protect the world.

My pinterest:…
My Tumblr:
My story Tumblr:…
I'm so excited that Short Story Break published my story!

I can't believe they actually published it, haha. Please check it out because I'm actually proud of it-believe it or not.
  • Mood: Overwhelmed
  • Eating: bologna sandwich
  • Drinking: water
I know I've been MIA for a while and I'm sorry about that. Life has turn to shit and I just needed time to get my real life sorted out before handling my online life. Things are starting to calm down a little so I'm hoping I can return to DA and start reading other people's stuff again. Anyway, just wanted to let you all know that I wasn't dead-just really busy.
  • Mood: Tired



A segment from the official transcript of Samantha Phillips’ recorded notes regarding Kingsley Montivelo

Kingsley Montivelo --- Atma 9th, 1888

Interviewer: Samantha Phillips
Copy 1 of 1

Samantha Phillips: The subject exhibits the characteristics of extreme narcissism and suffers from combat shock. Simultaneously has a self-aggrandized sense of worth and extreme self-loathing. There is also a hint of sexual frustration or inadequacy, note: find past romantic and sexual relationships or encounters-if any.

Subject is very defensive in interviews and likes to control the conversation. Often plays the part of the victim and casts blame on everyone but himself. He craves the spotlight and has a pathological need to be the leader, which most likely stems from his extreme paranoia. He is terrified of being abandoned or left alone, which is why he continues to see Alex. He needs an audience which may be why he jumped at the chance to write his memoirs. Have seen him in court multiple times. The subject is enjoying the trial. He has a very analytical mind and enjoys ruining arguments. The more air tight a lawyer thinks the argument is, the greater reward that comes with tearing it apart. Client treats it like a show and he is the main attraction.

Unapologetic for past deeds, but terrified of the return of Rezan Masters. Would say it was irrational save for Rezan’s reputation. Not the only former ally of Rezan to be paralyzed with fear at the mere mention of his name. Is Rezan the source of fear, or is it a manifestation of the fear of retribution? Kingsley feels he has much to answer for. Is Rezan his avenger?

Has crafted a fantasy world of sorts. I postulate that he is not a pathological liar, that this is his truth. It is not uncommon for subjects that have survived traumatic situations to create narratives in order to deal with the pain. Rezan could also be the embodiment of the reality he is desperately trying to hide from.

The best way to approach the subject is to be his audience and to appease his ego. Destroying his illusions may have traumatic consequences.
Brief Psychological Profile on Kingsley Montivelo
This is just something random I wrote. Samantha becomes a psychologist after the war and I thought it would be interesting if her brother asked her to conduct a brief psych profile on Kingsley based on the few interviews he's had with him. This is what I came up with. Haha


(c) me
129 deviations
Triton Games

Drums echoed through the beehive that was the city of Urbs. Trumpets blasted as the Koren athletes emerged from their lockers and proudly marched around the track, moving with perfect military precision. The Korens in the stands, some having traveled from the cities on the Ignis border, stood and cheered on their favorite athletes. Others chanted the Koren national war song.
“Unfurl the standards, beat the drums. Off to war, the Korens march! Beat the foe! Run him through! Turn him into nothing but guts and blood. Off to war, the Korens march!”
“Ah, how I love that song,” laughed Cassius.
“I’m not sure everyone feels the same way,” smirked Hugo, eying the Shadow’s box where sat the pathetic and livid Shadow king, David Farin.
“He’s lucky if he makes it out of here alive,” snarled Cassius.
“Well that would be one way of starting a war,” sighed Hugo.
“It’d give us the chance to finish the job. We never should have let them surrender during the Shadow War. We should have wiped them all out.”
Cassius was shorter than Hugo with wide set shoulders and that cracked more than a few of Hugo’s ribs when they were both training and short, powerful legs. He was a natural sprinter even though Hugo could outrun him distance wise. Cassius’ long tan fur was often tangled and his tunic and robe were never completely clean. Every single spike that ran down the bridge of his snout was broken and his blue eyes were slightly bloodshot.
“I’m sure they will present us with another opportunity soon,” said Hugo dryly, as the music changed to play the Lupus’ anthem and the well-meaning but hopeless athletes walked around the track, the Koren athletes standing in front of the large bowl full of oil.
“Not if Tiberius has his way,” grumbled Cassius, glancing at the king’s throne, stationed in the highest part of the stands, and surrounded by various ministers, “They say Glasgow has him whipped.”
“I am more concerned about Glasgow’s relationship with Wilhelm.”
“Why? The Lupus can’t do anything to us.”
“If they conquer the Lupus, we could be blindsided,” frowned Hugo, “You know we don’t man their defenses anymore.
Hugo, despite only being four years old than Cassius, looked like he was ten years older. His soft brown eyes shone with a pain few Korens dared to acknowledge, his brown fur was starting to grey, and, even though he hated to admit it, his body was starting to ache in the morning. His long fur around his neck and snout was braided and his spikes that ran down the bridge of his snout were aligned in a perfect straight line.
“Another brilliant Copperius decision,” grumbled Cassius as the band struggled to play the smooth and alluring anthem of the Shivians.
“Excuse me, pardon me. Oh, sorry.”
They looked up and Cassius groaned as Hugo smiled. Coming their way was a thin and wiry Koren with dirty blonde hair, heavily bandaged fingers, and a strange limp. He wore the heavy apron of an inventor and on top of his head was a strange pair of goggles.
“Why did you invite him?’ muttered Cassius.
“I had to make sure he was still alive,” smirked Hugo.
“Ah, Hugo, there you are. Sorry I’m late. My invention was spurting and it’s never wise to leaving a spurting invention alone.”
“Of course. Everyone knows that,” said Cassius sarcastically.
“Anyway,” said Leon collapsing next to Hugo, “Did I miss much?”
“No, just the normal opening pageantry.”
The crowd shifted and murmured as a strange song was played and no one walked onto the track.
“Did we forget to invite someone?” frowned Cassius.
They crowd gasped at a flap of wings and the Gargoyle athletes emerged from the top of the circle. They dive bombed down and it looked like they were going to crash into the ground when they sharply pulled up and circled the arena. The moment the Gargoyles appeared, Leon immediately slapped on his googles and Hugo’s ears echoed with a strange clicking sound while he waved away white puffs of smoke.
“Bleeding show offs,” growled Cassius as the Gargoyles took their place on the athlete’s stands.
“Leon, what are you doing?” asked Hugo.
He turned around and nearly hit Hugo in the face with his extended lens. The googles were strapped to his head by one band running across the back of his head, and another band running over the top of his head. The lens extended out and a small wire was attached to the right lens and traveled down to Leon’s scaly hand.
“What are you wearing?” frowned Cassius.
“Oh, these? They’re my moment preserving, proof of cheating goggles or the MPPC goggles,” beamed Leon.
“And what do they do?” asked Hugo uncertainly.
“Well, see this thing?” said Leon, showing them the strange device in his hand, “Well every time I press this button, it sends a signal through this wire to my goggles, telling the internal working so the goggles to preserve whatever it is I am looking at. It does this by using light and paper covered in silver nitrate. I will then take the film and leave it in direct light for sixteen hours and we’ll have a record of this moment.”
Hugo and Cassius shared concerned glances with each other.
“And how does this prevent cheating?”
“Oh, I figured if I took enough pictures of the events, I could have documented proof if someone was cheating or not,” shrugged Leon.
“It’s not a bad idea,” admitted Hugo.
“It’s not a sane one either.”
“That’s just because it’s different,” said Leon, clicking away as the Sividons waltzed across the track, “Things always look insane when they’re different.”
Hugo smiled as Cassius rolled his eyes.
“Oh, we’re letting Shadows compete?” asked Leon as they walked on the track-the band refusing to play their anthem.
“Don’t get Cassius started,” smirked Hugo.
“You know they’ve been nosy around my shop lately,” said Leon, looking up and clicking his device in order to preserve the upper stands.
“What do you mean?” asked Hugo, his face falling.
“Well, their king and his ambassador requested to see some of my devices. I told them no and then my device started to splurt so I think that scared them away.”
“May the ancestors damn them,” snapped Cassius, “This is all because of Tiberius and the Copperius party. They opened trade with the damn minks and now they think they can come in and take what they want!”
“They didn’t take anything,” frowned Leon, swinging his head to face Cassius, causing Hugo to duck, “They just wanted to see my inventions. Honestly I wouldn’t mind doing business with them. The inventors that do are making a fortune.”
“Why don’t you then? Your class doesn’t care about honor.”
“Behave, Cassius,” frowned Hugo.
“Hugo asked to me stay away,” said Leon.
The crowd cheered as a young Koren hung from the aerial obstacle course was lowered over the bowl of oil, a torch in his hand. The Korens chanted their anthem again and when he was close enough without having to worry about catching on fire the Koren threw the torch in the oil. A wave of fire swoosh into life and Tiberius rose from his seat and, using a device Leon had invented, spoke to the crowd.
“Let the 127th Triton Games begin!”
The crowd lost control as the various athletes took their places, the announcer’s nasally voice ringing throughout the arena.
“Oh, it’s a Ferdarian,” groaned Cassius.
“Better than a mink,” smirked Leon.
“Starting with the 100 mile dash, Lucritus taking his place. Lucritus is a new runner, having just completed the Virgil and taken by General Hugo Urbs.”
Hugo clapped with great dignity as his apprentice stepped into position, unable to fight his proud smile. Lucritus had trained long and hard for this moment. He deserved all the glory it brought.
“Here we have Intasho Yushigo having his wings strapped in order to prevent an unfair advantage,” explained the announcer as two Korens prepared the Gargoyle runner.
“I don’t know why we bother,” said Cassius, “We could beat them either way.”
“I think it’s to give the other races a chance,” said Leon, clicking away, the way puffs of smoke turning steadily greyer and greyer.
“Leon, what did the Shadows want to see?”
“Hm? Oh, my improved steam powdered balloon,” said Leon, “You know they ordered a number of Maximus’, but I think my design is better.”
The crowd cheered as the runners took off.
“Anything else?”
“My throwers of flame, but they were a little disappointed when I told them that is still in the design phase. Oh! And my steam powdered Gargoyle.”
“You’re what?” asked Cassius, despite himself.
“Well, you know how Gargoyles fly?”
“Yes,” said Cassius uncertainly as Hugo frowned.
“I think we can to. I’m just trying to figure out how.”
“Isn’t that what the balloons are for?” asked Hugo.
“Yes, but they’re not as agile or as cost effective as my steam powdered Gargoyle would be.”
Cassius shared a skeptical glance with a concerned Hugo.
“Did you show them anything?”
“No! That’s my pride and joy,” said Leon defensively, “There’s no way I’m going to let a mink see it before my own people, let alone my only friend.”
Leon patted Hugo’s shoulder and he could not prevent the surprised sense of gratitude.
“Good,” said Cassius, “Don’t give those bastards anything. GO LUCRITUS!!!”
“It is worrying that they are asking about those things,” said Hugo.
“He’s going to do it,” said Cassius, grabbing Hugo’s arm, “He’s going to win.”
“Lucritus is neck and neck with the Shadow champion Adam Longacre,” said the announcer.
“Come on!” muttered Hugo, despite himself.
“Brace yourself folks, it may be a tie.”
“DON’T YOU DARE TIE WITH THAT GOD DAMN MINK!” shouted Cassius, leaping from his seat.
“He’s going to do it,” said Leon, also rising as he adjusting his lens, “He’s just barely an inch on him, but he’s going to do it.”
“Come on, Lucritus!” shouted Hugo, rising despite himself.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, I’ve never seen a race right this.”
They were a mere foot away from the finish line.
“Neither seem to be tiring.”
Every Koren and Shadow in the crowd were standing now, the Korens singing their anthem as the two racers were merely inches away, the Sividon judge standing at the end, his eyes level with the finish line.
“COME ON, LUCRITUS!” shouted Cassius, nearly toppling forward as he violently gestured.
The two crossed the line virtually at the same time and the Sividon jumped up and raced towards the announcer, sitting near the bowl of fire. The Shadow collapsed on the side of the track as Lucritus rested his hands on his hips and gasped for air. Even though the Gargoyle came in next, no one paid attention. They all held their breath as the Sividon whispered the winner to the announcer.
“Ladies and Gentlemen, by a fraction of a fraction, the winner of the 100 yard dash is Lucritus from Urbs!”
The Korens exploded into another burst of song as the Shadows hissed and booed and the Shadow King gestured violently.
“Yes! I knew he could do it!” cheered Cassius, pulling Hugo into a surprise hug.
“Ah, he’s offering his hand to the Shadow,” said Leon.
“What? LEAVE HIM THERE!” shouted Cassius.
“It’s not right to glory in the slain,” reprehended Hugo.
“It is, if it’s a mink.”
Hugo shook his head as they slowly sat down and the runners prepared for the 400 meter dash.
“Still it was rather impressive,” said Leon, “A Shadow keeping up like that.”
“He got lucky,” scoffed Cassius, as Honoratius stepped into position.
“Leon, the next time a Shadow stops by your shop, send for me,” said Hugo.
His friend looked at him, nearly smacking his snout with his lens.
“Why? I can handle a few minks.”
“I am concerned about their interest in your inventions. They have to be planning something. You know what they are like.”
“The only event I’m worried about is the aerial gymnastics,” said Cassius, glancing up at the elevated platforms, ropes, and nets, “We can bind their wings, but there’s no denying that that is the Gargoyle’s element.”
“Still, losing to a Gargoyle is better than losing to a mink,” said Leon.
“Losing at all is horrible,” scoffed Cassius.
Leon clicked away and the crowd cheered as the Korens won the 400 meter dash.
“Uh oh!” gulped Leon as his device start to spurt and ping.
There was a bwaugh and Hugo and Cassius coughed and waved away the black smoke as Leon threw the device off his head and threw it on the ground. It quickly caught on fire and Hugo stomped on it before it set the Koren sitting in front of them on fire. Barely anyone looked their way as most Korens were used to inventions malfunctioning.
“What happened?!” snapped Cassius.
“I’m not really sure,” said Leon, scratching the back of his head, “It’s most certainly an interesting development.”
Cassius shared a disbelieving glance with Hugo who sniffed humorously.
“Never mind, Leon. You should give the minks all of your inventions. They’ll backfire and kill more Shadows then our army ever could.”

He omphed as large and heavy Gabriel crashed into him and they rolled into the base of the arena. His head ringing, Marcus vainly tried to roll a moaning Gabriel off of him, but failed miserably.

“Aye, Marcus,” frowned Hugo, effortlessly flipping another apprentice, Vincent, over, “You need to be alert at all times.”

“Yes, master,” he grumbled, poking his fellow apprentice in the side.

“Ow,” groaned Gabriel.

“I can’t breathe,” Marcus gasped.

“Oh, sorry,” said Gabriel slowly climbing off of the small Koren.

Gabriel was fatter than a normal apprentice and struggled just as much as Marcus did, but once he planted his feet, there was no moving him. He was bit like a Thresh now that Marcus thought about it. Gabriel’s long blonde hair was shaggier than Hugo liked, but seemed to have a mind of its own as it grew within seconds of being cut. The spikes on the bridge of his snout were larger than normal and were almost completely aligned. His ears were tuffs of fur and, like all Korens, he looked like a hairy dragon.

“Ah,” moaned Leopold as Hugo wrenched his arm behind his back, almost breaking it.

Felix, another small Koren that was all sinew and muscle, silently stepped behind their master and target, the old (having just turned thirty-five) Hugo.

“We learned this yesterday,” said Hugo, pulling back Leopold’s arm, causing the tall and handsome Koren to wince, “How do we get out of this?”

Leopold was tall and thin with tightly formed muscles. He had been an amazing track star when he participated in the Virgil. His silver hair was short, but soft and his long snout and hazel eyes that twinkled with merriment drew the girls to him. He was also the only apprentice whose spikes were perfectly aligned.

“Felix,” warned Hugo just as the small Koren was about to jump him, “You attack me that way and I’ll break his arm.”

“Don’t do that!” panicked Leopold.

“Think,” said Hugo, jerking on his arm.

The silver Koren did the only thing he could think of. He bashed Hugo’s snout with the back of his head, surprising the old Koren into letting him go. Immediately Felix and Vincent rushed Hugo while Marcus and Gabriel brought up the rear. Hugo, despite the blood streaming from his snout, effectively side stepped his two older apprentices, causing them to head butt each other. He coolly tripped the lumbering Gabriel, who, once he picked up speed, was impossible to stop. Gabriel tripped and rolled and landed on a moaning Felix. Marcus’ eyes widened as he realized he was the only one left and what was worse was that she was most likely watching. Marcus did what had always worked for him in the past, he charged towards Hugo. His master rolled his eyes and jumped out of the way and Marcus crashed into a Leopold, eager to try and lock Hugo’s arm behind his back.


They fell with a small thud and Marcus couldn’t help but feel like the biggest idiot in the world.

“Enough,” he snapped Hugo, flipping Vincent over again so the Koren landed on his back with a groan, “You five were horrible today.”

Vincent grumbled as he rose and rubbed his back. He was shorter than Leopold, but had an inch on their master. His grey hair was dull and wiry and his snout was slightly out of joint after being beaten so many times. His spikes were an inch or two out of alignment. He had inherited his father’s fierce appearance, but Marcus, more than most, know what a big softie he really was. He was the oldest of Hugo’s apprentices and he was the only one with a wife, although she was not yet pregnant.

“We could have taken you if someone had been paying attention.”

Marcus looked down.

“Give him a break,” grinned Leopold rotating his arm to ensure it was all right, “We all know why he was distracted.”

Marcus’ eyes widened and he gulped. Hugo sighed as the young female trainees raced around the track and all of his apprentice’s eyes were drawn to their lithe and developed forms.

“We’ll have to start training outside, away from all these distractions,” he said, causing Marcus to disappear even deeper into himself.

“Augh, I think you shattered my skull, Vincent,” said Felix, rubbing his head as he gingerly rose, “And you, Gabriel, you broke my spine.”

Felix was two inches taller than Marcus, but no one dared make fun of him. He was all muscle and had been known for defeating opponents three times his size. Felix’s spikes were scattered across his snout and a few were already broken. His black fur was thin and, out of all the apprentices, his resembled a hungry and desperate dragon the most.

“Sorry,” grunted the large Koren, “But you know how I get when I start running.”

“Is your snout all right, master?” asked Marcus timidly.

“Yes,” said Hugo, snorting out blood, “Unorthodox thinking, Leopold.”

“It worked,” he shrugged.

“We should have been coordinated,” snapped Vincent, “Marcus, you know better!”

“Yes, he does,” said Hugo, shooting a dark glance at Marcus, causing the small Koren to duck behind Gabriel, “But you, Vincent, should have been able to salvage the attack. The four of you should have easily defeated me without Marcus’ help.”

“Yes, master,” said Vincent, bowing his head.

“But if we cannot count on each other, how can we ever hope to attain victory?” asked Felix.

“It is not trust, it is the unexpected. Some of you will die in combat and you must adjust for that inevitability. An attack cannot rest on one Koren alone. There must be other alternatives considered and you must place yourself in a position to utilize them if you need to.”
They nodded their heads and cowered before him.

“You should have let me break my arm, Felix,” sighed Leopold.
“So you can be useless for the next few months?” scoffed Felix.

“We could have won.”
“There is no point in making a long term sacrifice for a short term victory,” asked Vincent as Hugo suppressed a smile.

“Do not let this defeat depress you. Learn from it and we will try again tomorrow,” said Hugo, placing a hand on Vincent’s shoulder, “Now, the rest of you go and get cleaned up. We will meet again later tonight to review how to care for your weapons. Marcus, come with me.”

He gulped and shared a scared glance with Leopold and Gabriel before following Hugo across the arena, his eyes trailing towards the running girls and lingering on the pretty auburn Koren. She was his size-or as Gabriel liked to say, pocket size-and had the toned and lean body of a marathoner. Her dragon like face was soft and gentle and she had delicate ankles and wrists. Her fur was always well cared for and her tunic was spotless.

“Who are you looking at?” asked Hugo, stopping in front of a bucket of water to wash his snout.

Marcus gave a start and gulp.

“Well, who is it? The sooner I take care of this, the sooner we can focus on turning you into an effective warrior.”
Hugo was powerful despite being old for a Koren. His long, brown fur was braided around the neck and snout to resemble a beard and his soft brown eyes hid a pain only his apprentices truly recognized. His clawed hands often felt like they were the size of Marcus’ face and he could easily throw Gabriel around like a rag doll. His sharp spikes were aligned in a perfect straight line and Marcus often expected fire to burst from his sharp snout. For training purposes, he was wearing a dark brown tunic, but normally wore the heavy Niveus fur lined coats required for the general class and every weapon imaginable. He took a towel and gently dabbed his snout, twitching as he jabbed a sensitive area before turning to face his young apprentice.


The young Koren looked down and wrung his hands.

“I uh I don’t know her name. I just see her on the track when we train.”

“Point her out when they pass by,” said Hugo as the girls ran around the bend, mere seconds away from their position.

Marcus immediately pointed to the runner in the front, outpacing everyone with an enviable ease. Hugo sighed and nodded his head.

“Of course. Well, come.”

“What? Where are we going?” asked Marcus, tripping over his own feet as he struggled to keep up with his master.

“I’m assuming you planned on talking to her at some point.”

“Yes, but…now?”

“Why not?”

“What would I say?” gulped Marcus.

“Introducing yourself is always a good way to start,” said Hugo, suppressing a smirk as they approached Avita Urbs, Gabriel’s mother and overseer of the track.

Marcus quickly adjusted his large tunic and tried to suppress the strange cowlick that stood straight up on the top of his head. Marcus was a pocket sized Koren that made up for his lack of height and muscle with his agility and speed. His light brown fur was often tangled and stood up on end at random places. His snout was round and flat and his spikes were scattered up and down the ridge.

“Avita,” called Hugo.

The tiny and thin Koren turned around and smiled.

“Did my Gabriel do that?”

“No, he was too busy shattering his own teammate’s skull,” smirked Hugo as Avita rolled her eyes.

“You should be stricter on him, Hugo. He needs discipline.”

“I’ve come to ask for a favor. My young apprentice Marcus would like a minute to speak to one of your girls.”

Avita sighed at the trembling Koren and frowned.

“Which one?”

“The one leading the race.”

“No, you should talk to her parents. Arrange a meeting that way.”

“Marcus is too young to marry,” said Hugo as Marcus’ eyes widened at the thought, “He just wants to speak to her.”

“This goes against tradition, Hugo.”

“I have always gone against tradition.”

Avita scrunched her snout before sighing.

“Five minutes.”

“Thank you,” said Hugo taking Marcus to the side.

As the girls ran their last lap and Avita called them over, Hugo looked his young apprentice over.

“Well, at least you look slightly better than I did when I first met Portia,” he sighed, also trying to defeat Marcus’ cowlick.

“What do I say, Master? A whole five minutes is a lot of time,” gulped Marcus as Avita sent the young girl their way.

“Follow your gut, Marcus. It has never let you down.”

The young Koren solemnly nodded his head and Hugo smiled.

“Excuse me, sir.”

The old Koren turned around and saw the pretty young girl bowing before him.

“Madam Avita said you wished to see me.”
Well Hugo knew why Marcus was smitten by her. She was very pretty and had large doe eyes. If this meeting went well and Marcus wished to continue seeing her, he would have to work hard to arrange their marriage. He would be surprised if her parents hadn’t already agreed to review at least five different proposals already.

“Yes, my apprentice here would like to speak to you,” said Hugo, pushing Marcus in front.

He swallowed and would have run away, if Hugo had not kept him in place.

“His name is Marcus.”

“It is an honor,” she said, nodding her head towards the young Koren, “My name is Seraphina.”

“That’s very beautiful,” sputtered Marcus, a smile flirting across his snout.

Hugo quickly squeezed the young Koren’s shoulders before rejoining Avita, who was watching them very closely. Marcus was both relieved and terrified when Hugo left. What was he supposed to do say? Seraphina’s face softened as the silence grew and barely cocked her head to the side.

“What did you wish to speak to me about, Apprentice Marcus?”
“Oh uh I uh,” stammered Marcus, rubbing the back of his neck, “I uh you’re a really good runner.”

She blinked in surprise.

“Sometimes, when we train, I uh I watch you. You’re really fast.”

“Thank you.”

Marcus flashed a smile before looking down and wringing his hands.

“Is that all?”

“Well, no, uh….I was uh wondering…I know it’s not proper but uh my master never does anything proper.”

Her face softened as his tongue tripped over itself.

“See I uh I think you’re uh.”

She stared at him uncertainly as he swallowed and his snout twisted this way and that.

“Seraphina, back on the track!”

Oh, no! Where his five minutes up?!

“It was a pleasure to meet you,” smiled Seraphina, bowing her head before turning.

“No! Wait!” said Marcus, grabbing her delicate wrists.

She spun around and would have smacked him if he had not jumped back.

“I’m sorry, but I need to tell you.”



“Oh uh I uh.”

Marcus took a deep breathe, closed his eyes, and sputtered, “Ithinkyou’rereallypretty.”

There was silence except for Avita calling Seraphina’s name and Marcus slowly cracked an eye open and was relieved to see the young Koren still standing before him.

“Seraphina, now!”

“I uh I don’t know what to say. Thank you?”
Marcus opened his eyes and swallowed, figuring he might as well go all the way since he had already made a fool of himself.

“And I was uh wondering if maybe, if my master could arrange it, we could uh train together or something?”

“If my parents approve,” said Seraphina carefully, “Then, yes, I think so.”
“Seraphina, stairs!”

“Oh, you should go!” said Marcus his face falling, “And I’m sorry.”
She squeezed his hand before racing towards her trainer who first made her perform sixty pushups before sending her up the endless stairs. Marcus watched with a sigh, a smile pinned to his snout.

“How did it go?” asked Hugo.

Marcus jumped, not realizing his master had walked towards him, and his smile turned into a grin.

“I think she likes me.”

Hugo tossed Marcus’ fur and smiled.

“Good, now come. We need to resume our training so we can convinced her parents you are worth marrying.”

“Oh, dear,” said Marcus, his face falling.

“Don’t worry. If I can convince someone to marry Vincent, I can convince someone to marry you.”
Marcus' Crush
So this is another story for my sister :iconinprismed: birthday


(C) me
The Virgil

Marcus limped out of the wrestling ring, towards his leather satchel of water. He was pretty sure he had tweaked his hip during that last move, but at least he had won. Marcus was an undersized Koren who made up for his size with his agility and speed. Like all Korens, he resembled a hairy, miniature dragon. He had a round snout with small horns haphazardly scattered down the bridge. His father assured him that they would align themselves with time. His bright and soft blue eyes kept a caution glance on his fellow trainees. He was wearing a tan tunic that was too big for him and often made him the laughing stock of the Virgil.
“Up in five,” snapped Portia, one of their trainers.
Marcus always felt like an idiot around her-not only because she was a beautiful and gifted warrior-but because she was the famous Hugo’s wife. Hugo was the idol of every Koren in the Virgil, if not in all of Urbs and to be trained by his wife…Marcus quickly looked down as she glanced his way.
“You quitting on me, Cato’s son?”
“No, ma’am!’ he shouted, painfully standing up.
“Good. Kali fighting in five.”
Oh great, those sticks were as tall as he was.
“Out of the way,” snapped a fuming Koren, pushing him to the ground.
He looked up and frowned as Manfred and two of his friends walked by. While Marcus idolized Hugo, he loathed his son. There were never two Korens more different from each other. Marcus, aware that others were watching him, jumped up, and stood his ground.
“Hey! Watch where you’re going!”
Manfred stood and turned around, his cold, brown eyes staring undersized Koren down. He was towered over Marcus and had the strong and tight body of a true warrior, and the grimace to match. He had soft brown fur, his snout was long and thin, and his horns were only starting to align themselves. He too was wearing a tan tunic, but it fit to perfection. However, Marcus noticed that his fur was disheveled and he kept massaging his jaw as if he had taken a beating.
“Mind your place, peace lover,” spat Manfred, “We all know you’re only here because Nestor pities your father.”
Marcus frowned and fought the urge to withdraw into himself as other trainees gather around, eager to watch a fight.
“I am earning my place, same as everyone else,” snapped Marcus.
“You’re a disgrace. You should quit while you can.”
Marcus gritted his teeth and did the only thing that a young Koren could do. He ran towards Manfred and would have tackled him if the Koren had not smoothly side stepped him and pounded his fists against the back of his head. He grunted and fell face off into the dirt and Manfred finished him off by stomping on his back.
“Stay down.”
He walked as Marcus gritted his teeth and pushed himself off the ground, his back screaming at him to just give up. He snarled and raced after Manfred, who once again easily avoided his attack. This time he kicked Marcus across the snout.
The crowd parted and Marcus saw one of Hugo’s apprentices, Vincent, running towards them. Vincent was taller than Marcus, but shorter than Manfred, although he had more muscles. He wore the brown tunic of an apprentice and long, warm robes lined with Niveus bear fur. The dented mace and dull axe that came from being an apprentice hung from his side. He had wiry silver fur that attracted the eyes of many of the girls and strong green eyes and his small horns on his snout had finally aligned.
“Break it up, knuckleheads,” he said, pushing Manfred away and pulling Marcus up by the scuff of his tunic.
“I was just teaching him his place,” frowned Manfred, bristling with a seething frustration.
“It’s not his fault your ass was beat in the ring,” snorted Vincent, standing between the two of them, “Now go and take it out on the dummies.”
“I can take him,” said Marcus, spitting out teeth.
Vincent glanced behind his shoulder at his young friend and shot him a glance that told him to shut up.
“I already beat you twice. Attack me again and you won’t be able to walk,” snapped Manfred.
“Back off, rat!” shouted Vincent as Manfred gritted his teeth and balled his fists.
“Son of Hugo, stand down.”
They all swallowed as Portia, carrying two long staffs, marched towards them. Portia was built like a Thresh, her shoulders and chest were wide and sturdy and she had been a legendary javelin thrower in her youth. Her fur was long and black highlighting her soft, bright blue eyes. She did not have any horns on the bridge of her snout as that was only a male trait, but she looked more like a dragon than any other Koren Marcus had met. Around her neck was a handmade necklace with a dent, circular amulet. Her blue eyes surveyed the eager crowd and her seething son and frowned.
“Gather around,” she called, “Son of Hugo, catch.”
Manfred caught the staff with ease-something that would have knocked Marcus over-and stepped into position, a dark glint in his eyes. Marcus swallowed as he expected the next staff to be thrown his way, but instead, Portia stepped into the makeshift ring. Manfred’s eyes widened and he almost backed down.
“You are not afraid are you, son of Hugo?” taunted Portia, an iciness in her voice that made Marcus swallow.
Manfred stepped into position, his staff held defensively in front of him, his shoulder bent in, just in case he could slip the staff behind Portia’s ankle and flip her over. Portia took an offensive position as they circled one another, everyone in the arena dropping what they were doing to watch the fight. Portia struck first and Manfred just barely managed to block her attack before swiping at her. She jumped back and jabbed at his knee. He jumped back and brought the staff down at her head, which he barely missed. The split second it took him to recover, she used to jab him in the side, knocking him to his knees and she brought the staff down on his back. Marcus gasped as Manfred grunted and fell on all fours. Portia brought the staff down and Manfred rolled away just in time. He jumped up and parried another attack. Marcus hated to admit it, but Manfred was good. Normally trainees didn’t last this long against a trainer. Portia struck again and side stepped her and brought the staff down on her shoulder. She shrugged it off and jabbed his jaw. He stumbled back and she jabbed him in the stomach before smacking his across the jaw again. Marcus flinched as Manfred whirled to the ground, blood spraying across the fine sand. Manfred, dropping his staff, rose to his elbows and shook his head. Portia, not sparing a second, brought the staff down on his back, causing him to cry out. She kicked his staff away, towards Marcus’ feet and growled as Manfred kicked her in the stomach. He rolled away and painfully rose-weaponless. Marcus hesitantly picked up the staff and swallowed as he relieved he would not be able to throw it to the struggling Koren. Portia swung at Manfred and her son barely managed to duck. She feigned at his stomach before bringing her staff down on his shoulder, knocking him to his knee. She finished him with another strike to the head. He fell on the ground and Marcus ran towards him as Portia raised her staff above her head. She brought it down and it cracked against Marcus’ staff, knocking him to his knees, but he held. Her face softened as Marcus scrunched his eyes shut and used all of his strength to push back against her attack. She jumped back and Marcus struggled to hold the staff in a defensive position. Manfred, too stunned to do anything, laid on the ground, behind the young Koren.
Portia and Marcus lowered their staffs as the crowd parted to make way for the Master of Ceremonies, the blind Nestor of Urbs. He was a grey and wizen Koren who bent over his walking stick, his eyes a pure, milky white, his furry long enough to braid. Many of the small horns on the bridge of his long snout were chipped and he was missing a tuff of his ear. He wore brilliant golden and red robes and tied to his staff were red poppies.
“Not one of you has more value than the other. You all are equal in your insignificance.”
They bowed their heads.
“You are still rats. You have not yet even been given a master and already you fight for fake titles and rank.”
His sightless gaze fell on Marcus, who was offering his hand to a sore Manfred.
“Alone you are easy to defeat, but together you are strong.”
The stubborn Koren roughly took Marcus’ hand and painfully rose.
“Son of Hugo, Son of Cato, come. I wish to speak to you.”
“Everyone else, Kali fighting, now,” snapped Portia, turning her back on her son.
Manfred spat out blood and teeth before following Marcus and the old Koren across the training arena and held the step and jagged stairs. It was not long before the two Korens began to pant and their legs started to burn while Nestor flirted up the steps with the ease of a gazelle. On the very top of the endless staircase was a small cove and in that cove lived the Master of Ceremonies. It provided a perfect view of the arena and contained the records of warriors dead and alive, a record of their deeds, and the warrior’s code.
“Son of Hugo, I will speak with you first,” said Nestor, pushing back the ragged curtain.
Manfred stepped inside and frowned as the sparsity of the room. There was no bed, just a thin blanket spread on the floor, a long stone table, and piles upon piles of ancient scrolls.
“Is your jaw broken?”
“No, sir.”
Nestor walked around Manfred and sat down on a stone chair. Manfred remained standing.
“They say you are Hugo’s son, is that true?”
“I am Manfred.”
“I know what Hugo stands for. I know what Portia stands for. Their deeds speak for them. But Manfred has no deeds to speak for him. Manfred has no name as far as the ancestors are concerned.”
Manfred frowned.
“But they know Hugo’s son?”
“Yes, an arrogant boy who believes he has nothing to prove.”
“I have everything to prove!” snapped Manfred.
Nestor’s white eyes stared at him as he swallowed and bowed his head.
“Forgive me, sir.”
“Defeat is nothing to be ashamed of. It is refusing to rise that all warriors should fear.”
“I cannot defeat my own mother, sir.”
“You failed once. Tomorrow is a new day. Learn from this defeat and attack anew tomorrow.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Apprentice Day is almost upon us. You will be competing?”
“Yes, sir.”
“I wish you luck then. You have the potential to be a fine warrior, but you must learn that a warrior is only as strong as the warrior next to him.”
“You ask me to fight side by side with those I do not respect.”
Nestor frown and slowly rose.
“The Son of Cato was the only one who came to your aide.”
Manfred’s face softened and his normally icy eyes melted in shame.
“There is much to be admired in a warrior that will defend his enemy against unfair odds.”
“He is not meant for this. Surely you must see that, sir.”
“I was born blind, Son of Hugo. My mother saved me from death, but she could not save me from tradition. Back then all Korens had to train as warriors. When I came to the Virgil, they wanted to kill me. I was a blemish you see. Only one warrior dissented. Do you know who?”
“No, sir.”
“It was Ajax, your father’s master.”
Manfred’s eyes widened.
“He told the others to grant me a chance. No one agreed, so he took me under his tutelage. All I am is because he gave me a chance. Does the Son of Cato not deserve the same honor?”
Manfred looked down and shifted his feet.
“Do not be so quick to judge, Son of Hugo. Often the ones we expect nothing from can prove to be the best warriors.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good. Send Son of Cato in.”
Manfred bowed before turning and walking out of the cove.
“He wants to see you.”
Marcus squealed and adjusted his tunic. Manfred was about to walk away when he turned and his face softened.
“Thank you.”
The young Koren’s eyes widened and his snout twitched.
“I do not think I would have done the same.”
Marcus nodded his head before walking into Nestor’s cove.
“You wished to see me, sir?”
“Yes, come here.”
Marcus stepped forward and Nestor felt him.
“You are not hurt?”
“No, sir, just a sore jaw.”
“You are getting into fights often, Son of Cato.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And the trainers tell me you are struggling.”
Marcus frowned and rubbed the back of his neck.
“Yes, sir.”
Nestor slowly sat down again.
“When you came to participate in the Virgil, there were many who wanted me to send you away.”
“I know, sir.”
“There are many who feel the same way to this day.”
“I know, sir,” said Marcus looking down.
“When I first spoke to you, you told me you were determined to become a warrior. Do you feel the same way?”
“Yes, sir!” said Marcus, looking up and stepping forward.
“Even after what you’ve experienced.”
“It only makes me more determined, sir.”
Nestor hid a smile.
“I can do it. I know I can. I’ve been training on my own and Vincent has been helping?”
“Hugo’s apprentice?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Does Hugo know?”
“I don’t think so, sir.”
Nestor nodded his head as he thought something over.
“Will you be attending Apprentice Day?”
“Yes, sir. I want to compete, but they say I am too young.”
“Yes, this true, you are young, but I think it is important that you attend.”
“Yes, sir.”
“You are dismissed.”
Marcus bowed and slowly and painfully walked down the long and endless stairs. He had often wondered how much it would hurt to just throw himself down them. It would probably be a lot faster. He collapsed when he reached the bottom and close his eyes. He had to act tough around the others, but he was tired. Manfred was right about one thing. He didn’t have the strength for this, but he had determination and that was half the battle wasn’t it? He no longer heard the ding of training and he wondered how long he had been up there.
“I thought he would never let you go.”
Marcus opened his eyes and saw Vincent standing over him, a smirk on his snout.
“What are you doing here?” asked the young Koren, jumping up, his hip instantly regretting it.
“I had to make sure you were ok. Why do you pick the fights you can’t win?”
“What else can a Koren like me do?” shrugged Marcus.
“I will admit it was nice to see Manfred get a good beating and from his own mother no less.”
“Aren’t you friends?” frowned Marcus.
“Doesn’t mean I can’t admit that he’s a pain in the ass. I feel bad for Master Hugo and Mistress Portia.”
“Speaking of your master, shouldn’t you be reporting to him?”
“Eh,” shrugged Vincent, “He’ll probably make me box Equus or something, but I wanted to make sure you were ok.”
“Of course. A warrior’s number one responsibility is to ensure the safety of his apprentices.”
“I’m your apprentice now?” smirked Marcus.
“Well, not officially,” said Vincent as they slowly made their way up the stairs again, this time towards the upper levels, “But Master Hugo said that it’s good to find trainees and mentor them. It teaches a warrior how to lead in combat.”
“Master Nestor said I should attend Apprentice Day. He said it would be good for me.”
“Yes, you should go,” said Vincent, “I could even introduce you to Master Hugo.”
Marcus tripped over his feet and would have tumbled down the stairs if Vincent hadn’t catch him.
“Careful there.”
“Would you really do that?”
“Yes, he attends every year and this year will be special. Manfred is participating.”
“Will he chose his son?”
“No. It wouldn’t be proper.”
Marcus frowned and almost felt bad for the grouchy Koren.
“I know Manfred can be a pain, but a lot of comes from being Master Hugo’s son. He is very hard on him. Harder than he is with us even.”
“Well Manfred deserves it.”
Vincent smirked and gasped with relief once they reached the upper level.
“All right, now I need to go box Equus. You try and make it home safe.”
“Yes, mother.”
Vincent smacked the back of Marcus’ head.
The Virgil
So this is another birthday present for my sister :iconinprissmed:'s birthday (which is tomorrow)

So this might need some explaining, Korens are a warriorlike race that live in the Kanas Mountains. All wannabe warriors go through two stages of training-the Virgil and the Apprenticeship. The Virgil is basically boot camp while the Apprenticeship is to strength their skills before they can become official warriors.

The Apprenticeship is run by the men, but the Virgil is run by the women, who also serve in the reserve.

Anyway enjoy!

(C) me

AdCast - Ads from the Community




Add a Comment:
ChasMandala Featured By Owner Sep 16, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Happy Birthday  :happy birthday:
Delta-13 Featured By Owner Sep 21, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Aw thank you!
ChasMandala Featured By Owner Sep 22, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
:aww:  You're welcome!  :)
EveVictus Featured By Owner May 7, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you for the llama! :llama:
Delta-13 Featured By Owner May 11, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome!
YamaLama1986 Featured By Owner Mar 3, 2015   Digital Artist
Thank you for the fave of the quote of Disraeli on economic inequality. :)
Delta-13 Featured By Owner Mar 7, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
You're welcome. I have always found Disraeli to be an interesting character
SwiftWindSpirit Featured By Owner Feb 14, 2015  Professional Writer
Thanks for the review on Derrick's Secret III. I appreciate you taking the time to write it and give me some honest feedback.
Delta-13 Featured By Owner Feb 15, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
No problem!
seekerofsigns Featured By Owner Feb 1, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Thank you so much for the favorites and the watch! I'm seriously grateful! Hopefully I'll continue adding things to my gallery you can connect to!
Add a Comment: