Not Quite 'Art', but still in the same Vein...

[Border Walker]

This is but one of the many Re-writes I've done of a Story I've been working on for Years. This is the latest, and one I am most proud of. I've gotten help in my school to change it up somewhat, fix certain areas, and add in things that are needed. Critique as you see fit.

-I-
Birth
Ch. 1: The Druid

A flash of lightning. A boom of thunder. The chatter of birds as they took to the sky. These sounds were not unfamiliar to the landscape, nor was it unfamiliar to those who dwelled in the lands. They had seen a storm before, just as they had heard the music of nature as creatures took shelter from the wind and rain. Certainly that was the advantage that being human had over all other. Man created his shelter, building its walls tall and its ceiling thick. No element could enter his cave without permission, just as no creature could enter-without permission, of course. But man was not a heartless being. While the most destructive, certainly, man was but another wild creature seeking to claim its rightful place in the food chain. Along the way, he must assert his authority over the rest of his species. Yet, when the opportunity struck him, man was often quite generous.

This is but one reason why the druid rode through the night. His primary mission took precedence over all, but with the oncoming storm, shelter was needed. On top of that, he had not eaten since he left his homeland, when the moon shown half full. Now, he could not see the moon behind the dark storm clouds, but the druid knew that a full moon was approaching. He clutched tighter to the neck of his steed, riding further and further to the dark castle in the distance. It would be risky to seek shelter in that human home, but it was either that or risk getting turned about in the woods in the storm, never to find his way home.

He struck the sides of the horse with his heels, causing it to burst into a full gallop. They blazed the trail together, kicking up dirt and rubble as the storm grew closer, the great maw of the clouds opening wider with anticipation. The horse leapt over a log, its hooves clopping loudly against the dirt and gravel. The caramel stallion was nearly spooked after another flash of light was followed by the clap of thunder. It bucked, but the druid held tightly, never releasing his grip until the horse had calmed itself again. Continuing on, it was but another short burst until the doors were in sight.

The sound of a party was clearly evident within, voices drifting through the cracks and light gently flowing out from the windows. A quick leap was all it took for the druid to get off his animal friend, gently stroking it’s head and whispering words beneath his hood. Patting the elongated face, he turned and let the horse return to its wild freedom, focusing instead on the large wooden doors before him. The stone guardians on either side watched the foot of the steps, frozen in time in a ready stance. No one stood on guard besides these stone guardians, showing the master’s confidence in his ability to hold off an invasion-or his boisterous nature at him having a lack of enemies. This was all well and good, but as the druid stared at the guardians, he couldn’t help but wonder just who was inside, and why they were gathered so.

A wooden door creaked open, the wood moaning as it pushed against the heavy wind. Behind it was one of the servants, looking out into the storm. He looked left and right, as if having felt the druid approach, and when he saw the cloaked figure, he waved his arm frantically, bidding the druid entry. “Come, come hither! Get yourself out of this deathly storm. No man should have to be outside in this!”

The druid bowed his head, glad that humans were indeed as generous as he was told. Walking quickly up the steps, he paused only once to glance back to the stone guardians, staring for no more than a few more seconds before finishing his rise into the castle itself. The servant made quick work of the door, closing it behind the druid and brushing himself off.

“Dear me,” said the servant, “you look dreadful. How long have you been out there?”

The druid spoke no word in reply, his features sheltered by the heavy brown robes.

“Never mind. Tis none of my business anyhow. I bid you, Druid, welcome to Chateau de la Renart. You are free to use these walls as shelter while the storm outside dies out. You have arrived, actually, at quite a good time. The master is holding a special celebration. Truly a tragedy that nature had to dampen the spirits, wouldn’t you say?”

The hood of the druid rose, his eyes burrowing deep into the servant.

“Come, why stand here in the entrance hall when you can simply hear the master explain himself. If you wish, I can take your robes and fetch you a fresh pair of pants from the maids.”

The druid shook his head, his robe hood moving with every movement.

“Well then, at the very least you could learn to speak. The master is quite sociable, and if you don’t respond, he may take it as an insult. To do such on this great occasion would be a tragedy indeed.”

Slowly becoming fed up with the servant, the druid begrudgingly spoke. “Just what is it that the Master of this castle is celebrating?” His voice was rough & deep, sounding more like a growl than an actual voice.

The servant paused. “Why, that’s the surprise of the evening. The master himself plans to make that announcement later tonight. I can assure you, however, that it is a momentous occasion.”

A flash of lightning broke through the window behind them, briefly illuminating the features of the druid. Gasping, the servant stumbled back against a suit of armor. The metal rattled as the suit was ready to collapse, but the combined effort of the servant and the druid prevented it from falling. Taking deepened breaths, the servant looked to the druid again, holding a hand before him. “My dearest apologies. When the light came in, it played tricks with my eyes. Frightened me a little.”

The druid said nothing, turning his head instead back to the end of the hall, continuing onwards without the servant. He could care little for this servant, as it was clear he was nothing more than talk. If he wasn’t going to answer his questions, then he’d seek the Master of the castle himself.

Squeezing through the opened crack of the double doors, the druid looked over the grand scale ballroom, a set of stairs rising up in the back. Standing at the head was a tall man, no older than his twenties, and wearing the most noble of clothing. His cape was held up by a golden broach chain, and a decorative sword was slung on his visible left hip. His entire right side was covered in his cape. His smile radiated nobility and good fortune, the kind and gentle nature of the man clearly visible to all who looked upon him. An aura of benevolence seemed to surround his very body.

A young girl approached this man from the left, little more than a servant by her clothes. The druid watched as the man said something, but could hear no words over the chatter of the crowd and the music. His gaze was kept upon the Man and this Servant. He was sure that the man was the Master, but what of this servant girl? Surely she must be important if he let her get so close. He watched as she curtsied, then left from whence she came, turning his attention back to the floor of the Ballroom.

On the floor itself, various guests mingled with one another, consulting about current affairs of the land. Some, like the man at the head, wore clothing of elegance and nobility. Others still wore little more than peasant rags. The druid clearly saw how few of the peasants and nobles mingled, but some of the more kind and benevolent nobles wandered out to have a conversation with one of a lesser social status. The druid had no doubt in his mind that most of the nobles who did this were finding some entertainment in hearing of the petty worries of the penniless. It sickened him, but he could see the few human nobles who truly spoke on similar terms to the peasants, showing their true face and compassion. That alone served to give him some hope for humanity at least.

The druid then saw one such noble lock-in on him and begin to squeeze his way through the crowds of people. “Good sir,” the noble began, intercepting the druid in his musings, “I dare say I’ve not seen many a druid in these parts. Tell me, where do you hail?”

The druid stared at the man from beneath his hood, peering into his very soul. He could see the man had only good intentions, and that no harm would come from revealing some information to this one. Still, he’d rather he go through the night without any information being spared, and this man was simply too energetic. His round figure explained enough to the druid, how he was one of the lucky ones to have more than enough food for him, where other families starved for a loaf of bread. Still, the Charisma this man held was enough for the druid to know that unless he gave the man some sort of information, he would never leave him alone.

“I hail from Duvica, a village many moons away. To travel there is to bring supplies for many nights.”

“Is that so?” the man said, hailing over one of the many servants who walked with drinks. “I’ve not heard of such a province. Is it within that… Regust… Regest…Regnus…”

“Regnustia?” The druid asked, looking over the male servant who handed both of them a drink. The Noble took the drink, but the druid waved his away, wishing not to ingest the poison. As before, no ill intention could be seen in the servant, but servants were indeed harder to read than nobility.

“That’s it, Regnustia. You know, the Master of the castle hails from that land too.”

This caught the druid’s attention. He watched the Noble take a sip of his Champagne and turned back to the man at the head of the stairs. “Duvica is indeed close to what was once Regnustia, but the Kingdom itself has long since been abandoned. A plague swept through the land almost a decade before.”

“Tis the same thing the Master told everyone ten years prior,” spoke another voice, the druid turning to see a figure standing beside him, decked in peasant clothing, but with a hint nobility, the delicately woven emerald green strands suggesting at least some importance. “Good day to you Druid, I am Gregory Kennedy, a friend of the Master, and one of the four survivors of that very plague.”

Beneath his hood, the druid‘s eyes grew wide. The druid looked over Gregory more closely, trying to see if this man was simply lying to make himself seem more important. He soon recognized that while the clothes were peasant style, he still wore a cape and broach like the master, his cape a deep emerald green and held aloof by a silver broach. He saw on either broach pendant some sort of insignia, but could not make out the shape fully in the dim light of the ballroom. But beneath all of this, the druid sensed the truth.

“You seem surprised. If you do indeed hail from a land near Regnustia, then you know well of the tragedy that befell that land. The Master and Lady of the castle both were descended from the Royalty of the land, and only just managed to escape with myself and my own wife before we too fell victim to the plague.”

This truly seemed to cause worry within the Druid. He believed to simply be in the castle of some Noble, maybe a Duke at the least, but the descendent of Royalty, and of Regnustia? He had believed all to perish, but if these four had survived, how many others could have slipped out?

“Oh look, the Master appears to be ready to give his speech,” the energetic Noble announced, turning to face the same man at the head of the stairs, who now held in his hands a living version of the same stone guardians of the castle. Its bright orange fur was soft and luxurious, the small frame resting calmly. Lifting the creature overhead, the Master placed him upon his shoulders, the red-orange fur blending in quite well with the red-orange hair on the Master’s head.

“Friends, citizens, nobles, I thank you all for coming to this grand occasion,” spoke the Master, raising his arms high so as to get everyone’s focus. The creature around his neck flicked its tail a little, the bushy red-orange brushing against the cloak. “Ten years ago, my wife and I left our homeland to escape a great plague. This horrid plague killed my family, my friends, and my fellow townsfolk when I was still but a young child in my now deceased father’s eyes.”

A few whispers started in the crowd, but the druid could not make out any word of what they spoke. He thought it nothing more than simple human gossip.

“We came to this land, and I pleaded with your King. Your benevolent ruler granted me the right to my own land within his kingdom, giving me the men to build this very castle in which you stand.”

As if to prove his point more, the master swung out his arms to either side, causing the small creature upon his shoulders to leap off. The act accentuated the beautiful design that went into the ballroom, but little was needed to do so. @ith every bit of detail hand carved, from the tall pillars of stone to the wooden staircase, even the walls were painted with biblical and mythological images. Yet, there was an odd twist in each one. The druid wandered to the nearest wall painting and scanned it over but could not pick out just what seemed so out of place.

“In those ten years, I have prayed to god to grant me some precious gift at this castles completion. Every night, I prayed to god, give me something worth more than life itself. Tonight, that gift has come!” The master threw his arms to the sky, the crowd below clapping and cheering. More gossip and whispers arose amongst the nobles below, but the druid could still not hear anything over the cheers of the many.

“Bianca, my beautiful white rose, bring forth the gift…” The master whispered, turning to the hallway on his left. From beyond the walls, a lithe and elegant figure came. Her hair, the purist white, flowed from her head. The silky white dress she wore flowed from her body, trailing behind her with every step. In her hands was a small wrapped blanket, keeping the gift within from sight of all. The druid stared up at the master’s wife, eyes widening as a realization came to mind.

“Are these the two…?”

The master took hold of the blanket bundle, cradling it within his hands and smiling deeply. The druid’s gaze fell upon the blanket, sensing deep purity within. “They are…”

“I would like you all to meet the newest member of our family,” the master spoke softly, dangling a finger over the blanket. “My son, Lucian Dumica.”

At the mention of the name, the druid light up with delight, mirrored by the excitement and joy of the rest of the party guests. Slinking back, the druid awaited to hear more, so as to confirm that the child was indeed the one he sought, the one predicted.

The master of the castle continued to dangle his finger above the blanket, whispering softly words of praise and happiness to his newborn son. “You will be strong, resourceful, and handsome, just like your father,” the Master began, smiling happily, “and one day, even stronger. Come now Lucian, we must meet the families who you will one day come to live amongst, and perhaps even rule.”

Descending the staircase, the master raised a hand, a simple gesture to let those below know not to crowd. The master smiled as he walked upon the marble floor, pausing within the center. He looked to his wife, who gave her husband a light peck upon his check. Both shared a loving glance that lowered to their awakening son.

“Oh Justin! Justin!” Called forth Gregory, coming out from the crowd with a beautiful maiden beside him. Gregory placed a hand upon the master’s shoulder, smiling to his life-long friend. “I must say, congratulations on the boy. My wife Fiona tells me that Lady Bianca believed herself to be carrying such. How did she put it, dear Fiona?”

The woman beside Gregory, a radiant raven-haired women who, from the looks of her clothing and skin was a gypsy, smirked. “I believe she said something akin to… ‘The pains in my womb and the constant craving for nearly raw meat means a male Dumica for sure, and that husband of mine shall pay when this babe is born,’ Isn’t that how you put it Bianca?”

Lady Bianca smiled, blushing faintly upon her pale cheeks and tilting her head, “Something like that, yes,” she said, her voice soft as the silk she wore.

“Come now Gregory, take a good look at the babe. Is he not a splitting image of his dear old father?” Justin spoke, tilting the blanket just enough so the young baby boy’s face could be seen. His chubby features were clearly evident. Lucian’s eyelids opened softly, showing a bright and brilliant blue behind them, complementing his tufts of golden blonde hair perfectly.

“Goodness, no wonder you complained of fire within your body so much Bianca, just look at that hair! He’s going to be Adonis when he matures,” Spoke Fiona, turning her gaze from the newborn child to it’s mother, a smirk on her face.

“I do say Justin, he’s quite the chubby one. I see him growing to be a strong leader, a general of an army fit for any King!” Gregory cheered, raising his fist to the air to express his point. This motion caused the young Lucian to laugh, promoting a deep silence within the castle, followed by a great awe as many of the guests hearts were melted by the adorable laughter. Gregory turned his eyes back to the child, chuckling himself. “And with a silencing laugh like that, surely man whom the ladies will constantly swoon over.”

The druid, having slithered out of the shadows and back to the crowd, weaved himself amongst the guests. He could hear the voices of the Master and his most esteemed of guests--clearly long time friends by the sounds of their voices--and knew that it was now or never if he were to see the very child for himself.

“Lucian, a perfect name for the boy,” spoke Gregory, taking hold of the babe and cradling him. “Named for anyone in particular?”

“My grandfather,” Justin said proudly, “The great King Lucian, who helped to lead our Kingdom to safety when invaders from an unknown land came.”

“Ah, yes, I do remember King Lucian. A great man he was, and a fitting person to name your son after.” Gregory returned the child to it’s father, who held his son closely.

Another boom of thunder and flash of light came from outside. The young babe opened his eyes wide, staring out and making a soft coo, raising a hand towards a figure in the crowd. With another flash of lightning, the druid stood there, hood hung low over his head. Master Justin clung his child to him closer, feeling deep down in his stomach that something was amiss about this man. Both he and the Druid could see that the others felt this way as well, feeling something menacing about this figure. Lady Bianca immediately came up to her husband, taking the child from him and walking off, but the druid rose a gloved hand, a sign of wanting the Lady to stay.

“You are the master of this castle, Yes?” the druid asked, knowing the answer to be true. Justin stepped forth, standing before the Druid and nodding.

“I am. What is it that you have come here for, Druid?”

The Druid said nothing for a few moments, looking beyond Justin and toward the Lady and child of the castle. “I at first came here to seek shelter from the storm outside, having traveled many moons. However, as I see it, it is good fortune that I would happen upon the castle where a child of a family as great as the Dumicas has been born.”

“You know of the Dumica family?” Lady Bianca asked, remaining as far from the druid as possible and clutching the child as tight.

“Why of course. I too am from Regnustia, much like yourself. Where I am from, the great tragedy of Regnustia is a time of sadness every year. We had believed everyone to have perished, but it seems the Royal family has survived. With your permission, I would like to hold a small ceremony with you, your wife, and your child.”

Justin turned to his wife, attempting to seek solace within her. Her only response was to clutch their child tighter against breast. He could see his son beginning to fidget from her tightening grasp.

“For what purpose is this ceremony?” Justin asked, turning back to the druid.

“A blessing ceremony of my people. With your permission, I would like to bless the child in good fortune, so as perhaps one day he may lead an army back to Regnustia, and reclaim your rightful lands.”

Justin looked the druid over, still sensing that ill motive about him, but shrugged it off in favor of seeing the better in him. First impressions were not always correct, and he assured himself that his first impression of this druid was incorrect. “Fine. I approve, but it shall be done so in the early hours-”

“Sir, it would be better if done in the Evening hours. It’s the best time, according to my people’s beliefs.”

Justin narrowed his eyes a bit, but nodded. “Fine, but it shall wait until tomorrow. Tonight, we celebrate my way. A room shall be provided for you tonight and into tomorrow. You may have free roam of the castle grounds, minimal restrictions.”

The Druid bowed graciously. “Thank you dear sir. Your kindness and generosity will not go unnoted. Tomorrow eve, I shall perform the best ceremony that my people have ever seen.”

With that, the druid turned about, finding a servant and two guards coming from amongst the crowds. They lead him away, passing through a set of double doors and into a long hallway. A red and gold stitched carpet ran the it‘s length, the marble and stonework crafted with precision. As he was lead along, the druid continually looked to either side, seeing both painted and sculpted portraits of the current family, but no portraits of the past members. The druid couldn’t help but smirk at this notion, knowing why the family could not return to their land.

He was lead to a set of steel doors, the servant unlocking the room with a small iron key. He pushed the doors aside, the hall light illuminating the interior. The room was clearly meant for nobility, with red and gold drapery covering the walls. The floor had a red and gold carpet on the floor, the symbol of the family emblem embroidered on it. The druid stepped within, placing a gloved hand upon the wooden mantle over the grand brick fireplace.

“Should you require anything, you need only say so. Servants and guards walk the halls throughout the night, and will gladly assist you in acquiring anything you may wish to have, since you are our Master‘s guest. Also, should you be requested by the Master or the Lady, you will be expected to be punctual in fulfilling that request.”

“I understand,” the Druid said, turning his head to the entrance. He looked to the servant, seeing that this one was very much not like the others, and that within his heart were bad intentions upon the Druid. He could see in his eyes, the way he looked at the druid, and in his twitching fingers. Turning his gaze to the two guardsmen, he saw both held no ill intention towards him, but simply were doing their job, like any mindless foot soldier. He wondered just what it was that warranted such fear and rage from this servant.

Perhaps it was good he did not trust any human more than he trusted the waste from a horse.

“Is there anything we may acquire for you before you seek rest? Surely it has been a long day for you.”

“Yes,” The druid turned, looking towards the portrait above the mantle. It showed a peaceful countryside, a pair of the same creatures who guarded the castle prancing about in a field. It only served to further disgust him, and yet, intrigue him. “I request that you do not disturb me. I need my privacy, and should I be needed for an audience with the Master, or the Lady of the castle, then you should knock upon the Iron doors with which you intend to seal me in.”

The druid saw the servant’s confused expression, watching as he grabbed the end of his black moustache and played with it. “Surely you misread the Master’s intentions. He has given you free roam of the castle grounds.”

“It is not the Master’s intentions I misread. You intend to seal me in this room, to cage me, like some animal you intend to have for show.”

The servant stepped back, taken aback by the druid‘s comments. Both guardsmen reached for their sword hilts, but the Druid rose a gloved hand, his back now turned to the trio. “Understand that I mean no harm. You have all treated me well up until now, and I expect as much in return. You, dear servant, do not hold the same intentions as others, who merely wished to either follow orders, or converse with fellow men. You wish ill intentions upon me and druids like myself. Whatever reason you have for that is something that does not concern me.”

The servant held out his arm, both guardsmen releasing the grasp upon their swords. The servant nodded, “I surely know not of what you speak,” he said, lying through his teeth, “but I shall comply to your wishes. I shall alert the servants beneath me to not disturb you. Still, to assume we would be so rude as to intrude upon one of the Master’s guests is quite rude in and of itself, wouldn’t you say?”

A low growl grew within the room, deep and primal. The guards once again reached for their swords, beginning to draw forth the blades, but the servant held out both arms this time, agitation upon his face. “If there is nothing further, we shall leave you be,” the servant remarked, swinging about his wrists. Both guardsmen stepped back and to either side, gently closing either doors behind them.

The room became pitch black, the echo of the continuing party occasionally wafting down the hall. This, combined with the pitter patter of the rain and the occasional boom of thunder served to lull the Druid into a sort of calm state. “Confined to the shadows, where I belong.”

The Druid turned his face towards the fireplace, noticing that the servant had neglected to light it, or any of the candles for that matter. He wondered if this was due to the agitation he had caused the servant, or simply an actual slip of the servant’s mind. The Druid stared into the unlit fireplace, looking for answers, but finding none, even as the wood within ignited into a full flame from nothing. Humans were such strange creatures.

He turned to the bed, the lighting from the lit fireplace giving a soft orange glow that showed the details of the room more clearly. Drapery fell from overhead, velvet red and nearly transparent with it’s thin weaving. Upon the sheets was the emblem of the family, and as he stared, he found himself wondering just how the emblem was so strange, so mystifying. Something about the quality was different than most human emblems. He moved towards it, the candles upon the walls lighting with every step he took closer to the bedding.

Turning to the opposite wall, he saw the dresser, tall and ornate with it’s cut wood. As he walked towards it, more candelabras lit, bathing the room in even more light. The doors opened before him, the Druid’s hands never leaving the sleeves of his cloak. Inside was nightwear fit for any noble. He felt the nightwear, feeling their softness, but also feeling their stitched impurity. Everything about this room, in fact, was impure. He could not feel the dirt beneath his feet, see the trees beside him, or even smell the scents of nature outside. He longed for his mate and cottage back home as he shut the doors of the dresser, then heard a knock upon the iron doors.

“What is it?” the druid asked, staring at the door.

“Sir,” The voice began, clearly female, “The master, as a token of good will and good tidings toward you and your people, has sent a gift to you. The head servant has also sent me to light the fires within your room, having forgotten to earlier. Will you allow me entry?”

The iron doors unlatched and slowly opened, the Druid still standing at the dresser, looking out to the door. Despite the brightly lit room, his features were still well hidden beneath the hood of the robe. The female servant gasped at the doors opening themselves, nearly dropping the tray of food. She caught herself in time, however, and kept all safe in her hands. The druid quickly noticed that this servant was the same girl who had spoken to the Master earlier at the top of the stairs. Perhaps she was important to the Master, and if so, she was his key to getting closer to the family.

“S-sir, the Master brings forth a meal as a gift for you. Meat from one of his most recent hunts.”

The druid stepped closer, looking over the food upon the tray. Seeing the cooked meat in various forms, along with the various other delectable drinks and items were almost too much to keep the druid from diving into the tray right then and there. It had been weeks since his last full meal, as evidenced by the low rumble of his stomach. He nodded to the servant girl, stepping aside. “Very well, set it upon the table.”

The female servant quickly went inside, placing the tray down and pouring a cup of hot tea into one of the silver cups. The druid watched the girl carefully, watching her movements and her motions, and noted just how young she was. By human standards, she looked barely pass maturity, at the age where most girls her age would be courted by many a man.

“I noticed you set the fires yourself, correct?” the servant asked. The druid nodded. After the girl poured the tea, she turned to face the druid, swallowing back her newborn fear. “Also, the master has asked that I take your robes--for cleaning.”

She saw the druid lower his hood, quickly beginning to panic. “B-but, the head servant has alerted me to your wishes, and if you wish to remain with your robes, then I am sure the Master will understand.”

The druid pondered this, looking down upon his robes with curiosity. They were indeed quite wet and muddy, thanks to the heavy rainstorm outside. Without proper cleaning, he could fall ill from his robbing were he to wear them again.

“No, you shall wash my robes. But we shall do so without you seeing,” the druid spoke softly, holding out two gloved fingers before the woman’s eyes. “For the time I require to disrobe, your eyesight shall become darkened. No light shall pass through, allowing you no vision of my form.”

The woman gasped, her eyes glazing over and causing her to panic slightly. The doors to the room slammed shut, causing the woman to turn towards the sound, but found herself unable to see anything.

“Worry not, it is only temporary. Once you depart this room, your vision shall return. Trust me in full, you have no reason for worry.”

The woman gulped back her fear again, nodding her head and turning to the Druid’s voice.

“Hold out your arms,” the druid said, watching the woman carefully. She did as told, extending both arms fully and holding them out, palms up. The druid then nodded, though she could not see it, and began to disrobe, beginning with his hood.

“Tell me servant girl, are the Dumicas and the Kennedy’s the only survivors of the Regnustian plague?” the druid asked, carefully handing her his heavy overcoat.

“Why yes sir, The Dumica’s and the Kennedy’s are indeed the last surviving family members from the land. Well, no, there is one more survivor.”

The druid paused, then continued removing his shirt. “Who, may I ask?”

“Why, Craven of course.”

The druid paused again, stroking his chin and looking over the woman. She spoke the truth, he could see that clearly, but something about the way she spoke the name showed some sort of strangeness. “Who is this Craven? May I perhaps meet him myself?”

The woman chuckled, but when a growl grew with the room, she quickly hushed herself. “S-sir, if you were indeed here for the ceremony and the Master’s speech, then you would have already met our dear Craven.”

The druid was taken aback, tossing his pants upon the girl and crossing his arms. “I have met no such man by that name.”

Once again the girl chuckled. “Sir, Craven is not a man. He is the Dumica’s guardian beast.”

The druid arched his eyebrow, looking into the girl and seeing that she was indeed telling the truth. How silly of him, to believe this Craven character to be a man. Still, the silliness of his assumptions did not outweigh the fact that she had called such a being a ‘beast’. Such a word was of insult, and to say it in his very presence!

“Well, if that is indeed so, then you may leave. I have completely disrobed, and, as promised, once you leave this room, your vision will return.”

The girl nodded and turned, but the druid stopped her, placing a hand upon her shoulder, and causing the girl to shiver. His skin was hard and crackly, but there was also a very heavy presence of bristly… hair? She did not know, but what was of most importance to her was the sharp and thick nails that she felt on his fingers, curled and digging into her shoulder.

“One more thing,” The druid said, his voice heavy upon her ear, his breath hot, “When these robes are returned to me tomorrow morn, I want only you to return them, no one else. You have been… very good to me, and you are a good person. You may yet hold a worthy soul.”

The woman blinked, nodding to the druid in question. She continued, the doors opening before her and allowing her to step out. As she came into the light of the hall, she found her vision returning suddenly, the light of the hall nearly blinding her. The doors then closed behind her, sealing the druid within once more.

The druid sat within one of the red recliners, relaxing his body and muscles. He smiled, slowly shutting his eyes. “Well, I may have come off too strong at first,” said the druid softly to himself, “but I have asserted my place. Once the ‘ceremony’ begins, the boy of legend will be within my grasp.”

The druid let out a yawn, stretching back in the plush seat. “Still… I should keep watch upon the father. He could prove to be a rather troubling miscreant,” The druid said, rising from his seat and carefully maneuvering himself upon the bed. “I should see to thanking him for the accommodations, however. While so unnatural, they are quite exquisite.”

[JeremyWhite]

Well, Mr. Walker, the sign on the wall says "be ready for critique," and I am eager to provide such a service. So sit down, pour yourself your beverage of choice, and get comfy. It's a lengthy piece here, and I did my best to put as much effort into reading it as you did writing it!

First off, let me say I think your writing is fantastic. I didn't notice any typos, the story had a good flow to it, and you didn't waste too many words in relaying what you had to say. You'd be amazed how many scripts and stories I've had to read that don't even do that much, and these are from "professionals!" I'm really wondering what happens in the next chapter!

That having been said, there were a number of things that threw me off. I'll start at the beginning and move forward to the end, addressing things as I came to them. Remember, I'm only trying to help here. A lot of things can slip by unnoticed, especially if you've been working on this for a while. A fresh set of eyes can reveal a lot of things!

I also warn you I tend to be a bit sarcastic, but please take my feedback as only having the best intentions.

Let's begin.

The perspective in the first paragraph is problematic to say the least. The way it's written, I'd think the story was being told in first person, but once the second paragraph comes we stumble across to third person. I wasn't sure if someone was telling me their story, telling me someone else's story, or I was reading a story!

Even if a story is being told in third person, it needs to have a perspective of one character. This entire chapter centers around this as-of-now nameless Druid, and with the exception of the first paragraph the perspective is fine. The entire paragraph is made up of statements about "man" and such, but if that's the voice of the narrator it quickly fades and never comes back. As it's written now, that first paragraph sounds nice and dramatic, but it doesn't really fit into the rest of the story in any way.

Then our hero comes to the party. He's a Druid, though sometimes he's just a druid. The doorman has no problem letting him in because we're in the pre 9/11 security days, and party-goers seem fine mingling with this character known only as D/druid.

It was at this point that I presumed the Druid was just a human in a different suit, like a wizard or monk or something. After all, the rest of the world is human, and if he blends in enough in the party not to cause a scene then he must be human otherwise there would be more non-humans present. Certainly if he were something other than human, and he was in a castle full of nothing but humans, it would cause a bit more of a stir. But no, everyone was fine. Everone was SO fine with him, they let him approach the Master and his wife and child without so much as a guard even looking their way.

Yes, yes, I know at the end you reveal him to be something other than human, some sort of were-beast judging by the hints and the Craven connection, but that's problematic if he just sauntered into the keep and up to the Master since there was no mention of any sorts of semi/demi/meta/whatever humanoids in the story world. Others see under his hood, and we know he has at least two eyes because they go wide in his conversation with Gregory. There had to be something physical that identified him as a druid or a Druid that could be seen through the rain, and just a brown robe doesn't really make sense because a few hours in the rain will make anyone's robes brown.

Having a faceless, mysterious character is fine and dandy, but when that same character is the center of attention at the party it's a lot harder to remain faceless, or at least featureless. There had to be something to identify him as a druid named Druid. What was it?

While we're at the party, I'm not sure what sort of castle this is, nor what sort of man is running this show. Druid assumes he's a Duke, though no one addresses him as anything but master or Justin. Rather odd that even his guests would call him this, since really only servants of some sort would refer to him as "Master," and even other nobles would be sensitive to his rank and station in some way. Justin doesn't even seem to have guards in the room as Druid approaches him, though he has two foot soldiers escort him to his room.

That, and he lets a random and uninvited stranger, who is a Druid, perform a ritual on his newborn son without the slightest hesitation aside from a scheduling conflict. I'm still not sure what to make of the story world at this point! If druids are so rare, but not too rare to stand out at a party, why would a noble of any rank allow a stranger to do anything with their child? Either Justin is incredibly trusting, or druids aren't so rare that he wouldn't know what a druid blessing ceremony consists of. Might be good PR with the druid community of his realm! Otherwise, why would he do such a thing?

Druid is led to his room, and after a brief incident with a more robust security force than we've seen the entire time, he settles in and lights a fire with his eyes. Not too shabby.

Now we meet obligatory servant-girl, who still can't see Druid because he blinds her before disrobing. But you take this time to give us a rather unambiguous hint as to what Druid really looks like, via his nails, hair, and "hard and crackly" skin. Just looking at the other avatars on this site, I'm guessing many of us are in the same club and I think most of us have a pretty clear picture of what Druid really looks like.

But at the same, he couldn't be too were-beastly or he'd have a snout of some sort. A snout which would be clearly visible under even the most ornate of hoods unless it had an integrated wide-brim hat or some kind of mask. While that would make sense as to what made him so clearly a druid at sight, it wouldn't add up that no one could see his face because that part would have to be visible! What the hell kind of hood is he wearing if no one can see that in a well-lit ballroom?

Then we get to the end and Druid… starts talking to himself? Now that just seems out of character! I admit that when I lounge around all nekkid in my pad I do some strange things, but a capital-d Druid who has been so reserved and silent this entire time suddenly spouts out a soliloquy one the girl leaves the room? There has to be a better way to get that information across!

So those are my thoughts at the close of chapter 1. If you should take anything from my babbling nonsense, it's that you certainly don't lack any writing talent. There are some of what I see as plot inconsistencies and a good number of things about the story world that aren't established, but the writing itself is excellent and clean.

That, and I think this might even be two chapters, maybe three. Chapter 1 would be from the beginning to just before Justin's speech, chapter 2 from the speech to when Druid heads to his room, then chapter 3 from when he gets to the guest room to the end. The story is practically already broken into those sections as you've written it, and it might make the story a bit easier to get through if it was in smaller chunks. Just my thoughts again.

Great work, good luck and keep writing!

[Border Walker]

You bring up interesting points, and I thank you for all the info you could have given. You bring up a major point about the hood, and I forgot how long a canid snout is exactly. I could work that into the hood itself, making the entire outfit hide his form or something. I also hadn't thought about the whole Outfit showing him as Druidic. Would you have any suggestions as to how to describe him, however? he is indeed a Druid, but any other way to describe him is difficult...

At least you do understand what I am trying to do with each thing, right? The master is very overconfident about not having enemies, and very welcoming about letting people in, and that he is proud to have a son to carry on his name.

And Three chapters? Truly? This was Nine pages alone in my Works Word processor. Dividing it by three to make it Three pages a chapter?

[JeremyWhite]

Are you writing in default mode or in manuscript format? Manuscript format takes up a lot more space on the page, and if you think about a paperback fantasy novel, the pages aren't nearly as large as an 8x11 piece of paper. Three full pages in Word might be 6-8 pages of paperback, but then again maybe it just seemed really long to me because it's in one big honking post!

I didn't get the feeling that Justin was overconfident. In fact, he seemed downright friendly. This kind of goes back to the lack of guards thing, because if his guards had stepped in and tried to stop Druid from approaching him and he just laughed them off, it would be much easier to see him as cocky. That, and that no one at the party has an unkind word to say about him. I know they are in his house, but don't you think nobles would be the first to start muttering if they felt Justin's confidence was misplaced?

The idea of his outfit identifying him as a druid doesn't really solve the "snout issue," if you think about it. It'd be like Leatherface bursting into the room with a chainsaw but people only know it's him because of his shoes! If he's a canid, then either his ears or snout under the hood are going to be the first thing other guests notice unless you make demihumans commonplace. The only other explanation would be if druids were akin to the wizards in the Lord of the Rings series, having a place of reverence in society that few would question. Sadly, even with a full mask or hat of some sort it's going to be hard to keep his canine traits hidden through the first chapter.

Just some more thoughts for now. How much of this have you written, by the way?

[Border Walker]

Written into the second chapter, but not much beyond that, and I have to majorly rewrite that since the Writer's Circle at my College (Who have helped me majorly) have pointed out that I put in something that isn't interpreted the way I hoped.

Also, I am unsure what you mean by Manuscript and default form. Right now, the way it is posted, is pretty much how it appears in my Works. if I took out the spaces between the paragraphs, which I will have to do eventually, then I would probably reduce it even more.

Justin is weird. See, he has the guards, but rarely has them actually stationed in any one place. As he said in his speech, since he, his wife, and Greg/Fiona came to the place they live at now, good fortune has hit them. Justin also lives more or less in a state of Denial. he believes everyone has good intentions for him and his family, but his wife more or less sees the truth (Woman's intuition?).

I also hadn't thought about the ears, but it makes it so now, more than ever, I should make the cloak magical or something, hiding all forms in a shadow. But even then, it wouldn't be necessarily revealed how magical it is until the second chapter when Aimee returns the cloak near the beginning...

Also, you mentioned a perspective problem earlier, but only with the first few paragraphs. What about when perspective switches to Justin for a time? Does that work alright? Theo-Er, the Druid, isn't actually the Hero of the story, Justin is, but the first part of the book, Birth, flows from the perspective of the Druid more or less, then into part two, Life, where it's Justin's, and then part three, Death, when it's Lucien's.