Tav's Writing-ness-ocity.

[Tav]

Well, seeing as I write a whole lot, I decided I might make this topic so that I have somewhere to store everything I write, and get feedback.

[Tav]

<big><big>ATWNN</big></big>
This is intended to be a novel, so I'll be doing it in a Novel>Book>Chapter system.
<div class='spoiler_toggle'>Book 1: Awakening</div><div class="spoiler" style="display:none;">
<div class='spoiler_toggle'>Chapter 1</div><div class="spoiler" style="display:none;">
I don’t know who you are, or where you live, but life has probably changed for you, since the new news about the nature of reality, life, and the universe. Mostly the part where any old John Doe could walk into a Starbucks, say a few magic words, and burn everybody alive with a blazing fireball.

My name is Martin Richter, and I live on 3247 Kaiser Lane, in the Town With No Name.

Well, it has a name, but I really don’t feel like saying where it is. Stalkers and other silly things might find me, mostly from the whole part where I saved the world.

I’m 19 years of age, average height, lanky, and I have brown hair, and stubble that I refuse to shave. At the time that the world changed, I was still living at my parent’s house, going to a nearby community college. I was normal. Well, as normal as any nerd who was into Dungeons and Dragons, and video games. So I guess you could say I was ‘stereotypical’ instead. Rocking out to some music, I spent a dollar on the bus, and rode it for half of the hour it would take to get to my Comm class, when things went to hell.

---

The bus jerked, pulling me out of my reverie. Looking up and taking out an earphone, I heard everybody else on the bus doing the same as me. The driver, however, was talking to a tall person, who was wearing a black cloak, and levitating a foot in the air. He was bald, with long pointed ears, and just as much of a pointed face. I was forcibly reminded of Nosferatu, and wondered how he was levitating. Strings?

The Nosferatu bowed, and then walked along the bus to the back seat next to me. Smirking, I asked him if he was a vampire. He looked offended. “I’m a warlock, obviously. Didn’t you read the news? Magic is real. I figured that all you normals would know by now.”
“Oh?” I asked, always the skeptic. “Do something magic then.”
“Always asking for a demonstration. Always. Well, I’ll show you a demonstration.” He said, grinning. “Or just Demon.”

The side of the bus groaned, and a small impish creature pulled itself out of the wall. It bowed to the warlock fellow, then bowed to me, making little gibbering noises. I poked it, and it bit me, sharply, on the finger. The warlock freaked when he saw that, and brandished a hand at the imp, making it vanish into smoke. My head exploded into agony, and I tensed my bitten hand up into a fist. I’m normally a level-headed fellow, but for some reason I was angry. Furious, actually. Red light swam around my head, and I passed out.

When I came to, I was in a bed of flowers, and my left hand was in agony. Nosferatu held his hand over it, his hands blazing white. The white light was icy, calming, and it seemed, well, pure. But for some reason, it was sickening. My mind was disjointed; Some part of me that found the light as bliss, and another part of me found it cold, choking and strangling. I lay there, my head still throbbing, and I closed my eyes.

“That’s all I can do.” Said Nosferatu, and the icy soothing feeling left my hand. “Seriously, a demon shows up, and your first instinct is to tap it on the forehead?”
“Well, I wanted to see if it was real.” I mumbled, my tongue fuzzy. It seemed I was out for quite awhile. “So what exactly happened? Venom?”
“Of a sort. Demon Blight. Get bitten, and they steal part of your soul. Kind of like a mosquito, though, because they leave a bit of their own soul there. And that blight feeds on your soul over time, turning you into a demon. What’s your name?”
“Martin. So how long until I’m one?” I asked him, still groggy.
“Well, never. Or you already are. It’s confusing.” He said. “I used a bit of magic to sort of fuse the blight with your soul, and tried to heal the damage.”
“Did it work?” I asked, curious.
“Kind of.”
“Kind of?”
“Look for yourself.”
Opening my eyes and sitting up, I examined my bitten hand, and gasped. Guess magic was real. I had swollen knuckles, my fingers were at least twice as long, and I had black talons at least an inch long. The veins sticking out against my skin seemed to pulse between red and black.
“I’m really sorry that I couldn’t fix it compl-”
“Cool.” I said, grinning. “Does this mean that if that. . .blight, or whatever happened again, then whatever my hand’s made of would consume the blight?”
“No clue.” He responded. “But I think so. That’s actually. . .really intuitive of you. Are you sure you’re a mundane?”
I laughed, the grogginess in my head fading. “Sure. The kid with a demon arm is completely boring.”

He grabbed my normal arm, and pulled me to my feet. “Why flowers?” I asked, brushing grass off of my jeans.
“Well, they’re supposed to be pure. I figured that I’d want the best chance of making sure you’re okay.”
“And am I okay?”
“Who knows?” He asked, cryptically. “I’d never done anything like that before. But then again, I’ve never seen the blight move that quickly. You either have a lot of soul, or very little. But I have to be going. My sunblock is wearing off.”
“Sunblock? But you said you weren’t a vampire.”
He laughed. “No, I just don’t want to get burned. Look how pale I am. Good luck.” He said, bowing
I nodded, and held out my hand to shake. “See ya later, Nosferatu.”
“I’m Kestrel.” He said, taking my hand. Then he vanished into smoke, and sank into the ground.
Totally badass.</div>


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