I have now written an actual chapter version of this, so if you're planning on reviewing this, review this instead topic78137.html
I was nineteen when I watched my village burn to the ground. It was a tranquil autumn morning, and the dew had not yet descended from the brightly colored leaves to the parched grass. Dean stood adjacent to me on a rotting log, staring dumfounded at the plumes of black smoke that rose like a sinister tower from what used to be our home. When our fit of awe subsided, we stumbled together down the steep hill, towards the raging inferno.
Dean and I had only left the village for a few hours, and we slowly came to the realization that this was no accident. We had not yet made it down the hill before our fears were confirmed. This was a raid. Bodies lay strewn across the ground, saturating the earth with their blood, and the whole gruesome scene was illuminated by the flames that liked every cottage. We found only one survivor.
"Are you okay?" I asked, trembling.
"It was a man named Kane," the man gasped, blood leaking from his chest.
"He's not going to make it," Dean notified me.
"Who is Kane?" I said.
"Some raider warlord who has been tearing through this region with a band of mercenaries... he went north."
With that the survivor breathed one final breath, and relaxed . I looked up at the smoldering wooden structures solemnly and made a decision. This decision changed my life forever. I decided to find and kill the man named Kane.
Ash filled the air as I entered the crumbling stone ruins of the armory. The weapons were still red hot from their recent bath of fire. I looked at Dean mournfully, and he could do nothing but look mournfully back. There was no power or enhancement he could provide that would give me the strength I needed as I stepped through the rubble, trying to ignore the pain that stabbed me with every heartbeat. As I moved to pick up a steel short sword, a charred piece of wood caught my eye. It was the smoking remains of a wooden sword, that I remember using when I first started my training.
"Thrust your full body into it," Robert had said, "don't rely entirely on your Chi, he can only do so much."
"Yeah Duncan," teased twelve year old Dean, "you act like I'm a Spirit of the Beyond or something. I can't do everything for you."
"I'm doing my best. Hey would you mind a little more in my legs and not my arms?" I asked Dean telepathically. Dean shifted the boost of strength he had been sending to my arms to my legs, and my sword thrusts became dramatically faster. I had never needed this much physical energy for anything other than chores like chopping wood, but now that I had started the training to become a warrior, Dean and I were just getting the hang of the assistance he could give me.
If not for Robert's Chi, he would have no idea how much effort Dean was putting into our lessons, but unfortunately for me (and Dean), if either of us began to slack off, he was swiftly informed. Robert was not a bad trainer, his paroxysms of rage aside, and he usually offered helpful criticism, and constructive lessons. Since all children in Guana were raised by the community, he became my father figure, and looked at me as a son, just as he did his other students.
+this is all I have so far, and I'm struggling to find a way to explain the rules of the world I've created to the reader. this is my first fantasy novel, so for people who usually do this stuff, any tips?
