A Post-Apocalyptic Fantasy World created by Veriax
Here on this page we find my writings. Tales and stories set within Iiosia, featuring deeds of legend and adventures fraught with peril and glory.
Below you can find information on the tales I currently have uploaded, such as what they're about, a little excerpt, and any other notes.
I've also included what stage of writing they're at, since I tend to re-visit old projects, to correct things, re-write and (hopefully) improve them. Further drafts should improve the stories, so as a rule the better examples will be further into the drafting process. Take that as a rule of thumb. For more info on stories, check their notes.
‘Who are you?!’
He whirled round, brought sharply from his thoughts. The woman was sat upright in her bed, awake, and looking straight at him with wide blue eyes.
‘Guards!’ she called, her mouth turning into a sneer.
He grabbed another of his sleeping capsules, intending to use it on the woman to silence her, when the door to her bedchamber burst open and the two guards tumbled in; ‘Miss Elina, is something…?’
The guard didn’t finish his sentence. The sleeping capsule broke against the wall right by his head and he and his fellow fell into the drug-induced slumber.
And then something lithe, flowing and white flew at Draven, and he found himself wrestling with the woman, a dagger in her hand.
The momentum of her unexpected attack propelled them out of the glass door, onto the balcony, and sent them both tumbling over the rail.
As a thief, Draven had always been up to his neck in trouble. This time, he gets more than he bargains for when he does a job for the local Thieves' guild and finds himself caught up in a plot which involves a sorceress, a slaver, an assassin, and a plot which will eventually put the entire realm of Orondor in peril!
Iisoia, Port Ironclad, Orondor, Runic Year 642
25k words (approx)
This tale is intended as a prelude to a larger work which tells of the destruction of the kingdom of Orondor in the year 643. As such it is not a complete story in itself but is rather designed to lead unto something which is not written yet, but is still a grand tale in its own right.
The sound came first. A loud, prolonged whine like that of an un-oiled hinge, but one that actually felt suffering while it was in use.
Next, a gigantic hand snaked out of the pit, with fingers ending in sharpened bone. The hand, a foot across, was attached to a long, spindly arm which was so gaunt the bones beneath the faded, translucent skin were clearly visible. Then came another hand, a shoulder, equally gaunt, and then the face of the thing.
Lea’Nissa stumbled backwards, her body pinned against the bars of one of the cells, as she beheld the elongated head, hairless, disfigured and warped, teeth chattering
A terrible foe lurks outside the walls of the city of Zanthe. A desperate escape attempt is launched, in a bid to bring aid. A deserter, a freak, and an outcast become embroyled in a conflict with not only those outside the walls, but those within as well.
Iiosia, Zanthe, Magador, Runic Year 390
While I'm reasonably happy with 85% of this story, the last chapters are certainly the weakest. I feel out of love for this story before finishing it, so please remember this when reading - the ending is not well written. I do welcome thoughts on it, though, and do intend to go back to it. The story is too short, it needs more adding, but I won't do that of it's sat on my PC. I've uploaded it so people can hopefully enjoy the bits that I think are good, and perhaps gain insight on how bad things can get from the parts that aren't.
The boy watched as the soldier rose off the floor and hurled something at him. He’d fired three times and hit him with each shot, but rubbed bullets were little more than stopping
weapons. They could knock the breath from someone, knock them over, or knock them out, but taking someone out with them that was encased in body armour wasn’t something you
could do twice in a row – especially when the second target was fuelled with rage and didn’t seem to feel a thing as was the case with this one.
The object was only about the size of an apple, and it was heavy too. The boy watched it arch toward him through the air. It bleeped once with a red light.
He made a bolt for it, breaking cover. He had no choice.
A story set upon Alderon, the era that follows from Iiosia. This story focuses on the character Veriax when he was very young, and how he, and the others around him, begins to adjust to his presence on the island which is used as the world's rubbish dump.
The Island of Ergeon, Alderon Era year 1994
I see this story playing out like an 80's action film (though perhaps a well made and gritty one). It was fun to write, and Veriax will appear in stories like this one in the future.
Please note that this story contains strong language.