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About Traditional Art / Hobbyist Member RhelnaFemale/Australia Recent Activity
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‘Come now Greyden, surely you don’t think this is credible?’

Greyden Deseme, former captain of the guard and newly appointed military advisor of the council of Carrumdale, paced up and down the length of the room, his agitation clear in the quickness of his step. He listened to the echoing sound his sturdy steel boots made upon the stone floor, trying to find solace in the monotonous sound. No such relief was found.

The man who had addressed him was Councillor Fredrick Louder, political advisor to the mayor of Carrumdale. He spoke in his usual jeering manner, one which left a bitter taste on Greyden’s tongue. Greyden did his best to ignore the man’s jibe, and continued to pace the room.

Not usually a nervous man, he found his unease a frustration. It had been a trying year, and now this new development had arisen which pushed Greyden’s usually calm demeanour to breaking point.

He shared the room with three other men including Louder, who all sat huddled together at a table in the centre. They were chatting breathlessly, their attention focused on the weathered and browning map which sat atop the gnarly wooden table. They were equally as edgy as Greyden himself, showing their particular tells though the occasional curse word, or the violent shake of a hand. Even Louder seemed edgy, though his usual demeanour worked hard to hide it. They all did their best to hide it, but to no avail. If the note was correct, each man knew what prospect lingered upon the horizon.


It was a horrible concept, which had the entire nation on their toes.

Although the threat of war was a troublesome thought, Greyden’s mind nested other worries which remained at the forefront of his concerns. His thoughts wandered, and his attention waned. In his mind’s eye he was searching for her. Where was she? Why had she not returned?

No. Greyden fought to regain his train of thought. I must not dwell on her now, not while I have a job to do.

Despite his firm conviction he allowed the three men to talk, making no attempt to join in on their conversation. Instead he let his eyes wander the room, and taking in the surroundings in the hope to calm his mind.

He himself had only seen the interior of this particular room once before, when he was newly joining the town guard, as just a young lad. It had been more than twenty years since that day, and the lack of upkeep had definitely taken its toll. The room had been set aside to decay. The subtle scent of rotting wood filled the air, while the recently disturbed dust sat heavily upon each occupant’s lungs. It seemed there was not much use for a war-room in a time of peace.

Peace. Greyden almost snorted. Was there ever such a thing?

War or no, there was no getting past chaos.

The other men in the room consisted of the two other advisors to the mayor -of which Greyden himself was a third- and the mayor himself. Each was considered an expert in his own advisory fields. Louder governed over political matters, Denim governed over wealth, and Greyden governed over military. All three of them reported to Mayor Erik Talc, the Mayor of Carrumdale.

They had spent what seemed like hours together now, debating, arguing, and accusing. The poor messenger, Pelton, had been verbally interrogated in ways that his meek personality was ill-equipped to handle. It seemed that fear made monsters of them all. Now, their discussion seemed to have reached a much quieter lull, surely a relief for everyone attempting to sleep within the modest sized castle. Pelton had been sent away, after being reduced to near tears by Louder’s aggressive scrutiny.

Eventually, after their quiet yet quickly spoken discussion ended, the three men raised their heads to peer at Greyden, each harbouring distinctly different expressions.
Greyden himself, simply sighed and took the last remaining seat at the table, his eyes stone cold, despite the anxiety he felt.

Both Denim and the Mayor seemed to hold some measure of concern, with the mayor sporting an expression of apprehension, while Denim displayed one of confusion.

‘If this information is genuine,’ Denim began, ‘war is imminent.’

He looked at Greyden with round eyes, his expression one of uncertainty.

Greyden simply nodded, his mouth dry.

‘And this information,’ Louder began, leaning over the table as if to hear Greyden better, ‘it is credible?’ He had reiterated his earlier question, a malicious glint in his eye.

‘It is,’ Greyden said, his voice stern, ‘it came from Cartiala.’

Greyden’s voice constricted slightly when he said her name, a fact which Louder was quick to pick up on.

‘Your wife.’

It was a statement, not a question, spoken in a tone which made Greyden stare daggers at the Mayor’s political advisor. He clenched his hands into fists beneath the table, though said nothing.
When Greyden offered nothing but a glare, Louder continued, his eyes dancing with an impish mirth.

‘She still not back then Deseme?’

Louder knew the answer. He was just baiting him; a pathetic attempt made by a narcissistic man. Greyden took a breath and addressed the mayor.

‘We need to take this news to Capita,’ he said, referring to the notorious capital of Tol.

Even as the words left Greyden’s lips he knew what was coming. He would be the one to take the information to Capita. This was no job for a simple messenger, and he was the only one within this room fit to make such a journey. It was, after all, more his area of ‘expertise’. His thoughts strayed once more to Cartiala, and his expression darkened.

Denim offered Greyden a reassuring pat on the shoulder, ‘You will have your pick of the guard.’

It was an attempt to sweeten the deal. Though it was an attempt made in vein. The man had misinterpreted Greyden’s defeated expression as fear for the impending journey. Although the fastest route from Carrumdale to Capita was indeed treacherous, the prospect did not frighten Greyden in the least. It was the extra distance then put between himself and his wife that irked him.

Despite this he was resolute in his duty. The information had to be passed to Capita. But once the task was over- then he hoped that his time was his own. He was a capable fighter, and would of course do his bit if it came to war, but was by no means a military man, and saw himself rather as the bridge between the military and politics. To him, the wellbeing of his wife was his priority. He had to find her.

He closed his eyes and let out a low breath through gritted teeth.

‘No,’ he said after some time, ‘two or three people at the most. We need to travel quickly. Taking a whole troop would take too much time.’

The three men all gave motions of agreement, though Louder’s sounded more like a ‘hmph’, while Greyden continued.

‘Rokus Ymaine,’ he said, thinking fast, ‘it is doubtless that we’ll run into trouble, and if that’s the case I’ll need a trusted sword arm at my side. I’ll need to hire someone from Janwall to make the cross from Janwall to Capita.’

He moved closer to the map now, tracing the distance between Janwall, the nearby merchant town, and Capita as he spoke.

The Mayor nodded, intently following Greyden’s trail of words.

‘I’ll send word to the guild ahead of time,’ he said.

‘Right. Thanks.’ Greyden said absent-mindedly while he planned his steps out in his head.

‘Once you’re in Capita send word. Let us know what’s happening.’

The mayor held Greyden’s gaze intently, then leant in and quietly added, ‘In your own words.’

He added extra emphasis to that last part, clearly showing his mistrust of Capita politics.

‘Of course,’ Greyden agreed, ‘I’ll collect Ymaine and leave by daybreak. I’ll send word once I have a route planned with the guild at Janwall.’

The men all stood then, seemingly in unison. An agreement had been reached.

With the plan in place the four men exited the room, each stealing glances at one another as they left.

Greyden was last to leave, pausing to give the room once last sweeping glance, before following the other men down the long castle hallway, and out into the night.
The Plight of Magic - Chapter 1 (Part 2)
Okay so here is part 2. I might merge the chapter later on and do some further editing. We'll see.

Thanks for reading! I appreciate any input!


Previous: The Plight of Magic - Chapter 1 (Part 1)

The infection. by Rhelna
The infection.
I haven't drawn an actual face for a while.. so it's a bit rough... I apologise.

This is one of the 'villians' yet to be introduced in my original story 'The plight of magic'. I won't really go into any detail to avoid spoiling anything. That thing semi covering his face is supposed to be a shield,  just in case anyone was wondering. 
CHAPTER 1 – The Captain of the Guard

Tired and worn down, a middle aged man sat at a cluttered table.
His head was bent in frustration as his pen poised slightly above the paper, while his eyes blurred from a lack of sleep. Gritting his teeth he attempted to focus, though his mind was anywhere but the obscene pile of paperwork that had grown like a fungus across his desk. He rubbed futilely at his heavily lidded eyes, with the hope of arousing some shred of motivation. His attempts, were in vein however, as they had been every day for each leaf fallen in the new season. It had been one season too many, one season overdue.

His eyes, of their own volition, wandered to the portrait of the woman on the wall adjacent to the one he faced. A cascade of red hair lined the woman’s face, offsetting her pale skin and vibrant green eyes. She gazed blankly out of the portrait, with eyes that stared at something unseen. There was a determined glint in the woman’s eye, and though there was no way of knowing what had sparked such a fire when she had sat for the paining, it was a look which she wore well; one that granted her features a fiery confidence. The man studied her facets momentarily, before knotting his brow in a pained expression.

He made an effort to tear his gaze from the picture, resetting them once again upon the paperwork before him. The letter he was attempting was not overly important, though was now a full moon cycle late in being sent, a fact which would not sit well with the mayor of Hissunt. The man gave the work a defeated look and finally set his quill down upon the wooden table, carrying with him the knowledge that he was utterly failing at his new position.

He had never had any use for politics, and he had accepted his new position under orders of his wife. She had deemed his former position as too taxing, and so after many fiery discussions, he was finally convinced to accept the new role. At first he had taken to the job eagerly, happy to have more time to join her at home. A lot had changed since then though, and it was more than enough to dissuade the man from his work, amongst other things.

A loud and urgent sounding knock at the door awoke the man from his counterproductive stupor. The noise resonated through the large echoing house; a bitter reminder that it was empty.

‘Greyden? Greyden Deseme?’

The man made a start at the sound of his name, and jerked his head towards the open door of his study. With a sigh he slowly arose from the wooden chair he had remained almost bound to for months. Though the urgency of the disturbance was clear, the man made no move to hasten his step.
The knocking continued intermittently, growing louder with each tap.

‘I’m coming,’ the man now identified as Greyden called, running a hand over his stubble.

He slowly navigated the cluttered house until he reached the source of his disturbance. Once he finally arrived at the front door he flung it open to gaze upon a young, adolescent man. The boy was panting hard, and his face shone a crimson shade of red. The shade offered a strange offset to the boy’s straw coloured hair, strewn messily upon his crown. In his hand he clasped what looked like a letter.

Messenger, Greyden supposed, though he frowned when he saw that the letter had been opened.

‘Yes?’ Greyden folded his arms, and stared at the boy intently. He had never before seen him in town, though supposed the boy lived within the messenger’s guild, and so was often out travelling.  The fact still sat strangely with Greyden however, who considered himself well versed with most of the names in town.

‘Mess-Message for you,’ the boy panted, ‘I think it’s urgent.’

‘Do you?’ Greyden raised an eyebrow, completely unalarmed.

This would be the fifth ‘urgent’ message this week.

The boy offered no response other than a violent shiver. The motion alerted Greyden to the bite of the night’s air, which, in his semi-aroused state, he had failed to acknowledge thus far.

He gave a sigh and shuffled a little to the left, freeing up the doorway.

‘Come in,’ he said, his tone halfway between an order and a request. He made a swift motion towards the inside with his hand.

The boy shook his head, offering a polite decline, before thrusting the letter at Greyden like it was poison.

Greyden took it from his outstretched hand, a frown –once again- etching across his face.

‘It was intercepted,’ the boy explained as Greyden turned over the envelope, his eyes lingering on the broken seal.

‘Is that so? Then why-’

Greyden’s heart skipped a beat and he stopped mid-sentence. His eyes widened at the symbol imprinted on the seal, and he drew in a sharp breath.

He began tearing at the envelope with a new found vigour.

The familiarity of the handwriting caused an anxious tightening in his chest and he stood still for a long moment, devouring the words on the page with the eagerness of a starving man at a banquet.
When he finally looked up his expression was unreadable, though he stood for a few moments, his thoughts in chaos.

‘Intercepted..’ Greyden trailed off, his voice barely audible above the low whistle of the breeze.

‘Yes’, the boy cut in, ‘the seal had been broken before arrival. Its carrier was a raven, and was all bloodied when it arrived. It looks like it was shot down and-’

‘And let free,’ Greyden finished.

The boy nodded.

It was bizarre, Greyden thought at least that much, but it was a problem for later. Now, there were other matters to attend to.

He made a step towards the blond boy, twisting his arm to close his front door behind him.
‘What’s your name?’

‘Pelton,’ the boy said meekly, ‘Pelton Erskin.’

‘You’re coming with me.’ Greyden started away from his house, pausing only to strap on a pair of leather boots by his front door.

‘W-where are we going?’ The boy known as Pelton blinked.

‘We’re going to call a meeting,’ Greyden said, not looking at him, ‘now come on.’
The Plight of Magic - Chapter 1 (Part 1)
Okay so, I have decided to split chapter one into two parts, not because I think it's long enough to warrant a split, but because I'm having such trouble finishing the second half.
If me uploading chapters into halves like this makes it seem a little disjointed to read please say so, and I'll try to refrain from doing so with any future chapters.
I welcome any criticism, as I know there is a lot for me to improve on, and I appreciate any help given.

Also, a massive thanks to those who offered some really great advice regarding my prologue. You have all been an immense help, and I hope that I've appropriately applied what you've told me to this new chapter.

Introducing Greyden Deseme. One of the main characters. We'll find out a little more about him in the second half of the chapter.

I hope you all enjoy!


Previous: The Plight of Magic - Prologue

Next: The Plight of Magic - Chapter 1 (Part 2)

Okay, first of all, I apologise for the lateness of the first chapter of my story 'The Plight of Magic'. It's not that I haven't been working on it, it's actually quite the opposite, but I'm having a huge amount of trouble concentrating and proof reading it. It's literally taken me hours upon hours to write a few sentences.

So I ask my writer friends, how do you stay focused when reading through your own work?
Beauty is in the eye of the Beholder by Rhelna
Beauty is in the eye of the Beholder
Okay, so.... This is my first ever digital piece, and it took me a looooong time. Especially when it came to working out effects and whatnot.
I used Deviant Art Muro initially, but then switch to something else after numerous connection problems.
Honestly, I'm not sure whether or not I would call this piece 'completed', as I am still learning different techniques and tools, so it might be worth returning to it later when I'm a little more experienced. 
I think I'm fairy happy with it, though considering I've never really attempted a proper digital picture, my expectations were low.
I'm happy nonetheless, and I hope that I can improve it properly in the future :)
Okay, first of all, I apologise for the lateness of the first chapter of my story 'The Plight of Magic'. It's not that I haven't been working on it, it's actually quite the opposite, but I'm having a huge amount of trouble concentrating and proof reading it. It's literally taken me hours upon hours to write a few sentences.

So I ask my writer friends, how do you stay focused when reading through your own work?



Artist | Hobbyist | Traditional Art
Hello fellow deviants,
I am but a humble citizen who uses my spare time to create slightly on par pictures. I use traditional methods only, and can never really see myself progressing to digital art at all (though apparently I now have). I once attempted a stick figure using a tablet, and the result will haunt me for the remainder of my life.
So anyway, I mostly draw and occasionally write though only as a hobby in my spare time as I struggle my way through a geology course at university.
I joined deviant art because I wish to express my creative moments, and in return view the work that other people have completed.
During uni semesters it might be difficult for me to find time to release all this creative energy I barely possess and create masterpieces for you, and for that I apologise, but, hey, what can I do.

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Chel-Bells Featured By Owner 4 days ago  Student General Artist
Thank you for the favorites!! ;w;
Rhelna Featured By Owner 4 days ago  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
No worries!  You did an incredible job!
Danitheangeldevil Featured By Owner Jan 21, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the :+fav:.:)
Rhelna Featured By Owner Jan 22, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
No worries :)
Shyanne-Kai Featured By Owner Jan 20, 2015
Thank you so much for the favourites! :hug:
Rhelna Featured By Owner Jan 20, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
No worries :)
writerELEASE Featured By Owner Jan 19, 2015  Student Writer
Welcome to :iconnurturing-narratives: :) I hope you enjoy the group~~
Rhelna Featured By Owner Jan 19, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
Thank you for the welcome!  I'm sure I will :)
The-Last-Phantom Featured By Owner Jan 17, 2015  Professional Digital Artist
Thank you very much for the Llama!!!

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Rhelna Featured By Owner Jan 17, 2015  Hobbyist Traditional Artist
No worries! :)
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