28 November: Daily Excerpt

[jupitersings.livejournal.com]

Feel free to share an excerpt from your novel here, though we ask that you keep it to PG-13, and if there are any triggers please list them in the title of your comment for people to see.

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<b>Username:</b> <b>Any background information:</b> <b>Excerpt:</b>

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[blaze7the7cat.livejournal.com]

Username:Blaze7the7cat
Any background information: 'Okami' is a video game made for the PS2 and Wii based on japanese legends and folktales. This is my Fan Novelization. The star of this game is Amaterasu, the Shinto goddess of the sun in the form of a white wolf, Issunboushi is a one-inch tall bouncing boy and Amaterasu's best friend, Kushinada is a Sake Brewer, Susanou-Ou is a swordsman and one of the heroes of this story, Ushiwaka is one of those characters you know nothing about until near the end of the story, and Yamata no Orochi is a demon.
Excerpt: "The dreaded Yamata-no-Orochi...It's all my fault. *hiccup* I'm to blame for all your misfortunes!" Susanou-Ou slurred.
"That's right, you fool! Do you know what kind of fix we're in without the sacred sake!?" Yelled Old Man Orange.
"It was I who commited that unspeakable act at Izayoi Caverns. It was I who brought Yamata-no-Orochi back to life! I habe brought utter destruction upon the world!" Susanou-Ou then broke down and sobbed.

"It was you!? You caused all this?? You?" Amaterasu thought.

The villagers were confused. They did not understand what Susanou-Ou was talking about. Kushinada, Amaterasu, and Issunboushi felt extremely uneasy.
"Huh? What is that fool talking about!?" Asked Old Man Orange.
"I was sick of hearing about how I'm a descendant of Izanagi!*hiccup* I wanted to prove it was all a lie by removing the sword Tsukuyomi. But the legend was true, and I unleashed an unspeakable evil! And the curse consumed all of Japan!" Explained Susanou-Ou.
"This is madness! You released the sword that imprisoned the dreaded Yamata-no-Orochi!?" Gasped Old Man Orange.
There were gasps and surprised whispers from the entire village. They couldn't believe what they had just heard. Old Man Orange had to stop to take in what the drunken warrior had just said.
"I fled to the village out of fear...*hiccup* Then, I blocked it's entrance with a giant boulder and hid underground. After that, I tried fleeing here and there...But the gods would not leave me be. Ever they stared down at me. They let it be known that I would never be forgiven. At least until I slayed the dreaded Yamata-no-Orochi!" Sobbed Susanou-Ou.

"Susanou-Ou...Why?" Whimpered Amaterasu.

"I know Tsukuyomi was removed and Izayoi Caverns vanished..." Mumbled Old Man Orange nervously. "But if what Susanou-Ou said is true, then that means...Yamata-no-Orochi's rite of sacrifice..." Old Man Orange then let out a shudder.

There was an uneasiness over everyone in the entire village. And to make matters worse, that all-too familiar booming, deep roar broke the awkard silence. Amaterasu took off running and jumped atop a nearby boulder as the villagers looked around trying to find the source of the noise. Hayabusa sensed something was wrong and stood up.
Suddenly, the character for "Fire" appeared in the sky. Then the characters for "Water", "Light", and "Lightning". Then the characters for "Wind", "Earth", "Poison", and "Darkness" all in a giant ring.
The villagers crowded around the bridge seperating Kamiki Village into halves. They watched as the ring of elemental symbols spun around and around and merged into a single purple flame. The flame was sucked into the head of a floating arrow. The arrow then launched itself and flew through the air at an incredible speed. Amaterasu grabbed Old Man Orange and leapt to a safe distance while the other villagers ran out of the path of the arrow, but Mushi was too scared to move.

"Mushi!!" Gasped Amaterasu.

Thinking quickly, Hayabusa pushed Mushi out of the way at the last moment. Then there was a loud *THUD!!!!*

The villagers rose and stared in fascinated horror at the white arrow protruding from Kushinada's rooftop.
"On the eve of the full moon, the eight-headed serpent shall appear, and the accursed arrow shall mark teh home of the chosen maiden. It is exactly as the legend tells!" Old Man Orange recanted. "If we don't offer the chosen maiden as a sacrifice, the entire village will be wiped off the face of the earth!" He continued.

[tehexile]

YAY OKAMI!

http://a3.sphotos.ak.fbcdn.net/hphotos-ak-ash4/318765_2321237986722_1122745582_32684489_875962170_n.jpg

[tehexile]

Username: tehexile
Any background information:
Excerpt:

“The Dragon of Heaven and the Dragon of Earth,” Lord Broken told him, “Are the symbols of the Celestial and Infernal Offices respectively. They represent its timeless, cyclical nature, its authority over all planes of existence and its duty to preserve order above all things. The way that the dragons intertwine symbolises the relationship between the two Offices; apart, but together. Overlapping, but with their own separate duties. Often in conflict, but always ultimately working towards the same goals.”

“So, is it based on a real Dragon of Heaven and Earth, or are they just a metaphor?” asked Scribe.

“Some of the oldest Celestials and Infernals say that they remember the First Founding of the Order, and they say that the Dragons themselves personally directed them in their duties,” replied his Master, “Although it is unlikely that anyone alive today really remembers that far back. The First Founding was at the time of the very creation of the Universe!”

“We aren't immortal?” he asked.

“Nothing's immortal. Ageing isn't just waiting to get older, you know, we all do things that wear us slowly down. Everyone and everything wears out eventually, and they'll be replaced by something new. Some of us are very old, because we're very simple beings, when it comes down to it. We don't have the same freedom and choices that pull people's souls apart. But we can't last forever.”

“I wasn't there at the First Founding, but I was there after everything got built, and when the Laws were being decided,” added Lysander, “Now that was an exciting time!”

“Did you see the Dragons?”

“No, no, I was nobody important at the time. They'd never bother appearing in front of me!”

“I think I've seen them,” said Scribe, “And I know I'm nobody that important. Not on that kind of scale.”

“Well, maybe you just caught sight of them doing something unrelated to you,” he said, “What were they doing, by the way?”

Scribe repeated what he'd seen, and they listened with interest, and nodded.

“The Moon, eh?” said Lysander, looking up at the sky. Mostly they saw the cogs and wheels of the machinery that controlled the world, slowly turning. It was much the same view as the Infernal Plane, except that you could see the top, not the bottom, and there were less sharp, grinding things and there was no furnace, although you still didn't want to fall into the machinery. You could dimly see the Moon from between two cogs. Scribe hadn't realised you could see it from here.

“Its much larger here than back home,” he commented.

“That's because we're closer to it,” said Lysander.

“Time to put out the lanterns,” interrupted Lord Broken.

“I'll do that!” said Scribe, “Give me the key to the shed!”

Lord Broken laughed and gave the key to his apprentice, who ran off to the shed where the lanterns were kept and began pulling them out. He lit each one and ran with it across the Broken City, climbing up onto the lower cogs and jumping from gear to gear, finding the handles and hooks where they could hang a lantern and placing the looped cord over it. Soon, everywhere would be lit, and the clockwork dolls could begin their night shift. They didn't tire, but they couldn't see in the dark. They weren't perfect, and each one had some small defect that lent a strange kind of creativity to their work. Quite often, Lord Broken's orders weren't taken entirely how he meant them to, but the cogs were always well polished and the world kept turning.

[fenrischained.livejournal.com]

Username: fenrischained/Jormandugr

Any background information:

Excerpt: The first time they met in the Bogside was nervewracking, to say the least. Pat had at least managed to talk Jack out of showing up at the school gates, which really wouldn’t have been much more than assisted suicide; he’d worked out fairly quickly that they wouldn’t take out their full anger on him, partly because there were very few people willing to beat up somebody whose arm was still in a sling, but mostly – and more valuably – because far too many of their fathers knew his da, and even if his da had made it pretty clear how he felt about it, there weren’t many teenagers willing to beat up Adam Pearson’s son. Pat hated that – hated the idea that he was even remotely reliant on his da for anything more than food and shelter, hated that his da’s name was more important to them than what he stood for, hated that every time he got away with it he felt like a coward – but it did keep him in one piece.

That wouldn’t go for Jack. True, some people might back off if they knew his da was in the police, but most people would just hate him more for it, and besides, it wasn’t as if they’d stop to ask for his family tree before beating him to a pulp. And true, Jack might be a better (or at least more willing) fighter than Pat, but that didn’t mean he could take on the entire school. So Pat had asked, cajoled, begged until Jack had agreed not to go through with it.

Instead, they met at Free Derry Corner, the closest thing either of them could think of to neutral ground. It wasn’t safe, but then, none of Derry seemed to be safe right now. Maybe that was just Pat overreacting, but he didn’t think so. It had been just over a week since what they were calling Bloody Sunday, and he’d never felt so much anger, hurt, or revenge in the air before. The barricades hadn’t been that bad. Nothing he could remember had felt so utterly doom-laden. The Bogside was ready for war, every Republican in Northern Ireland was gearing up to wreak havoc, and the Protestants weren’t exactly dormant either, he was guessing. Rossville Street felt very empty as he walked down it, very exposed.

His legs were shaking, and he was starting to regret choosing Free Derry Corner to meet. He hadn’t been this far down Rossville since the shootings, and however hard he told himself that it was over and done, when he passed the flats, he had to stop for a moment to breathe. The pain in his arm flared up again, hot and agonising; it had to be coincidence, he told himself firmly, or something psychosomatic about coming back here, but although he knew that was true, it didn’t take away the pain.