My Book

So Seth was posting some stuff about writing, and I was wondering if people would be willing to read the first chapter of a book I've been writing? It's called Ragnarok. It's actually based on a solo D&D campaign with a friend. My character? A kidnapped Shadar-Kai, named Terra, who has a dark past, that stumbles upon an ancient, forgotten power, which he uses to find vengeance, and must now struggle past his suicidal thoughts and dark dreams, while avenging those he loved.

Interested?

Edit and Warning: The book is rated R for intense language, graphic scenes, fighting, and lots of death lol

I'd be interested!

I can't post it. Chapter one is over 20,000 characters lol lemme split it up

Ragnarok Chapter 1 (NSWF!)

Also could be grammatical errors lol



     Weakly, I opened my sore eyes, a dank and musky room greeted me, poisoned with the scent of grizzly alcohol and cold sweat that beat down my brow. I rolled onto my bruised left side and felt the cloth of an overused hammock stained with piss wrapped around my tired body. Vicious thunder rolled and ephemeral lightning flashed beyond the wooden shelter that I lived in, breathed in, bled in. My home was Prometheus. This vessel carried me across the Astral Sea, a plane of cosmic euphoric lights and stars that carried comets and airships on its breezeless plane, whisking me across the phosphorescence of existence.
     The Astral Sea could only be described as a fantastical realm where anything could happen. Air surrounded everything, and gravity did not apply to some things, while it did to others. Mists of neon lights floated through the endless realm of wonder. The horizon was an ever changing painting that constantly stood at the edge, but was impossible to travel to. Comets and meteors floated endlessly in this incredible maze, lost forever into the eternal sea.
      Two dimensional and three dimensional existence coincided in this realm that once was a ravaged battleground for the gods of old. Mystic streams of light wrapped around you and comforted you.
     I hate my life. I loved the ship, yet hated the abusive captain, his filthy crew, his putrid stench. I was taken when I was a young child, so Prometheus was the only true home I knew. I was a mere slave to these pirates of the infinite sea. They pillaged and stole whatever they wished. Including my freedom.
     I sat up in my hammock, and observed my bleak cabin, full of my miserable life which echoed across my pupils as if I was witnessing my despair out of my aching body. I was cleaning, organizing, or working in between them lashing the black whip against me. Their frustrations became my scars of incompetence and insipidness. Madness forever burned into my flesh. Each strike of lightning beyond the borders of my cabin resembled the cracks of the whip imbedded into me. I reached down to my stomach, gaunt with malnourishment, and slowly traced each scar, puffed up from my gray and ash colored skin. All I wanted was to be free of this prison. This hellhole. This cage. Time froze in this cabin. I yearned for the chance to meet my family again. I knew these mangled creatures' race. The feared and infamous race of brutal Githyanki. Their skin was a light brown muddy color with hues of green that wrapped around their malicious black eyes. Most of them were bald, but some had dark dreadlocks that hung over pierced eyebrows and sneering grins. They tear my flesh, torture my mind, and crush my spirit. I don't even know my name. Do I even have one? What race am I? Why am I even alive? Am I merely some servant boy all my life? I don't even know how old I am.
     Turbulence took over Prometheus and my cabin began swaying violently and causing my hammock to smash against the cabin wall. I felt my head crack against the greasy wall so hard my ears began ringing an indiscernibly high frequency. I reached behind my head, and felt a warmth emit from it profusely. At first, I thought there was a leak in my cabin, and the warm rainwater had trickled into my hair, but when I brought my hand around to see, I saw a red, familiar liquid drip between my fingertips and onto the floor. Blood.
     I quickly grabbed a nearby stained and overused rag in the corner to cover my wound, stumbling across the cabin as Prometheus shook more. I reached down for the rag as my cabin door crashed open, revealing a middle-aged Githyanki with simple attire and a vest, but extravagant rings and jewelry that seemed to sparkle and reflect the malevolence from his dark eyes that laid low under his hat which protruded from his head like horns of a demon, coming to torture his lost souls. It was the captain.
     The captain never spoke his name aloud, or at least if he did, I never heard it. Everyone in this god forsaken vessel refers to him as the captain. If I could name him, it would be the devil.
     He raised his arm up quickly. Terrified, I turned around and shut my eyes. The stinging feel of abuse produced more of my blood on my cabin floor; it sprayed against the grimy ship, already covered in filth and rot. I let out a blood-curdling scream that echoed over the ravenous thunder which boomed beyond my wooden prison.
     "To the deck! We need all hands!" screamed the captain at my ringing ears before cracking his death whip again across my tender back. I let out another howl as he forcefully grabbed my blood-soaked hair and dragged me head first out of my cabin. I knew how the hall looked; rotting planks built the walls with so much mold and infestation you could smell it from the other side of the ship: and two more rooms equally rotted and worn away sat adjacent to my left and right as he forced me down the hall. I knew how the hall looked, yet I couldn't see anything but crimson. It leaked down my face and washed over my eyes like a veil. I thought to myself if I would ever survive this torment.
     The stairs came abruptly to my ankles and he continued to pull me up the steps as I meant to recuperate myself from these thoughts. The door busted open and he threw me into the warm rain which beat down on my bloody back and head. I stumbled for composure yet slipped and hit my head again on the ship. I wouldn't mind the warm rain, but I knew hot lashes soon followed it.
     The captain barked his orders towards me, "Hoist the main sail!" I abruptly got to my feet and ran to the main sail. Prometheus rocked violently and distant thunder rolled across my bloody ears. Vertigo soon took over my senses and I weakly found myself tripping over the shaking ship before arriving at my destination. I quickly unwrapped the rope from the mast and pulled downwards on the wet rope that tied my soul down to this crew. The drenched sail slowly rose and I tugged harder in order to avoid more scars. My actions were in vain though, and soon another hot lash imprinted itself into my flesh. I gasped, biting my lip, and hoisted the sail into the whirling tempest then tied the rope back to the sail to keep it steady. 
     Suddenly, a massive bolt of lightning struck Prometheus' starboard side, causing the great ship to catastrophically crash into a nearby comet, causing mayhem on deck. I quickly hobbled to the wreck and put out the dying fire. Prometheus will not last under these conditions, one more strike and we won't stay afloat.
     "Head starboard! We make port at Garinth!", screamed the captain. Garinth was a neutral city, who neither hated, nor liked the Githyanki pirates. The streets were filled with trash, littered from unclean houses and even filthier souls. Greed consumed their thoughts. I remembered the distinct smell of excretions in the roads and homes. In fact, the only place that didn't smell like .poo. was the market, where the aroma of rotting animals, spoiled fruit, and more manure blended into a scent that reeked of death itself.
     After three hours of strenuous pulling, heaving, and bleeding, the violent squall subsided, leaving nothing but blackness across the horizon, speckled with stars and nebulas which shined through the midnight sky. The captain had gone to sleep hours before, but his secondhand man, a skyscraper of a creature, with a slick bald head with a massive scar running up from his malicious eyes to his forehead, still stood watch over the crew and I. His muscles bulged from his low cut shirt which exposed his extremely fit chest. His green and brown skin was wet with rain as he stood on the deck and kept watch for port. His neck snapped towards me and a sneering grin overcame him, revealing his yellow teeth, stained from years of eating rotten meat and cursing. He stormed towards me and slammed his massive fist into my stomach, crushing my organs. I felt my breath forcibly ripped from my weak lungs, tunnel vision wrapped around my gaze, and I tumbled over onto my face against the hard wooden deck. Maniacal laughter overtook my eardrums, but not long after, my ears were ringing too hard to really hear, and soon both sounds melted into a terrible white noise that vibrated continuously within my head. I was brought back to reality with a terrible jab into my ribs, cracking my fragile bones. He viciously grabbed my hair, opened the door to the cabins, and threw me down the cold, hard steps. Blackness soon blanketed over me.
 
                       • • •

     I awoke in my hammock again, but instead was greeted by confusing silence, instead of cacophonous storms. I let out a sigh, and felt a strange tingling on the back of my head and my back. I stood up and went to my broken mirror which sat in the corner of my prison, and saw a teal substance coat my skin. My cuts felt alleviated and soothed. This usually happened after a beating. There was a Githyanki child on the ship, named K'yrah who seemed to have a good heart. He brought me food, and cleaned my wounds sometimes, along with generally giving me a smile when he saw me. A smile was a rare delicacy on this ship.
     I dared not to leave my cabin. It was customary for me to wait in my cabin silently until the captain or some other mongrel forced his fearsome and callous hand in my face. decided that staying awake would help more, as the idea of them waking me from sleep with more bruises and blood would only make things worse. I went to the wooden plank under my hammock, bending up from the floor, as if stretching to the sky. I lifted up the plank to find my mother's locket, which was given to me the day they were taken. I pressed the small button on the side, and a picture of my mother revealed itself from within. Gray ashen skin blended with my dreary setting, and blue hair fell down into her face, tipped in black lowlights. Multiple facial piercings covered her face, some on her eyebrows, with most on her visible left ear, decorated from top to bottom in expensive jewelry, rings, and studs. I began feeling the studs pierced in my cheek, that wrapped around my jawbone and trailed down the left side of my neck. The similar piercings on my eyebrows, and ears, and additional ones in my nose, that stuck through the bridge. I knew the piercings were from my race, a symbol of pride and strength struck into our flesh. But now, the only symbols imbedded in me were symbols of despair and weakness. I wondered if the piercings on the bridge of my nose were given to me from my father's own piercings. I was 4 when they took me. We were playing chess in the room, I was playing black, and had just moved my knight to C6. My mother was in the side room, praying to the Raven Queen. Then the door flew off its hinges in my home, and the Githyanki raided my home. They usually didn't go beyond the Astral Sea, but for some reason, they decided to begin raiding the Shadowfell. After that, I don't remember much.

I closed the locket and heard the small click in my hands. After years of sitting in this room, I got time to assemble and disassemble the locket, and have developed a love for the upcoming technology. Some strange magic infused with lightning. I wasn't really sure how it worked, but I had heard it was like gears and switches, which reminded me of my locket. I stroked my finger across the ivory edge and sighed a breath of contempt and sorrow. Time slowly passed as I sat next to my bed, simply breathing. Soon, I couldn't hold it in any longer, and I burst into tears under my bed. Tears streaked down my face as feelings of betrayal, sorrow, and suicide overwhelmed and flooded my mind. Would it be better to enslave myself for all time, or kill myself now and invite the next hell into my life?
     I continued to sob as I curled into a ball and let sleep fall over me.
     I woke up again, covered in cold sweats that beat down my forehead which was wrinkled in terrible fear. I slowly stood up, letting the ache in my knees subside as I fully stand. I must have been out for hours, but why haven't they awaken me?
     The door creaked open as I slowly pushed on it, anxious of what awaited me. My head peeked out quickly to the right and left, to see if any crew roamed the bleak hallways. Oddly, none were there, and an eerie silence echoed throughout the ship. I didn't feel the cosmos against the ships underside, and no wind howled from the deck, which lead me to believe we had made port at last in Garinth, the city of slobs, whores, and drunkards. I remembered the distinct smell of vomit mixed with whiskey last time we made port here. The captain never liked this place very much, and I knew he went here because it was the closest, and the clerks are so drunk you could barter them into giving you money. The only thing the captain enjoyed here is that the drunkards in the taverns had so much alcohol in their system, they thought they were stronger than they really were, and pulled up the guts to commission a term on Prometheus. The term usually lasted a year, but most grow so fowl that their greed ties them to the ship, and they day by day slip farther from their own souls, forever trapped in a lifestyle of abyss and sin. I almost felt bad for some of them, but my heart had grown callous and cold to the Githyanki raiders.
     I took a small and quiet step into the hall, floorboards creaking beneath my malnourished body. I know if I was caught, there would be a chance of such severe beatings that I die. I shuddered at the thought of the whip, but curiosity urged me forward in my pursuit. Even when we make port, the captain always leaves a guard next to my door to ensure I don't escape, but the empty room sparked my terrible thoughts of exploration.
     The grease covered lamps held a dim flame that lit the room in a shallow, ethereal light that created a feeling of nostalgia in my stomach. A pit formed soon after and nervous despair took hold of my solar plexus, leaving me in an anxious state of mind. I decided not to go the deck, and instead check the captain's guard's room to ensure he was off the ship, and not posted up beyond the stairs. I turned to the left, and double checked all corners before I turned, fearing the lash of the whip against me, or worse. I walked down the small hallway covered in old cobwebs, some grey and shallow, some reeking with spiders itching to feast on blood, and stood with my back at the edge of the wall, adjacent to the apex of the corner which lead to my right or left. I heard a small laugh that came from one of the crewman, and and unfamiliar voice, one not of the crew, but instead, much silkier. I peeked around the corner quickly to witness a half dressed, lewd Githyanki .bore. ushering the crewman inside his room. Her hand was wrapped around his neck, and her leg around his waist, decorated with pillaged gold and jewelry that he stole and killed for. Drunken lust overtook his gaze, and he focused singularly on this wench, who sold herself to disgusting murderers for a living. She seductively starred into his glossed over eyes and winked at him, making his desire burn further.
     She slowly put her lips against his awaiting ear and whispered something I couldn't decipher, and he quickly nodded and grinned maliciously, displaying his rotted yellow teeth, which decayed more every day. I had lived here long enough to know each crewman by ear, and his high pitched, squeaky voice was none other than Lorn'e, the so called chef of the ship, whose food was equivalent to pig slop mixed with a hint of troglodyte .poo. that burned away your taste buds bite by bite, leaving you desensitized to the rest of his terrible food, and made me gag at the thought and smell of what he considered to be a delicacy. The other Githyanki didn't seem to mind, as if that was normal food for them.
     I remembered my mothers cooking; warm bread served next to a hot bowl of soup. It wasn't much, but you could taste my mothers love in each bite. I began reminiscing more on my modest old home when a loud scream shot me back to reality. The prostitute had squealed in delight as he dragged her into his room, and slammed the creaky door shut. I sighed in relief and began quickly but silently running down the hallway. Ornate paintings of the captain decorated the slop covered walls of the ship: his narcissistic and sadistic attitude was palpable in the air as I passed the paintings. More lanterns covered the wall, roughly a meter apart in length, each emitting a low light that dimly filled the dreary ship. Some were completely burned out, leaving interesting patterns of candle wax draping from the lantern casing.
     As the end of the hall approached, and another intersection awaited my decision, I heard a faint noise coming from the hall to my right, a squeaking sound emitted from the corners, and I took a step forward to investigate, when I heard a disgusting cracking noise come from beneath me, followed by an ear splitting screech that lasted a mere moment, then slowly died away. I lifted my foot to find a crushed rat beneath me. I panicked as I heard grumbling come from Lorn'e's room down the hall. My eyes widened and I sprinted to the nearest door and opened it in haste, shoving myself inside and slowly closing the door behind me.
     The room was a closet, full of mops and brooms which I had become quite familiar with, and used quite often. The room had one small light, barely aflame, keeping the room still very dark, yet I could still see fine. I was never able to see in the dark, but dim lightings never bothered me much. Shelves covered in spider webs lined the closet halls. I could see spider eggs in the top right corner of the room, amidst all the spider webs, I noticed the eggs. I have always feared spiders for some reason, I wasn't sure why though. The thought of them on me made me shudder in irrational fear.
     True fear then rushed back over me as I heard the terrible sound of metal scraping metal, as the lustful Githyanki unsheathed his silvered sword. All of the crew were given these swords, made of pure silver and etched into the side of the blades were decorative carvings that actually I had admired. They were beautiful blades: interesting how such beautiful blades could be wielded by such evil hearts.
     He cried out, "Who's there!?" quickly, almost afraid. He never participated in the fights, and usually cowered in the corner while the others did the dirty work, and I was guessing he had little experience with blade fighting. For a moment I thought about lunging out and taking his sword from him and running, but decided to play it safe and hide. His wench soon called for him, and I'm guessing he didn't see the crushed rat, because next thing I knew he was sheathing his weapon and let out a scoff, as if he had some great victory. I could tell he had insecurity issues and actually found myself letting out a little laugh, making fun of his big man ego. I quickly shut up and listened to the creaking floor as he stepped back down the hall and slammed his door once more, as if to impress his hooker.
     I sighed in relief and decided to wait in the bleak closet for a moment to make sure it was clear from any other crew members. I waited for what felt like a lifetime, and having no real light confused my perception of time. I pulled up the courage to open the closet door again, and slowly began my venture to the guard's room.
     I turned left after exiting the closet and continued. After cleaning the entire ship top to bottom multiple times, I knew the full layout of the ship, and finding my way to anyone's room was simple, except for the crew in my way of course. It was strange how every hallway looked the same, smelled the same. I soon found myself outside his room, only his mahogany colored wooden door that sat slightly ajar to its hinges in my way. I put my ear to the door, listening in for any movement or snoring, yet nothing came. I peeked through the small slit the door made from being open, and examined the room. There was a blank wall next to a window straight in front of me, where I could see the distant city engulfing itself in greed and gorging itself in food and drink. Looking reminded me of how incredibly starving and thirsty I was, and a dry feeling instantly covered my mouth, as if I just ingested sand. There was a wooden bed with a stained mattress on top, and I couldn't help but notice I wasn't the only one here who slept in filth.
     The door nudged open from my shoulder and I stepped inside. He wasn't here. I sighed in relief again and turned around to go to the deck, and possibly run to town and hide, but when I turned, a small sparkle from the bed caught my eye, and I turned my attention to it. Sitting on his pillow was a blade of small length, possibly a foot and a half long. I begun to fear what would happen if they caught me again, and urged myself to leave, but found this opportunity too good to pass up.
     I quickly grabbed the blade and tucked it into my cloth, hoping I could smuggle it to my room and hide it if I couldn't leave, or if I could leave, use it to protect myself. I left the room quickly, less worried about being dexterous, and more anxious for freedom. My walk soon turned into a jog, then a run, then a full out sprint to the deck. The hallways blurred past me as time seemed to speed up as I sprinted towards daylight. Freedom's taste was sweet to my tongue. I stumbled up the stairs and burst through the door to the deck. Light hit my face, and warmth struck me comfortably. No one was on deck. I was alone. I ran to the edge of the ship, with a makeshift bridge to land on the starboard side. I took a deep breath and stepped off the ship.
     Or so I thought. My leg wouldn't move. I was stunned, and thought I had been caught, but I felt no magical or psionic forces acting on me. It was my own subconscious will to stay. "Leave!" I screamed at myself, "Be free! Live!". But something inside of me kept me here. It wasn't time for me to leave yet.
     My eyelids fell a bit, and I stared off into space, feeling more salty tears roll down my face. I don't want this life. I wish I was home, with my mother praying and cooking soup, and my father showing me his collection of blades he used to hunt. Where they laughed and played with my hair, and made funny faces at me. Where I wasn't beaten, humiliated, or torn. A place where happiness filled my life. But that place, it's a lie. I don't have those comforts, and I don't have happiness. Instead, I have pain, and scorn which brood in my soul every night. Home seemed like a mystery to me.
     Home.
     I stepped back, and slowly retreated to my cabin. I hadn't lost all hope I suppose. I accepted my enslavement for now, but I know in the morning I will fight again. I will fight.
     Upon entering my room, I closed the door behind me and pulled up the familiar plank beneath my bed, and saw my precious locket. I held it against my heart, which beat in confusion and passion, burning fire into my soul and mind. I slowly took the sword from the cloth and placed it in the secret hole where I kept the locket, and then placed the locket on top of it, then closed the hole. Depressed, I laid back in my hammock. The scent of sweat and sorrow filled my nose, and I closed my eyes slowly, deciding to stay on Prometheus. What compelled me to stay?

                       • • •

     Massive trees towered above me, swaying in the pleasant breeze. The sounds of exotic birds filled the forest and reverberated off of the ant filled bark which lined the trees that created my home. Grey sunlight shined through the canopy of dull blue leaves, and created a euphoric scene of wonder. I stood in awe of this beautiful place, filled with excitement and hope. My family were the only optimists in our city. Most people became very stagnant and stoic. Our people worshipped the Raven Queen, and therefore viewed death as the ultimate goal, and last hope for their lives. But my mother saw differently. She saw a world where death consumes everything, like the others, but decided that if we are all going to die, we might as well live the fullest lives possible, and stuff our memory's with the happiest thoughts. I looked up to my mother, she was my role model.

After standing in the forest for a bit longer, I heard my mother's beautiful voice call me in for dinner. I beamed and dashed through the roots which stuck up from the soil like boulders, and slipped past the low hanging vines that swung from branches fifty feet tall. The ground began to get steeper, and I saw my home at the bottom of the cliff. It was a modest house, with a roof of moss and sticks that kept us from the rain, two windows on the front of the house that never could stay clean, no matter how much my mother tried. She simply laughed it off when she cleaned them and smiled at me. The walkway to my house was made of smooth stones, gray and shiny, that were fun to play games on, and a jury rigged door that held itself on makeshift hinges. The door usually never shut completely, so we had to tie it shut at night to ensure that huge wolves with teeth the size of swords and eyes that bead down on your unknowing sleeping body didn't intrude in our home and eat us. At least that's what my mother told me, but I didn't believe her. I knew my father hated the cold, and she most likely shut it due to his request, and told me otherwise as a joke.
     I smiled and ran faster to my home, banging my shoulder into the door and barging into my small house in the woods. My mother's beautiful smile filled her ash colored face, with eyes of adornment and satisfaction on her face, and my father's mature composure that broke as he slightly smiled and nodded at me. We sat at the ornately decorated table, full with beautifully carved candle holders with engravings of complex swirls and designs that perplexed me.
     A whole chicken was roasted to the bone in front of us, a dark brown and tasty looking skin have glazed over the food that made my mouth water in mystical delight. My mother smiled one more time and pulled off the whole leg for my consumption. She cut off a piece for herself and one for father and grabbed my hand to sit around the food and pray to the Raven Queen. My father and mother bowed their heads, and I did as well. My eyelids slowly elapsed over my blue iris' and I heard my mother utter a word of prayer to the Raven Queen and we opened our eyes once more.
     I reached down to my food and tore it apart to take the bite my rumbling stomach longed for. From the inside of the meat, maggots grotesquely excreted themselves, and I felt vomit force itself from my mouth and seep between my teeth. My plate slowly morphed into centipedes that scurried away across the ornately designed table that soon melted away like ooze that dripped down itself, painting an abyssal picture in front of me. I looked up to my father, but there was an empty seat before me. The small door burst open, and before me stood the captain. He sneered viciously and grabbed my mother by the hair and dragged her in front of me. I couldn't move. I begged and pleaded with myself to move, but no response came from my body. He pushed her down to her knees where she sat begging for her life. I screamed but no noise came out. My throat was lodged with fear and terror. He pulled her hair back and exposed her neck, where she swallowed quickly in immortal fear of what was to come. He unsheathed his jagged blade and put it to her throat. He grinned and pressed his blade of death roughly against her trachea and slowly, preciously, and maniacally slit her throat. At first she gasped and struggled as blood spewed from her body, covering me. The blood seemed to spray eternally from her soon lifeless neck. She looked into my eyes and then fell to the floor, and the captain grabbed me and dragged me back. He pushed me outside, and I appeared on Prometheus. I began cleaning it top to bottom, and the captain embedded more whip lashes into my back.
     Then, the ship faded into black nothingness, and I slowly began falling. I floated through the blackness, and almost found a serenity in my fall. I floated for as long as I could remember. Memories faded, and blackness continued.
     Suddenly, a blue light flashed in the distance. A luminescent light shined in the distance, and I reached for it weakly. It got closer, and closer. I felt a warmth touch my fingertips as I stretched for the incoming object of light. I felt a warmth on my entire hand and I reached farther until I was an inch away. I couldn't discern what it was, but it seemed to draw me to it, as if it took my soul and dragged me towards it. It felt right. Like it was where I was supposed to be. I reached out to hold it; it was so close I could taste it's light on my anxious taste buds. I reached further, further. . .

                        • • •

     I shot up in my hammock, drenched in cold sweats from my nightmarish dream. I had the dream often, yet it still terrified me every night to relive the grotesque and unpleasant dream. Although, the blue light I remembered had never been there before. It's light shone in my darkest time, and I wondered if it symbolized the freedom I wished was granted to me.
     Glancing over at the door, I noticed food in the corner awaiting me. I dived of the hammock and crawled on all fours to the slop, cooked by Lorn'e. I mashed my hands in the yellow slop and shoved as much of the putrid food down my throat. I was starving. They only fed me once every few days and even then, it was very little compared to the amount they ate. Once a week or so, they had a feast and celebrated their victories in battle and rejoiced over the gold they stole from cold, lifeless hands. If they weren't celebrating their gold, they celebrated the girls they took from their fathers. They would take and rape them viciously, then dispose of them when they were done with them. It was horrible.
     I continued eating until the plate was left empty and there was very little left. I picked up the plate quickly and licked it clean, desperate for more food. Once the plate was done, I set it off to the side and felt sick from eating such terrible food so quick.
     As I sat there in pain, the door slightly opened to my room, and I scurried in fear to the other side of the room. But what emerged was a small Githyanki with a bald head, a brown vest which matched his skin tone, torn pants, and boots that clicked against the ground after every step. He smiled at me softly, and I relaxed. It was K'yrah. He approached me with a large pail of water roughly two feet in diameter and one foot deep, and placed set it next to me.
     "Sorry mate, captain wants you to scrub the ship. He bought this new product from Garinth that supposedly bubbles in water and helps ya clean the grime off what ya want." K'yrah spoke to me lightly, like a friend.
     He took out a small vial and poured it in the water then mixed it around. It quickly began bubbling a white foamy substance and smelled quite nice. I couldn't help the small smile on my face from a rare pleasant smell.
      K'yrah looked at me strangely, then muttered, "Yknow, someone could probably hide something in there... The bubbles are so thick... Oh well mate." He winked at me quickly and walked out nonchalantly, and at last minute threw a small rag towards me to clean with. I was taken aback. Did he know about the blade under my bed? Is that why the pail is so large today? But... If he saw me, did anyone else?
     I stuck my hand in the cold water to feel the bubbles that danced across the surface of the water, and saw that my hand completely disappeared beneath the whimsical foam. I decided to take K'yrah's advice.
     I upheaved up the plank, which bent even more up due to my constant opening recently, and pulled the shining blade from beneath the floor slowly. I carefully placed it in the water, covering it with soap. It was invisible. No one could see it. I looked again into the hole and saw the the ivory framed locket. I'm not sure why, but I needed it with me today. I tucked it into my cloth, sighed, and headed for the exit.
     I discretely left my cabin and begun scrubbing the walks with the rag covered in the now foamy water.  To my surprise, grime lifted from the once thought stained wall wiped clean. I stared in disbelief, and laughed a bit.
     I continued cleaning for long hours until I finished wiping clean the lower deck. Tiredness overtook my body and soul, but I knew I must clean the upper deck, and be meticulous with the captain's quarters. I stepped up the stairs to the upper deck, rag and pail in hand.
     Upon walking on deck, my eyes widened in fear as a massive vessel of an airship approached us quickly. The deck was a mess with Githyanki who scrambled across deck and prepared for battle. They unsheathed their silvered swords and loaded their articulately carved bows with makeshift arrows. The captain ran up beside me and grabbed me by the neck and threw me back down in the lower deck, then proceeded to slam the door shut. My head crashed against the newly wet floor and screamed in pain from the brutish assault on my head, not fully healed from the day before. I ran back up and looked through the window as Prometheus slammed into the other ship, and malevolent pirates docked our aircraft.
     Multiple blades struck each other, forcing sparks to shoot across the deck as if fire was being emitted from each blade edge. Githyanki dropped dead on the ship at such an alarmingly massive rate that it became difficult to discern whether they were from Prometheus or not.
     An extremely ugly Githyanki appeared in the window I peeked through and kicked the door in, shattering the wooden door and glass in front of me, embedding his boot scuff into my gut. Shards of mixed splinters and broken glass crashed against my face, inserting themselves into my pores as I fell once more down the steps; a sound of painful cracking emitted from my skull, making me cringe in massive pain. I tried to open my eyes and stand, but splinters in my pupils cut off my vision, and my skull vibrated so roughly I couldn't stand up.
     He quickly approached me and towered himself above my fear-convulsing body. Tears shed from my eyes as he raised his brandished sword between my moist eyelids. I shut my eyes for a moment in fear. I don't want to die.
     He grunted and coughed, then I heard a massive thump on the floor beside me. I slowly opened my eyes, coated in blood, and he no longer held his blade above me. Daggers protruded from his gut and neck, and I saw K'yrah sneakily moved across the room silently like a mouse, and he put his finger to his lips to keep me as silent as he was. I nodded and quietly sighed, knowing K'yrah saved my life. I had no idea K'yrah was proficient in fighting, and I was positive the captain didn't know either. I silently mouthed the words "Thank you" and he nodded then drifted off into the shadows in the side rooms as a vantage point to ambush any intruders who ran below deck. I never knew he had such strategic prowess.
     Githyanki fights became brutal instantaneously. Their innate mixture of telekinetic powers and blade using made them extremely versatile hunters who created blood baths when pitted against each other. It was not a simple sight to stomach. Upon climbing the steps I saw the captain in the middle of the deck, creating a flurry of blades, countering other's movements and making an indestructible whirlwind force of cuts that he used to annihilate his foes. One unfortunate pirate ran up to him and jumped into the air gallantly, forming a sphere of flame in his palm, intending to incinerate the captain's gruesome and scarred face, but in the middle of the scene, the captain sidestepped quickly to his right and plunged his jagged blade so forcefully into the opposing Githyanki's stomach that he impaled him and skewered him upon his weapon of death, blood violently oozing and dripping from the soon lifeless corpse of a pirate intent on killing. The captain's boot raised swiftly and kicked the impaled foe off his blade and to the ground, where he took his final breath and passed on amidst a pool of his own crimson life stream.
     My eyes widened in disbelief as I witnessed the captain slice through his foe's bones like butter and leave them for dead. I almost felt bad for them.
     Not soon after, I saw the second in command who just yesterday punched me to the ground, slam his fist so incredibly hard into a Githyanki that the back of his already bruised head cracked open with such intensity his brains expelled themselves through the newly made hole and scattered themselves across the ship deck, coating other Githyankis in it's pink and red colors. I had no idea if they were from Prometheus or not, but soon after ran towards him screaming, swords raised, as the now deceased Githyanki, who now was missing the entire back of his own head, collapsed to the defender's feet. 
     The name of the second in command was Shrakk, who gave himself the name, The Obliterator. I could now see why. He held back with me, as if toying with me, hoping for me to squirm in miserable pain in order to please himself. I hoped these next men shoved their swords so far through his skull that you could shoot an arrow through, but instead while running towards Shrakk, he clotheslined his next victims, and within the blink of an eye withdrew two blades from his person and pushed them through their malicious hearts and stuck them to the cabin deck, where they began convulsing from a violent seizure and then laid breathless, immobilized to the deck.
     I had no idea who to hope was victorious. I hated the life I lived, but these pirates could be so much worse than the ones who own me now. It was a gamble I was not ready to bet on, so I took no participation in the fight, I instead observed how the others fought.

One Githyanki, who wore his dreadlocks in a tight ponytail and wore an extravagant outfit, outstretched his arms to a nearby meteorite and closed his eyes, flexing every muscle in his body tightly. The rock began to move via the Githyanki's mind and he directed it towards Prometheus. It swooped down at terrifying speeds and was aimed right for Shrakk's muscular spine while he wasn't looking. Quickly, the captain cut off the head of his opponent, leaving a bloody stump where the enemy's neck used to be which squirted pints of blood, and withdrew his ornate ivory crossbow that was stained with his victims, and shot it precisely into the meteorite-controlling Githyanki that now laid dead and cold on the deck, white arrow embedded securely into his temple; the comet then halted to a stop less than an inch from Shrakk and fiercely ground against the maddened battlefield where a multitude of corpses lay in apprehension of an afterlife, leaving a vast crater in its wake.
     The captain then held nothing back and shot relentlessly at his opposers, their bodies dropping like moths to a flame. His annihilation struck fear in the hearts quickly as he desecrated the fighting ground in a stagnant loss of heart beats. Appalled, half the intruding pirates dropped their blood-soaked blades and ran for their lives, desperate not to share the same fate as their colleagues. Some made it to their ship, and others who turned their backs got their spine severed from their opponent's blade. The captain laughed maniacally and raised his hands and psychically halted them in their tracks, keeping them restrained in a standstill like dogs tied to a leash, awaiting in fear of their imminent demise.
     The Githyankis from Prometheus raised their bows, and quickly plucked the rest off one by one, eliminating their minds and souls as they plunged their stone-tipped arrows into their enemy's eye sockets and brains.
     There were no survivors.
     In was in awe from the sheer massacre I just witnessed; the ship's deck littered with fresh cadavers and soaked in gallons of evil infused blood which streaked across the deck like interpretive artwork. It was revolting.
     The captain laughed once again and then turned his attention to my fear induced eyes.
     "Clean this mess, or I will do to you what I did to these poor bastards!", he swung his hand high in the air and referred me to the enormous amount of corpses that lay coated in each other's blood.
     I grabbed my pail quickly and ran behind the captain, quickly scrubbing the   deck. Then I had an idea. There was a ship right there I could escape to. I had a knife. I had the captain's back to me. I could slay him. I could end this. I should. I could run for my freedom.
     The captain laughed and spit his rancid saliva on me, then turned his back. The feeling I felt when I stood on the ship at port when it was docked at Garinth no longer existed. I knew why I didn't leave now. It was my duty to murder him. It was time.
     The captain began walking away, and I silently dashed my hand into the pail and attained the hidden blade that symbolized my freedom. I grasped it firmly and lunged to my feet, a scream not able to contain itself from my anxious body and soul forced its way out of my throat. I shoved the blade forward towards the captain's vulnerable back and shut my eyes.
     When I opened them, the knife no longer was in my grasp, and instead floated away from my fingertips. I looked to my left and saw Shrakk telekinetically ripping my freedom from me. Despair drenched over me. The captain turned around in such immense anger that I could not keep my composure and begun violently stuttering and sweating as if I was overtaken by a terrible ailment. Fury coursed through his eyes as he looked down upon my frail, weakened body.
     He regained his stature and took two paces backwards then looked to Shrakk.
     "Let him have his blade. If he can strike me down, he may have his freedom. If not, I will cut his head off and feed it to the wolves."
     Shrakk looked in disbelief, awestruck that the captain would allow this, then dropped the blade at my feet, where I scurried to pick it up.
     "I see you're fighting style boy. Stab them in the back when they can't see eh? Lets see how you fare against a real battle." He lunged at me and at the very last moment I stepped to the side, but felt his sharp, jagged blade pierce my left arm and leave it with a bloody hole that spurted my own crimson life force across the already blood-littered ship. I cried in pain from the incision he dealt me, and winced my shard infested eyes. The glass and splinters lowered my perception, and detecting his blade jabs was too difficult to accomplish. He chuckled a bit.
     I swung in a wide, crescent arc from my right side towards his open neck, but a quick parry from his precise sword style left a deep wound in my hand, forcing me to withdraw and step back abruptly, trying to avoid the cold bodies that lay stagnant on the floor. He lunged forward with his blade perfectly straight with a rather playfully stoic look on his face, and I blocked barely by swinging my blade upwards into the dark, star covered sky.
     He pushed the advance, and I repeatedly had to step back to avoid falling over onto my back. Moist dew formed between me and the hilt, forcing me to lose the unparalleled grip I longed for. The cutlass no longer sat in my hand properly, and I knew my demise was closing in soon. We crossed blades again, but I was growing weaker and weaker with my slices, and he knew so. I now stood at the very zenith of the airship, my heels licking the edge of an abyssal cliff. He was playing with me now.
     Rage overtook me and a second wind seemed to rush over my soul and mind. I gripped tighter and ambitiously swung upwards, both hands on the handle, and viciously cut up his body. I caught him unexpectedly and watched my blade rip through his vest, shirt, and greenish skin all the way up to his eye which now was filled with terror mixed with maniacal vehemence. His skin split apart and he dropped his first spill of blood for the day, which slowly dripped out of his newly formed fissure. It was too shallow.
     "Well well! Look at the backstabber! He managed to cut me!", he screamed to his crew quickly. "I wonder if he can do it again!" He spun to his right and built an unprecedented amount of pure momentum which I attempted to block, but shattered my blade in half in the process. He cut through my sword with ease. The point of the sword fell to the ground where it stuck into the hard wood just as his blade stuck into my neck, protruding inside. I went into shock.
     He slowly removed his blade from me, and I felt the sensation of the whip searing against me, but a colossal difference in pain. I watched as he took his blade back that it was coated in my blood which dripped from its edge profusely. My mouth was wide open in aghast and pure fear.
     "You're a meaningless grub! You are pathetic! Welcome to death maggot!" he screamed as he lifted his scuffed boot once more, but this time up to my rapidly beating chest, and he savagely crushed my ribs with pure blunt force and condemned me to die. I could not control the inertia and my petrified body began to tip backwards. Time slowed down as the sensation of falling overtook me, and I begun my descent into the never ending hellish abyss of the Astral Sea.

Fin Chapter 1. And I hold all copyright laws to this book, and all affiliated. Don't steal it yo.

Thoughts? Reviews? Criticisms?

Wooooah, how long you been writin' dat?

It only took about 10 days to write that. But that's on and off, furring school, etc

I actually just finished chapter 2 last night

Helloooooo... Any feedback?

I haven't had the time yet to read it, but I do want to ask, if you don't mind my curiosity. Why is the story entitled "Ragnarok?" Does it tie in to Norse mythology/apocalypse in any way? I've always been a fan of old Norse stuff, when I see a word like Ragnarok show up, I tend to get nosey

It does have a very apocalyptic theme to it, as the book goes on. But not Norse mythology specifically :p the theme doesn't really flesh itself out though until much later