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About me[edit | edit source]

Well! What would you like to know??

Maybe I will consider it.

I was going to leave a poem or two on the Blog (found some I wrote from when I was 13/15). But, so depressing and from so long ago.

Ok. For the person who asked.

A couple of excerpts from some long ago writings/ poetry (well I class it as such).

Please remember it was written some time ago when I was but a child. I believed it had all been destroyed along with my art work. Found some art work I might try to scan and upload. Added a couple of my drawings below. You might need to magnify (even when full size) to see all details, as I only ever used 0.1 or 0.2 isograph/ architect pens. P.s. am going to move it all over to blog page in end, so will not be left here long.

The world spins forever on.

The nice guy with the grin,

takes a sip of gin,

then a gulp.

He quivers like beaten pulp.

Sureley that cannot be an adult? So down

and so out.

Your brain begins to return but

your heart begins to burn.

So, once more you've returned and

So once more it is your turn.

Needle glistens, as smooth as silk and

Fear is turned to terror, as

Needle enters arm.

Burning heart turns cold.

Nothing here is foretold, as

You enter realms of You.

No-one matters now.

Red silk floats into sun,

Men turn to tin,

No such thing as sin.

Your brain squashed so thin,

Drowned in your gin, or

Death by a pin.

It brings joy,

It brings death.

Joy lasts for seconds,

Death is forever.

That's addicts pleasure.

Depressed yet? Maybe a humourous excerpt.

“Prime minister, Prime minister.”

Yelled the lady across the road.

But I paid no attention.

Well that used to be my sense of humour.

Seasons changing,


Years going,

out of sight.

Decades passing,


Centuries going,

now your gone.

TheHawkNe 19:32, January 28, 2011 (UTC)



TheHawkNe 21:24, January 28, 2011 (UTC)

TheHawkNe 21:24, January 28, 2011



Thanks!:) TheHawkNeEdit[edit | edit source]

Wow , really impressed, the poems seems quite mature for 15-year old. And about being depressing, well, life is like that sometimes. You should cosinder writing more in your adult life^. And the drawings, so detailed and every detail seems perfect and smoothly fixed to the whole picture. Drawing one must have taken you a lot of time ! And the pictures, they are so....powerful. What I mean is that I don't know what they are supposed to mean/present, but they evoke a feeling of sadness(?) and definitely strangeness. Love them!

However, I would suggest putting these things to Profie page, as you see sometimes contributors leave messages and I hope my message won't ruin the page:)

And pictures, they are pretty annoying to put, that's why I prefer to put them in tables. You could have your own galley in your profila which would look like that:


New Poem?[edit | edit source]

Stand on the precipice,

your life.

Look up to the heavens,

your dreams.

Watch the eagles flying,

your hopes.

Gaze at the clouds drift by,

your fantasies.

Feel your feet slip on rocks,

your uncertainty.

Look down as you fall off the edge,

 your fears.

Watch the ground speed towards you,

the reality.


TheHawkNe 01:53, February 5, 2011 (UTC)

Bit of a book.[edit | edit source]

First draft of part of the first chapter. Deleting in a day or two.

Chapter – The Awakening

Section 1 – A better day?

A harsh wind blew across the mountainous landscape. Plumes of dust either sent hurtling upwards or sideways, colliding with the granite rock faces and the few sparse firs and pines. The trees seemed to groan in agony as the stinging dust storm whipped into them and then swayed violently, desperately hanging onto the sheer rock faces. At the foot of the mountains lay the "corpses" of trees which had given up hope and whose strength had failed them, no longer able to hold on to the meagre soil deposits that drifted down the slopes.

Heavy clouds stood motionless atop the enclave of mountains, grey, steel-like and foreboding guardians of the small, insignificant and lifeless volcano. It seemed to cower in their shadows an incongruous mound, hidden in the shadows as if it did not even exist.

A small figure darted out from behind a fir. Keeping low, the figure moved with remarkable speed and agility, speeding in between the rocks and firs, as sure footed as a mountain goat moving up the volcano slopes.

Maerana lunged herself behind one of the many fallen boulders that were scattered along the slope, just in time to avoid a cloud of dust and pebbles, hurled at such velocity the pebbles left dents in the boulder.

Maerana knelt there motionless; apart from her eyes scouring the mountain sides and the almost invisible track she had just followed. Looking around for any other signs of life, she allowed herself to relax against the cold slab of rock.

'Why do I always do this?’ she thought, but already knew the answer before asking the question. Knowing it had been centuries of having precaution instilled into her. The fear that just one sighting of anyone here could raise questions out in the Outerlands and then all her race would be put into danger.

"Outerlands! “, she proclaimed. “It's all Nehrim, Vyn", the way her race had come to term this volcano and mountainous area as Sanctum Libra and the rest of the world as Outerlands bemused and annoyed her. Their real adopted land was out there, not in here hiding like outcast criminals. It was if the Inner Circle of Elders had decided to keep not only the rest of the world away but keep them as enemies.

Remembering what her parents had always told her and the speech they had given before they had left to their doom, some called it a suicide mission; she knew there was only really one enemy - Barateon.

The Aertana should never have been their enemy. Barateons trickery and silver tongue had turned them against us, all that time ago.

Maeranas thoughts were interrupted by a loud rumbling that shook the ground. Looking quickly up she could see a boulder had become dislodged and was bounding straight towards her. 'Squashed to

death or pebble-dashed to death?', even as she was thinking it Maerana was throwing herself over the boulder she was cowering behind. Diving towards the base of a large fir, but not quick enough to avoid a gust of pebbles that slammed into her back, which sent her tumbling past the protection of the fir and out into the open. In a storm like this almost certain death, but Maeranas will to have revenge and to right her parents name were stronger than any storm. With one almighty leap she sprang upwards catching a shallow ledge and somersaulting over it, she threw herself flat, face down to avoid any more damage.

"Damn yourself. Stop day-dreaming. Concentrate", she screamed at herself. More to take her mind away the pain and numbness she could feel on her body than anything else.

Slowly she shuffled herself backwards and to the side. Peering over the edge Maerana could just make out the dense thickets which hid the entrance to the tunnels which led down, deep under the volcano. Looking down her sides, she could make out blood trickling down her legs and staining the tops of the suede hunting boots that had seen a lot better days than this one. It was going to take all the effort and willpower that could be mustered to make it now. Maerana knew worse was sure to follow even when she could reach the safety of the tunnels. Mockingly saying out loud,"Now the Elders are certainly going to know I have dis-obeyed them again. The day gets even better!”

Section 2 – In the belly of the volcano

The maze of tunnels lay all around Drakasrl, veering off into countless directions but nonchalantly he manouevered them with ease. So long had they been here, each tunnel might appear to be the same but to Drakasrl and the other entire Chelf race they all had individual peculiarities that made them stand out. There was a slightly different colour here, a more rounded rock there. Drakasrl was paying no attention to any of this, he's mind in a quandary.

He stood still and looked up. The light at the end of the dark musty tunnel indicated the exit into the main chamber.

'Where are you Maerana? Please be safe.'

He stood motionless, glowing silver eyes taking in the light. It only took a few seconds for their eyes to become accustomed to going from light to dark, but it still hurt each time. He winced. Furrows showing up on his forehead, making the wrinkles stand out even further than normal. It was once a face so smooth and dark now paled and showing centuries of troubles. It all made him look so different to most other Chelfs.

Chelfs being a small, sleek and agile race, dark skinned and silver or gold eyed. All of them gifted with an inherent ability for magic weaving.

The written holy texts and lore saying it had been bestowed upon them by the Dragonia, the God's of their mother land, in exchange for their race protecting all the creatures of air, sea and land plus the commitment never to do their environment any harm.

A wry smile drew across Drakasrl's lips as he thought this, “God's! Ha". He quickly took an intake of breath and hoped his voice had not carried. The old ways were still upheld by the Inner Circle and all

bowed in reverence to them, except of course Mallak. Yes, of course Mallak the leader of the Chelf race.

Drakasrl stood and considered. Maybe the Gods were just testing them, watching to see how they overcame the difficulties and obstacles in front. Yet, he had watched the land they were supposed to protect savaged and destroyed by violent earthquakes and the eruption of Stanral, the largest volcano on the island. It was ironic that a volcano almost wiped them all out and now one kept them all alive and safe.

Even more ironic was finding a new land to begin again on. Finding a race that after a lot of talk and discussions became close, almost family, the Aertana turned on them because of the beliefs they had. Or was it? That is what everyone had been told.

He remembered the war, ‘War? ‘It had been more of a wholesale massacre, so many of them butchered while in their sleep'.

Drakasrl stopped remembering. He had to. The memories began to send pains into his heart and burning sensations round his head. The loss of his beloved wife and child still burnt him up inside. Yet so many had tried to see him married off again and still did. His love might only now be memories but they kept him alive and going forward. Since that day he had Maerana to care for. She had been his closest friend’s child and treasure. Now the most precious thing in his life, a link to the past a road and hope for the future.

'Maerana, you had better return without anyone seeing or knowing this time.'

Standing at the entrance into the main chamber Drakasrl looked around. Still after all this time, he found it a wonderful sight. This apparently dead volcano could have so much life in its belly.

The chamber was huge, large enough that a lake, flat and almost motionless lay in the middle. The only movement coming from the water was from a steady fine mist that drifted down from the cavernous ceilings above, the tiny icy stalagmites slowly thawing during the days (never seen inside, but you could tell night from day by them), then freezing and forming at night. Then of course there were the children, sitting in small groups splashing and playing around the edges.

All the children around the lake, being born beneath the volcano, had no idea in reality of the suffering and hardships that had been. Just the stories that were told to them, mostly sugar coated and watered down. So none of them fully understood why they had to practice their magic every day. Most of them not caring or trying. Yet it was part of his job to forge these children into Warrior mages and instil in them the codes that a Warrior Mage has to live by. Honesty, loyalty, diligence and the courage and conviction to lay down your life to protect your race.

At least one thing about all the stories, was that a lot them contained tales of his actions in the salvation of the race.

The noise of a small crowd made Drakasrl quickly looked towards the corner of the lake closest to him. Mallak was walking around the lake surrounded by a small band of the Inner Circle, deep in a whispered conversation. He had only ever seen one or two before. Usually they kept themselves locked up in an inner sanctum. The Inner Circle so revered appeared to look up to and revere Mallak.

Mallak, the only Chelf taller than Drakasrl, but slender compared to Drakasrl. 'Looks like a river rat with those eyes, moves like one to' mused Drakasrl. He also knew though that Mallak was the most powerful wielder of magic amongst them, being born with two Dragona Marks, one of fire and one of sky. Each child born had a Dragona Mark, showing which path they had inherited. It either showed on the forehead, upper arm or thighs. That is all children apart from Maerana. Which is one of the reasons Mallak had such a distrust of her. That and the fact she had her parents passion for building a unified land, a burning desire to find the hidden passageway out to the OuterLands and to find out the reality of what happened to her parents and seek revenge. 'That really does irk him', mused Drakasrl, allowing himself the first big smile in weeks. At the same time as he watched Mallaks rat eyes swivelling towards him, he wandered once again if the reason he gave for being one of the first to the volcano was genuine? Why did he not stand with the rest of his Warriors as they stood against the Aetarna and Barateons forces, forming a barrier allowing the rest to escape? His reason was that he and the Inner Circle were putting into action the plan that made Barateon and everyone else believe that the entire race had been wiped out. That was true. They all thought we had set sail and the ships out at sea had perished in one of the largest storms of T.R 817.

Then again, why had he not stood with us in the tunnels as we had to hold back hordes of Giant Widow spiders and who were the Chelf bodies that apparently washed up on shore days later? Mallak said it........

"Well Drakasrl! What do you think?"

Turning sharply he saw the shrew like face, twisted smiling lips and narrow gold eyes of Banasrl staring up at him. A lot darker than most other Chelfs, almost black in appearance, dull black at that. It suited what he was perfectly, he had some magic abilities but like the rest of his men, he could move anywhere without being seen or heard, quicker and more agile than any other group of Chelf. 'Perfect assassin' thought Drakasrl, 'does not even leave a mark in the dirt when he walks'.

"What do I think?"

"Yes! The Inner Circle and Mallak! Have you ever seen this before? That is half off them." Banasrl stopped talking and stared into Drakasrl's eyes. "Where have you been for the last few hours?" he enquired with a knowing glint in his eye.

"I was just down in the armoury, checking out the new armour the Leather Guild have made for our newest Warrior's", even as he finished, Drakasrl knew he had said more than he normally would have, Banasrl was too sly too believe him.

"Where’s Maerana?” he said softly, "I see". Banasrl as quick and silently as he had approached had now gone. Drakasrl turned to see him moving directly towards Mallak.

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