i feel AWESOME right now. i have now met and passed the 65 page marker (applesworks, Helvetica DoubleSpaced, no extra spacing for all you doubters) on my awesome fantasy novel i am writing!!! My mom, who is a proffessional writer says i have enough work done to start a contract with a publishing agent (though i dont want to yet)!!!

For all of you who dont know what it is, ill give you a teaser of it right now... im not deviating this cause im never gonna post the whole thing and im afraid someone will steal it... (this is my life, and has been a dream in my head for 2 years. now that its taking shape, i take no chances.)

This is an entertaining scene, a fragment of the escape from the Arcane Scion... which you shall maybe learn more of later.

by the way, anything with parantheses around it are considered italicized. i used this to point out telepathic messages between characters. yes yes ill explain later... Jakkin's not human, though he is my main character and this is his story.

(start of excerpt)

Gerlon moved to the archway cautiously, motioning Jakkin to stay behind him. He studied the runes a moment, then relaxed, and stepped through the archway.
An explosion shattered the night. The ground beneath the archway blew out, lighting flashing between the fragments of an explosion. Jakkin flew backwards, skidding down the passageway. He caught his slide with his hands and forced himself up. His back was raw and bloody. He looked towards the archway.
He spoke one sound. "Oh." A cloud of dust rose from the archway, which was a ruin strewn upon the ground. Gerlon was no where in sight.
Jakkin called out, but his voice was lost in a blaring noise, toneless, pitchless noise. It echoed, shrieking about the tunnel, and into the complex.
Jakkin dashed forward, looking for Gerlon. A figure rose from the dust, coughing. Gerlon was tattered and bloody. Jakkin yelled noiselessly. Gerlon pointed into the night.
Outside the archway, the city of Paknew loomed above them. The air was hot, and Jakkin immediately started sweating. The buildings to either side, were made of crudely shaped, rotting wood. Various degrees of filth lay everwhere. The night was grey, tinged yellow from the light emanating from the towers. The towers soared above the rest of the city. The streets were brown, not cobbled, but merely dirt and mud packed down over the years.
Jakkin had little time to examine his surroundings. Gerlon grabbed the Fenn, and pulled him forward and down, as two crossbow bolts struck and imbedded into the wood of a house before them. Jakkin shook his head as chips flew into his face.
Jakkin did not glance behind him. They were already moving.
SILVAN!
I am coming!
Gerlon and Jakkin dashed down an alley to their right, Gerlon leading. He turned right again, ducking around a corner. Jakkin followed close behind.
Feral howls and gutteral battle-cries sounded from behind them.
Another alley. Jakkin stumbled, nearly falling in a puddle of liquid. He caught himself and looked behind him, pausing, losing a precious moment.
Forms of their pursuers rose from the half-light. Scaled figures, humans, and other beings running on all four feet spied him and picked up speed. The running figures, dogs, growled, and salivated as they dashed forward, getting closer...
Gerlon yanked Jakkin, pulling him from his fear. "Dont look back! Keep moving!"
They ran, Jakkin using fear to shock his legs into speed. Jakkin lost track of the turns and streets and alleys. His legs became numb, and sweat fell into his eyes, biting them. Gerlon sprinted doggedly ahead.
At long last, the sound of feet and claws faded from behind them. Jakkin met Gerlon's gaze, they slowed, and sank into the shadows. Carefully, cautiously, looking behind them, they turned the corner, straight into the arms of their pursuers.
Jakkin's yell was cut off as a strong hand gripped his throat. His eyes locked with his assailant as he flailed his arms wildly, struggling. A glance to Gerlon showed Jakkin that he had fared better, he had actually had time to ready his sword and wound one of his attackers, but he was being driven back by the assault of the other two Githzaren.
Jakkin clawed at the grip about his throat, scratching, punching, struggling. The man's grip tightened. He couldn't breathe! Jakkin became frantic.
SILVAN!!!
Jakkin needed no answer to his telepathic message, as Silvan lept from the night.
White-silver fur flashed in the half-light, bringing momentary clarity to the scene. Jakkin fell to the ground as the grip on his throat broke. He gasped for air in several large gulps. Recovering, he tore Slayer from his back to find that his assailant was on the ground as well. The man would not be getting up. A dark red liquid spread quickly across the ground, flowing from what remained of the man's throat. Silvan's snout and muzzle were slick, and wet.
Jakkin was stunned. Silvan really was a hunter.
Jakkin scrambled to his feet, stumbling, trying to get even more oxygen into his lungs. He turned, seeing Gerlon fighting an enemy with Silvan worrying another, fainting, lunging, dodging. Jakkin moved, and whipped Slayer left to right, tearing the back of Gerlon's assailant. He stabbed forward, ripping upward as it cracked through scales. The Githzaren screamed, and collapsed. Gerlon changed targets, slashing with his sword at the remaining Githzaren. He battered his enemy again and again, bringing the reptile to its knees. He slashed, nearly decapitating the Githzaren. It slumped to the floor, twitching.
Jakkin, seeing all of the enemies had been killed, promptly vomited, shivering. Slayer fell to the ground, devouring the dead.
Jakkin shouted, not caring who heard him. "I hate this! Truly, I hate this killing!"