The Blessings of Anaros Part 4

Here it is guys, the final chapter. Enjoy the conclusion of “The Blessings of Anaros!”

 

The Blessings of Anaros Part 4

 

Anaros shouldered his pack, and began to head out of the village where he had spent the last 3 months. The villagers didn’t leave their homes, but Anaros began to speak to the villagers anyway. He crushed a Blessing of Speech, and began to address the villagers in their homes.

“Though I hate to leave this village, I feel that I am no longer needed, and my quest pulls me onward. I now leave you in the capable hands of the New Empire’s armies, who may now do as they please since I will be gone. But know this, I will come back, and when I do, the New Empire will be gone, and in its place shall be me, Anaros Atarix, descendant of Falthor Atarix! I now bid you goodbye, and may the gods be with you.” Anaros boomed. As the Blessing of Speech wore off, he turned and left the village. He was finally on the Road to complete his quest, and kill the Emperor.

 

Anaros arrived at the city of Felicise within hours of leaving the village, thanks to his Blessing of Speed. As he approached the massive gates of the city, the guards approached him.

“Papers?” Questioned one of the guards.

“I require no papers, let me through,” Anaros said. The guard warily put one hand on his sheathed sword, and asked Anaros again. Anaros reached into his pouch, and grabbed a Blessing of Strength. He crushed it in his hand, and took an offensive stance, charging the guard head on. Before the guard had the chance to draw his sword, Anaros delivered a bone-shattering punch to his nose, his hand plunging wrist deep into the guard’s face. The guard flew back nearly 100 feet, crashing into the iron gates of the city. Anaros noticed two other guards charging him, and ducked quickly out of the way of the first guards swinging sword. He charged the second guard, and jumped what looked like 15 feet into the air, landing on the guard’s chest, and crushing his ribs with the force of the blow. He used the excess force to catapult himself into the other guard, whipping his foot around and delivering a powerful kick to the guard’s stomach, forcing his body into the iron gate. With a creak, the iron gate opened, and Anaros entered the City.

 

The Emperor’s palace wasn’t hard to find, it stood towering above all of the other buildings in Felicise, its spires covered in sheets of gold, and its gates glittering in the harsh midday sunlight. With one powerful kick, Anaros smashed down the front gate, and fell to the ground with a massive crash. He strode into the castle swiftly, and the guards swarmed around him, encircling him and brandishing weapons. Anaros reached into his pouch, and pulled out a Blessing that none of the guards recognised. This was the source of Anaros’s uniqueness, his ability to create brand new types of Blessings. He crushed the Blessing, and sprinkled it around him in a circle, creating a ring around him. Just as he finished sprinkling the powder, the ground began to glow, and something began to come out of the ground.

“Whoever said I was a one man army?” Anaros said, his question clearly rhetorical.

The ground around him began to shake, and several men appeared in a circle around Anaros. They all held pouches similar to his, and began to attack the guards. In the blink of an eye, all of the guards were dead, and Anaros’s men assembled behind him, marching into the throne room.

 

Anaros burst into the throne room, quickly followed by the other Touched. Anaros was instantly in awe of the beautiful intricacies of the throne room. Its architectural schemes radiated beauty in countless different ways. The walls had been ingrained with deep sheets of gold, glittering diamonds poking out from them, and catching the eye of any who passed. Deep cuts were placed in each of the gold sheets, each of which depicted the Emperor’s glorious battles and triumphs.

“Who dares enter the throne room of Ikthor, Emperor of Narian?” The Emperor boomed, his voice echoing through the halls of the throne room.

“I am Anaros Atarix, descendant of Falthor Atarix.” Anaros replied, his voice steady.

“What is your purpose in disrupting me, foolish boy!” The Emperor yelled, his voice filled with rage.

“I am here to kill you.” Anaros said simply, charging toward the Emperor.

Anaros flew toward the Emperor, his feet carrying him with incredible speed, the likes of which very few people had ever witnessed. He reached into his pouch, and pulled out another new Blessing, this one in the shape of an amorphous blob. It was deep red, and contrasted with the other Blessing that he had, all of which were blindingly white. He jumped through the air, and landed on the Emperor’s throne platform.

“Let this battle begin.” The Emperor said, pulling out a pouch of his own.

Emperor Ikthor crushed three Blessings in his hand, and charged at Anaros with blinding speed. Before Anaros could dodge, Ikthor slammed his fist into his leg, and a sickening snap rang through the halls. Anaros screamed in pain and fell to the ground in a heap. Ikthor then slammed his fist into Anaros’s face, shattering his nose. Anaros slumped to the ground, his vision becoming blurry.

“Over that soon?” Ikthor asked, laughing heartily. “I thought you would put up more of a fight!”

“The point wasn’t to fight you, Emperor, it was to distract you.” Anaros said weakly, a smile on his face.

Ikthor looked around, and saw an assembly of Touched surrounding him, all holding a single red Blessing. They threw the Blessing onto the ground, and held out their hands toward Ikthor. Anaros raised his Blessing as high as he could, and brought it crashing down onto Ikthor’s stomach.

“See you in hell, Ikthor.” Anaros rasped.

Ikthor bellowed in fury as he was whipped into the air, and pulled into a massive spinning vortex that opened in his stomach. Ikthor collapsed into himself, and was sucked into the portal. Anaros was lifted into the air, and began to be pulled into the portal. He looked out on his brethren, and uttered his last words.

“Every hero must make sacrifices to do what he knows is right. Now go forth, and show the world what it means to be free.”

With this, Anaros was pulled into the portal, his bag of Blessings falling to the floor.

 

Wow, this took a while to write! Hope you guys enjoyed this short story, and let me know if you have any ideas for a short story you would like to see in the future. Until next time!

~Zane

The Blessings of Anaros Part 3

Whew, I’m really posting a lot today! As promised, here is Part 3 of “The Blessings of Anaros!” Hope you enjoy.

 

The Blessings of Anaros Part 3

 

Anaros stood over Falthor’s dead corpse, reveling in his success. He couldn’t help but be pleased with himself for what he had done. He had slain his greatest enemy! So why did he feel so strange? He felt so…distant, so unwhole. The people of the village were staring at him, their faces full of terror. Why couldn’t they understand what he did was right? By slaying Falthor, he had freed the people of this village, freeing them from the fear that had permeated their entire lives. Ever since Falthor left, all Anaros could think about was killing him, bringing him to justice. Yet the people of the village regarded him with…fear. Whispers followed him all the way home, the people of the village speaking out against him. Monster. Heretic. Murderer. They had seen him kill men before, but why did this one death, the death of their enemy, bother them so much?

Anaros arrived home, but the house was empty, none of his friends came to congratulate him. He simply couldn’t grasp why they hated him so much, and why him killing Falthor bothered them so much. All he had ever done was help them, all he had ever done was save them again and again. Yet now, all of the times he had killed someone, they hated him. Anaros stormed into his bedroom, and gathered his things. It was time to move on, it was time to leave this place behind, and continue his journey. He packed everything away, put on his overcoat, and tied his pouch to his belt. He descended the stairs, grabbing some necessary food items, and opened the front door. He was not expecting what happened next, nor was he expecting any of the villagers to even come near him. Standing before him was the entire village, armed with weapons, with looks of fear in their eyes.

“Anaros, in the name of the New Empire, you are under arrest for the murder of Falthor Atarix. Resist, and we will kill you.” Said the first man, standing at the head of the group.

Since when had they pledged their allegiance to the New Empire? Everything that was happening was so confusing…so wrong. He tried to step forward, but the soldier stopped him, shoving him to the ground. Anaros was never one for controlling himself, and was prone to violent emotional outbursts.

“Soldier, you know not what you have done. You have angered me, and for that, I plan to kill you. Yet I am a fair man, and I plan to give you a chance to fight me. If you accept, I will leave these villagers alone, but if you refuse, I will slaughter them all, right before your eyes. Then I will strike you down where you stand. Do you accept?” Anaros said, his voice wrought with anger.

“Yes Anaros, I do. I will end your life here and now, for challenging a soldier of the New Empire is a crime that is unforgivab-” The soldier began, only to be cut off by Anaros’s sword plunging through his throat, spraying blood in all directions.

“I grow tired of your rambling, soldier,” Anaros said, his voice steady.

“Heed my voice, soldiers of the New Empire, I grow displeased with your actions. No number of soldiers can strike me down, and no army can withstand my barrage. Anyone who objects may step forward now, or forever hold your peace.” Anaros said, annoyance rising in his voice.

One of the soldiers stepped forward to confront Anaros, but was met with hostility, as Anaros threw a small bronze dagger at him. Before the man had time to react, the dagger was upon him, burying itself hilt deep in his left eye. He fell to the floor writhing in pain, his screams formed from pure, unadulterated agony. Blood spilled down his face, his screams subsiding as he felt into the cold embrace of death.

“Anyone else?” Anaros said gleefully, a smile on his face. No one responded.

“Good, I will now take my leave,” Anaros said, entering the house and closing the door behind him.

 

That’s all folks, peace!

 

~Zane

Review of “The Hero of Ages” by Brandon Sanderson

This is a spoiler free review for “The Hero of Ages,” assuming you have read “The Well of Ascension.”

 

Brandon Sanderson has done it again, successfully creating the best book that I have ever read. I truly thought that no book could best Mistborn, but “The Hero of Ages” really took the cake. “The Hero of Ages” is the third book in Era 1 of the Mistborn Trilogy, and takes place about a year after the events of book two. Join me as we go over the tour de force that is “The Hero of Ages”.

 

Teaser: The prophecies were true, and showed Vin to be the Hero of Ages. She took the power at the Well, and released it, unwittingly releasing Ruin from his prison. The ash has begun to fall thicker, and the mists have begun killing people. What else could go wrong?

 

The Good: Sanderson continues to follow his pattern of putting together books that knock off the socks of any reader. In the conclusion to the Mistborn trilogy, Sanderson finally answers questions rooted in early chapters, and blows away everything you know with an amazing ending. As expected, this book literally left me crying with joy, and sadness. Be careful of Sanderson though, he likes to toy with your feelings.

 

The Bad: I honestly have no idea what to put here, he simply has such an affinity for writing that I couldn’t find any issues whatsoever.

 

I really don’t know how to handle what just happened, or how I feel about it. All I do know is that I’m going to go read the first book of Era 2, “The Alloy of Law.” I’ve heard Era 2 is “10/10 like Mistborn with guns.” See you guys later, I need to keep reading.
~Zane

The Blessings of Anaros Part 2

Hey everybody, time for part 2! Make sure you check out Part 1 so this makes more sense. Once I get a bit more into writing the story, I’ll post a link to the view the story in its entirety. Enjoy!

 

The Blessings of Anaros Part 2

 

Anaros sat on his bed, sculpting a Blessing of Strength. The blessing took the form of an arm, and was expertly sculpted with the precision of a master. He was holding the Blessing of Speech he had just crafted to his lips, and the Blessing was glowing. While he charged the Blessing, he would have no ability to speak, but when fully charged, his voice would return. Anaros thought back to his first experiences with Blessings, a wisp of a smile flashing across his face. Tired from the long day, he lay down once more, drifting off to sleep.

 

Anaros walked out onto the patio, a bottle of his finest ale in his hand, and his pouch in the other. Anaros had barely sat down in his chair, when he felt a massive weight pushing down on his chest. He struggled to move, but without a Blessing of Strength, he was unable to move. He watched as a figure emerged on the horizon, floating on the air as he approached Anaros. Realizing who was approaching him, Anaros growled with a primal, guttural anger. His head burned with fury, and he forced himself to stand, his body screaming in pain as the weight crushed him downward, forcing him into the ground. With considerable effort, Anaros reached into his pouch, and pulled out three Blessings. He crushed 2 of them, but, strangely enough, he swallowed the third, a small pill-like Blessing. The Blessing of Emotion fueled the fury within him, flooding his body with adrenaline, further fueling the power of the Blessing of Strength. The final Blessing, the Blessing of Awareness, enhanced his ability to think clearly, pushing his mind so far that he had given himself the powers of telekinesis. Using his enhanced abilities, Anaros materialized a small shiv, concealing it underneath his cloak.

“Please Anaros, allow me to help,” said the man, revealing two shimmering swords from under his cloak. “Take this sword, and we can have a fair battle.”

“I told you to never show your face here again, Falthor. You have made a grave mistake coming here, and I will not forgive you for what you have done to these people.” Anaros growled, fury apparent in his voice. Anaros picked up the sword, and charged Falthor, screaming with a primal fury unmatched by anything Falthor had ever seen. He whipped the blade around, bringing a crushing blow down on Falthor’s head. Falthor brought up his blade, parrying the blow with some effort, then jabbed at Anaros’s exposed chest, hoping to catch him off guard. Without even thinking, Anaros feinted to the side, slashing at Falthor, catching his sleeve, and cutting a gash in the man’s arm. Falthor screamed in pain, but continued his barrage. He swung with a mighty fury, keeping Anaros on the defensive. Just as Falthor swung his blade in a perfect arc that should have taken of Anaros’s legs, Anaros jumped, producing his small shiv, and plunging it into Falthor’s back.

“I told you to never show your face here again, Falthor, once you set foot in this village, you had sealed your fate. See you in hell.” Anaros said, a sick smile spreading across his face. He lifted his blade, and plunged it through Falthor’s chest. Falthor spit up blood, and his breathing slowed, then stopped. After so many battles, Falthor was finally dead.

 

I’ll try to post Part 3 later today, but tomorrow at the latest! Stay tuned!

~Zane

The Blessings of Anaros Part 1

As I said the other day, I absolutely love creative writing, so I decided that I’m going to put out a daily piece of creative writing, each one continuing on the last. If you enjoy this, let me know, and I’ll keep doing it! I hope you enjoy Part 1 of “The Blessing of Anaros”

The Blessing Of Anaros Part 1

The man was once a youthful, pride filled, boy, full of vigor and passion. He stood with a straight spine, and commanded an air of importance wherever he went. Very few people had his potential, but no one knew how far he would take things. The New Empire always found people like him, but no one knew why they took them, nor did anyone care to find out. They were too busy trying to provide for their families, trying to stay alive in a ruthless era of boundless starvation. Anaros was somewhat of an…exception.

The man was a beacon of hope for the people of the New Empire. They looked up to him, but no one knew his name. In any other situation, this may have been strange, but not in the grand city of Felicise. In Felicise, it was every man for himself. A few of the people of Felicise knew him, but none of them would speak to him, out of fear of death. The punishment for speaking to someone who had been Touched was horrible, burning at the stake. The New Empire seemed to have a fear of the Touched that went so far that it almost seemed like a reverence. Anaros was one of the Touched, and he displayed it proudly, flaunting it without even knowing he was doing so.

“Anaros,” the voice whispered. “Anaros, wake up! They’re here for us! You have to help us!”

Anaros slowly sat up, and mumbled something unintelligible. He seemed groggy for a moment, only to be wide awake a moment later. The source of the voice was an elderly man, his eyes welling up with tears. Anaros stood up, and grabbed a pouch off the nightstand, hurrying downstairs to see what all of the commotion was about. Men on horses were approaching the house, weapons gleaming in the moonlight. Anaros stepped casually outside, and fished around for something in his pouch. He pulled out a small object in the shape of an eye, and crushed it in his hand, the powder twinkling in the light of the enemies torches. He then reached back in, and pulled out a small object resembling a mouth, and crushed that as well. Anaros opened his mouth to whisper, his voice amplified by the crushed Blessings.

“Stop!” Anaros commanded, his voice so loud that it knocked men from their saddles. “You will come no further, lest you incur the wrath of a God!”

Most of the men ceased their advance, but a few brave souls rode onward, unphased by his incredibly powerful voice. With a shout, Anaros sent a supersonic pressure cloud toward the cavalrymen, disintegrating them completely with the sheer force of his voice.

“Dare anyone else come forward? Leave this village be, and I will not follow you, but if you lay a hand on any of these villagers, I will find you, I will make you wish you were never born. Mark my words now, I am a patient man, and I will be in no rush to end your life in a timely manner.”

With that, the men backed away, no one daring to face Anaros. The people of the village cheered, and Anaros returned to his bedroom, starting in on shaping another blessing. He still had a few more Blessings of Speech, but one could never have too many.

Check in tomorrow for the next piece of the story! See you guys later!

~Zane

Autistic Point of View – Poetry

Who doesn’t love a bit of impromptu poetry? I sure do, so here are some of the first ones that I’ve written. A bit depressing, but excellent nonetheless.

 

Beauty

 

Beauty is like a flower, withering by the day

Look not to the body, for it will just fade away

If you truly seek a beauty beyond compare

One which leaves you helpless but to stare

Look unto the soul of a broken individual

With little hope left residual

For it is those who are broken that hold the key

To a soulful beauty one cannot see

For if you seek a person of unfathomable kindness

Find one who has been broken by society’s blindness

For those who have felt the truest of pains

One whom the real world continually drains

Will go to any length to prevent any others

From feeling the pain inflicted by their so called “brothers”

 

Anxiety

 

Anxiety is worrying about 99 problems, 98 of which don’t exist

It is a somber cloud that loves to truly, unceasingly persist.

The fear of the unknown and what comes next is nearly unbearable

The persisting power making it oh so terrible

At night the fear continues to creep

Now I must quiet my mind, and try to drift off to sleep.

 

Fear

 

Late at night, fear comes to me uninvited

Why oh why must I be so spited

To have to bear a weight so great

Its hunger one which I cannot sate

Fear condemns me endlessly

Infecting and destroying me

How could a feel so primal be stirred

By a short and simple four letter word

 

Until we meet again.

~Zane

Autistic Point Of View – Logical Fallacies

Two posts in one day? Oh heck yeah! One of the most interesting things known to man is the idea of philosophy, and that of logical analysis. As someone who is autistic, it comes naturally to me to think logically, therefore, philosophy is extremely fun! One of my favorite philosophical concepts is that of logical fallacies. There are a ton of logical fallacies, and each one has a unique form. Without further adieu, here are my favorites!

 

The Monte Carlo Fallacy: The “Monte Carlo Fallacy” is a fallacy that is often used in gambling. The idea of the Monte Carlo Fallacy is described in the following story. Joe the gambler has been playing roulette all day, and has had no luck. After 9 spins, Joe realizes that the past 8 have landed on red, so he must be due for a black! Joe, being the incredible logician he is, put everything down on black, only for it to land on red. Too bad Joe didn’t realize that the chances were the same the whole time! Even though the past 8 spins had been on red, that doesn’t change the probability of the next one.

 

Post Hoc Ergo Propter Hoc Fallacy: The “post hoc ergo propter hoc fallacy”, literally means “after, therefore because.” This fallacy is the idea that because something happened after a certain event, it must have been caused by that event. An example is the idea of vaccines causing Autism. Many people assume that since there have been more cases of autism diagnosed after the popularization of vaccinations, some people draw the conclusion that vaccines cause autism. In some cases, this reasoning is not a fallacy, such as the fact that tsunamis often happen after earthquakes. Yet it is usually illogical, like saying that my grandmother died after David Bowie died, so that means her death was caused by David Bowie’s death. Overall, it’s a very common fallacy, but it’s pretty stupid to use it.

 

No True Scotsman Fallacy: The “No True Scotsman” fallacy is one where the user shifts the goalposts every time their opponent tries to rationalize something so it doesn’t apply to a “true” example. Example: Angus said that no scotsman puts sugar in his coffee. Angrily, Roghnall exclaims that he is a scotsman and puts sugar in his coffee. Enraged by his comment, Angus exclaims that no “true” scotsman would put sugar in his coffee. This is my alltime favorite fallacy.

 

Overall, fallacies are gross, and you shouldn’t use them. Avoid them at all costs. See y’all next time!

~Zane