I found this on my computer entitled “batteattempt01.docx.” I apparently never made it to the battle scene, but I was surprised how much I still want to continue this story.
Each step sucked the boots off Riley’s feet. Yarin was throwing everything he had at the countryside where her army settled. She knew she should have accepted the drink from that demi-god. It seemed every time she had an important battle, the thunder roared his rage at her laughing at his terrible pick-up lines. As the muddy hillside hindered any attempt to climb its side, Riley shook her head and cursed Yarin. The rain god was the most vengeful and, to be frank, immature of the god collection. Riley wished they would keep to themselves in the Core rather than interfering with the affairs of elves and men. She watched the downpour with a sour expression; this rain blinded her from the battlefield. Even her best messenger would be delayed to a crippling extent during the day’s battle if this rain did not clear. She turned her face up to the sky and let the rain wash the grime from the road off her face. She smiled as the rain poured, she refused to let his pouty, teenage tactics ruin her war. She would end the influence of the gods in human affairs, she would stop this fear, oppression, and domination from the young gods.
The old gods – the gods who created the world, animals, people, even the young gods – were quiet, like a retired couple satisfied their working life produced adequate results. They sat back and happily watched their worlds evolve on their own. Gods that allow people to have meaning in their lives without actually interfering. By allowing events to happen in the random order that is life and not twisting them for their own benefit, the gods were actually more lovingly worshipped. Riley believed this was because individuals would add meaning in retrospect to events that were, in fact, random. Rather than having a demi-god scream and stomp for respect for his intervention in their lives and demand a ransom of their best sheep for slaughter as payment for his good deed. When left to their own devices, the lowly peasants would not accept their role in the best or worst events in their life. They assign it to a being much stronger, a being that has their best interests in mind (obviously, the best intentions because even the lowliest, most pathetic life-form believes strong in his sole importance in the universe). Riley believed these gods could bring peace in a land always chasing a way to appease the demi-gods so that they would have the best harvest, good weather, or great fortunes gambling their family fortunes.
Zoran stood listening to the tears of Yarin tinging off his breastplate. He begged Yarin to withhold his anger and protect his men from fever and the death sickness usually brought upon by miserable, cold rains. He left his wife with child as the season changed. There was not a night when he didn’t think of them in the wild north without protection. While Yarin raged in anger against the countryside, Zoran knew the snow of Darzlibz would be terrorising his family. He sent up a silent prayer to Darzlibz for warmth, shelter, and mercy for his family. Quietly, he told his wife and child he would be home soon to keep them safe and warm. He said this desperately as if willing them to hear him despite the hundreds of miles between them.