Post by This Baron of Mora on Apr 17, 2012 22:11:30 GMT -5
My goal?
To finish(ha!), get as much done as possible on my sub-creation before I catch the disease everyone seems to get called death. I going all the way, languages, geography (quite intricate), culture, great spans of history (were talking the beginning of time to some time before real history really begins) ages uppon ages, legends (hopefully an epic or two), etc. I haven't even been "worldbuilding" for more than a year and it so strange to think back to the original and see how much I've changed it. Taking on even one of these areas is incredible and doing so truly makes one realize the magnitude of God's creations and their complexity all the more.
Changes come only from ideas that pop into my mind almost every day, and my constant retelling of the legends/history to myself in which there are always changes. Doubtless Tolkien did the same, working on everything for most of his life and still never finishing (and no I really don't ever have to get published Tolkien never planned to anyway). He even struggled with distractions/procrastination just like me.
So that's my goal, but no one better try to keep track!
And so as the great black hosts of Unvule surged forward towards the ranks of the Adran, with the poisoned Eastern Sun at their backs, Alvendarin strode from the head of the host of Morhea across to Dargan, High King of the Delven. And upon reaching him he stuck out his arm and cried out "Yenstifar ma holandar" (Brother my Hope [of Old]). And Dargen looking upon him thrust out his arm and yelled out, "Naven nevik harek!" (together we march!). And all the hosts of the Delven rose up in cheers and then from the midst of their ranks, and spreading out to all mouths present they began the ancient oath and so great was song that the host of Unvule quaked in fear for though only Unvule knew what such words meant, none are more powerful than them and the even the remaining Adran were taking aback by its majesty. -Taken from the legend Of the Third Battle
To finish(ha!), get as much done as possible on my sub-creation before I catch the disease everyone seems to get called death. I going all the way, languages, geography (quite intricate), culture, great spans of history (were talking the beginning of time to some time before real history really begins) ages uppon ages, legends (hopefully an epic or two), etc. I haven't even been "worldbuilding" for more than a year and it so strange to think back to the original and see how much I've changed it. Taking on even one of these areas is incredible and doing so truly makes one realize the magnitude of God's creations and their complexity all the more.
Changes come only from ideas that pop into my mind almost every day, and my constant retelling of the legends/history to myself in which there are always changes. Doubtless Tolkien did the same, working on everything for most of his life and still never finishing (and no I really don't ever have to get published Tolkien never planned to anyway). He even struggled with distractions/procrastination just like me.
So that's my goal, but no one better try to keep track!
And so as the great black hosts of Unvule surged forward towards the ranks of the Adran, with the poisoned Eastern Sun at their backs, Alvendarin strode from the head of the host of Morhea across to Dargan, High King of the Delven. And upon reaching him he stuck out his arm and cried out "Yenstifar ma holandar" (Brother my Hope [of Old]). And Dargen looking upon him thrust out his arm and yelled out, "Naven nevik harek!" (together we march!). And all the hosts of the Delven rose up in cheers and then from the midst of their ranks, and spreading out to all mouths present they began the ancient oath and so great was song that the host of Unvule quaked in fear for though only Unvule knew what such words meant, none are more powerful than them and the even the remaining Adran were taking aback by its majesty. -Taken from the legend Of the Third Battle