Narrative | Writing Prompts

Here at the Space Dinosaur Miniatures, I'm trying to grow a little bit, as an artist. Yes, I consider myself an artist, as I paint little figures to be prettier than they were. Art can be done in so many different ways, and I find that I can be pretty limiting in what I post and do. But this is my blog, and I make the rules. So let's get a little weird, a little... experimental. Try new things and see what sticks.

I've had half a mind to write a book...

Credit: The Space Dinosaur

Oooh how unique and clever, a fantasy nerd wanting to write a fantasy book. Hey, a guy can dream. I don't want to dream anymore though. I'm not saying that this post will turn into anything major, or that I will, in fact, end up writing a book. However, I won't get anywhere if I don't try things, so here goes. I'm creating writing prompts that I will then write about and set in the world that has been percolating in my brain. I'm not trying to commit to anything, or promise any regular occurrences. 

Here goes, no particular rules or word limits:

Prompt #1: Write about a character's arrival to a new location. 

In the Desolation, the air was quiet and clean. Hands gripping the cool, rough stone, he leaned out between a parapet. From the sweeping view perched atop the castle mount, he could make out the hovels and huts that made up the villages surrounding the walls. Odd places filled with odd peoples. 

Little industry made its way here. No, the peasantry had other work, as he could see. Past the villages, farmland stretched, fields of wheat and barley. But not of any variety he could recognize. A result of the strange magics lingering in the soil. Perhaps, he wondered, it would explain the strangeness of the people so far East at the end of world. He looked further, beyond even the end of the world. And there it was. A river. A slow, meandering river. A river that, on first glance, appeared as any other would. 

He knew better. Any child within the Empire knew better. Across those banks, the cursed lands of Old Ravenmarch stretched out to the high plains, beyond his sight. 

He let out a sigh. A tortured mix of emotions threatened to surface. Outwardly, his face remained passive. A curt nod to his sergeant on the left, and the inspection was complete. Albrecht, Child of the Rook and once heir to his family's ancestral home, now found himself master of the Desolation. 

-The Space Dinosaur