this is a little part as a leftover from 3rd book to 4th, this character is both male and female, so its hard to not say his or her. i could joke a little and say shim or bos = both of sexes. but ill keep writing to avoid hims and hers references.

After hiding in a stream, Camsta climbs as snow falls,
Covering all places of the body, from the mud bank walls,
Using sticks and branches of nearby trees,
Making it as insulation so it doesn’t cause the skin to freeze,
Leaving no place left able to see, except for the eyes,
As now looking like a new type of creature in a forest disguise,
Climbing up and entering the snow of thickening cold,
Camsta ventures forth, wanting to find someone warm to hold.

A rush of cold air flows through the caves, shivering Malans skin,
As he calls out through the darkness, chained and held to rock with a metal pin,
“Is anyone there?” Malan asks, using his muscle to try break free,
“Quiet.” A voice says from the darkness, barely able to see,
“Let me go.” He requests, as the other voice just remains silent,
“I am stuck here too.” Eventually saying, to calm him from being violent,
“Can we get out of here?” Malan keeps pulling, creating a rattling sound,
“Shhh!” the other says, moving into some the light, crawling on the ground,
Showing herself as a woman, pale and naked, rusted chains holding her tight,
“How long have you been here?” Malan asks, with horror at the sight,
“I don’t know.” She moves back, curling into her corner of the cave,
As Malan looks up at the dim sunlight, hoping his friends will come to save.

this little substory follows from 3rd book, where Leoz (leonz from Sl) is a fairy/demon, and if he gets angry he sets on fire and goes on a rampage, not knowing the difference between good and bad, (its like being drunk) he flew away and this is where he wakes up after his rampage. meeting preshess (precious from Sl) and another character Hawkwind. this introduces another race called the biraptors, a type of bird/human/dragon species that evolved.

His eyes open, to forest trees above, and high pitched whistles surround,
Leoz sits up, looking at his hands, being annoyed by the constant sound,
His body cooled from his rampage, unable to remember much,
He climbs to his feet, with his skin aching and sensitive to touch,
“Welcome.” A chirpy voice says as he is startled and jumps,
Looking around him and not seeing anything, but trees and stumps,
“Where are you?” Leoz asks, growing in anger at the one who spoke,
“Right here.” A creature reveals, its feathers against the trees acting as a cloak,
“We don’t get visitors here.” She approaches in little quick hops,
“What are you?” Leoz says, holding his head, as she whistles after she stops,
“We call ourselves, the biraptors.” She tilts her head, ruffling her feathers,
“I feel cold.” Leoz says, “It is the time of the Numbits.” She mentions the weathers,
“I am Preshess, come this way.” Preshess spreads her wings and flies,
Leoz looks over the edge of the place he stands, still up in the skies,
Resting on a branch of a tree, with nests everywhere, and dirt mounds on leaves,
Other Biraptors fly around, as Leoz wipes his eyes, not understanding what he believes,
Spreading his own wings and following Preshess down, they come to another nest,
“This place is beautiful.” Leoz comments, never knowing about this after coming from the west,
Another biraptor approaches, heavier and longer claws from his yellow feet,
“You have trespassed burning one.” He moves closer, not giving a little tweet,
“I didn’t mean to.” Leoz steps back, as Preshess stands next to the biraptor male,
“We keep this place a secret. Thus it shall always be.” He turns, spreading his long tail,
“Who was that guy?” Leoz asks, “That was Hawkwind.” Preshess answers with a deep breath,
“I will keep here a secret, don’t worry.” Leoz promises, not wanting to cause harm or death,
“How can we trust you?” Preshess asks, as Leoz looks down, not knowing this himself,
As the large group of Biraptors fly around, guarding their purity and wealth.

Some days i write heaps, and overflow into a poem or 20, spilling into a little short story, but lately all my efforts are going into the books themselves. combined frustrations with certain pain in the ass customers in my daily job.
i just want these books to get somewhere and push me and my imagination into the movie industry. get some fresh ideas instead of watching remakes.
from the little parts i give my friends to read, some have said they can see what happens, yet i haven't described the whole place, i actually have been criticized by other writers about how im not so descriptive, but then as people read it, they see everything anyway. i dont care if the wall is brown or purple, the steps have stone or pebbles. the guy has a beard or mo, blond or brunette, its opening other peoples imaginations as they read it in rhyming, and keeping people in the action. i read other books and get stuck at the descriptions and lose what the story is about, if you read something and the story is moving along, then your at another location in the book, then its described to you, at the end of that you don't remember what the story was about. some readers actually skip the descriptive parts because they are boring.
from talking to some other writers though, i have noticed one thing, we are all fairly calm people with creative ideas we just can't get completely out because something is in the way.

Mud Fight.
The crowd gathers around the arena, made of hard clay sculpted stone,
As the fighter walks inside the circle, an outsider to challenge their fighter alone,
With some supporters around the edges, he lifts his arms up high,
They chant his name, “Timmoran!” repeatedly saying as he runs by,
Preparing himself and entertaining the crowd,
The gates open, as mists creep across the floor, building to a cloud,
Timmoran looks ahead, a sweat bead tracks down his head,
As a shadowy shape appears, filling his mind with dread,
Walking slowly from the gates, turning sideways to fit,
Rayzer the champion fighter steps to were the arena is lit,
Looking only at his opponent, as he gulps down almost his tongue,
The stares from both changing the same, as the bell is rung,
A jab is pushed first as Rayzer just stands still,
Timmoran swings harder, showing more of his fighting skill,
Again Rayzer is hit, this time harder than before,
“C’mon pissface.” Timmoran gives him more,
Adding strength to his hits, each time he goes in hard,
As Rayzer takes them all, not even putting up his guard,
Hit in the face, a stream of blood runs down his lips,
As Timmoran jumps, kicking Rayzer hard in the side of the hips,
Causing him to stand unstable, while Timmoran sees his goal,
Rayzer moves out of the way, as Timmoran swings turning to a roll,
Standing on his feet just as Rayzer throws his first punch,
Hitting hard in the guts, causing Timmoran to throw up his lunch,
Another hit down to the side of his dripping spew face,
Crawling away fast, as Rayzer begins to give chase,
Timmoran breathes in deep, and spits in the face of Rayzer quick,
Standing for a moment, he wipes away the sick,
As Timmoran jumps around starting to crowd entertain,
With Rayzer turning and looking, thinking he wants to now cause pain,
Timmoran sees him coming, and slides kicking both knees,
With Rayzer in pain, he controls it to a level with ease,
Standing up straight, Timmoran turns starting to grin,
As the supporters chant his name, wanting him to go for the win,
Moving in and dancing around to confuse his opponents mind,
Timmoran dives in, but doesn’t see Rayzer moved around quickly behind,
Reaching with his hand and grabbing his neck tight,
Rayzer punches hard, repeatedly bringing an end to their fight,
Again he hits as Timmoran’s supporters all stop their cheer,
As Rayzer continues to pound harder, their hopes disappear,
Punching Timmoran to death, blood soaks the ground,
As the last punches heard, made a loud cracking sound.

Awaiting fate.
Jaquille looks outside while she covers the window with a sheet,
A temporary blind, keeping scents and smells inside of the rotting meat,
Kiraz looks at the dead body of Gynkrol, stabbed right through,
“You there, can you help me?” Taydraz points for something to do,
“What shall we do with the dead dragon?” Carina asks as she doesn’t know,
“we cannot burn him, or cut it up.” Taydraz listens as the winds blow,
“A Bawble.” Kiraz touches on the dragons skin, knowing he was a magical beast,
“come with me.” Kiraz smiles as she knows he still has magic even when recently deceased,
Laven follows her, down the steps to Moulax’s chamber at the bottom of the stairs,
Helping her move some things out of the way, being wooden planks and chairs,
“there is a doorway and tunnel here?” Laven points as Kiraz turns around,
They both look into the darkness, hearing wind and a whistling sound,
“A Secret passage.” She smiles, “Good to know.” Then continues to stack,
They reach the door, then grab the handle, beginning to pull it back,
“It’s stuck.” Laven shakes the door, with Kiraz then pushing him aside,
“Yah!” she kicks the door, breaking the lock and opening wide,
Inside with minimal light, the dust raises from the settled floor,
“I was trapped inside one of these bawbles.” Laven tells about himself more,
“then you must have magic.” Kiraz frowns at him while she searches a shelf,
“But I am not a wizard or sorcerer.” Laven gets confused about himself,
“Can you two hurry, this thing stinks.” Jaquille shouts from the top,
“sure.” Kiraz keeps searching, bumping a glass as it is about to drop,
Laven quickly stops it, as he sees in the reflection of a bawble near,
“Found one.” He turns, as Kiraz looks at it seeing a symbol clear,
“this has someone inside it.” She shows the edge of the sealed metal ball,
Laven looks around, finding some empty Bawbles in an urn near the wall.

part of 4th novel
yes some of you might recognize the names. these people hurt some people i know, so they die in the novels, painfully.

Dark caves of trade.
The dealers approach the caves, invited by the guards half human and Bayt,
“Welcome.” Meljar bows, offering the people inside the entrance after a short wait,
Maston enters first, gripping his sword handle tight being prepared for anything,
As Daythorn walks through, being pushed along by a Bayt behind with a wing,
Entering a part of the cave with crystals producing some light,
The leader of the Bayts stands, rolling back his fangs after a victim bite,
Giving the woman he drank blood from to his servant next to him,
Maston shakes a little seeing her pale, even in the light being dim,
“you have come to offer a trade?” Eshindle walks closer showing his size,
“yes.” Maston answers, “In return the location of the exiles?” Eshindle asks being wise,
“Yes, and prisoners for your food.” Maston offers, as Eshindle smiles with blooded lips,
“your favourite is not eating.” Meljar interrupts, trying to feed her with bugs as her blood drips,
“I see your running low on food.” Maston observes as they force beetles down her throat,
“You are correct.” Eshindle nods, as Daythorn lifts covers his exposed skin with his coat,
“We will meet Elisora in one day, I will bring my best hunters.” Eshindle shakes Maston’s hand,
“I’m sure she will be happy.” Maston smiles back as Eshindle is happy for their territory to expand,
Leaving the caves, Daythorn covers his mouth to stop from spewing up his guts,
As they hear the screams of captured people, and smell rotting blood from their cuts,
Squinting in the brightness of the day, seeing storm clouds of rain over the hills,
“after this deal, the West is ours.” Maston smiles, as Daythorn looks at the pile of kills,
“at a sickening price.” Daythorn comments, not handling the rotting bodies of people in a pile,
“come my friend, we must hurry back.” Maston begins to run, as getting back will take a while.

Emmanuel packs up his books into a bag to carry in their travels,
Calling them all in, Nin gets ready to tell how his plan to battle against the demons unravels,
"Leyra and Schmere, you go to the villagers, tell people to move to the beach,
Of course not everyone will listen to you, so I have prepared a speech,
Zaylit and Emmanuel you'll go and gather the Samotonians to lead as a Wayrania defence,
Remember they have dark spells on their side, so they will have a strong offence,
Fragon will be at the forest edge to defend it, after the villagers have moved here,
the defence of this spring which will help the injured men will be up to Schmere."
Nin's plan sounds good to everyone in their thoughts and quiet voices,
"Sounds good Nin." Zaylit says when he doesnt see alot of other choices.

Emmanuel looks over to Nin as he keeps making eyes at Leyra walking along,
“What troubles you Manny?” Zaylit asks, knowing something is wrong,
“One shows love of the eyes.” Emmanuel admits keeping a distance far,
Zaylit looks ahead, “but Leyra is the……oh?” he realizes who they are,
Schmere moves closer from behind, “I think its wonderful.” She smiles between,
“He cannot touch her being too hot.” Zaylit says, observing what he has seen,
“That is what I thought too.” Emmanuel takes a breath deep as an orange glow is ahead,
“It might be more demons.” Nin turns as Leyra runs forwards instead,
“Wait Leyra!” Nin turns back as Emmanuel teleports himself closer, stopping as he looks,
“It’s not demons, it’s the tower, our home.” Leyra says, as Emmanuel runs to save the books,
“All of them, burnt, gone?” Nin says looking at the flames melting them away,
He runs inside the tower on fire, as Emmanuel cannot find anything to say,
Nin walks out the door, shaking his head as the bricks fall,
“So many records lost.” Emmanuel kneels down as Schmere puts out the flames,
Leyra touches his shoulder, as Nin remembers seeing the books with all the names,
All lost, the history of years researching, turned to smoke and blackened ash,
Emmanuel keeping strong hides a single tear drying from heat on his eyelash,
From a day of good battles and working together as a good team,
They all sit in sadness and hope to wake up from a bad dream.

Passing drops of blood, from his own previous human self along the road,
Nexen the demon steps forwards, as his pace suddenly slowed,
The air humid with fog of the morning entering his heat driven breath,
Stepping past the bodies, with the now stenches of death,
Walking to through the gates, of Wayranias towers built tall,
The sword glows in the distance, hanging on the armory wall,
Reaching for it with his burning blood veined hands,
Taking it in his grip, he feels the weight where he stands,
Touching the sides with embedded crystals in the blade,
They draw away his heat, so his powers start to fade,
“Perfect.” He smiles, ready to fight and win,
As now the time is right to kill the dreamon Nin.