Steelgod September: Day Twenty-One (3,461 words)

I have had a long day, and the chapter I wrote today freaking sucks. I had ideas for how it would work, but when I finally got around to writing it...it came up severely lacking. It happens, and I know it happens (this is what editing is for), but it still sucks.

Needless to say this has not been an awesome week for writing, in regards to quality. Quantity I have and in spades, but it really hasn't been that fantastic.

Still, I finished the chapter, and that means there are eight chapters left. I'm completely debating this scene even existing in its current state, but again that will have to wait for the edits.

Aside from that, I'm surviving school. I have my first real test Thursday evening. I'm in the volunteering groove full time. All in all, I'm extremely busy and quite stressed. Despite my love for writing, I'm going to be glad when September is over and I can take a break from Steelgods.

Speaking of which, I thought of many good ideas for the series whilst walking around campus and various other locations (I had lots of small burst of free time today, which I spent wandering around). Ideas about how to advance Cevan, what kind of person I want him to become, things like that. I think they'll work decent.

If I get over hating what I'm writing right now. Ah well, whatever. Tomorrow will be better, I hope. We are finally getting to the end of this thing. Climax of the novel: go!

Here's the bit. Try to not throw up.

I drew my sword, moving into the only stance I remembered Devent teaching me. I froze, however, upon seeing the weapons of the Gears.

The axes were pneumatically powered, the folded pieces unfolding into long weapons. They were at least a good seven feet long, thick, and made of brown steel. Set in two points along the shaft were collections of small holes, and it was over these that the Teeth pressed their hands. As they clenched, their gauntlets gave a small crunch, locking into place. 

What? I stared, both Creationist and sword-hands forward. There was a sudden blast of steam, the moisture hissing from between where the gauntlets and handle met. A sudden grinding sound, metal on metal, resonated from the axes. Within the three-pronged axe-head spun a circular blade. Gapes between axe-heads allowed the twirling, serrated weapon extensive leeway.  It spun faster and faster, steam escaping from its cracks as it accelerated.

I didn’t need a very active imagination to deduce what would happen should a rotating blade like that touch me. I’d never seen such technology before, in all my years in Tempered. It was far more advanced than anything west of the Biting Mountains, the range separating Tempered from Steel-Imbued.