#the riders

[serien-grl-22]

Dragons Riders of Berk:

What Hiccup? We are supposed to go behind your father's back? The chief? You are crazy!

Dragons Race to the Edge:

You, fuck every rule, let's make some just to break them! You're so right Hiccy, nobody needs a chief! Where's the good stuff.

[bcacstuff]

Brad Pitt spotted in Amsterdam filming The Riders this week

[dekaohtoura]

[s-c-kh]

Charles Prendergast (1863-1948) The Riders, ca. 1915 Incised gesso, tempera, and silver and gold leaf on panel  Williams College Museum of Art, Gift of Mrs. Charles Prendergast in Honor of Dr. Francis Oakley, President of Williams College, 86.18.11

Charles Prendergast (1863-1948) Frame, 19th-20th Century Gilding and wood Williams College Museum of Art, Gift of Mrs. Charles Prendergast in honor of Dr. Francis Oakley, President of Williams College, 86.18.12.FR

[magicandmundane]

Murtagh Spoilers!!

Galbatorix, out of his mind: GiVe Me A nEw DrAgOn

The Riders, concerned: Uhhhh, let’s try therapy first

Galbatorix: AsShOlEs!

Bachel: Kill them

Galbatorix: Excellent idea, I’ll do that

[lousycamper]

There Will Be (Were) Giants

Chapter 1. The Marksman?

He doesn't remember.

His yellow eyes narrow, while he aims his trusty rifle. He shoots something – what? – and gets to the next thing. Works alongside some...one – who? – who has enough raw power to snap him in two like a toothpick and leave a trail of frost and corpses in their wake. He remembers nothing else, except of a feeling of morbid fascination and sounds of gunshots echoing all around.

He doesn't remember, and, as far as he concerned, he can't. Each time he starts asking himself these questions, it leaves him with nothing but a head-splitting migraines. So he stops, untill the pain goes away. It gnaws and eats at him, that he can't recall anything at all beyond those snippets. He tries his best to ignore this feeling of irrational guilt. It's hard, because there's not much to keep his mind occupied.

He wanders around the seemingly broken world with nearly nothing on his person, except for a slightly torn wide-brimmed hat, a fairly tattered but still wearable poncho, a slightly singed set of clothes, and a very familiar, despite being partially splintered, weapon. It actually hurts to see this familiar rifle in his hands damaged so badly, that it renders it nearly completely useless. It actually causes something inside of him to twist and cause pain. It's just... He probably could shoot it fairly well, but he isn't really sure that he can fix it.

He survives off what he can get when he can get it. Berries, roots... Sometimes, when he's particularly lucky, it's meat of some twisted creature, caught in a makeshift trap. He sleeps when he can find shelter, usually below trees or in caverns. He drinks from streams, boiling water when he can. This is how he learns, that his survivalist skills aren't nonexistent, although they are nothing spectacular.

He bandages three of five his eyes as well as he can, with bandages made out of torn off parts of his clothes. The ugly wound that mars a better half of his face begins to scab, becoming a scar. Somehow, his strange luck makes it so he didn't lose his eyes. He's endlessly thankful for that, because his eyesight is mostly the thing that saves him these days. The realm he's inside of has no shortages of various beasts or disasters to throw his way. Even though with two eyes he can see fairly well too, it's the other three that help him really pick out details on further distances and see much better in the dark. His face wound still heals, forcing him to bandage himself, but he still can see through the gaps in between wraps, always staying vigilant.

If he spots danger, he runs away, because there is simply no way for him to take on any one of encountered monstrosities in a fight. He doesn't stay in one place for long either. Not that he has any particular destination in mind, but camps attract attention, and he wants none of that. He feels like there's enough of it concentrated at him already, from all the creatures here. All the eyes... He's got trouble sleeping, and that's an understatement. Maybe that's why he has these migraines and hallucinations...

Sometimes it's a pipsqueak of some sort, in clothes with tears from claws and teeth, staring at him with his only good eye. Sometimes it's a hulking giant figure, partially covered in beaten and worn metal armor. Another one looks like a kid with spidery legs made of spiky vines and treeroots, sprouting all kinds of leaves and mushrooms as something that looks like a hooded cloak. The fourth is actually fancy, with his clothes looking akin to a rich pirate captain, but this one slowly crumbles into dust before his eyes. And the last one, the only woman among them, even though tough and brutish, looks like she had something searing-hot explode her into pieces, and then was sewn back together. Whoever did that, wanted it to hurt as much as possible, because the stitches were ugly and very much poorly-done. She wore a hat, made of a head of a wild boar, and both she and the dead hog looked at him. Thinking of them made his head hurt again.

Even more disturbing was that he had the same stitches as that woman. Gruesome, visible and stretching along all of his body. He couldn't help, but see some sort of connection between them, despite her being his hallucination and making his migraines spike.

That's the reason for his reaction to actually seeing another someone, not something, alive... Is both disbelief and relief. The fact that he can see them with his limited vision is so relieving, that his knees nearly buckle. Nearly. He regains his composure, a bit suspicious yet, while making his way to the... Man? He shouts at them, using his trusty gun as a prop to hold himself upright – he feels worn after long hours of trekking through the torn-apart world. He waves his hand at the person and can't help but smile. It's gonna be alright. He found somebody!

He is met with a look of shock and bewilderment on other man's vaguely familiar angled redish face, partially hidden under the wide-brimmed hat. Two yellow eyes look at him with a mix of interest and disbelief. The instrument in his hands, something that looks like a guitar, but isn't a guitar, lays forgotten, as a man stands from his place at the encampment, his dark clothed sillhouette a stark contrast on the unkept background of the surrounding world.

— Marksman?.. Is that you?

He stops himself, now only a few paces from the man. His throat hurts, because shouting after who-knows-how-long of not speaking to anyone would do that to you, of course. So, he opts to instead tilt his head quizzically, while looking at the known-unknown musician.

Is he? Isn't he? Who is this Marksman?

(Look me up on ao3, there might be more stuff you'd like)

[utterrandomnesswithlulu]

Currently Reading: Eragon, Pt. 1

Fifteen-year-old Eragon was an ordinary boy, a mere farmer boy living in Carvahall. But this is where the greatest story begins.

Note from the author: This will have multiple parts, as I am doing this in segments as I read.

Spoilers for this point on!

Atra esterní ono thelduin. Mor’ranr lifa unin hjarta onr. Un atra du evarínya ono varda.

Translation: May good fortune rule over you. Peace live in your heart. And the stars watch over you.

Elven Greeting in the Ancient Language

CHRISTOPHER PAOLINI, WORDSMITH

The world of Eragon came in the form of teenage daydreams of Christopher Paolini. Paolini’s love of reading and magic led him to construct the stories of the wondrous yet frighteningly powerful Dragon Riders and the majestic world of Alagaësia. Writing Eragon actually started out as a hobby when he was fifteen, a challenge to himself and he actually didn’t have aspirations to see this work published.

After writing the first draft, he took another year to revise it before giving it to his parents. As a family, they took another year to proofread, edit, design a cover, create a manuscript, and prepare materials for promotions and advertisements. During this time, they decided to self-publicize Eragon and spent time promoting the book in libraries, schools, and bookstores.

Eventually, a publisher from Alfred A. Knopf Books For Young Readers had the book brought to their attention. It was later published by them, and it became a New York Best Seller soon after publication.

Christopher Paolini became recognized by Guinness World Records in 2011, for being the youngest author to have a bestselling series.

Not only did Paolini create the world of Alagaësia, but he also created new languages (elvish, ancient language, dwarfish, Urgal), the map, the original cover of Eragon, and the stories of the Dragon Riders. Including the book’s protagonist, Eragon.

ONCE UPON A TIME…

Eragon starts out with a prologue following a monstrous being called a Shade who is surrounded by other beings called Urgals.

A Shade is a magic user that was once a human, elf, Urgal, or dwarf that has been possessed by a spirit or spirits. They adopt traits of superior strength and proficiency in magic. Regardless of how they were created or what being they once were, Shades are incredibly pale with maroon eyes and red hair. The Shade we meet at the beginning of the story is called Durza, and remember him, he makes a comeback.

Urgals are humanoid beings that are tall with grayish skin and piggish eyes. They are considered expendable by Durza and are utilized as “shock soldiers.” Regarded as evil by most, they are not inherently so and can even use magic. Urgals are mostly uneducated and have their own language, called Urgralgra. The Urgals during the first book were only brought together thanks to a binding spell cast by Durza. Once the binding spell was broken, the Urgals turned on each other because it was not their way to band together, as seen during the early events of Eragon.

Durza and the Urgals are tracking three elves through the forest, two males and a female. While the male elves are easily killed, the female elf isn’t easily brought down by the Urgals or the Shade. Desperate, she pulls out a blue stone that she had been protecting in a pouch and casts a spell on it to send it far away. Furious at the events that unfolded before him, Durza captures the female elf, kills several Urgals, and burns the forest.

ERAGON, HUMBLE BEGINNINGS

We are introduced to Eragon, a farmer boy of approximately fifteen, who is hunting when an explosion tears through the quiet of the forest. The stone, which the elf had earlier, appears in a scorched circle. It’s blue and polished. Because of the explosion, all the animals that he had been trying to hunt have been scattered. Weighing his options, he picks up the stone with the intention of selling it for meat to last during the upcoming winter.

Eragon is hunting in The Spine, a mountain range that borders his home-village Carvahall, and runs down the west coast of Alagaësia. Eragon is one of the few people who willingly hunt within The Spine and it’s because of the danger it represents from stories long told. The King, Galbatorix, lost much of his army in The Spineto the Urgals. Since then, the forests and mountains of The Spine have been considered bad luck.

Eragon returns home and heads for the butchers to trade the stone for meats with Sloan. However, upon learning that the stone was found within the Spine, Sloan turns Eragon away. Refusing to sell to him, you learn that Sloan has never liked Eragon, but would typically sell to him. Horst, the blacksmith, gets in the middle of it and asks Sloan to sell to him; buying the much-needed food and protecting Eragon from Sloan’s wrath. Sloan’s wife died in The Spine, and he doesn’t allow his daughter to go near it. Eragon learns that Katrina (Sloan’s daughter) was the one who sought Horst out. Horst asks Eragon to give a message of love from Katrina to Roran, Eragon’s cousin. Promising to repay Horst for his kindness by working at his smithery, Eragon heads home.

Eragon lives on the outskirts of Carvahall with his uncle, Garrow, and cousin, Roran. Carvahall is a tiny village with about 300 citizens. Carvahall remains mostly untouched by the Broddring Empire because of its remote and nearly isolated location. The only traffic that is usually seen through the remote village is the trappers and traders that journey out to trade and sell their wares.

After the fight with Sloan, Eragon decides to wait for the traders to sell the stone to a jeweler. Note that the traders and trappers are late this season and when they do arrive, they seem warier and less prosperous than in previous years. Eragon and Garrow seek Merlock, a specific trader that specializes in trinkets and jewelry. However, after speaking privately with Merlock, the trader refuses to trade for the stone and informs them that the stone is actually hollow and possibly formed with magic. Merlock also tells them why they’re late this season. Ominous luck has shadowed the caravan. They couldn’t avoid a plethora of misfortunes, like sickness, and attacks, and attempted to avoid Urgals who have been attacking entire villages, including their fields, and forcing them to relocate. Troubled by this news, Eragon’s Uncle sets out to find more information, allowing Eragon to do what he wants.

EMPIRE VS. VARDEN

During Eragon’s free time, he finds himself in the tavern where several traders are telling far-fetched stories about the Empire. The Empire was formed and followed King Galbatorix after his rise to power nearly a century ago. Carvahall has no love for the Empire, and it’s almost a deep-seated hate for them.

The Varden, which is on the opposite side of the book’s political spectrum, are rebels fighting against the oppressive and harsh nature of the King and his Empire. Formed nearly at the same time as the King’s rise, little is known about them and what they’re after.

THE DRAGON RIDERS’ RISE AND FALL

Eragon leaves the chaos and malcontents in the tavern behind, eats dinner at Horst, and joins performers later that evening to spectate. Among the entertainers is a local storyteller, Brom. He is reciting the first stories of the Dragon Riders. This story is important for many reasons, and these reasons we’ll get into a bit later.

The Dragon Riders were formed to govern, guard and protect the lands of Alagaësia, and for a thousand years succeeded in this endeavor. Dragon Riders were considered immortal, and while they could protect against outside threats, they could not compete against their own. Galbatorix, at the age of ten, was tested as tradition and custom dictated, and it was found that he was powerful. Growing in power under years of tutelage, he surpassed many in skill and was soon welcomed into the ranks of the Riders. Others warned against this quick rise to power, but according to Brom, the Riders had grown arrogant in their years.

After being welcomed as a Rider, Galbatorix and several others of his fellow Riders, took a careless trip to test their newfound abilities. They found themselves in Urgal territory, and as they slept Galbatorix’s dragon, his friends, and their dragons were slayed. In his grief, Galbatorix sought death and threw himself into whatever battle strayed his way. Haunted and hunted by a deranged Rider, those that happen to wander into his path, ran from him. Soon after, Galbatorix had a singular and driving thought. The Riders might grant him another dragon. Driven by this, he spent months traversing through the Spine to get back. Finally reaching the Riders, a council was convened and Galbatorix demanded another dragon. True colors revealed. The Riders denied him a dragon, and in his fevered and twisted mind, Galbatorix blamed the Riders for his dragon’s death. Galbatorix was eventually able to exact an act of twisted revenge with another Rider named Morzan. Morzan was able to steal a hatchling, which grew into a black dragon named Shruikan. After teaching Morzan, Galbatorix revealed himself, with Morzan at his side, to the world. They fought any and all Riders that came to challenge them. With each win, Morzan and Galbatorix grew stronger, and soon 12 other Riders joined their ranks. Including Morzan, they became known as the Thirteen Forsworn. The Dragon Riders fell from grace, and Galbatorix became the ruler of Alagaësia.

According to Garrow, the story that Brom recites could actually cost him his life if the Empire ever caught wind of him telling it.

Now, this is only the first three chapters of the book. There is a lot going on and we haven’t even gotten to, in my opinion, some of the best bits. Stay tuned for part two!