My Novel

I'm writing a novel. If it had a name it would be 'The Angel of Death' or something like that, and it has all manner of undead things prowling between the pages.

She has had many names- Martyr, mother, murderer. Often the only thing she is addressed by is a scream, abruptly cut off by the deft slice of a blade.
Angelene is a broken woman, striving to make something livable out of her unnaturally extended life, kept moving and in a state that is similar to living by the glass heart around her neck. 'Udwolmir,' they would have called her in her native tongue, if she ever spoke it- Deadwoman.
For an eternity Angelene has trekked the world over and over- a murderer- her hands covered in the blood of countless victims. Each one of them brought down before their prime, each one silenced before the world came crashing down. She labors through her penance- her own personal hell, as she dubs it- for a mistake she made: trusting another living being.
"Never Again."

Angelene is this wonderful little angsty creation of mine. How I adore her cynicism! Anyway the story itself,despite what the excerpt above may suggest, is not just one long whine from an unfortunate woman; I attempted to put lots and lots of fantasy violence in there too, because they say you should only write things that you would want to read and the entirety of my early childhood revolved around J.R.R. Tolkien.

Angelene, the Deadwoman, is one of the few surviving members of a decimated race that has nearly gone extinct after a war with the now-reigning humans of the land. They would have called her the Martyr had anyone known about her, but of course no one knew- doomed to haunt the shadows forever she would have thought, doing a thankless job.

A spirit was let loose years ago when everything started; slinking through the countryside and possessing those it deems fit enough to carry out it's malevolent will. Destruction. Terror. Hatred and Fear. For this demon to take root in the minds of an unsuspecting victim would mean a inviting these things upon the world. Angelene knows this, and has known it for centuries. She has been tracking down and killing those possessed by the force from the Darkness to keep the world she once was a part of from being torn asunder. Perhaps it is the lingering imprints of the past world that will Angelene from letting this one go to waste, as a heartbroken lover would still cherish the torn-up pieces of an old photograph, or perhaps it is guilt that has trapped her in this rut. It was the guilt of her own involvment in the freeing of the spirit that has walled her in until she could do nothing but her job, and has done it for longer than she can even remember. For all intents and purposes, Angelene is a shadow, slowly fading until there is nothing left of her to speak of. All she is is pain and death and memories kept alive by an unnatural curse and a trinket around her neck.

But now, after all this time during which the real Angelene has faded into this shade of herself, the Udwolmir is ripped back in to a past she watched burned. People she'd thought were dead and buried have clawed their way out of the abyss of the past. Little did she know the events that had started everything so long ago are still unfolding, and she is still an integral part of a massive conspiracy of which she herself had barely uncovered.
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Now I think I've burned a fair amount of words up in rambling about my novel, but I hope you get the idea...