Diversion: How to write in a Historical Setting

I was sitting up one evening, wrestling with the idea of why some people can write fabulous historical fiction and other authors, though story sound, cannot due any period justice. It led to the gradually culmination of several points. 
 
        * Style.  This is very important when writing period. Look at Tolkein’s work: In Two Towers, during the Ride from Edoras to Helm’s Deep, Gandalf says to Legolas (this is a long quote!)”You have the keen eyes of your fair kindred, Legolas, and they can tell a sparrow from a finch a league off. Tell me, can you see anything away yonder towards Isengard?” Remember, you are not in your time but someone else’s and the language, though the same, maybe different as far as word usage. Good places to pick up style is in Jane Austen novels.  Even if not the style, at least take the vocabulary. There were words used then, we hardly use now! 
 
      * Certain peculiarities of style in the 19th century is actually the brevity of language  Simple changes in style actually seem more grammatical.  Example:  In the 20th century, we say “What do you say?” whilst in 19th century its “What say you?” Look we’ve lost a word! This goes on to “What have you?” “How goes life? Instead of “How’s life going?” Avoid the word “that” as well. You’ll find leaving it out makes your writing and speech, classier! In fact, you will no doubt notice, I never use it but for the mere mention no to. 
 
     * Rethink how you say things.  Just because we say it this way doesn't mean its best.  Do not believe that modern usage is superior because language "evolves".  It "devolves" just as well and out version of English could be inferior. Nevertheless, what may seem good, could possibly reak of modernity and juvenile manners. Like, you know!?  
 
    * Person.  Make sure at all times that mode is preserved.  It does no good to slip from First to Third to second and back to third.  If you're writing in first, stick to first! Also, avoid what I have done! (Ah, I could've said "What I just did."? I chose to sound more formal!)  
 
    * Conjunctions. They were vulgar and not considered words, the way ain’t is still a red headed stepchild. This is not to say the lower classes didn't but it is best to avoid them as much as possible. 
 
     * Speaking of words, many were not used until such a time.  Sideburns, for example, wasn’t coined until 1887 despite men having them for decades. Also, certain words are used here and not there.  In England, the hood of a car is the bonnet! A flashlight is a torch! 
 
      * Learn different articles of dress, equipment, occupations and places.  Do you know what a dublet is? Why are bayonets important and what is their purpose? What were musketeers truly? Where was the Underground Railroad? For this you must do research! Check facts when placing things in story. Martial history (the history of how to kill someone, really!) is very important.  Make sure the Springfield rifle was around before putting it in the story. 
 
      * Forget what was in a movie.  Film is notoriously inaccurate and this is not a new development so don’t try to fall back on John Wayne films! If you are trying to recreate the feeling from a movie, read up on the historical basis behind the film and use it over the film. 
 
      * Make note of religions and cultures and where they had settled, how they behaved, bias against them and within them. Catholics, Quakers, Mormons, Jews and Muslims faced stiff prejudice in Europe, Early America and later into modern times.  The Irish really had it tough for a long time as did many other ethnic groups in ethnocentric America.   
 
     * Read a lot of history! When writing within its borders, It is not something to bend or break because you always wanted to Prussia to survive as a nation.  These confines have to respected so a story can be believable and taken seriously.  
 
More points may follow later as my meager brain remembers them.

Emons

I started writing a sci-fi story a few years ago and I would write small stories occasionally when I had Writer's Block.  It also helped me develop characters, locations and races.  I even created a new race called emons. This is a rough summary of the race and their culture.
 
Emons:
 
This is the garden variety Emon or the Tree Emon.
Physical stature:
 
Grow to be about 5 feet to as tall as 6 and a half feet but rarely that tall.  They have a very fine bone structure and they have pearly skin that gets more so as they age.  They are strong and very lithe.  Rarely do they lose their balance unless young and inexperienced.
 
No Sexual Dimorphism
 
Physical Traits:
 
Strength about the same for both.  Very strong but not evidently so.  Slim and elegant lines of the figure.  Long slim fingers.  Incredibly light; walk on tree branches and snow with experience (elves don’t need to learn this, they just do it).  Need about a 20th the oxygen of the average human or elf.  Body goes into a comatose state if injured until wound or injured part is healed thus is able to regenerate lost body part.  No other race can do this.
 
Physical Appearance:
 
No eye or hair color is unheard of.  There are pink haired Emons and Green haired ones.  There are lavender eyes as well magenta ones.  All eyes are sparkly.  There are few facial characteristics that differ from male to female.
 
Mental:
 
Not considered the wisest of the races, but the most cunning, artistic and flamboyant.  They come close to humans in their varying talents, interests and hobbies.  They are the quickest learners and problem solvers because of a high acuity with mathematics.  Their Goddess Pedromo gave the first realm the numbers and the key was laid with the Emons.
 
Psychological:
 
Emons are a hardy race and have many different facets.  In personality it is even more so but it must be noted that all Emons are bold and unafraid of humiliation.  To them, there is no such thing.  They walk through life doing what they please and if you don’t like it, you don’t have to stick around.  They rarely suffer from Depression or other mental illnesses although God Complex does show up from time to time.
 
Magical:
 
Emons have never had a great affinity with magic.  They have only had few great sages but since most of them study mathematics and natural science, there is little room for the supernatural.  Despite this, most Emons are accepting of Magic and its affects on their lives.  They know it exists and they know it can be wielded but they are not inclined to do so. 
 
The only magic Emons are capable of is the one used when fighting.  Emons have a talent for fighting that enables them to have limited ability to create magical spells when in combat.  This is due only to centuries of studying the art form and from a heightened spiritual awareness.
 
Combat Abilities:
 
Speaking of combat, Emons have in fact elevated fighting to an art form like no other.  There are several and depending on color, location and family, an Emon may study a particular one.  Emons are their most talented when fighting without weapons but they still commonly carry swords, staffs and bows.  They are very adept at weapon making and are believed to rival the Gods in beauty and craftsmanship.
 
Spirituality:
 
Emons spiritual life is attached to their growth as a warrior.  They believe that warriors must not only struggle with the enemy outside themselves but also inside.  They have a large pantheon of deities to help guide them are their quest to gain inner peace and control of their bodies.  The others they have are associated with the home or learning.  They also believe in creation deities.  They also believe in karma and the cycle of rebirth.
 
There is a common belief that they were made second to the elves.  Elves believe this as well but for a different reason.  Both believe Emons were created because of a quarrel.  The God Frihwa, God of the Air, wanted to created a perfect race and Perdal, God of Color, wanted to as well.  They labored together to create their visions but could never agree.  They decided to take their argument to the God of Judgement, Hablad, father of Frihwa.  He proclaimed that the elves should be the race made.  But Perdal, who believed Hablad favored his son, made them anyway.  He gave them the gift of radiant color as a sign of his mark and sparkling eyes to gain favor with the Goddess Anavon who ruled the First realm.
 
Anavon decried that both races should be immortal.  When Frihwa found out about Perdal’s actions, he took on the form of an elf and went about slaying Emons.  Anavon in her anger at Frihwa’s lack of compassion and his selfishness, cast him from glory and imprisoned him in the form he had taken: A Dark Elf.  A twisted and dark version of the race he created, He and his descendants were burdened with carrying the heat of Anavon’s anger for eternity.  Also, Anavon placed a mark on the Dark Elves. Though they may be dark, their skin, hair and eyes come in a myriad of colors that would not at all be appealing to others.  This was a reminder of the treachery of Frihwa.  Anavon also bade Perdal to make the Emons mortal for she held the belief that no living being truly was perfect if it never knew death.  Perdal, though saddened by this, did her bidding but gave them extremely long lives and the ability to die when they felt their lives were full rather than die of old age.
 
Other Skills Emons are known for:
 
Handy with weapon smithing, archery, hunting and tracking, acrobatics, swimming, exceptional singing and musical abilities stemming from incredible memory resources, math, science, reasoning and cognitive thought, sewing fantastic clothes.
 
Family Life:
 
 Strong bonds with all members of family.  Emons had at one point in time been very patriarchal but have since become Equalist.  Both men and women head houses, families and clans.  Traditionally, Emons take on their father’s name as their last name.  Some clans use a hyphenated version of both father and mother’s names.  Mother’s name comes first.
 
Virginity is not prized and children are encouraged to lose it early.  Marriage is not essential but is considered wise.  Vows and oaths are held sacred and if adultery is commited and the offending parties caught and tried, the punishment is immediate death.
 
In the past, female Emons were never trained in Melee combat.  They were taught to use a bow and little hand to hand but it was expected they would never use this.  In modern times, both female and male do equal amounts of learning and fighting.  Females still tend to carry bows more often than males.  Females also tend to be rangers more often since, though they are equal, are less expected to be leaders, thus they have more freedom to go exploring.  In fact, Emon girls are expected to take 10 years to run off on their own and live off of the wild.
 
Laws:
 
Homosexuality is strictly forbidden.  Any evidence of activity is punishable by immediate death and quartering.
 
Abandonment of children is punishable by death.
 
Neglect of Children is punishable by either death or banishment/exile.
 
Stealing is punishable by time
 
Murder is punishable by death of spirit.
 
Breaking Emon Code of Honor is punishable by various means.  Case by case basis considering which part was broken.
 
Emon Code of Honor:
 
The Krespuro
 
I.                     Vengeance for slain family members
II.                   Never take another’s combatant unless the other is wounded
III.                 Never leave a dead comrade’s body behind.
IV.                 The secrets of a slain comrade will go with you to your grave.
V.                   The will of Anavon is the will of the wild.
VI.                 Do what thou wilt and harm only those who will or mean to harm you.
VII.               Those that suffer always suffer needlessly.
 
(I still need to write more of this!)

Two Emons in a Forest

Stop that!” cried the Emon.
 
“What?” said the other one.
 
They stood in a blue glade in the forest of S’shidaor.  The first one was taller than most Emons and had bright unnatural green eyes that glowed.  She was fiercely angry with the second as he kept striking his blade against the trees.  The blade sunk into the trees in turn and each time, a little of the indigo sap came out at them.  By this time she had gotten to the drenched point and was far from a happy Emon.
 
“Quit hitting the trees!!!  Do you want to just leave a trail so the Arenivs can find us?” she said.
 
“Sorry, Lisha”, he said sheathing his sappy sword.
 
Lisha stared back at him.  The smaller Emon was intimidated by her and he shrank away from her.  Dreshk was not at all happy to be on this task with her.  He would rather be back at his home playing with the other young Emons. 
 
She moved ahead and looked to either side of a tree.  There were tracks to follow.  Deep, furloughed tracks of heavy feet on short legs.  She crouched down and sniffed at the moss on the tree.  Dreshk sat on a stump.  He really didn’t want to go after the Arenivs, better known as Black Dwarves.  He did not like the taste of them like other Emons seem to.  They thought Dwarf meat was quite a delicacy only because they had been forbidden to eat them for a long time.  Now there was a certain kind, the Black race, that they could hunt and devour.
 
Lisha stood up and looked back witheringly at Dreshk.  “If you didn’t want to come, you should have said something.” She said folding her arms in front of her.
 
“But I did, Lisha” he whined getting up off the stump.
 
She turned and began walking in the direction of the tracks.  Dreshk's bright blue eyes widened in wonderment.  He had never been this far into the woods.  He had never been thought of as old enough.  At least one thing will come out of this little day trip, he thought.  They proceeded into an even deeper portion of the forest and the blue was beginning to look violet on certain trees.  He looked up through the silver and blue leaves.  The light was beginning to grow long.  He did not want to still be up when the red sun came up and cast creepy, long shadows over the land.  He was still afraid of that strange darkness.
 
Lisha froze ahead of him causing him to do likewise.  She turned her head to the left and sniffed the air.  Her keen hunting sense had lost the trail.  Though she found this to be impossible, it was not too strange to other hunters.  Dwarves were a tricky race native to the stones and rocks and therefore could cover their scent much more easily than other creatures, even Emons.
 
Dreshk sighed and started to look for a few fallen squirrels to chew on.  Suddenly there came a sound in the underbrush.  Lisha turned quickly to look back at him.  Her eyes went black with surprise and Dreshk nearly fell to the ground with the sudden fear.
 
She drew her sword quickly and looked up at the branches.  Dreshk grabbed the hilt of his sword.  He had not wanted to come but now he would have the chance to sink his weapon into the living flesh of dwarf.  It would not give.  It was as if it was spot-welded to his sheath.
 
A dwarf flung himself down right on Lisha.  She collapsed on the ground and grappled with him.  Dreshk looked over and tried with all his might to get his sword out.  What was wrong with it?  He fell to the ground with a little thud as he lost his balance.  There were two dwarves on him trying to hit him.  Despite his lack of fighting experience, he was still able to evade getting seriously hard hits from female dwarves.
 
They set female dwarves on me? he thought.  I’m insulted!  He flew up into the tree as soon as he could escape their grasp.  He crouched in the tree, his eyes now black except the slits of pupils.  They were white with anger.  He looked back down at the dwarves.  They jumped up to a lower branch to try to climb to get him.  He jumped to the next tree and tried to break off a branch of it.  The dwarves pulled themselves up and were now ready to resume combat.
 
Dreshk broke off a good piece and held it in front of him like a sword.  Then in Emonish said “Come and get me, girls!”
 
“So like an Emon.  You think you are so brave and have no equal!!! You are a mere child!!!” replied the taller dwarf.  She jumped across the expanse.  Dreshk hit her in the head and she fell onto the branch below.  Her companion jumped across and stood behind the young Emon and hit him with the elbow.  He flinched and swung his makeshift weapon at her.  She dodged and grabbed the branch and wrenched it from him.
 
“I will not go down by a piece of wood!!!” she cried.
 
“Well, then eat my blade” he said reaching to pull his sword out.  But he had forgotten.  The blade would not give. He felt the top of the sheath.  The sap from the trees! How could he have been so dumb?  The dwarf was having a very good laugh at this.  The Emon narrowed his eyes at her and tried once more to pull the blade out.  It finally gave and with one movement, managed to slice right into the dwarf.
 
She stopped laughing and looked at the sword in her stomach.  Dreshk stared in surprise.  Wow, I’m good, he thought.  She then looked back at him.
 
“Oh Shit”, she said.  “This sucks.”
 
She fell from the tree.  Dead.  Ew, he thought.  He jumped down from the tree to the ground below and pulled his sword from her carcass.  The other dwarf, unconscious, was still in the tree.  He got back up and stabbed her through the heart.  Then he pulled her down to lay on top of the other body.  Dreshk then sniffed the air until he smelled Lisha. 
 
He ran to where it was stronger in a small clearing they were dueling it out, hand to hand.  Lisha’s sword rested near the trees but Dreshk, feeling cocky, ran up behind the dwarf and, before the two fighters knew anything, impaled the dwarf in the back.  He slumped to the ground spitting up dwarven blood and sputtering for air.  Dreshk pulled his blade out in a way so it caused even more damage to his body.
 
She stared at the dwarf as life seeped from him.  “You moron!!!” she yelled at Dreshk.  “I would have killed him”
 
She stalked over to the sword and picked it up.  “Don’t ever kill another’s combatant, you hear me?”
 
“But what it he’d killed you?” he said worried.
 
“Then you could have avenged my death!” she spat.
 
“Oh.  I hate this whole Emon code of fighting!!!  Its all so stupid yet its supposed to be nobler somehow.  Why can’t we just farm?” he said.
 
She looked at him suspiciously but just told him to bring the carcass.  They took him to the other two and tied them all together.  Then they began the long walk home to the village.  Dreshk dragged them behind and Lisha took point.
 
“Farming…” she said disgusted.  “What a terrible excuse for an existence”
 
He shrugged.  “I think it sounds nice.  All those plants.  Lots of beans and rice.  Maybe chickens!” he said grinning.
 
“Stop that!!!” she said.

Dreams...

The stuff that dreams are made of... when I find them, I'll let you know.
 
I have lots of stories and I'm going to write them down here.  I do not like fanfiction.net for reasons cited in other blogs.  Suffice it to say, this is much more preferable.