Random Character - Writers Forum

Dephere · 12-27-2005, 03:38 PM

I originally wrote this for the FPL(link in sig.), but I liked it so I wanted to post it here. I used the weapons from a character in one of my other stories, but I thought they fit this character.

I never knew life could be so unforgiving, trampling those who fall behind, but the bliss that accompanied naivety did not take long to abscond from my life. I was born to a woman by the name of Caryatia, a true citizen of Lowtown, born into the dregs of society who would influence my life more than I could fathom. Fitting for a bastard child who seemed estranged from the rest of society.

Early in my childhood I came to accept that my mother was a whore, paying more attention to her next man rather than the only child in her life, but never would she accept it. At the age of 6 I knew nothing of gentility and so I simply asked her about all the men who frequented my house, but I was met with a disturbing woman. Her mien was a furious mixture of embarrassment and rage. My cheek still stings from that slap, pangs of hatred course through my body every moment I think of what she did to me. It was that slap that laid the ground work for what was to come.

I was beat nearly every night, most the time for arbitrary reasons that my mother procured, but on the rare occasion that she harbored a genuine excuse I made it worth my while. One time I was bold enough to insult the men that cam to see her, which did little to ingratiate me with the woman I called mom. She finally had enough of her strange child calling her a whore, claiming her body was a venue for earthly delights, not that I was fooled by her bullshit.

I was 12, searching for home after my mother had turned me out in favor of her clients. It was arduous at first living amongst the transients who survived through the trash of other men, who knew that one man’s trash could be another’s dinner? However hard it was I made it, mostly by staying out of the way, invisible if you will, but my methods didn’t always work. I became the runt, the weakest link, the easy target, a position that no one envied. Any scrap of food that I managed to extricate from the trash was immediately stolen from me, until I monopolized on my own faculties.

Stealth. Something I knew and knew well. Death. Something I knew and knew well. It was then that the remnants of my life began to fall into place, a way of retribution finally coalescing into existence. This time when one of the transients stole my food they would pay, pay a price in blood that no willing man would put forth. At first the deaths went unnoticed, a misplaced man who died in his sleep or one transient killing another. Over time, however, the others began to make the connection, understanding that to steal from me had its consequences.

I knew then that I had wrestled life into my hold, in control for the first time, but things only got better. I enjoyed killing those who stole from me, sometimes hoping that an unknowing victim would take something, simply so I could take their life. Death was something I relished, life was something I abhorred.

It was shortly after these times that the whispers arose, attesting to the prodigy that I was. Killing in the night, yet leaving not a trace of who had done it, but evidence did not matter when everyone knew who had brought death to these men. The whispers named me the Angel of Death, a title I became accustomed to. Here is where my life became my hobby.

I was approached by a man, a man who came from outside of Lowtown, he gave me a name, “Peryns”, he said. At first the name reverberated through my mind, meaningless as the wind, but eventually the idea fell into place. This man, who’s name I did not ask, offered me money to simply do what I did best...kill. I killed Peryns that night, found him in his house on the outskirts of Lowtown, sleeping with his wife. Unfortunately she woke up, so I did away with her too.

He was only the first. They seemed to stream in after him, one by one making their morbid requests for a fair payment.

My lifestyle twisted my soul, solidifying the work my mother had started. I became an cold, indifferent creature, far beyond the normal human. My isolation resulted in thoughts I had earlier suppressed, no longer feeling guilt at oddly violent ideas. In the long run I began to appreciate them for what they were, knowing they only facilitated my hobby. Clients continued to request my services.

One such client graced me with a set of blades, raven blades, that seemed as dark as me. It was these blades that allowed me to delve into my career, implementing the three feet of steel in a display of skill. The hilts were as dark as night, hilts seeming to absorb even the brightest of lights. The ravens never failed me, keeping their vigil with blood red eyes, protecting me as my mother never had. I loved my blades more than I had ever loved my mother and as such a granted them the death her, surmising that they must be the only ones in existence who gave me life. I slit her throat, as callously as I would have stepped on an ant, but I let the man who slept with her live. Why? Believe me the question arose in my mind too, but I thought he had degraded her as I never could have. He was the epitome of what had ruled my mother’s life for so long.

When I kill I do not forget any of the sordid details, often reflecting on them as most men would their sexual encounters. Strangely enough these death scenes became engraved into my memory, sometimes playing out before me as if I was actually there again. Somehow this force began to present itself during assassinations, allowing me to alter things. Even other people began to notice what was not there, which in essence presented me with the opportunity to alter perceptions. A strong advantage for one in my line of work, one that only made my assassinations that much easier.

But talent amounted to nothing when I remained a pariah. Not even the transients with which I had lived seemed able to relate with me. I guess I was truly nothing but a tainted soul, but I wouldn’t give up. I never asked to be alone, so why must I suffer such a twisted fate. I displaced the loneliness in a deep recess of my mind, knowing I had no room for such vulnerabilities. As I continued to kill I came across a cruel woman, a woman who came for my services more than once. She always came in a robe, blue hood pulled up over her face, giving a name and payment before walking away. Finally I was fed up, I demanded she show her face if she wanted to continue to make use of me. As the robe fell away a strange visage graced my eyes. Her hair was a deep black, but her eyes burned. On fire they seemed, but the fire remained deeply set within the orbs that were her eyes. The skin around her eyes was taut, pulled over from lack of food, but strangely I found it beautiful. She exuded a strange sense of foreboding that I enjoyed.

After the initial meeting she began to reveal to me her life, a life of necromancy. The dark magic began to also become part of my life. I started to converse with demons, spirits, corpses, and all manner of ineffable forces, but these beings were the only things I could relate to. They transcended evil, reaching into realms that most humans could not imagine. I only craved the encounters more often. Eventually I attempted to amp up my efforts, summoning powers that went beyond my abilities. I mastered the art of necromancy hoping to eventually tap upon a force I could respect.

Treillar Raelin entered my life as a means to quench my potential. He sensed my sickly twisted soul and rose to confirm his hopes. He appeared to me in all his glory, ebony wings spread across the room, offset by blood red scales that alluded to death. Horns draped his face in a devastating fashion and his claws remained sharp at his side. This was what I had hoped for, a soul as dark as my own.

Dresdor · 12-27-2005, 10:24 PM

"but the bliss that accompanied naivety did not take long to abscond from my life." I'm sorry...what? Nix abscond and consider replacing naivety with ignorance. I put a book down when I have to look up a word in the first sentence.

"but" is used way to much. Break apart some of those compound sentences.

All and all, reading it I feel like you're writing above the "common" reader's language. Makes me, as a reader, think that the author is snooty and egotistical. You need to find the right words to use, and they are usually not the longest or most obscure. Your word choice really ruins the mood of the narrator's childhood. A whore does not "procure" reasons to beat her child.

I really can't read any more than the first three paragraph, the wording is just so out of place. This is not the narration of some beggar and whore-son, but rather something I would expect if the narrator was the best-educated son of a very rich, powerful, and vain king.

Dephere · 12-27-2005, 11:23 PM

I apoligize if you cannot understand some of the words and I know the word choice was not perfect, but that's how I write. I have tried to dilute my pieces before and it really degraded my work beyond the point of salvation.

I guess I know what I really need to work on...

But one question: why doesn't a whore procure reasons? Procure just means to salvage, or find, or muster, a whore, as well as anybody else can do this.

Dresdor · 12-27-2005, 11:28 PM

More that the words were inapropriate than anything else. If you can only write this way, write the narrative of some learned sage or king, not a whore-son.

Dephere · 12-28-2005, 12:48 AM

Advice taken, and believe me I listen to all advice that I receive, but sometimes I feel like writing about something new. I am not going to limit myself to one type of character, even if doing so means words are not properly fitted.

Dresdor · 12-28-2005, 01:31 AM

I may have been a bit harsh in the initial review, and I apologize for it. I'm not trying to suggest that you should only write one character archeotype, but try to expand your writing style so that it fits your characters and readers better.

Reading through a few times...

Your main character has a believable story, which is a major bonus. It's possible, if not probable that he would start down a dark path with that child-hood.

I do like the way his lack of caring for others shows with casual references to death and killing. It can be expanded a little more, perhaps, but is a good start.

Expand the comparison of the main character to his blades a little more.

I'm hoping that the tone will change after this initial bit if you write anything after this...this seems more like a prologue to a first person or third person onmiscent novel. Actually, reading this character from the first person in a present tense would be a scary and interesting read.

Dephere · 12-28-2005, 01:42 AM

Thank you for doing a re-read and intitially this was only a brief character sketch for another site, so as a result things are missing. Once the writing reaches the blades it is very, very brief.

I actually was going to have a whole back story for the blades and his interest in necromancy, but I needed to conserve space. I will definately expand upon these parts.

As to the P.O.V., I have never written a first person story and think it might prove to be interesting.

I actually started another character, who is seemingly "good", and is written in a much more characterized way. In other words I excluded a lot of my descriptiveness in favor of a proper tone.

Don't know if anybody woul want to read it.

Raging_Hopeful · 12-28-2005, 01:13 PM

I LIKE your words!! I enjoy extensive vocabulary when it is played out properly and tastefully. There are some truly charming lines in this description, enriched with your choice of words... however, be careful about using that extensive vocabulary in every sentence. I don't think there is anything wrong with having to look up a word every now and then (it serves to enrich the reader's vocabulary as well!) but in excess it seems insincere. I would also be VERY thorough in ensuring that every word is actually the word you want. There is nothing more irritating than reading a big word and finding that it has been used incorrectly.

Personally I think the vocabulary makes the character multi-dimensional, but maybe mentioning some sort of education would explain his level of articulation and grace, making him more believable.

I think this is a good character background and would be excellent should you choose to use this in a longer story. Breaking up parts of it into dialogue would be an excellent way of recounting his past. There is potential here.

One more thing... I have spent a long time role-playing and I have read many fantasy books with necromancers and dark sorcerors. Be wary of the cliche, which is a pitfall for many excellent writers who simply retell a story told a million times before. This is easy to do with dark characters such as vampires, sorcerors, etc. Take inventory of your character's personality traits, attire and behaviors and try to mix it up a little. There isn't enough here for me to really pass judgement against him, so far it seems to be playing out well. Just some friendly advice. Good luck and keep writing!!

Dephere · 12-28-2005, 01:23 PM

Thank you sooo much!

I am glad that you clarified the fact that these words are indeed the ones I want. These aren't simply words I looked up in the thesauras, but just words I use. I knew they weren't used incorrectly because I use them every day.

I am going to flesh him out much more, hopefully deviating from the generic dark sorcerer type. Again thank you for the encouragement.

Anarkos · 12-28-2005, 10:15 PM

Dephere, first-person writing is often considered to be far more difficult than third for the simple reason that Dresdor outlined: You have to take on the voice of your character. You can't be impersonal. You can't write in your own personal style. A computer-literate Californian with a wealthy background and great education can't be expected to have the same writing style as a whore's bastard. Would this protagonist even really be literate?

Aside from the issue of the narrative voice, this piece falls down because it is really quite gratuitous. It's an infodump. The character is just telling us about his life in a dry, slow, general fashion. There's no way for us to be emotionally involved. What conflict exists plays out at a distance, leaving us with no real points of interest.

You've told us how a man became an assassin associated with a necromancer. Fine, but...where's the plot? It's just a character study, and the character is neither original nor charismatic enough to make such a dry study interesting for the reader. Had you interspersed it either with detailed flashbacks or with contemporary action, then it would be far more exciting. For example, if the killer was menacing someone (Why am I going to kill you? Because you're everything I never had a chance to be...), then we could be hooked...trying to understand why this killer was ritualistically murdering someone.

Dephere · 12-28-2005, 10:29 PM

Yes, I understand that it is an infodump, that's how it was meant to be. I said at the top that I made him for another site, not as a full blown story. I may make it a story, in which case I would make it a more reader realted endeavor.

lol. You said I had a wealthy background, that is inferring a lot, especially because I live on the brink of poverty, but I understand what you are trying to say.

Thank you for your opinion.