Fate - Writers Forum

Serenade · 03-28-2006, 11:44 PM

Second attempt at writing fantasy. Responses/critiques greatly appreciated.

Chapter One

Pearl moonlight glimmered briefly in dark, copper eyes, as the silence of the night hung about him like a wet cloth. No sound was present, save the cold wind creeping from the North; the stars flashed quietly in the black sky, and the bloated moon simply loomed. With careful deliberation, the dark-haired youth crept through an expanse of wild undergrowth, stopping right before the ground rolled smoothly down into a grass-covered clearing.

There was fire there. Life. In the field ahead lay a camp of armed soldiers conversing about the fire, their shadows made twisted and monstrous by the flickering flames.The small blaze crackled vigorously, adding to the words spilling forth from the men around it. In the dark, he waited with bated breath, listening for a few moments.

Some rebels, was the young man's final thought as he shifted slowly on one knee, careful not to disturb the dry leaves underfoot. He picked an irritating twig from his hair.

“Some rebels, indeed,” a voice said softly beside him.

Those dark, brown eyes stayed on the scene for a few moments longer before shifting to the brown-skinned young man crouching next to him.

“What?” his companion asked with a small smile and shrug. He peered through the flora, blackened by night, as his ice-blue eyes danced with delight. The dark-haired youth already new what that meant, that eager smile.

“The rebels are growing in number,” he commented, grasping the hilt of his sword absently.

The other smirked at that, running a hand through snow-white hair as he spoke. “As you said, Atlus, some rebels. From the looks of it, they should be somewhere farming or tending livestock. Look at that one.” He pointed to a particularly fat rebel, who was stuffing pieces of hard, dirty bread into his mouth with haste.

The white-haired youth glanced at his companion, lips still curled into a smirk. “Hungry bastard, eh?”

"Sure, Virius." Sargon remained expressionless as he observed the rebels, counting them silently. “I’m guessing we engage?”

Virius licked his lips, glancing back down toward the camp. “Of course. There’s only about...ten there." He shook his head. "Too bad though. They wouldn't know a sickle from their sack, but maybe one of them has enough skill to prolong an escape...” He trailed off, shrugging.

"Of course," Atlus nodded. "What's the plan of attack?"

“Do you think we even need one?” the white-haired youth asked, picking at a scab on his elbow. The pink scar tissue starkly contrasted his own brown, Espritian skin.

“Probably not,” Atlus said. "It doesn't really matter."

Virius shook his head with a small smile, already used to his partner's perpetual indifference when it came to battle. “Well, I’ll go out first then. If I have any trouble…” The smile twitched, as if such a thing was impossible. “Come and finish up.”

Sargon nodded and Malik walked out of trees, his stride confident, purposeful, and just a little eager.

~~~
As he walked toward the campsite, hand gripped tightly on a sheathed sword, he let out a small sigh. This was the only thing he hated about being a soldier. Killing those weaker than himself. Not that he would lose any sleep over killing said weaklings. It's just not as challenging, he thought with frown.

“Hey! Who goes there?!”

The voice snapped Malik out of his thoughts and he realized that most of the rebels were now outside of the camp, and armed to the teeth. Almost walked right into them, he mused as he stopped walking. He sized them up, a little disappointed at what he saw. Most probably didn’t even have the muscle strength to even lift their swords, much less swing them effectively.

“Who goes there?!” the voice repeated, louder this time and more menacing.

Malik smiled, drawing his sword slowly. That sound, metal on metal, blade against sheathe, never failed to thrill him. It echoed through the night like a mad shriek.

“Death!” Malik called back to the rebels, his voice carrying on the wind. “Death walks this field tonight! Come face your nightmares!” His blade lay waiting, the tip hidden in the long grass and quivering its anticipation. The moonlight reflecting off the polished metal seemed to make it glow.

A few of the rebels ran forward, quite heedlessly Malik thought with a shake of his head as he crouched into position. The first that reached him raised his sword for a swing, and Malik suddenly grinned as his blade suddenly slashed from the grass to the man with frightening speed. How could he not crack a smile when the man had left himself so wide open? The man froze in midswing, and stared down at his open stomach with horror before crumpling to the ground. Without hesitation, Malik jumped toward the other and cut off his arm before he could even react. The man screamed terribly until his voice was cut off, along with his head. The other swung at his back, but he quickly turned around and blocked it, pushing forward. Caught off guard, the last rebel stumbled and Malik quickly slid his sword into his stomach, twisting it and grinning like a madman as the man’s screams rang in his ear.

"You should've stayed home," he whispered to the dying man. With a laugh, he yanked the blade out, simultaneously kicking the man to the ground, and silence reigned again. The grass that had been cut from Malik’s first blade stroke floated quietly back to the ground.

Malik laughed again, loudly in the dark. “Anymore? Or do I have to come to you this time?”

His eyes widened in surprise when he heard a sound behind him. They snuck up on me, he thought in disbelief as he whirled around. He blinked then shook his head with a smile when he saw the two dead rebels on the ground before him. Sargon stepped out of the dark, his blade speckled with flecks of blood.

Malik turned back toward the camp to find the remaining rebels huddled together by the fire. Almost like cattle, Malik thought with some disdain.

“Well,” Malik began, stretching. “I guess it’s time to finish this.” He glanced back toward Sargon. “You ready?” Sargon nodded, impassive, and Malik nodded back with a smile. “Alrighty then.” He walked toward the camp.

~~~
“That takes care of that,” Malik said as the last rebel crumpled to the ground. He wiped his sword on the woman’s pants before placing it back in its sheathe. He glanced to Sargon, splashed with blood and back turned. "You ready to go?"

When the ebony-haired youth didn't reply, Malik frowned his confusion. "Sargon?"

Sargon finally turned around, his face an empty slate. "What?"

"You alright?"

Sargon opened his mouth before shutting it and shaking his head. "I'm fine."

It was a lie, of course. Malik could see that easily, could sense it, but now wasn't the time.

Malik took one last look at death surrounding him before turning his back. “Come on, it’s late and we should be heading back. We have to report to Father.” Without a glance backwards, he began to walk.

Sargon stared after his friend before following, dragging his sword in the ground behind him.

~~~
The two youths lounged on the roof of one of the many homes in the Capital of Espritia. While Malik lay down with his hands behind his head and eyes closed, Sargon sat and stared at the sky.

Finally, he spoke. “The Full Moon Festival’s tomorrow, isn’t it?”

Malik opened one eye and glanced at him before closing it. “Yeah, and you have just as much right to be in it as anyone.”

Sargon looked doubtful. “Aren’t a lot of the older Espritians angry that a Corasian is participating in their sacred tournament?”

Malik shrugged. “If they are, it doesn’t really matter. You’re pretty much like a son to Father as well, so you’re untouchable.”

Sargon allowed himself a small smile at that before gazing back toward the sky. It was true though. The king of Espritia had taken care of him like he was one of his own ever since his parents had been killed by warring soldiers. Although the king and his children had taken him in and accepted him, that didn’t compel many of the other Espritians to do the same. He could still remember the story Father had once told him when he came to him crying after being mistreated by some of the other kids. His mother had often told it to him as a child…

“When God first created the world, it was void except for the oceans and mountains and fields. God got lonely living in the world all by Herself, so She created the animals. But they still didn’t provide her with the companionship She wanted, so She decided to create images of herself.”

“Like twins?” Sargon had asked as a little boy, his eyes wide with interest.

The king chuckled. “No, kind of like…children. She used her Mind to create the Espritians, her Soul to create the Almians, and her Body to create the Korppians. And she used her Heart, Sargon, to create you. The Corasians.”

“Me?”

“Yes. And they say that, although Corasians don’t have any special abilities like the other races God created, She did bless them with something that none of the others have.”

“What?” the little boy asked.

The king placed a hand on the little boy’s chest. “Heart, Sargon. Potential. Just remember that you can do anything you put your heart into.”

Sargon smiled to himself as the memory faded away. He glanced to Malik to see a faint smile on his face as well.

“What have I told you about reading my thoughts?” Sargon asked, not unpleasantly, as he leaned back onto the roof with a sigh.

Malik shrugged, eyes still closed. “Sometimes, I can’t help it. Your thoughts just randomly surface in my mind.”

“I wonder why that is?” Sargon thought aloud as he stared at the moon.

“We’re brothers.”

Sargon glanced to Malik, but the white-haired youth stayed still, never once opening his eyes. Without a word, Sargon turned his attention back toward the night sky.

Black_ghost · 04-01-2006, 11:29 PM

Looked long but it read really fast. That was good.

The story did get me off in when they started talking about their ideals of war. In the beginning, both looked like tearless soldiers, who were harden by war, but they one of them spoke out. It did destory the pace of the story for me. If you wanted to add this, then you should make the one soldier more true to your believes in the beginning to give the readers a heads up.

Can't say anything about your writing style, since it read so much like alot of other stories i read. So, if i did try to say anything about such, i would be repeating myself.

Can't say if i enjoyed the story, though i can say it wasn't bad. It sounds too much like another adventure story, with backstabs, events not foreseen and an ending too was either too clearly seen or hidden till the end, making the story almost pointless to that point.

But that isn't really bad. There are many people who love reading these stories, so in that sense i can say that this story can move, depending on how it moves from here on out.

Though, i personality would have loved to see some more character of the writer in this story. It just reads too much like a story that has no difference from alot of others. I don't know if this helps or not, but its all i can say without saying things that mean nothing.

Serenade · 04-02-2006, 08:23 PM

Quote:

The story did get me off in when they started talking about their ideals of war. In the beginning, both looked like tearless soldiers, who were harden by war, but they one of them spoke out. It did destory the pace of the story for me. If you wanted to add this, then you should make the one soldier more true to your believes in the beginning to give the readers a heads up.

Agreed, changed.

Quote:

Can't say anything about your writing style, since it read so much like alot of other stories i read. So, if i did try to say anything about such, i would be repeating myself.

I rarely write in third person, so it's understandable. But, as I understand, practice makes perfect.

Quote:

Though, i personality would have loved to see some more character of the writer in this story. It just reads too much like a story that has no difference from alot of others. I don't know if this helps or not, but its all i can say without saying things that mean nothing.

Maybe you'll feel differently as I write the story. There's still a lot of time for character development.

Either way, thanks for the critique. Very much appreciated.

Kira the wanderer · 04-04-2006, 05:15 PM

It was pretty good. I liked the idea, but it seems very cliche. Not that its a bad thing, but that Malik guy fits the description of many characters I've seen. Unfortunately, nothing about him sticks out.

I did like, however, how one character didn't really care for war. But he didn't stand out too much either. The entire perfect swordsman is over used, I've done it myself. The tough-guy, used to the corruption of the world becomes emotionless, and no matter how many men come after him he will kill them all single handidly with his sword. That's how I saw Malik. Didn't really work for me, not that he's a bad character. He just doesn't seem real, or even could be in our world. I can't relate to him, yet at least... it is only chapter one. But he's almost unhuman, and yes even non-human characters have human qualities so don't do this for them either.

He's too predictable. Use some more creativity, unqiue characters, and liven up the descriptions with some imagery and really good ajectives. But I had no problems with it otherwise.

Blackhawk_t · 04-21-2006, 07:13 PM

These are two bad dude's, especially for teen's. I like how you set it up, and how it showed how superior their training was to the rebels kickin' back in the camp. Nice, clean action, and well presented in sequence as to what was happening.

Quote:

He pointed to a particularly fat rebel, who was currently stuffing pieces of bread into his mouth greedily.

I would omit currently, and move greedily over to its place. Would make it sound better.

Quote:

Suddenly a few of the rebels ran forward, quite heedlessly Malik thought with a grin as he crouched into position. The first that reached him raised his sword for a swing, and Malik’s grin widened as his blade suddenly slashed from the grass to the man with frightening speed. The man froze in midswing, and stared down at his open stomach with horror before crumpling to the ground. Without hesitation, Malik jumped toward the other and cut off his arm before he could even react. The man screamed terribly until it was cut off, along with his head.

I would omit suddenly, it isn't needed. Then in regards to the cut off. You use it twice, and it doesn't make sense what was cut off the second time you used it. Maybe read it, and try and fix it to what you meant.

That's all I have for this part, I was interested in reading the second one, so I got to it right after this one. Nicely done. Keep it up.

Serenade · 04-26-2006, 08:32 PM

Quote:

I would omit currently, and move greedily over to its place. Would make it sound better.

Agreed, and changed.

Quote:

I would omit suddenly, it isn't needed. Then in regards to the cut off. You use it twice, and it doesn't make sense what was cut off the second time you used it. Maybe read it, and try and fix it to what you meant.

Yeah I see what you mean. I meant for his voice to be cut off, but I didn't articulate that very wel.

[quoote]That's all I have for this part, I was interested in reading the second one, so I got to it right after this one. Nicely done. Keep it up.[/quote

Thanks a lot, I actually thought that this had descended into obscurity. Thanks for the review.

gary_wagner · 04-27-2006, 02:46 PM

You had a quick pace, lots of imagery, and a nice story going. When I discovered that Malik was a sadist, I lost interest and stopped reading. Another day, another time, I might have continued on but this time I just wasn't in the mood for it. I have a few technical notes for you.

Quote:

A boy of about sixteen

The word about doesn't help this description. Either he is or he isn't 16. Using about tells the reader that you, the author, isn't sure.

Quote:

"Dark, brown eyes" "Dark, blue eyes"

These 2 descriptions using "dark" so close together become repetitive.

Quote:

The one called Malik

This is a little awkward terminoligy. Just, "Malik" would be better.

Quote:

The ebony-haired boy’s face

You already called him the ebony-haired boy a few sentences earlier, have already named him as Sargon by now, and you should refer to him as Sargon from now on.

Quote:

he stood as well and followed.

"as well" doesn't add anything to this sentence. We already know the other character stood so as well becomes redundant.

Quote:

The so-called rebels were sitting around a campfire and talking, probably telling each other ghost stories, Malik mused.

You need to tell us when you have stepped into a character's head to tell us his thoughts. This is probably just a punctuation issue. The first part of this sentence was a statement of fact, the second part was Malik's thought. Just adding, "Malik mused" at the end wasn't enough here because the entire preceding sentence wasn't his thought.

Serenade · 05-10-2006, 12:31 AM

Hey, thanks for the critique man, it was quite insightful.