Start of the first chapter (1204 words, fantasy) - Page 2 - Writers Forum

Azmakna · 06-03-2007, 01:44 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by MiloDaePesdan

*Suspicious* Is that a potshot, Azmakna? Jut-browed-chest-thumping-lily-livered-club-toting-neantherdhal. Yep. I demand a story. But I guess you're right about the whole style and technique thing.

David: Lol. Guess it brought out my low sense of humor, huh? (If you're a gamer you should try Radiata Stories. Now there is a hilarious fantasy RPG. i.e. You don't 'examine' things, you kick the bees out of them. Really. From Square-Enix too!)

Milo

no it wasn't a dig at you lol... who's smoking what around here

DavidGil · 06-03-2007, 04:30 PM

Alright, posting the reworked scene first. The second scene is done and will post it below. Milo, I appreciate the comments about the action at the start but I don't feel it would fit this scene, at least not yet until I think of something if I do. I could maybe slip to another pov to start the story off with some action and move this to the second chapter etc. I do plan on having quite a few different pov's anyways, even if it makes things hard to track.

(Regarding the gaming comments though, I can't say I've had the pleasure of seeing that game. The only real games I've played for a long length of time were NwN's and WoW. Both of which is around the time I actually started producing decent'ish stories for roleplay reasons. I was going to comment on my high school stories but thought it best to leave them unmentioned for all eternity, in the off chance you can't critique for me or read the pieces with laughing so much.

)

Hope the revised version is better anyways, many thanks for the comments and critiques.

Darrias’s thoughts were split and many, each one whirling through his mind at an incredible rate. With his breath hot and laced with alcohol, he stared down into the bottom of the tankard. Grumbling with dismay, the bottom was practically drained of ale. Across from him, sat a man he’d known for some time. Yet every time the man was near him, he’d watch leery eyed.

“Which whore will you be having tonight to warm your bed and keep you company Darrias?”

“None?” said Darrias with a sharp tone, looking at Ouryn with disdain. Ouryn was supposed to be the epitome of a knight. He wanted to make the fact known that he thought it was incredulous that Ouryn had been knighted in Xantor’s name, yet he thought better of it.

“Pity. You could have any whore you wanted here if you slipped them some of your prized gold coins, despite the state of you.”

“Since when have we been friends, Ouryn? Childhood?”

Ouryn shrugged. He raised the tankard to his lips and took a slow drink of the ale. His head was bald with a shiny patch in the middle, his clothes those of a man made rich from the ill fortunes of the common folk. In The Broken Stein, he was out of place yet Darrias knew no patron would harm him for fear of the sword he had sheathed at his waist. “I would like to think so.”

“We never were. How’s your lord in Blackbell? Must be missing you because you’re not there to hold his hand while he pisses.”

Ouryn didn’t look bothered by the insult, yet if he was, he didn’t show it. “Oh he has plenty of people to hold his hand, Darrias. Besides, I’m above the lambs that he grows rich off.”

“Funny," he said dryly. "I oddly thought you were below them. Shows how one’s station and a lord’s favour can lift them above the masses, no?”

“Quite.” Ouryn smiled.

Darrias had always hated that arrogant smile. He knew however that he was hitting a sore spot. “What are you doing here anyway and you just happened to drop by here to annoy me?”

“Oh, I knew you’d be hanging around in this gutter of a place, like you have since your father died. So I thought I’d come here and catch up for old times sake. Other than that, I have some business to attend to for my lord. You know what his temper is like if an order is disobeyed.”

“His reputation precedes him yes,” responded Darrias with his light brown eyes carrying a dangerous edge to them. “Don’t talk of my father again Ouryn, you didn’t know him and you don’t know me either.”

“I see I’m waring my welcome out. Seems many people can’t tolerate my presence these days. Can’t say I care though, I’d piss on what you and others think of me Darrias. What matters is I’m rich and I enjoy life, unlike someone.” He let those last words linger in the air, eyeing Darrias. “But I’ll spare you my presence if you’re so determined to not have the company of an old friend.”

“Good. Go back to Blackbell and that lord of yours as quickly as you can.”

“Of course,” smiled Ouryn standing. With a quick bow, he retrieved his grey cloak from his chair’s back and wrapped it around his body, before leaving.

Darrias watched him leave, pushing his way through the tavern patrons. He sighed once he had lost sight of Ouryn and wanted to kick himself. He wasn’t any the wiser as to why Ouryn had came into Benerhival and that fact stung. On the other hand, Ouryn was much too smart to divulge any information about why he was here. He hadn’t had the right mind set for dealing with him either, being taken by complete surprise at the visit. Damn him to the abyss, he cursed.

Staring blankly into the tankard again, he cursed the fact that there was no more drink left. Pulling himself up to his feet wearily, he searched for the stairs though it was hard finding anything with the bustle of the common room. Upon finding them, he groggily moved to them and placed his unsteady hand on the banister. Wooden steps creaked under his feet, ones that he used to fear he’d go through when he’d first started frequenting The Broken Stein. It was a far cry from the large estate he’d once called home.

At the top of the stairs, the hall was long and narrow. The grey stone walls showed the neglect of the building, with cracks appearing down their width. Apart from the window at the end, the hallway was plain except for the burning torches holstered along both sides of the wall. His room was halfway down on the left.

He slid the key into the keyhole and turned it. The door had always been stiff to unlock. Upon finally managing to turn the key and open the door, he walked into the cold and damp room that was his home, closing the door behind him. At least it isn’t dark in here. It could be worse. He locked it and threw the keys onto the red covers of his bed.

He let his thoughts wander, sitting down on the bed with his head held in the palms of his hands. I probably make you disappointed in me father. I am not the man you were and not the one you wanted me to be. Instead I am but the opposite of the knight I was before you died, a pale reflection of what once was. I’m sorry father…

He removed the symbol of Xantor from around his neck and looked at it. The golden emblem of a shield with a sword etched on the front of it had always given him pride. Yet no more did it make him proud. I do not deserve the title I was given in your name neither, Xantor. I’m sorry for not repaying the trust one of your followers paid me in dubbing me a knight.

Despite his feelings, he laid the symbol of Xantor on the table gently. He still treasured the symbol, even if he hated himself and the title of sir that he carried. He knew he would always treasure it. Sleep is what I need now.

DavidGil · 06-03-2007, 04:40 PM

I wrote this tonight with the critique from the other scene fresh so I haven't had much chance to correct anything. It should be quite readable however. I might have to change some details but this is the basics. Part of the bad part of not having everything planned out. When I know I'm onto something though and I'm sure I am with this, I'll plan it out.

Away from the dimly lit streets of Benerhival, hidden in the back alleys, a man stood with his back to the wall. Perfect, Ouryn thought. Concealed by the shadowy embrace of the cloak, the man’s features were not discernible, but everything added up. His contact was known to be on time and always had an air of mystery about him. “Reliable as always, Radvor.”

Radvor looked up to the left, chill breath escaping from the pitch-black hollow of his hood. “I get paid to be reliable, Ouryn.”

“That you do,” Ouryn conceded. “Never have you let myself or my lord down.” He reached under his own cloak and untied a pouch from his belt. “Half now, the rest later.” He tossed the pouch to Radvor.

Radvor nodded, catching the pouch. “This job,” he said slowly lowering his head and in a low voice. “It will most likely be hard to accomplish. I’ll need a few days most likely.”

“I thought as much.” A sly smirk spread across his face. “You’ll need to clean yourself up and wear one of their robes to mingle.”

“You had to mention that. I’ll hate every moment of it being with the White Hoods.” He spat to the side of his feet. “I will be most displeased if others get to hear of this, Ouryn. I’ll never live it down.”

“Why, I’d never…”

“You would and you damn well know it,” he said quickly raising his head. “How is the old bastard that pays you to do his dirty work?”

“He is the same as ever. Grows ever more profitable off the ill fortunes of others,” he shrugged. “He never liked being called an old bastard.”

“Yet he isn’t here, Ouryn,” reminded Radvor.

“That he isn’t.” Pausing, he considered his next words for a moment. “You have a plan of how to pull the job off?”

“I do.” Radvor stopped leaning against the wall and turned to face him. “Though it is not fully clear yet.”

Ouryn nodded. He wasn’t entirely too happy however, upon hearing the response. Yet his thoughts trailed to the fact that on many occasions Radvor had pulled jobs off, without fault. He won’t fail us, he reminded himself for peace of mind. “I have no doubt you’ll pull the task off. Do not rush it, I’m sure my lord will be most displeased if you fail rather than take your time.”

“I really don’t care if your lord will be most displeased or not Ouryn, my own hide comes first. You know that.” He stopped, waiting for a moment before continuing. “I will however see to it that I don’t fail you. I’ll see to it that which you desire, is brought to your lordship at Blackbell. The object he desires is a large golden cross, which is highly treasured by the order of Gwyllis. Correct?”

Ouryn nodded. Lord Aucyn Earel had been explicit in the description of what he sought. He had also made one other important request that triggered in Ouryn’s thoughts. Discreteness and no shedding of blood. “You are to be as subtle as you can, without any violence if you can help it.”

Radvor stood silent, with his eyes staring at him behind the featureless dark hollow that comprised his face. “You and your lord needn’t treat me like I’m a fool. It goes without saying that I’ll be subtle. Yet I cannot help but wonder that the old bastard has gone soft?”

“If he has, I haven’t seen any sign of it.” Ouryn shrugged. “Lack of attention is always the best route. I imagine that is his thinking.”

“Perhaps, not that it matters. I can’t promise anything regarding that in case things go wrong but I will try. The White Hoods and the city guard will be after me, so it will indeed be difficult. Not to mention the trip to Blackbell.”

“You’ll pull it off, at least with minimal casualties.”

“I will,” answered Radvor though he seemed to be looking past Ouryn over his shoulder. “Guards are coming.”

Ouryn spoke as low as he could, as quickly as he could. “See you back at Blackbell then and good luck.”

Radvor nodded and moved back silently, melding into the shadows like a demon of the night as the guards approached behind Ouryn. Ouryn turned and faced the guards, giving his trousers a tug. “Can I help you?”

One guard was short, the other tall and both wore mail with a coif covering their heads. They carried shields and a torch, with a sword sheathed at their waist. The tall guard stepped forward. “You can. You can start with explaining why you’re down here?”

“Taking a piss. No laws against that, is there?”

The tall guard looked to his partner behind him. The tall guard’s partner didn’t offer any help or clue as to the correct action.

Ouryn saw that they were both green and young, he found it amusing. “I’ve got to do it somewhere, haven’t I? You both look as though you’ve never taken a piss down some shady back alley before.”

The tall guard turned at his words, eyeing him suspiciously. He moved the torch to his shield arm and kept his free hand rested on the sword’s hilt at his waist. “Stay clear of trouble,” he said after a long moment had passed before turning and leaving Ouryn to his own devices.

Bleeding guards. I thought they weren’t going to leave for a moment. He spat to the side and walked in the opposite direction of the guards, dissapearing onto the city streets in the dead of night.

Azmakna · 06-03-2007, 04:55 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by DavidGil

Alright, posting the reworked scene first. The second scene is done and will post it below. Milo, I appreciate the comments about the action at the start but I don't feel it would fit this scene, at least not yet until I think of something if I do. I could maybe slip to another pov to start the story off with some action and move this to the second chapter etc. I do plan on having quite a few different pov's anyways, even if it makes things hard to track.

(Regarding the gaming comments though, I can't say I've had the pleasure of seeing that game. The only real games I've played for a long length of time were NwN's and WoW. Both of which is around the time I actually started producing decent'ish stories for roleplay reasons. I was going to comment on my high school stories but thought it best to leave them unmentioned for all eternity, in the off chance you can't critique for me or read the pieces with laughing so much.

)

Hope the revised version is better anyways, many thanks for the comments and critiques.

Darrias’s thoughts were split and many, each one whirling through his mind at an incredible rate. With his breath hot and laced with alcohol, he stared down into the bottom of the tankard. Grumbling with dismay, the bottom was practically drained of ale. Across from him, sat a man he’d known for some time. Yet every time the man was near him, he’d watch leery eyed.

haha! you stuck with the whirling by adding 'many' but now you are thinking, but i would still lose what i have underlined. whirling says it anyway. still a little indecisive. lose this (does it add anything?) this is better though
“Which whore will you be having tonight to warm your bed and keep you company Darrias?”

better

“None?” said Darrias with a sharp tone, looking at Ouryn with disdain. Ouryn was supposed to be the epitome of a knight. He wanted to make the fact known that he thought it was incredulous that Ouryn had been knighted in Xantor’s name, yet he thought better of it.

better

“Pity. You could have any whore you wanted here if you slipped them some of your prized gold coins, despite the state of you.”

better

Ouryn shrugged. He raised the tankard to his lips and took a slow drink of the ale. His head was bald with a shiny patch in the middle, his clothes those of a man made rich from the ill fortunes of the common folk. In The Broken Stein, he was out of place yet Darrias knew no patron would harm him for fear of the sword he had sheathed at his waist. “I would like to think so.”

better

“We never were. How’s your lord in Blackbell? Must be missing you because you’re not there to hold his hand while he pisses.”

Ouryn didn’t look bothered by the insult, yet if he was, he didn’t show it. “Oh he has plenty of people to hold his hand, Darrias. Besides, I’m above the lambs that he grows rich off.”

just full stop and start as 'If'

“Funny," he said dryly. "I oddly thought you were below them. Shows how one’s station and a lord’s favour can lift them above the masses, no?”

i would lose this

“Quite.” Ouryn smiled.

good to see you are listening lol

Darrias had always hated that arrogant smile. He knew however that he was hitting a sore spot. “What are you doing here anyway and you just happened to drop by here to annoy me?”

i'm going to be a little more picky now, simply because you have taken this piece (so far) to the next level. a smile can't be arrogant, however there can be arrogance behind the smile. i would write: '...arrogance behind his smile...'

“Oh, I knew you’d be hanging around in this gutter of a place, like you have since your father died. So I thought I’d come here and catch up for old times sake. Other than that, I have some business to attend to for my lord. You know what his temper is like if an order is disobeyed.”

better! i bet you can see the difference yourself.

“His reputation precedes him yes,” responded Darrias with his light brown eyes carrying a dangerous edge to them. “Don’t talk of my father again Ouryn, you didn’t know him and you don’t know me either.”

lose this

“I see I’m waring my welcome out. Seems many people can’t tolerate my presence these days. Can’t say I care though, I’d piss on what you and others think of me Darrias. What matters is I’m rich and I enjoy life, unlike someone.” He let those last words linger in the air, eyeing Darrias. “But I’ll spare you my presence if you’re so determined to not have the company of an old friend.”

put this right. i'm not sure what it says. lose this.

“Good. Go back to Blackbell and that lord of yours as quickly as you can.”

“Of course,” smiled Ouryn standing. With a quick bow, he retrieved his grey cloak from his chair’s back and wrapped it around his body, before leaving.

awkward. write: 'back of his chair'

Darrias watched him leave, pushing his way through the tavern patrons. He sighed once he had lost sight of Ouryn and wanted to kick himself. He wasn’t any the wiser as to why Ouryn had came into Benerhival and that fact stung. On the other hand, Ouryn was much too smart to divulge any information about why he was here. He hadn’t had the right mind set for dealing with him either, being taken by complete surprise at the visit. Damn him to the abyss, he cursed.

better

Staring blankly into the tankard again, he cursed the fact that there was no more drink left. Pulling himself up to his feet wearily, he searched for the stairs though it was hard finding anything with the bustle of the common room. Upon finding them, he groggily moved to them and placed his unsteady hand on the banister. Wooden steps creaked under his feet, ones that he used to fear he’d go through when he’d first started frequenting The Broken Stein. It was a far cry from the large estate he’d once called home.

you see you found a new way to describe here that was better

At the top of the stairs, the hall was long and narrow. The grey stone walls showed the neglect of the building, with cracks appearing down their width. Apart from the window at the end, the hallway was plain except for the burning torches holstered along both sides of the wall. His room was halfway down on the left.

lose this, be direct. i was going to mention this before. they are not called that. don't ask me though lol

He slid the key into the keyhole and turned it. The door had always been stiff to unlock. Upon finally managing to turn the key and open the door, he walked into the cold and damp room that was his home, closing the door behind him. At least it isn’t dark in here. It could be worse. He locked it and threw the keys onto the red covers of his bed.

i still have reservations here, but it doesn't leap out as much because you have tightened everything before it.

He let his thoughts wander, sitting down on the bed with his head held in the palms of his hands. I probably make you disappointed in me father. I am not the man you were and not the one you wanted me to be. Instead I am but the opposite of the knight I was before you died, a pale reflection of what once was. I’m sorry father…

He removed the symbol of Xantor from around his neck and looked at it. The golden emblem of a shield with a sword etched on the front of it had always given him pride. Yet no more did it make him proud. I do not deserve the title I was given in your name neither, Xantor. I’m sorry for not repaying the trust one of your followers paid me in dubbing me a knight.

Despite his feelings, he laid the symbol of Xantor on the table gently. He still treasured the symbol, even if he hated himself and the title of sir that he carried. He knew he would always treasure it. Sleep is what I need now.

much better

just tighten it again lol (that's the way it goes)

DavidGil · 06-03-2007, 06:21 PM

Alright thanks Azmakna for the critique again. Glad to see it was improved even if there's still some improving left to make. I'll probably re-edit the changes in from the critique if I do so, to save keep bumping the thread or re-work them into the copy on my hard drive. At least you know the feedback isn't wasted which is what I intended to show by posting the revised edition.

Azmakna · 06-03-2007, 06:24 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by DavidGil

Alright thanks Azmakna for the critique again. Glad to see it was improved even if there's still some improving left to make. I'll probably re-edit the changes in from the critique if I do so, to save keep bumping the thread or re-work them into the copy on my hard drive. At least you know the feedback isn't wasted which is what I intended to show by posting the revised edition.

what i have found the best thing to do is edit an old post of it and then put a mention of the edited post at the bottom. saves you filling the thread up with rewrites and it looks less daunting to the observer (that's me lol)

DavidGil · 06-05-2007, 09:44 AM

Alright one last bump. Just wanted to say I reworked the changes into the initial post but I also did something else.

I swapped the two scenes around so the bar bit is the second. I think it would be a better opening. Hopefully your thoughts are the same. Again, thanks for helping me tighten up the original first scene.

Azmakna · 06-05-2007, 12:18 PM

Quote:

Originally Posted by DavidGil

Alright, posting the reworked scene first. The second scene is done and will post it below. Milo, I appreciate the comments about the action at the start but I don't feel it would fit this scene, at least not yet until I think of something if I do. I could maybe slip to another pov to start the story off with some action and move this to the second chapter etc. I do plan on having quite a few different pov's anyways, even if it makes things hard to track.

(Regarding the gaming comments though, I can't say I've had the pleasure of seeing that game. The only real games I've played for a long length of time were NwN's and WoW. Both of which is around the time I actually started producing decent'ish stories for roleplay reasons. I was going to comment on my high school stories but thought it best to leave them unmentioned for all eternity, in the off chance you can't critique for me or read the pieces with laughing so much.

)

Hope the revised version is better anyways, many thanks for the comments and critiques.

Darrias’s thoughts were split and many, each one whirling through his mind at an incredible rate. With his breath hot and laced with alcohol, he stared down into the bottom of the tankard. Grumbling with dismay, the bottom was practically drained of ale. Across from him, sat a man he’d known for some time. Yet every time the man was near him, he’d watch leery eyed.

i would lose this now. i would now lose the fullstop and just write: 'which was drained of ale'

“Which whore will you be having tonight to warm your bed and keep you company Darrias?”

“None?” said Darrias with a sharp tone, looking at Ouryn with disdain. Ouryn was supposed to be the epitome of a knight. He wanted to make the fact known that he thought it was incredulous that Ouryn had been knighted in Xantor’s name, yet he thought better of it.

“Pity. You could have any whore you wanted here if you slipped them some of your prized gold coins, despite the state of you.”

“Since when have we been friends, Ouryn? Childhood?”

Ouryn shrugged. He raised the tankard to his lips and took a slow drink of the ale. His head was bald with a shiny patch in the middle, his clothes those of a man made rich from the ill fortunes of the common folk. In The Broken Stein, he was out of place yet Darrias knew no patron would harm him for fear of the sword he had sheathed at his waist. “I would like to think so.”

“We never were. How’s your lord in Blackbell? Must be missing you because you’re not there to hold his hand while he pisses.”

Ouryn didn’t look bothered by the insult, yet if he was, he didn’t show it. “Oh he has plenty of people to hold his hand, Darrias. Besides, I’m above the lambs that he grows rich off.”

“Funny," he said dryly. "I oddly thought you were below them. Shows how one’s station and a lord’s favour can lift them above the masses, no?”

still bothers me. lose it

“Quite.” Ouryn smiled.

Darrias had always hated that arrogant smile. He knew however that he was hitting a sore spot. “What are you doing here anyway and you just happened to drop by here to annoy me?”

“Oh, I knew you’d be hanging around in this gutter of a place, like you have since your father died. So I thought I’d come here and catch up for old times sake. Other than that, I have some business to attend to for my lord. You know what his temper is like if an order is disobeyed.”

“His reputation precedes him yes,” responded Darrias with his light brown eyes carrying a dangerous edge to them. “Don’t talk of my father again Ouryn, you didn’t know him and you don’t know me either.”

“I see I’m waring my welcome out. Seems many people can’t tolerate my presence these days. Can’t say I care though, I’d piss on what you and others think of me Darrias. What matters is I’m rich and I enjoy life, unlike someone.” He let those last words linger in the air, eyeing Darrias. “But I’ll spare you my presence if you’re so determined to not have the company of an old friend.”

“Good. Go back to Blackbell and that lord of yours as quickly as you can.”

“Of course,” smiled Ouryn standing. With a quick bow, he retrieved his grey cloak from his chair’s back and wrapped it around his body, before leaving.

Darrias watched him leave, pushing his way through the tavern patrons. He sighed once he had lost sight of Ouryn and wanted to kick himself. He wasn’t any the wiser as to why Ouryn had came into Benerhival and that fact stung. On the other hand, Ouryn was much too smart to divulge any information about why he was here. He hadn’thad the right mind set for dealing with him either, being taken by complete surprise at the visit. Damn him to the abyss, he cursed.

i would lose this. we know where he is. come. lose this and change the contraction to, 'did not have'

Staring blankly into the tankard again, he cursed the fact that there was no more drink left. Pulling himself up to his feet wearily, he searched for the stairs(,) though it was hard finding anything with the bustle of the common room. Upon finding them, he groggily moved (groggily) to them and placed his unsteady hand on the banister. Wooden steps creaked under his feet, ones that he used to fear he’d go through when he’d first started frequenting The Broken Stein. It was a far cry from the large estate he’d once called home.

is there ant way you can rethink this sentence to lose 'ones'?

At the top of the stairs, the hall was long and narrow. The grey stone walls showed the neglect of the building, with cracks appearing down their width. Apart from the window at the end, the hallway was plain except for the burning torches holstered along both sides of the wall. His room was halfway down on the left.

this makes it sound like the hallway was only narrow at the top of the stairs.

He slid the key into the keyhole and turned it. The door had always been stiff to unlock. Upon finally managing to turn the key and open the door, he walked into the cold and damp room that was his home, closing the door behind him. At least it isn’t dark in here. It could be worse. He locked it and threw the keys onto the red covers of his bed.

lose this, it says nothing new.

He let his thoughts wander, sitting down on the bed with his head held in the palms of his hands. I probably make you disappointed in me father. I am not the man you were and not the one you wanted me to be. Instead I am but the opposite of the knight I was before you died, a pale reflection of what once was. I’m sorry father…

be direct and flip this sentence: 'Siting down on his bed with his head held in the palms of his hands, his thoughts wondered.' 'i know i disappoint you father.'

He removed the symbol of Xantor from around his neck and looked at it. The golden emblem of a shield with a sword etched on the front of it had always given him pride. Yet no more did it make him proud. I do not deserve the title I was given in your name neither, Xantor. I’m sorry for not repaying the trust one of your followers paid me in dubbing me a knight.

'inspected' puts you further into the image. 'yet it no longer filled him with pride' 'either'

Despite his feelings, he laid the symbol of Xantor on the table gently. He still treasured the symbol, even if he hated himself and the title of sir that he carried. He knew he would always treasure it. Sleep is what I need now.

this is tighter, but it can be tighter. lol. you see tinkering never ends! good job.