First post, first attempt at writing - Writers Forum

Xirtic88 · 04-11-2008, 04:22 PM

This is the first bit of a fantasy story I have in my head but finding it difficult to put onto paper. Anyways, I am not sure of the proper protocol for posting a story for critique but here it is:

A dust cloud appeared on the horizon and before it sped a rider on a white stallion; his silhouette shimmered in the burning air hovering over the barren plains. The stone spike of Almeria was before him and his heart was glad. He arrived at last to the realm of Miarandil and to Tevilmeet, city of Kings.
Tevilmeet had stood for five centuries before this day and its greater history was that of a fortress. A massive stone curtain surrounded the city in a perfect circle and at its gateway stood two towers wrought of timber and stone and at their peaks were red banners fluttered in the breeze. A bridge stretched between the towers, arching over a cobblestone road, which began at that point and led into the city’s core, branching off in angular directions.
As the rider approached, a guard stepped out and walked to the center of the road. He strained to see the rider’s face, which lay hidden under the shadow of a drooping gray hood. The horse slowed to a canter and when its hooves fell upon the cobblestones, he yelled out.
“Halt,” he said, “By command of the King, non-citizens must report name and matter and surrender sword while remaining within the walls of Tevilmeet.”
The rider halted abruptly and from hidden eyes he looked at the guard; his silver beard covered a wrinkled, swarthy face and his shaggy brows hung over keen blue eyes. He was clad in a blackened mail hauberk and his ringed gauntlets clutched a spear in his right hand and a gray shield in his left. Set upon the shield was a symbol of an upright fist. In the towers behind he saw tips of crossbows jutting from shadowed openings. The horse chewed at its bit and anxiously pawed at the stone road, yet the rider remained still.
The guard grew nervous and trembled. The rider appeared to him an unkempt fellow and one who did not seem to belong to such a majestic looking horse. He considered at once he was perhaps dealing with an outlaw seeking refuge from some unseen pursuers. He thought that perhaps the strange man would spring forward through the gate at any moment, striking a deadly blow as he past.
His spear wavered and he tightened his grip. “Your name?” he said, “The King commands it.”
A soft voice, yet one with seemingly hidden power, came from under the hood. “Interrogation, sword garnishment,” he said, “These things were not commanded to me upon my last call to this city.”
The guard relaxed his spear and hesitated momentarily for he did not expect such a voice to come from one who looked so tousled. “Then it has been years of ten or more since your last visit,” he replied.
The rider’s eyes fluttered beneath the hood and he seemed to recall distant memories. “Indeed it has,” he said, as if speaking to someone else before he bent toward the guard. “Tell me,” he continued. “What reason has your king to treat travelers such as me with needless suspicion?”
The guard muttered to himself and glanced toward the sky as if searching for a reason long since forgotten. “It is not a guard's place to question his King’s design,” he said at last, but appearing unsatisfied he continued, “Though in my mind, at first, I placed you as evil, though now I no longer judge you as so, lest I am fooled.”
“Then you are wise and have judged so correctly,” replied the rider, “And I bare no ill will toward one who is only faithfully serving his King, no matter how foolish the command. But let us move past our differences, what is your name?” he asked.
“My name?” replied the guard, a little surprised by the request. “My name is Ubark, and I am the gate captain of Tevilmeet.”
“Captain Ubark,” said the rider, pointing to the guard’s shield. “And what does that symbol represent?”
The guard looked at his shield. “That is the symbol of the city guard,” he said proudly, “It represents the Iron Fist of King Lyleatha.”
“King Lyleatha!” said the rider, as if the very name stabbed at his heart and he seemed to falter. “I see,” he continued, sighing and resting back into his saddle. “Ubark, Gate Captain of the Iron Fist,” he continued, finally lowering his hood. “I am Aiden, a traveler from the distant West, and my business here is of a private matter, but I assure you I carry no ill will, and for tonight I only seek shelter.”
For the first time Ubark saw the rider uncloaked and he seemed to him a man of great stature and one who had seen many battles, but he knew not of such things and made no point to ask of them. He instead smiled at him.
“If that is so,” he said, “Then you will likely find an open bed at the Inn of the Grinning Fox, if that suites you?”
“It does,” said Aiden, giving his horse a nudge.
“But wait sir Aiden,” said Ubark. “You have given me your name, and I have released you to your private affairs by the honor of your words, but I cannot ignore all of the King’s laws, you must surrender your sword to me.”
Aiden halted but made no reply as Ubark had come to stand next to him. “I will keep it safe,” he said. “And when you take leave of the city, you will find me here and I will present it back to you, unharmed. You have my word.”
“And I will hold you to it Ubark, Captain of the Gate,” said Aiden, unclasping his sheathed sword from his belt and handing it to Ubark. “Or death shall find you swiftly,” he added, returning the smile.
Ubark nodded and then watched him depart toward the stables. When he was sure the rider would not immediately return he retreated into the tower from which he came and laid the sword upon a table. Several guards came down from their posts to examine the sword with him. Gasps erupted as Ubark unsheathed the magnificent weapon, though he did not wield it as a courtesy to its owner. Ubark’s eyes grew wide.
“In all my years I’ve not seen its equal,” he said, running his fingers across silver markings etched into its iron quillians.
“I wonder what they mean,” said a guard.
“Forged in dragon fires,” said another, “Look.”
He pointed to the forte’ were the images of two black dragons were carved in crawling fashion up the black blade.
“And look at these jewels,” said Ubark, pointing out four gems set in its pommel. “A ruby, peridot, sapphire, and a garnet, and more brilliant than any jewel I ever saw in the King’s quarters,” he remarked, proud of his gem lore.
While the guards swooned over Aiden’s mystical sword, he made his way to the stables, which were east of the guard houses, and on most days, down-wind from the city. It had an ample paddock and contained thirty stalls on each side of the manger with another ten half-stalls around the back. Aiden led his horse into the paddock and was greeted the young stable master.
“Welcome to Tevilmeet,” said the boy, dressed in a stained brown tunic, his face dirty and hair matted. “My name is Charillos,” he continued, “My father Haslefeld runs the stables.”
“Well met Charillos, son of Haslefeld. I am Aiden and this is my friend Ching. He wants to know how much for some oats and a comfortable bed for the evening?”
Charillos laughed. “It is five gold pieces Sir Ching,” he said, stroking the horse’s course mane.
“Here are six,” said Aiden. “See to it Ching gets his oats and is kept dry and warm tonight.”
Charillos smiled and nodded his head. “Will you be staying at the Inn?” he asked.
“I will,” said Aiden. “But tell me, does a man called Garren yet dwell in Tevilmeet?”
“Councilor Garren?” asked Charillos.
“Would this Councilor Garren be in service to the King?” asked Aiden.
“Yes,” replied Charillos. “He is likely in the stone tower at the city core.”
Aiden frowned. “Then it is unlikely we speak of the same man,” he said, handing Charillos his six gold pieces. “If you need me, I will be at the Inn.”
He then left Ching in the care of Charillos and continued into the city, passing through the market district on his way to the Inn. As he made his way through the peddlers, he caught the eye of Günter, an Iron Fist lieutenant patrolling the district. Günter was an aggressive sort and particularly leery of strangers and he watched him closely, following him to the entrance of the Inn. He watched Aiden enter and there he called over Ribald, a guard under Günter’s command. The two talked briefly before Günter entered the Inn, leaving Ribald just outside the door.
Inside the Inn, Günter found the man sitting alone, his hood covering his head and he was slouched over a pint of ale. He grinned as he moved towards the table, gently wrapping a short black whip over his palm as he walked. He stood over the table for a moment and grew angry when the man did not look up. He then placed his hands flat against the tabletop and leaned forward.
“State your name and business beggar,” he said.
Aiden raised his head, his face obscured beneath the hood. “I have done so with Captain Ubark,” he said, “And I do not feel the need to do so again. If you want to know, go find Ubark.”
Günter erupted in anger and he slapped his whip upon the table, causing several tavern occupants to startle. “You will answer to me whelp or I’ll end your pitiful existence right here and now.”
Aiden threw back his gray hood as he rose to his full height; revealing a hellish scar which ran from under his right eye down across his twitching cheek. His wild black hair hung to his shoulders and from under deep brows his black eyes pierced the boastful guard, who withered and shrank before him. Günter wavered, considering his next move, but then suddenly found renewed courage at the sight of Ribald coming to his side and he spoke out.
“Yield rogue,” he said, his fingers tapping the hilt of his sword.
“He is no rogue,” said an elderly man, fancily dressed and standing in the arched doorway, Charillos at his side. “There is little hope of surviving this fight so you’d just as well leave this matter alone and go about your business.” He added as he strolled through the crowd, coming to stand at the side of Günter and Ribald.
“That is what I told him Counselor Garren,” said Günter, seemingly pleased with his self.
“I was talking to you,” said Garren.
Günter’s face flushed and he stammered for a moment but failed a reply. He then nudged Ribald and the two quietly left the premises.
Garren then looked upon Aiden and his eyes swelled and his lips quivered. “My boy,” he said. “My Aiden, I almost believed you for dead, and I would still if you were not before me.”

Ungood · 04-11-2008, 06:23 PM

Well given I am not a grammar buff, I'll leave that to other, better, people them myself and just look at your mechanics, ok?

Quote:

Originally Posted by Xirtic88

This is the first bit of a fantasy story I have in my head but finding it difficult to put onto paper. Anyways, I am not sure of the proper protocol for posting a story for critique but here it is:

A dust cloud appeared on the horizon and before it sped a rider on a white stallion; his silhouette shimmered in the burning air hovering over the barren plains. The stone spike of Almeria was before him and his heart was glad. He arrived at last to the realm of Miarandil and to Tevilmeet, city of Kings.
Tevilmeet had stood for five centuries before this day and its greater history was that of a fortress. A massive stone curtain surrounded the city in a perfect circle and at its gateway stood two towers wrought of timber and stone and at their peaks were red banners fluttered in the breeze. A bridge stretched between the towers, arching over a cobblestone road, which began at that point and led into the city’s core, branching off in angular directions.
As the rider approached, a guard stepped out and walked to the center of the road. He strained to see the rider’s face, which lay hidden under the shadow of a drooping gray hood. The horse slowed to a canter and when its hooves fell upon the cobblestones, he yelled out.
“Halt,” he said, “By command of the King, non-citizens must report name and matter and surrender sword while remaining within the walls of Tevilmeet.”
The rider halted abruptly and from hidden eyes he looked at the guard; his silver beard covered a wrinkled, swarthy face and his shaggy brows hung over keen blue eyes. He was clad in a blackened mail hauberk and his ringed gauntlets clutched a spear in his right hand and a gray shield in his left. Set upon the shield was a symbol of an upright fist. In the towers behind he saw tips of crossbows jutting from shadowed openings. The horse chewed at its bit and anxiously pawed at the stone road, yet the rider remained still.
The guard grew nervous and trembled.

Ok... right here... NO... Guards are Law enforcers (IE: Equal to modern Day Police) and should not be played off as people easily intimidated, some knucklehead just standing there like a bump on a log is not going to make a Captain of the Gate sweat when he had several crossbow men behind him as well as who knows how many men inside to come to his aid. Just FYI.

Quote:

The rider appeared to him an unkempt fellow and one who did not seem to belong to such a majestic looking horse. He considered at once he was perhaps dealing with an outlaw seeking refuge from some unseen pursuers. He thought that perhaps the strange man would spring forward through the gate at any moment, striking a deadly blow as he past.

In this case... the Guard would ready his weapons and prepare for a fight, with faith that one lone man is not going to lay siege to a city. Unless we are dealing with really... really... incompetent guards... and then I would wonder how any law gets up held in this city.

Quote:

His spear wavered and he tightened his grip. “Your name?” he said, “The King commands it.”

Quote:

A soft voice, yet one with seemingly hidden power, came from under the hood. “Interrogation, sword garnishment,” he said, “These things were not commanded to me upon my last call to this city.”
The guard relaxed his spear and hesitated momentarily for he did not expect such a voice to come from one who looked so tousled. “Then it has been years of ten or more since your last visit,” he replied.

Guards if well trained would not be offset by this... he might relax... but not get friendly with the person, you know.

Quote:

The rider’s eyes fluttered beneath the hood and he seemed to recall distant memories. “Indeed it has,” he said, as if speaking to someone else before he bent toward the guard. “Tell me,” he continued. “What reason has your king to treat travelers such as me with needless suspicion?”

Quote:

The guard muttered to himself and glanced toward the sky as if searching for a reason long since forgotten. “It is not a guard's place to question his King’s design,” he said at last, but appearing unsatisfied he continued, “Though in my mind, at first, I placed you as evil, though now I no longer judge you as so, lest I am fooled.”
“Then you are wise and have judged so correctly,” replied the rider, “And I bare no ill will toward one who is only faithfully serving his King, no matter how foolish the command. But let us move past our differences, what is your name?” he asked.

This makes it sound like the LONE rider has authority when that has not been established, at least not significant enough to intimidate a trained guard or enforcer.

Quote:

“My name?” replied the guard, a little surprised by the request. “My name is Ubark, and I am the gate captain of Tevilmeet.”

Quote:

“Captain Ubark,” said the rider, pointing to the guard’s shield. “And what does that symbol represent?”
The guard looked at his shield. “That is the symbol of the city guard,” he said proudly, “It represents the Iron Fist of King Lyleatha.”
“King Lyleatha!” said the rider, as if the very name stabbed at his heart and he seemed to falter. “I see,” he continued, sighing and resting back into his saddle. “Ubark, Gate Captain of the Iron Fist,” he continued, finally lowering his hood. “I am Aiden, a traveler from the distant West, and my business here is of a private matter, but I assure you I carry no ill will, and for tonight I only seek shelter.”
For the first time Ubark saw the rider uncloaked and he seemed to him a man of great stature and one who had seen many battles, but he knew not of such things and made no point to ask of them. He instead smiled at him.
“If that is so,” he said, “Then you will likely find an open bed at the Inn of the Grinning Fox, if that suites you?”
“It does,” said Aiden, giving his horse a nudge.
“But wait sir Aiden,” said Ubark. “You have given me your name, and I have released you to your private affairs by the honor of your words, but I cannot ignore all of the King’s laws, you must surrender your sword to me.”
Aiden halted but made no reply as Ubark had come to stand next to him. “I will keep it safe,” he said. “And when you take leave of the city, you will find me here and I will present it back to you, unharmed. You have my word.”
“And I will hold you to it Ubark, Captain of the Gate,” said Aiden, unclasping his sheathed sword from his belt and handing it to Ubark. “Or death shall find you swiftly,” he added, returning the smile.

and I imagine several crossbow bolts and a beat down later for threating the captian of the gate guards... if he lived though it... would put him in the stocks or a cell.

I am sorry... but this it too unrealistic that a "Capitan of the Gate" would be intimidated this easy... it just does not happen... by a no-one-special I might add.

Sorry.. mechanically.. it does not work...

Quote:

Ubark nodded and then watched him depart toward the stables. When he was sure the rider would not immediately return he retreated into the tower from which he came and laid the sword upon a table. Several guards came down from their posts to examine the sword with him. Gasps erupted as Ubark unsheathed the magnificent weapon, though he did not wield it as a courtesy to its owner. Ubark’s eyes grew wide.

Quote:

“In all my years I’ve not seen its equal,” he said, running his fingers across silver markings etched into its iron quillians.
“I wonder what they mean,” said a guard.
“Forged in dragon fires,” said another, “Look.”
He pointed to the forte’ were the images of two black dragons were carved in crawling fashion up the black blade.
“And look at these jewels,” said Ubark, pointing out four gems set in its pommel. “A ruby, peridot, sapphire, and a garnet, and more brilliant than any jewel I ever saw in the King’s quarters,” he remarked, proud of his gem lore.

This might happen... but the other guards would not come down unless he called them... I mean... it was just "Some Guy" really...

Quote:

While the guards swooned over Aiden’s mystical sword, he made his way to the stables, which were east of the guard houses, and on most days, down-wind from the city. It had an ample paddock and contained thirty stalls on each side of the manger with another ten half-stalls around the back. Aiden led his horse into the paddock and was greeted the young stable master.

Quote:

“Welcome to Tevilmeet,” said the boy, dressed in a stained brown tunic, his face dirty and hair matted. “My name is Charillos,” he continued, “My father Haslefeld runs the stables.”
“Well met Charillos, son of Haslefeld. I am Aiden and this is my friend Ching. He wants to know how much for some oats and a comfortable bed for the evening?”
Charillos laughed. “It is five gold pieces Sir Ching,” he said, stroking the horse’s course mane.
“Here are six,” said Aiden. “See to it Ching gets his oats and is kept dry and warm tonight.”
Charillos smiled and nodded his head. “Will you be staying at the Inn?” he asked.
“I will,” said Aiden. “But tell me, does a man called Garren yet dwell in Tevilmeet?”
“Councilor Garren?” asked Charillos.
“Would this Councilor Garren be in service to the King?” asked Aiden.
“Yes,” replied Charillos. “He is likely in the stone tower at the city core.”
Aiden frowned. “Then it is unlikely we speak of the same man,” he said, handing Charillos his six gold pieces. “If you need me, I will be at the Inn.”
He then left Ching in the care of Charillos and continued into the city, passing through the market district on his way to the Inn. As he made his way through the peddlers, he caught the eye of Günter, an Iron Fist lieutenant patrolling the district. Günter was an aggressive sort and particularly leery of strangers and he watched him closely, following him to the entrance of the Inn. He watched Aiden enter and there he called over Ribald, a guard under Günter’s command. The two talked briefly before Günter entered the Inn, leaving Ribald just outside the door.
Inside the Inn, Günter found the man sitting alone, his hood covering his head and he was slouched over a pint of ale. He grinned as he moved towards the table, gently wrapping a short black whip over his palm as he walked. He stood over the table for a moment and grew angry when the man did not look up. He then placed his hands flat against the tabletop and leaned forward.
“State your name and business beggar,” he said.
Aiden raised his head, his face obscured beneath the hood. “I have done so with Captain Ubark,” he said, “And I do not feel the need to do so again. If you want to know, go find Ubark.”
Günter erupted in anger and he slapped his whip upon the table, causing several tavern occupants to startle. “You will answer to me whelp or I’ll end your pitiful existence right here and now.”
Aiden threw back his gray hood as he rose to his full height; revealing a hellish scar which ran from under his right eye down across his twitching cheek. His wild black hair hung to his shoulders and from under deep brows his black eyes pierced the boastful guard, who withered and shrank before him. Günter wavered, considering his next move, but then suddenly found renewed courage at the sight of Ribald coming to his side and he spoke out.
“Yield rogue,” he said, his fingers tapping the hilt of his sword.
“He is no rogue,” said an elderly man, fancily dressed and standing in the arched doorway, Charillos at his side. “There is little hope of surviving this fight so you’d just as well leave this matter alone and go about your business.” He added as he strolled through the crowd, coming to stand at the side of Günter and Ribald.
“That is what I told him Counselor Garren,” said Günter, seemingly pleased with his self.
“I was talking to you,” said Garren.
Günter’s face flushed and he stammered for a moment but failed a reply. He then nudged Ribald and the two quietly left the premises.
Garren then looked upon Aiden and his eyes swelled and his lips quivered. “My boy,” he said. “My Aiden, I almost believed you for dead, and I would still if you were not before me.”

I read the whole thing... which is rather amazing.. to tell the truth...

Your writing.. very good... this is well written... it flows well... and all in all a really good story that can grip you... quickly with almost no Info Dumps at all... it pulls you along....

it is just totally unbelievable in any manner... the MC is too over the top...

Ungood.

A-L · 04-11-2008, 09:55 PM

I must agree with Ungood on both the good and the bad. I find your story interesting to read and I digest it rather well. However, the main character and the situation with the gaurd does seem a tad bit unrealistic without you telling the reader anything about this lone riders past, position, or relevance. So, I liked it, but it just requires a little bit of a twist to make it beleivable and it will be good. Aside from that your writing is engaging and again is easy to digest. Keep it up.

Xirtic88 · 04-14-2008, 08:23 AM

These comments are constructive and very helpful. Thank you.