PDA

View Full Version : Untitled Fantasy/Sci-Fi mixture



ZayneJ
April 13th, 2013, 08:03 AM
The idea of this story is to take it's time, so if it feels like it dawdles a little, or (like with the first chapter) moves too fast, I am aware. I am working on it, and the latter chapters (5, 6) are much better than the first few. Please, feel free to point out any glaring formatting issues. Formatting is my weakest point in writing. Also, the idea of the Language the captain uses is based off of someone else's work, and is currently only there as a placeholder until I can get the kinks worked out of a system of my own.

__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ ______________________________

CHAPTER 1

One man rides lonesome, pacing a line, a line of soldiers. His horse stumbled over its own feet in the sheerness of the moment. Phalanxed men, all standing at arms, listen to his words as if they were the last that would ever fall upon their ears, or mine.
“These are the same men who have been raping your wives for decades. That sea of green, shining armor is not a sign of valor, it is a sign of brutality, and ignorance. Those men find strength in their numbers. Millions of them face us. Millions of peons, most of which have never even seen the raw side of a blade. I want you to show them what a real warrior is. I want you to show them steel, and pain! I want you to turn that sea of green into a sea of red!” The Captain paused, and glanced over at the enemy again. His eyes darkened “I am to leave this steed behind, and join the ranks of all of you. When the battle is over, you will know I am me when I hoist the heads of my enemies upon my spear! Raise high your steel, tonight our flames our fueled by blood. Take your rage in for what they did to Giliha and pour it through your arms. Vun Kemery!” (For Giliha)
It was like nothing I had ever seen. Everyone around me shot forward with such intensity, shouting and shaking like boys. There were only half a million of us. We stood no chance against our enemies. Seven million, that is what our scouts had told us. I charged forward, regardless of my misgivings, ripping my own vocal chords from their home with passion, screaming.
The Collision was like nothing that can be described. A bright flash, and then nothing. I believe, maybe, that I blacked out, and fought unconsciously. The only things I knew I felt were the splashes of blood. Blood like rain fell all over, washing away each sin as the man it once called home fell to his knees. My armor felt as though it had disintegrated, and yet I fought on; donning only my leathers. My memory then faded, and next I remember, a soldier was slapping me across the face, waking me up.
“Buhre! Sir! Wake up!” I was only a unit commander, which warranted a ‘Sir’ or two from some of the new officers. I rose, groggily, to my feet. A corney smile flashed across my face.
“Well, Brakha, how’d we do?” A little chuckle passed over Brakha’s lips as he responded. “Take a look for yourself sir. You can almost taste the victory from here” He, reliably, was not joking either. It looked almost too good to be true. A quick glance around revealed something startling. We had, in fact, won that battle. The biggest forces of each army faced off, and the little silver blob had won. Even more so, it looked like we still had a fair five-hundred men left to celebrate it.
“HO!” I shouted at my loudest. “Frana ec dra Lybdyeh?” (Where is the Captain?) It was a tongue foreign to the men, well, all but one of them.
“Ujan rana oui becc yhd!” (Over here you piss ant!) It was the captain. Somehow, he had lived. From across the piles of bodies, he waved his hand, jumping in the air like a child. I nodded back at him, and he smiled, and turned away. As I began walking in his direction, I noticed what he was doing. Thick sounds of sloshing and snapping floated my way. Another skull was popped with a spearhead just as easily as it slid through the flesh. He had held true to his promise. I hopped from a corpse pile and landed firmly next to him.
“How did you keep track of them all?” I said to him with a stone-like expression.
“Keep track of what Buhre?” He started as he severed another head. “Oh, you mean which ones I actually killed?”
“Naturally.”
“Didn’t kill a damn soul kid. I was the battle Lussyhtan (Commander), wasn’t my place to go off taking all the glory now was it?” He continued about his morale boosting exercise while he spoke.
“A Commander? Excuse me sir, but I call bullshit. Just because you give orders doesn’t mean you can’t pierce a few skulls with that spear of yours in the process. I mean hell, look at you now.” I took a bit of an angrier tone with him than I meant to. I only realized it shortly after the words escaped my lips. He stood almost dramatically slowly and pulled his personal, gold engraved spear from the pile of bodies whose heads he was using.
“No, it damn well doesn’t, but what it does do is give me the right to stab you through the neck. I like you kid, you showed a hell of a lot of promise out there today. I want you by my side as Meaidahyhd in the next battle.” Bastard... he calls me kid like he doesn’t know my name. We even went through the enlistment together. Captain Vain Ghal, biggest ego in all the military, as fresh to the badge as a baby to air.
“S..Sir?”
“That’s right Buhre.” He tossed me a crystal to put on my breastplate, the sign of being an official Lieutenant(Meaidahyhd). I don’t know why that bastard has to use the Crux language so much. It’s not like Lieutenant is much of a secret word.
“Thank you sir! I’ll go to the on-field quartermaster and get the emblem emblazoned on my sword right away!” I hopped vivaciously over the, now-standing, speared heads and headed toward black tent at the far back of the field. We had pushed quite a ways forward since we started. We really must have done quite a lot of damage very fast.
From where we started, the picture wasn’t exactly as I pictured it would be. The once brutishly idiotic sea of green stood a pale grey. I did notice something a far bit off to the left, where the enemy commanders unit had once been; a massive black land scar. That certainly was not there before. As I opened the tent to the quartermaster, I heard shouting behind me.
“Vycdan! Vycdan!” (Faster, Faster!) It was the captain. I am going to love it when the day comes where the men realize there actually is meaning behind that gibberish he spits at them.

Silenced
April 13th, 2013, 08:15 AM
i had one thing pop into my mind while reading this, how did the enemy army get defeated? It leaves open a major point in this story, if you added that in it would become a cool story. (I'm highly fascinated with knights, wizards, and medieval themes)

ZayneJ
April 13th, 2013, 08:19 AM
Yeah, I did that deliberately. There is a plot point coming up as I am working on the sixth chapter that really gets back in to explaining what is goes on during, and after, the main character blacks out.

Silenced
April 13th, 2013, 08:25 AM
Ah good, post more once given the chance.

Potty
April 13th, 2013, 06:26 PM
I was just about to comment on the same thing, the only thing I could think was that each man would have to have single handedly kill 1400 enemy troops in order to defeat the opposing side. But you say that will be explained so that's fine. I actually really enjoyed this, your writing style has a way of grabbing the readers attention and I didn't feel like it was too slow or too fast. I'm not sure I like the meaning of the language put into brackets. It takes me out of the story a little bit, as if reminding me that this is a story and not a world I've just been sucked into. I know some authors would have a golssary of terms in the back that gives you the meanings rather than having them right there on the page.

Got any more written?

allyson17white
April 13th, 2013, 06:27 PM
I loved the story and I'm wondering about that land scar. I did notice just one thing is that it the first sentence was more present tense and then change to past tense. I don't know it just seemed slightly off. Either way I really liked it.

ZayneJ
April 13th, 2013, 06:51 PM
Got any more written?

Yes, in fact I do. Also, the language is there as a placeholder for now, so I didn't want to take the time to make a glossary until I had the language I wanted nailed down. The Chapters will get longer eventually as well.
__________________________________________________ _________________________________

CHAPTER 2

“What news?” Someone said from behind me. I snapped my head around and pushed the black cloth hangings in the doorway aside. It was the Quartermaster. “You’re the first who has made it down here since the howling stopped.”
“Howling?” I tilted my head.
“Damn straight howling. You boys went at them like a pack of fucking wolves. Now. I am going to assume that we won? I mean, you look alive enough.” I smiled at him and then stared down at the crystal in my hand.
“Heh. I guess you could say that.” I tossed the crystal at him.
“Promotion eh? I suppose you want me to hammer that into your brea... Kid, where the fuck is your breastplate?” His brow thickened.
“Out on the field somewhere I suppose. Not much use as armor anymore. Those bastards at least did know how to fight. Just not well enough evidently.”
“Alright then. No matter. I’ll give you one. Free ‘o charge.” He hoisted a thick platinum chestplate laden with ornate carvings from a crate. “Look good enough for an Lt?”
“Good, hell. Fantastic more like it. Even makes the captain look like a street rat.” My eyes glowed in anticipation. For all the death I had seen, there was nothing like a new set of armor to start the day anew.
“Way I hear it, both you and the captain were street rats. Living out of Thelbastre right?”
“Yeah, the capital is a cold place, but its not too hard to find work, ‘specailly if you are willing to get all kinds of bloody.” I pulled my sword from its hanging strap on my side and tossed it at him. “Hey, could you clean that too and give it the Lt’s gold hilt strip?”
“Yeah, ‘o course.” He placed the armor and sword on one of his work benches and turned back to me, cupping his hands on the counter. “Anything else you need?”
“No, not at the moment. Thank you.” I stepped back through the tent opening and the sunlight flushed in my face. From here I could see the flames just starting to rise out of the bodies. Captain sure has a flair for the dramatic.
I glanced back over at the odd land scar again. It looked as if it had been set fire, but not in anyway I knew of. It had to have happened quick, like some sort of wildfire. I dismissed the idea at the time, but I wish I hadn’t. I made my way back down the plains to the captain.
He stood, almost triumphantly over the burning bodies, like he was taking in the smell of all things.
“Truly magnificent isn’t it?” He tossed his weapons to the ground and sat, crossing his legs. He smiled contently as the rest of the men roasted what was left of the beef we had hunted up the night before the campaign.
“I don’t know about magnificent, but it is impressive, i’ll give you that.” I sat next to him and Brakha, one of the new boys, tossed me a thick leg of meat. I drove a spear through it and hung it over the fire. The smell that floated through the air confused my stomach like nothing else could. Blood, disease and death all mixed with steel and cooking meat. It was what I had always imagined a cannibal feast smelt like. I layed back, content that my meat would neither fall nor burn. Just about the time I did, as if I had trained my gaze like a boy trains his dog, the sun began to fade. The shouts of the men wound down as they all looked upward. Patches of grey filled the sky and the sun only shone in narrow beams.
“Clouds?” The captain asked as he hopped to his feet.
“Looks like it. But have you ever seen clouds move in that fast?” I stood up as well, and backed slowly away from the fire. The captain followed, only stopping to pick up his gear, and hoist it over his shoulder. At first, we walked away, calmly, back toward the camp. The camp was set far off, almost miles past even the Quartermaster tent. As the rain began to pour down, the men followed us, out of annoyance more than anything. Then we heard a scream, almost wilhelm in its misplaced intensity. I spun around, easier now that the ground was the consistency of mud. It was Brakha. He had fallen to his knees and his leathers were steaming, and degrading. His skin was next. The rain worked its way through the whole of him until all that was left were a pile of softened bones. We all stood there in shock for a long time. The only thing that snapped us out was another one of the new boys screaming. It was hitting other people now. we needed to move.
I spun around again and ran, as fast as I could, thankful I had lost the weight of my plate. Every so often another scream would begin to echo, and another man would fall. I kept a glance over my shoulder as my feet pounded the mud. The captain was still going too. As we passed by the Quartermasters tent, the captain stopped and dove inside. There was fumbling and shouting, and next I knew the tent erupted off of its base and converted back into a cart, carrying all of his gear and the captain along with it. The Captain’s horse was pulling the cart, and thusly, it strode faster than I ever could, even with a cargo of heavy armors to pull.
Just as it passed me I hopped on, barely catching my footing on the loosely tied planks. Some of the faster men groaned as they flung themselves on as well. We rode the cart clear through to the camp, only losing one or two crate tops to the burning rain.

ZayneJ
April 20th, 2013, 04:12 AM
I decided that I was going to keep you guys updated on the story in it's totality as things move along!
__________________________________________________ _________________________

CHAPTER 3

The tents on the horizon where a sight for almost literally sore eyes. We had made our way ahead of the storm. The captain began waving his arms frantically at all of the waiting wives and children.
“Get your asses inside!” The Quartermaster shouted, “Or do you want to die to the devils tears?” The murmur of the joyed masses faded as only one-hundred men crested the hill behind us, some even still falling to burns. The screaming began, and all of the civilians swarmed frantically. They all ditched their belongings and ran south, through the mountain pass.
“Shit!” The Quartermaster shouted. “The rain water is going to flow through that pass like a tsunami...”
“Nothing we can do now Abel. They’ve killed themselves.” The captain lowered his head. “Dammit. So many people. More than half a million. The Presider is going to kill me.” He threw a glance over at me. “Looks like we can’t go back.”
“What do you...” I stopped when I noticed him tapping Abel on the shoulder and making a twirling motion with his finger. The cart hung a wide turn and faced the men still fumbling down the field. The skin on Captain Vain’s throat tore slightly as he yelled.
“Get to the planning tent! Hide there! Do not wait for us, once the rain stops head for the mountain pass, pick up any of the surviving civilians and go back to the capital!” A faint murmur of ‘yessir!’ rolled across the hill. The captain didn’t even turn to look at Abel he just threw his hand in the air and we hung another turn, and headed for the forest to the north. The battlefield would be toxic for a long time, no one would even know the outcome of the battle until the men we left behind found their way home. As it turns out, that would not be for quite a long time as well.
The cart began to shake as we broke through into the woods. We rode on for hours, seemingly ahead of the storm. Little did we know, the storm only followed the army. It bellowed down on them for close to another week after we left. Abel, Vain, the two light spearmen who climbed aboard with us, Alexander Glomin and Claes Gellar, and I sat in silence most of the way through the forest. The farther we went, the thicker the canopy seemed to get.
“Captain, where are we going?” I said as I stared down at the crate containing my blade and chestplate.
“No clue. As far away from the capital as we can get though.” Abel stopped the cart.
“Why? I mean, its not like we killed everyone...”
“Thats true, but, you know the presider, he isn’t fond of any loss, no matter the cause. We lost half a million of his citizens. I shudder to think how he would react.” The captain physically shuddered. Abel stood up from the driver's position and turned around toward us.
“Listen, i’m with you, but if we are getting as far away from the capital as possible, perhaps we should head to port and cross the glowing channel?”
“The glowing channel?” Alexander asked. Claes remained silent.
“Ah, that’s right. You boys don’t know much outside of Thelbastre and the mountains to the north of it do you?” The captain took on a caring face. Alexander answered first.
“Well, no sir. Not much. Aside from the plains the battlefield was on, thats as far as we have gone from home.”
“Damn, not a lot of knowledge gets pumped into the presiders cannon fodder I guess.” Abel chimed in. “Guess they figure you won’t live long enough to need it.”
“Careful” Vain started, “These boys are going to be with us for a hell of a long time.” I glanced up at him.
“How do you figure? Once they know where they are, they could just as easily get going anytime they please.”
“But we would never leave the captain unless he ordered us too.” Alexander said with perk.
“Your captain is a deserter now kid. You don’t owe him any more loyalty than you owe Abel. Once he tells you where we are, where we are going, and why we are going there, I fully expect you to go on your own way.”
“Watch yourself Buhre. You are all coming to the sheerside with me.” Vain said as he pointed triumphantly into the distance.
“Sheerside?” Alexander again.
“Fuck all kid, you really don’t know much.” Abel turned away and began to drive again, swinging a spare blade violently at the thickets as we pushed through. Claes turned his head to Alexander and removed his helmet to reveal blood streaming down his forehead. He did not seem concerned.
“Sheerside. Sheerside is the end. The end of the world. I’ve seen it myself. Its like our entire world was cut from the core of something much larger. The cliffs extend farther than the eye can see and clouds blanket the landscape. Like a farplane of souls, the clouds glow at night with the purest intensity. Sheerside, the place where lovers go to wed, and good men go to die. Is that how you want to go out captain? A good man on his way to die?” Claes’ voice was low with the intensity of a cannon. When he spoke we all felt awkward, a voice so rough and powerful coming from a man so small and pale.
“Oh, never anything quite so dramatic, I assure you.” Captain flipped the straps coming from the front of his leather tunic. He did not say another word for quite a long time. I sat at the front of the cart, talking with Abel about our plans for extended periods as we both chopped tirelessly at the thickets. We both planned full well to spend the journey through to its end; with, or without the boys.
As the glowing channel came in to view, Claes and Vain looked at each other for the first time since the altercation. It was a beautiful sight. The deepest, longest river in the world, dividing us neatly in two. A river so wide, that the other side was only barely visible on the horizon, and not at all on a particularly busy, or foggy, day. Our nation’s side of the channel was peaceful, and luminously green. Citizens walked about the bank, smiling and laughing with one another. Adults and children alike come to the channel if just or the soothing glow, and peace-for-all ideals. The areas surrounding both sides of the channel were the only places on our lonely rock that both armies decided didn’t deserve to undergo the torment of war. Claes stood up in the cart, and leaned on Vain’s shoulder. His knee seemed wounded.
“Blood need not spoil these waters. Death need not spoil these faces. Memories old need not spoil these memories new.” He spoke the words of the Channel treaty. “These are the only words that needed to be written on that piece of paper. Both sides knew what it meant.” He stood silent for several minutes as the cart edged ever closer to the crossing bridge. “I’ll come with you to sheerside Captain. Sheerside may be where good men go to die, but the Channel is where all men go to live. No man in any state of mind would wish himself such happiness in life when he was on the verge of such inevitable self-damnation.” Vain smiled, as though he were proud of the smart child.
“And I will accept you to follow. No man chooses to betray another when he already has a knife to his back, and wishes to tell about it.” A loud clang ran across the cart as Vain dropped that dagger back into the box that he had so deftly removed it from.

egpenny
April 26th, 2013, 06:03 AM
I do love a dialogue driven story where the people sound realistic. I like it and I'll be looking for more.
I agree with the comment about the first paragraph of the first chapter...Maybe something like One man rode alone would sound better.

Mat
April 27th, 2013, 07:37 PM
I really enjoyed reading this. Maybe a little more time spent on description would help slow the pace? As above, the dialogue really does drag you along, and I like that.

ZayneJ
April 28th, 2013, 08:40 AM
I really enjoyed reading this. Maybe a little more time spent on description would help slow the pace? As above, the dialogue really does drag you along, and I like that.

I agree on that. The beginning of the story is kind of lackluster with its descriptions. I will try working on that as time goes on, and likely go back and fix some of it in the first few chapters. Thanks!

And, without further to do...
__________________________________________________ __________________________________________________ ____________________

CHAPTER 4

Our time on the crossing bridge was almost equal to our time trekking through the thick forest. The notable difference between the two legs of the journey were the people. The crossing bridge was bustling with people, seeing as how it is the only way to safely cross the borders of the nations, it only makes sense. The bridge is about the only thing left of what the Crux people called the “Fyn uv Pittehk Memeac.” (War of Budding Lilies) This was a war that took place just after the “founding” of the two nations, Giliha and Crisia. I use founding as loosely as I can. Neither nation came about in any official sense. They formed more as coalitions of villagers. Those south of the Glowing Channel uniting under the grey flag of honor and those north of the Channel uniting under the green flag of justice.
There was no particular reason for them to decide to form separate nations, they just did so almost completely ignorant of one another's existence. The first goal of both coalitions was also very similar, get across the glowing channel. No one else had managed to make the full trip before, and if they had they saw fit no reason to return. Both sides had fantasies about what might be on the other side. Giliha built a bridge, a massive, thick, sturdy, wooden bridge. Crisia built ferry boats, a much faster, much more temporary solution. When the sides did eventually meet, all that fell over the people was confusion, like the look that graces a deer’s face the first time it sees a human.
Now, though, there is a difference in the tone of bridge travel. Everyone smiles at one another and makes friends in passing. The sound of hooves on such refined wood becomes a pleasant white noise. you even begin to breath to its pattern. You sleep well, eat well, and live well on the crossing bridge. But there is one thing you do not do, and that is stop. Regardless of the airborne good tidings that come with it, no one can ever let the lingering fear pass by them.
Only one thing of real note occurred during our stint. it was only two days in. We were all well aware that what we had been doing was slowly sinking deeper into a pool of fugitives, and this was the point of no return. Once you cross the bridge as a fugitive, there is likely no chance you will ever go back.
It was morning, and the sun was glowing in that “Welcome to the world” sort of way that it tends to when you are surrounded by joy. Leaning my head out of the cart I was instantly stuck with a feeling of almost intense oddity. It was quiet. No one was moving, not us, not the traders, tailors, or political dignitaries. A path stood clear up the middle of the bridge, completely open, and only bothering to close again once they had passed. They, that is to say the people so important to have actually warranted the seizing of the entire bridge, were surrounded by a platoon of Green Steel. Their cart was laden with Jewels and gold. They were close to passing us when I woke the rest of the cart, save Abel who was already sitting vigilantly in his drivers seat.
The cart passed by us, bearing the stench of the Devils tears. Had the storm passed by this way as well? Or, had they been on the battlefield? Why would they be coming from this direction if that were the case? Had they already been home? Why were they heading back into Giliha? I believed I was keeping these thoughts in my head, but evidently I had been murmuring them somewhat because Vain piped up in response.
“ I know that man. He was indeed at the battle. I know for a fact.” Just as he started. I got my first good look at the man in the cart. His appearance was regal and distinct. “Do you see that scar across his face? The one that flows across both eyelids? I gave it to him.”
“You did? I never took you for one to toy with your kills.” I smiled. “Least not the important ones.”
“I wasn’t toying with him. He was just deadly good. The only reason he escaped was because he threw a pack of his men at me as a smokescreen. A cowards tactic, but the coward lives longer than the hero.” Abel layed back into the cart and smiled.
“Damn right is what you would be in that one.” A flurry of shouts came from outside and he flung his body back upright. A Green suit walked up to Abel.
“You! Why does your cart bear the royal crest of the Gilihan army?” He slowly toyed with the rawhide of the handle on his blade, an intimidation tactic that was wasted on Abel.
“Grabbed it from an abandoned Military camp a few miles south. Nobody was around, and I and my horse here needed more space to carry our shit. No crime in that where you are concerned eh?” A smirk crossed his face that nearly betrayed his lie.
“None that I can recall, however caution is the better part of betrayal. Im sure you wouldn’t mind if we were to give the inside a look over? Just to be safe of course.” He let his fingers fall from the hilt of his blade.
“No, of course not. My boys are sleeping back there though, so do be careful not to wake them” Abel was tapping a slight dismissal on the underside of his seat. I reached into the crate and pulled out Vain’s helmet. I tossed it to him; he looked at me puzzled, and donned it anyway. We all laid back to feign sleep.
Even with my eyes closed I could feel the scanning gaze of the Greensuit. He scrutinized every detail of the cart, seemingly with a pleased reprieve. Just as I heard him start climbing down he mumbled something.
“Oh. Hold on a second...” He reached up and tapped Vain on the shoulder, “Remove your helmet.” I was readying the knife that lay to my side as Vain reluctantly lifted the platinum steel from his head. “I thought so. You are Gilihan military. One doesn’t so easily mistake the face of the man who gutted his brother.”
“One doesn’t so easily ransack said man either.” Vain said, collected. The soldier grabbed him by the arm and hoisted him up to pull him out of the cart. I lunged forward, aiming for the soft spot under his helmet. The blade slid in as easily as though it were plunged into bread. The soldier slumped and all of his weight bore down upon the knife, causing it to drive even farther into his throat. Just as it pierced through to the back, Vain kicked him out of the cart, head first. The other greensuits stirred, waiting for a response from him, or their leader. Abel leaned back into the cart.
“Hold on to yer fuckin’ horses.” He snapped the reins harder than I have ever seen, and the cart took off flying, forcing the others on the bridge to race out of the way, some tumbling into the waters below.. What would have been another two days trip across the bridge suddenly shrunk down to only 5 hours. We tore through the gate at the far side of the bridge, and disappeared directly into the desert beyond.

Sigg
April 28th, 2013, 08:54 AM
I had a real difficulty reading this for a few reasons. Here are some things that really got to me which you may want to consider taking a second look at :

There were a lot of very clunky sounding phrases/descriptions, when I read them they damaged the flow. For example the first sentence : "One man rides lonesome, pacing a line, a line of soldiers." would read much better to me as simply "One man rides lonesome, pacing a line of soldiers." This type of tightening would make a world of difference to me as a reader, especially at the beginning of the story let alone the first sentence.

This could just be my own ignorance but the use of the word "sheerness" in "His horse stumbled over its own feet in the sheerness of the moment." bothered me, I don't think it's a word and it doesn't make any sense to me in this sentence.

The intended effect of "...shouting and shaking like boys" was completely lost on me and left me just feeling confused. Perhaps this is a colloquialism of some kind that I'm not understanding?

The nail in the coffin for me was when the numbers of combatants was described. 7 million and 500 thousand? Those numbers are incomprehensible for a single battle. Of course, maybe this makes some sort of sense in the overall context of the setting but for me it was just insane and made the otherwise tense/dramatic moment seem unbelievable and silly. When you envision this battle in your mind, how do you reconcile the number 7 million soldiers? For this to feel more believable to me, I need more description of the battlefield and the context of the battle.


Anyhow, I think to distill these observations into more generally usable advice I'd say that this could do with a good review/rewrite to tighten up the language with careful attention to the diction (using words that don't exist without implying that you are making up a new word for some special effect is enough to turn me off to a story) and revisit the requirement for suspension of disbelief on the part of your reader (you only get so much slack on this before you lose your reader).

Hope this helps!

ZayneJ
April 28th, 2013, 09:35 AM
Allow me to sit back for a moment and offer a bit of explanation.

I am painfully aware of some of the wording issues. I apologize for posting the first chapter in such in incomplete form. I had gotten into a flow with the ideas and I suppose I overlooked some of the mistakes. Initially the story wasn't supposed to stretch out as much as it has.

On the numbers of the combatants, It is intended to seem insurmountable, but perhaps such a drastic difference does seem rather off. It is explained later in the story how such a feat was managed, by way of an admitted possible Deus Ex Machina feeling explanation. I intend to go back and edit a lot of the story, removing some later plot events that seem to make things rather difficult to grasp, while adding in a bit of context for the later explanation other than the foreshadowing done by way of the "land scar" that is briefly mentioned.

As for the language. It is something I struggle with. It isn't really used outside of the first chapter, and while I like the idea of it, I see the point of taking it out entirely. It seems to break up the flow of things a bit too much, and I have had a much more in tune idea as how to handle the connection I need to make between Vain and the "Crux" Which will become quite important later on.

The beginning to this story was written quite a long time ago, thank you for helping me along in the way of fixing it.