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Zynthos-Chapter 5 (1 Viewer)


Senior Member
This is probably the last chapter I'll post on here for awhile(except for a dream sequence I typed up last month concerning a new character not yet introduced), a few forum members have posted comments that have seriously helped give me some inspiration and I feel its time to act on that and revise a bit. Thank you so much to:

I've been given a lot to think about so thank you, thank you, thank you!

Chapter Five

Victoria couldn't believe it. She sat there looking at the view screen while Mark turned the camera to where she could see the planet also. "Uh...Mark..." she said through shocked lips.

"Already performing a planet scan," he replied quickly. The camera turned back toward him. She was astonished at the fact that he still hadn't changed. In truth he actually looked like he was doing better. His motor skills were still functioning decently and he was coherent...But it was what happened to his eyelid that worried her. Apparently his body was rotting on the inside, a clear indication that he wouldn’t last much longer.

She heard a low beep in her headset. "Planet scan indicates 65 percent water, 35 percent land.' he said, 'That's slightly more land than Earth used to have. Also...' he continued, 'the atmosphere appears to have 22 percent oxygen in it...again slightly more than Earth has."

Victoria gasped aloud. The planet was habitable. They had found the Holy Grail, so to speak, that the Quarem was searching for.

She heard a low moan from Mark. "Hey you still with me?' she asked as she saw his head slump forward onto the control panel, 'Mark?"

Victoria saw on her readouts that the ship had started to accelerate. It's caught in the planet's gravity! This wasn't good. She had to at least find out where he was before he set down on the planet. There was no telling what kind of interference the ship would encounter, not to mention he had to be awake to actually land it. She bit her lip. I dont know what to do...he's going to die! Another voice sounded in her head, Well he was going to die anyway, he got bit remember? A sudden realization stopped the internal argument she was having with herself.

He is going to die, and there is nothing I can do about it. There was nothing at all from the beginning of the hyperjump that I could do. I made the choice between us or him.
She closed her eyes against the culmination of stress that had made her day. Nobody should have to make the decisions she made on their first mission.

She opened her eyes after a minute. She glanced back at the other two, who had been silent this whole time. Herc's face looked grim. He knew what was coming. Chuckles had his eyes cast downward, a faint look of sadness on his face. She turned back toward the view screen. Breathing in deeply she sent a loud beep through her headset using a button on her control panel. Mark didn't move.


Beep. Beep. Beep. Mark's head was throbbing as he was shaken awake by a repeating sound reverberating in his headset. He slowly sat up, his eyes almost refusing to open. He glanced at the control panel in front of him, noting a red light and shield percentage counter. The loud beeping silenced and was replaced with a voice.

"Mark! Move your ass! You are going to crash into that planet!" Victoria yelled into his ears. He tried to move his arm to touch the panel but found it difficult. He was losing feeling in it, the same as the other arm. His fingers felt fat and flabby, jabbing at buttons with the precision of a drunken man. It wasn't long before he gave up, his arm falling to his side. His breathing rattled.

His eyes clouded over multiple times, vision fading out and appearing back in steady loops, each time he saw the planet was a little closer.

He growled with annoyance. His body was trying to go to sleep and he still needed to tell Victoria where he was. She was depending on him. Everyone was depending on him. Humans need this to survive. If I can just last a little longer... His arm shot back up to the control panel, flying through screens with the efficiency that he wouldn’t have thought possible.

He performed several scans of the surrounding area and of the planet itself. Readings of plant life and several life forms flooded the screen. Mark didn’t take the time to look at them as he loaded them all onto one of the ship's satellite buoys. He programmed the buoy to head back to a more familiar star system so that it would transmit the information back to Earth. Hopefully the buoy would provide the intel that the Quarem needed to find the planet, providing that it successfully jumped back to an identifiable location. When he was done his shoulders slacked again, the burden taken off. He tried to breathe deeply but all that he was able to manage were a few short drawn breaths.

"Hey,' he said into his microphone, 'I loaded a bunch of stuff on one of the satellite buoys. I'm going to launch it back to the Milky Way. Maybe that will give you guys a good idea of where I've gone to."

"Alright, we'll get someone on it as soon as we can,” she replied. He heard someone yelling. That must be Ripper calling. If she left his team he should be pretty livid by now.

He cleared his throat. "I guess I'll catch you guys later," he said laughing weakly at the irony. He felt tired again, as if it was time for him to go. Somehow he had accepted the fact that there was no hope for him.

"Sorry you aren’t getting off that easy,' she replied, 'I'm staying here with you...to the end."

"Why?" he asked, suddenly curious.

"Just shut up,' she said, 'think of it as a courtesy thing. A dude is about to die and its best that he doesn't die alone. That sort of thing."

He shook his head. Mark looked up so he could see the planet. It loomed closer, a bright beacon of hope for mankind, and his personal beacon of death. Nothing beats going out on a planet thats ripe with life. Well...maybe living. He could hear Victoria breathing on the other end, a steady reminder that he was not alone. He still couldn't move. He set his head back again so he would enjoy the view.

Dying kind of sucks. There's all this buildup...and to what? You just never wake up? Maybe it would be like falling asleep. I wouldn't feel pain...
Mark suddenly felt sad. He tried to think of things he would miss, if even in death he could miss them. There was nothing that came to mind immediately.

His stomach twisted in a not after that, dealing him a fresh wave of pain that made him grunt. The ship started to accelerate even faster, taking on a speed that made him sit upright again involuntarily. A loud whirring sound encircled the ship. The view screen showed that the shield was burning at an incredible rate. The percentage counter in front of him started to rocket downward from 85 percent to 42 percent.

Not long now.
He briefly remembered what had brought him to his current predicament. Using a skateboard to get to graduation had earned him this mission, along with Victoria and Zach. Nobody had told him this of course, but he knew that recruits normally didn’t get missions of this caliber, even before the zombies ruined everything. He thought of Victoria and was sorry for her. She had endured a lot of stress because of him, in and out of training. He actually looked up to her. She resembled what he thought a good soldier was. She was physically fit, passionate about what she did and had a sharp mind to boot. During training he had tried his hardest to be like her, and in the end the scores had even shown him to be better in two categories. In his mind though, he still thought she was far superior in every aspect, no matter what scores said.

The shield percentage was at 12 percent now. Parts of the ship were breaking off as he entered the planet's atmosphere. His body felt numb. He turned to the camera.

"Victoria,' he struggled to say. His voice was ragged and talking hurt, but he felt he had to say this. 'Can I say something?"

"Thought I told you to put a lid on that-"

"Stop,' he interrupted, 'I just want to say thanks for being such a role model.' She didn’t reply so he continued, 'I attribute my scores to wanting so much to be as awesome as you."

"You done?" she said after a moment. He grinned, knowing that she would say something like this. It was almost beyond her to receive a compliment with normal thanks.

He turned back to the view screen. 2 percent shields left. The ship was shaking heavily now, jolting him around in the seat. Sparks emitted from the view screen, and it dissipated in a bright flash. The control panels around him caught fire. He steeled himself against the heat but found he couldn’t feel it. Static sounded in his ear and cut out immediately. A fleeting thought told him that he had heard words before he lost communication, words that sounded like "Your welcome".

As he descended onto the planet in the crumpling H-143 his last thought seemed to reverberate through the atmosphere.

I must survive.


Mark opened his eyes and blinked twice. He couldn’t see anything but a greenish yellow. His body felt like it was suspended up in the air, floating. Below him he saw a deep red glow, and underneath that a pitch black. He tried moving his arms and legs but nothing happened. He heaved a sigh.

he realized, I just took a breathunderwater? He glanced around again, breathing heavily as he did so. Sucking in deep breaths he began to feel his limbs. After several minutes of doing so he felt his body being lifted. Above him a bright light shone, cutting through the odd green yellow color with a striking brilliance.

The light came closer and closer until he broke the surface. Wiping the water from his eyes he saw he was standing in a pond in the center of a grove of trees. The pond was nestled in the bowl of a small hill. Mark’s eyes cast about, taking in the scenery with only what he could describe as lust. Other than the hill and a few feet surrounding it there was grass as far as he could see. He stepped out of the pond and strode over to a tree to feel its bark. The rough wood felt amazing to him, and he let out a sharp sigh.

He set his back to the tree and sat down. He was smiling heavily. He felt his eyes glisten with tears of joy. Somehow, although all odds were against him, he had survived the crash. He jumped up suddenly from his seat and squealed with delight as he saw a bird pass overhead. As soon as it was gone his body protested, pulling him back down to the earth.
Ughbetter take it easy for a bitstill kind of woozy.

He closed his eyes then for a bit, but when he opened them again it was dark. A strange light was emitting from the pond, casting everything about in a white glow. To Mark it was almost like moonlight. As he gazed toward the light some more he noticed a figure at the edge of the other side of the pond. It was cloaked and hooded, but he knew it was looking right at him.
Mark didn’t dare move. He had no idea what this thing was. Mark was not really surprised at all. With a planet this lush, there had to be some wildlife. The one thing that bothered him was the hood. Wildlife doesn’t wear hoods. This thing was humanoid. He couldn’t see it doing anything other than standing there, the hood opened in his direction. Part of him longed to remove the hood, uncap the mystery of what lay underneath.

After about twenty minutes of just sitting and staring, Mark decided he’d had enough. He stood up and strode toward the pond. His body responded with renewed vigor, a clear indicator of how long he had slept with his back to the tree. The hooded figure didn’t move. Maybe its waiting for me to do something. He awkwardly raised up his right hand in greeting.

“H-Hi,” he said uneasily. It was difficult but he managed a light smile.

The figure started to dissipate, evaporating away in a thick white fog. “Hey!’ cried Mark, ‘come back!”

The white fog kept billowing until the figure was gone completely. At that moment to his right Mark heard a sharp cry of pain and hurried footsteps. A man ran into the clearing and stopped suddenly when he saw Mark. Mark couldn’t have imagined how it looked, him standing next to some weird pond talking to a huge smoke bomb.

“Uh…” Mark started to say but was cut off by the man.

“Watch out!”

Mark looked back to the smoke and saw that it now rocketed toward him. He could do nothing but shut his eyes as it slammed into him full force. The smoke buried itself in his chest, and he could feel himself burning. Immense pain flooded throughout his veins. It felt like his blood was boiling. Then, as suddenly as it started it was over. The fog was gone and he was left standing next the strange man.

Mark turned toward the man and stumbled down the hill. He hit the earth again with a dull thud. His vision faded in and out again as shapes filled the clearing. Mark caught a few glimpses of them, but all he saw was the gleam of metal reflecting the light emitted from the pond.


“Outlander!’ a voice called to Mark, ‘Hello! Can you hear me?”

Mark sat up suddenly, and wished he hadn’t. A sharp pain on his forehead was a grave awakening that he was in a cage. He winced as he touched the tender spot, rubbing it slowly with the vain hope that somehow the pain would subside. Finally he opened his eyes and turned toward where the voice he heard came from.

His cage was on top of a wagon being carted by horses. There were multiple wagons as well, about twenty or so that he could see from his viewpoint. A group of men were on horses nearby directing the caravan. Behind him was the man who had run into the clearing. He also had a cage and was now looking directly at Mark. His eyes widened with delight at seeing him awake. The man had dark long hair, and a sharp nose protruding from his face. He was older than Mark by a lot, his skin clinging to him like an old friend. A bony finger pointed in Mark’s direction.

“Ah at last you awaken!’ he said, ‘I have been bored to the teeth just waiting for someone to talk to on this miserable journey!”

There it was again. Bored to the teeth. Why couldn’t he have said it any other way? Mark had never heard the expression until today. But the fact that the person who said it was no longer living impacted him. It hit home, where nothing else had. It was the last good thing to happen between him and the Captain.

The man saw his pained face. “Was it something I said?’ he asked, ‘Aw don’t worry about it one bit! We’ll be outta here as quick as you can say rainbow butter!”

Mark raised an eyebrow and looked back over at the old man, who busted out laughing with a sharp cackle that made their captors turn their heads back to them. That made the man stop laughing. He smiled at them and motioned for Mark to lean closer.

“When they let us out we should find a tree and build ourselves a boat” he said, his eyes crazily glowing at the idea. This man was clearly mad, Mark decided, so he sat back against the cool iron bars. He studied the surrounding area and ignored the strange man.

This world looked a lot like what he would have imagined Earth to look like in older times. He loved it here. When he closed his eyes he could hear things move about, which was a gigantic contrast to the Earth as it was now. Everything there was quiet. Nothing moved at all, giving the impression that everything was dead in retrospect. Mark opened his eyes again and found himself face to face with one of their captors, seeing fully a face unlike any he had ever seen before.

The nose and mouth appeared normal, but it was the eyes that gave it away. The eyebrows were arched slightly, with the eyes following suit. Mark thought at first that it was just some different eye thing going on that was similar to Chinese people’s eyes when he saw the its ears.

They were pointed.

His initial shock was inescapable. Never had he seen or heard of such ears other than what he read from the library. He had seen his fair share of pictures of mutants and zombies, but this was something else altogether. Whereas zombie features were disoriented and gross, the faces of his captors seemed to flow with grace. He studied them more as the caravan continued, noting the way they walked. Deft steps were used, so light that no prints were visible on the ground afterwards. They wore dark clothing covered in what looked to be some sort of leather armor. The leather was dark brown, and had straps connecting the separate front and back pieces. A few of them wore headbands tied around to the back of their head. Short swords hung at the waist in black scabbards, and a bow with a quiver of arrows was strapped to their backs.

He breathed in deeply. He was not going to even think the word. The word came from fairy tales and stories of fire breathing dragons fighting other mystical creatures. Mark knew the second his lips parted and the word broke free, that he was in fact on another world. The illusion of being similar to Earth had dissipated. Looking around he saw that everyone but him had pointed ears, including the old man. His stomach lurched as he came to the inevitable conclusion. This planet was inhabited not by humans, but Elves.

The excursion in his cage went by for another two days. Mark’s elven captors brought food but it was barely enough. As he munched on a small bit of bread he became suddenly aware of how sore his body was. He flexed his arm and flinched sharply at the pain. He needed to get out of the cage, he decided. He waited for one of the elven sentries to go by and stuck his face up to the bars.

“Excuse me,’ he ventured, ‘How long until we arrive at our destination? Please?”

The large elf drew his sword and rapped it on the top of his cage, scaring him to wits end. He scolded himself then, remembering that this is not Earth. The same rules of etiquette probably did not matter here. It was a wonder the old man spoke English. Mark shut his eyes to pass the time as he entertained these curious thoughts.


Mark jolted awake, this time with a little more caution. He found that his body did not ache any less than last time he checked. He wiped his eyes and glanced about outside his cage to see what was going on. The caravan had stopped. A large building loomed in front of him. He discerned right away that it was an arena. Horror flooded him. Stories of captives being forced to fight titans and monsters were brought to mind. He shut his eyes against the idea. What sort of creatures would a planet like this sustain? Would he be given a weapon at least? As his thoughts surrounded him he was vaguely aware of his cage being opened, its door squeaking loudly.

A gruff voice called out to him.

“Get out.”

Mark scrambled out of the cage, a little too fast. His legs wouldn’t support him and he went down in a heap of dirt. Mark spat it out of his mouth as he was hauled upward by two of the elven captors. They helped him over to an alcove at the edge of the arena and threw him back to the ground. A huge shadow enveloped him then, and he heard a loud clank from where his wrists were.

He lifted his hands and saw the big manacles. They were big enough for him not to break but small enough to keep him from slipping his hands through the openings. As he examined his new fashion accessory the old man from the other cage was let out. He screamed wildly and thrashed at anyone who was unfortunate enough to be within three feet of him. After what seemed a few minutes the elves finally subdued the old man with hand and feet manacles.

He was thrown toward Mark, who rolled out of the way. The old man skidded a few feet and just lay there sobbing. Mark closed his eyes. Things were definitely not looking good for him and his so called companion. He heard a shifting behind him and peered backward. The old man was slithering toward him and smiling, his tears streaking his dirtied face.

Mark drew back, not wanting the man to come near him, but the old man grabbed his foot.

“MY SON! THAT’S WHO YOU REMIND ME OF! MY SON!” he yelled, his eyes widening.

One of their captors immediately ran over and kicked the old man square in the jaw, sending him flying backward with a sickening crunch. Mark glared at the elf vigorously. What a coward! He didnt do anything to you!

The elf saw him staring and grinned. He strode over and grabbed his arm and dragged him toward the entrance of the arena. Mark knew struggling wouldn’t do anything but sap him of his strength, so he went still and reserved what he had left for the moment when it was needed.

That’s when he heard the horn. It started in a slow rumble, and then picked up speed, heading toward a crescendo that was almost deafening. The elf pulling Mark whipped about at the sudden noise, his eyes riddled with dread and recognition. He let go and stood there in awe, gazing at the horizon.

Mark flopped over onto his belly and spotted the silhouette of someone on a horse. Then another dozen came into view. He strained his eyes and saw that they were wearing long black cloaks with the hoods up. He was reminded of the figure he had seen at the pond. Before he could turn back to the elf for questioning a cry sounded out among the elves and prisoners:



As he watched the chaos unfolding before him, the hooded elf on his horse chuckled. “Fools,” he said grinning. He nodded to his left, and then his right, sending riders to the flanks of the bewildered. His stirrups creaked as he tensed his legs with anticipation. This was a big job. They needed this job to cover all the screw-ups in the past month. He waited until the crowd of guards and prisoners was so mixed they couldn’t tell who was what and he ordered the assault.

His horse spurred forward with amazing acceleration, responding to his touch on the reins as if it were a part of him. He had but to think of where he wanted to go and he was there, weaving among prisoners and pulling out a scythe strapped to his back. He smiled at the horror reflected in the eyes of a guard before he cut him down, blood splashing onto the person next to him. He couldn’t imagine what the prisoners and guard were thinking, seeing a large group of “Reapers” descend upon them with no time to lose.

He tried his best not to hurt the prisoners, but after a couple runs of circling around and back through the crowd it was getting hard to tell. He had one final run and waved his scythe in the air, yelling at the top of his lungs a throaty growl. The other riders stopped on all sides of the crowd, scythes pointed toward the sky. They were awaiting him. He snapped his fingers and spread his palm in the direction of the clustered people. Long red tendrils of flame whipped out from it and darted through the crowd, dispersing and separating at various points, forming a web. It spanned the whole gathering, and if one tried to escape it they turned to ash.

He tossed the web to the elf on his right and dismounted triumphantly from his horse and surveyed the prisoners with a wide grin on his face. The mission had succeeded. Few casualties. Mostly guards were killed except for three prisoners who tried to escape the web. He turned and nodded at the one he gave his web to, and immediately it turned from red to green. The leader raised his hands in a fluid motion and removed his hood. He was an aging man, just past the years of his prime. Hard blue eyes framed by slight wrinkles stared out with such intensity it was hard to meet his gaze. His square jaw clenched as he furrowed his eyebrows, preparing himself for a small speech.

“Today we stand before-” he started, but was interrupted by something moving outside of his men’s ring of horse. A prisoner had escaped his web and men somehow, and was now running wildly away. The leader closed his eyes in frustration and exhaled heavily. An elf appeared next to him. “Take care of it Ams.” He said.
“On it boss,” Ams said and darted away faster than he could blink.


Ams bore down on the prisoner in a matter of seconds. While she was running she noticed the strange garb this one was wearing. Black pants of an odd make, with a black vest covering a dark tunic of some sort. It puzzled her because she had never seen anyone dressed this way before. She pushed the thought out of her mind as she leapt at her prey-and missed. She stopped dead in her tracks and turned around. Had a mere prisoner just dodged her? Her lips went white as she pressed them together angrily. Nobody dodges me, she thought, and took off again toward the prisoner.

With an excited “Ha!” she lunged at him again, and grasped thin air once more. A fist slammed into her gut, forcing her to unceremoniously gag. She fell to the ground in a heap and heard the
prisoner’s footsteps fade as others drew closer. Looking up she saw more elves, each flipping off their hoods so they could get a better measure of things.

“Get up Ams! At this rate I’ll actually beat you in a race!” One called out to her.Ams felt her ears burn. She did not lose races ever. Gingerly she hoisted herself up and followed the pursuit.

It was not long until she caught up to the others. Two on the right and three on the left. They were closing in on the prisoner, who was still running. Ams shook her head at the stamina of this guy. Something wasn’t right for him to keep going after all this time. To her left a bright light flashed and one of the elves shot at the prisoner with amazing speed. It was Rutt, her best friend.

He was a big guy, and anything in his way when he did that was as good as dead. Ams smiled. This was payback for the prisoner’s fist.

When Rutt reached the prisoner the ground around them both exploded. Ams slowed her running, he eyes going wide at the scene. Rutt was lying on the ground unconscious and the prisoner was still going.

“What the hell?” she asked herself. She turned back toward the boss, who she felt was already on his way. He had seen what happened to her and Rutt when they tried to stop the prisoner.

she thought, now Im going to get in trouble because of some random magic wielding prisoner. As she thought this her boss glided by, shooting her a look that made her recoil involuntarily. He sped forward and motioned at a few other elves nearby, spurring them ahead.


The leader had grown tired of Ams and Rutt’s inability to snare one measly prisoner. So what, he had magic? Ours is a million times that of any other, he thought. When the prisoner came into range he lifted his hand palm to the sky again. The red coils of flame whipped forth, hungrily lancing toward their meal. It arced and stretched around him like a blanket and he fell to the ground.

He felt his men finally catch up. He ignored them and tied up the prisoner, who was lying face down. He used his foot to flip him over, and his jaw dropped. The prisoner’s ears were rounded. This cant be. He shut his mouth quickly and glared into the man’s eyes, using his magic to put him to sleep before he knew what was happening.

Ams came up behind him. “What do we do with him boss?”

‘He’s coming with us,’ He said. 'Tell Braylon and Kris to take the prisoners to the drop off point, and go with Rutt to get our money. Meet me at the Bluffs and we’ll get everyone recharged.”

Ams bowed low and left without a sound. His eyes turned back toward the knocked out prisoner. It's happening.


Senior Member
This is very interesting, as in it kept me happy to read more, even though I haven't read the other chapters. Its generally a sign of clear writing that a reader can get into the middle of a story and still understand most of what is going on. So good job! The story line is good as well. Not cliched or common.

Other than that, a couple critiques. Near the beginning, after the first view break, where it switches to Mark's point of view he suddenly gets the drive to fly through some scans--> "His arm shot back up to the control panel, flying through screens with the efficiency that he wouldn’t have thought possible." While reading this, it felt a bit jarring. Personally, I think it might be more relatable and realistic if he just trudged on with the scans, as fast as he could, which was still pretty slow, instead of getting a sudden burst of strength. If that is what is happening, I didn't really get it. In this case, just describe it a bit more.

Also, I don't think that you need the ***** in all the places you use them. Its quite jarring to the reader. I kept expecting for there to be a big change in some places and there wasn't one. In most books, the ***** occurs in a MAJOR scene change. But you use them in very small changes. The reader is able to infer far enough is you just make a new paragraph.

For example: Mark flopped over onto his belly and spotted the silhouette of someone on a horse. Then another dozen came into view. He strained his eyes and saw that they were wearing long black cloaks with the hoods up. He was reminded of the figure he had seen at the pond. Before he could turn back to the elf for questioning a cry sounded out among the elves and prisoners:


Mark? (I'm not too sure who 'he' is, but to fix that, just include a more specific pronoun or a name) watched the chaos unfolding before him, the hooded elf on his horse chuckled. “Fools,” he said grinning. He nodded to his left, and then his right, sending riders to the flanks of the bewildered. His stirrups creaked as he tensed his legs with anticipation. This was a big job. They needed this job to cover all the screw-ups in the past month. He waited until the crowd of guards and prisoners was so mixed they couldn’t tell who was what and he ordered the assault. This now flows much better.

Thats it. Good luck with the rest! :)


Senior Member
Hey thanks alot! As to how efficient Mark is doing some of the things he does, a few things about that are not revealed for awhile. If you read the other chapters you'll see he doesn't fit in at the beginning and he's a little clumsy but when it comes down to fighting he's dead on with what he does. The whole point(in my mind at least lol) is to show that there's something not quite right about this guy. He's just a little too good for some reason and it starts to gnaw at him a bit. Sorry lol this is a common thing among the posts here and in the other chapters "How is he so good at this or that? I don't get it" is pretty much what others are saying. I guess at this point I'm asking people to just kind of go with it...doesn't seem like a wise choice on this site though haha.

Mark? (I'm not too sure who 'he' is, but to fix that, just include a more specific pronoun or a name) watched the chaos unfolding before him, the hooded elf on his horse chuckled. “Fools,” he said grinning. He nodded to his left, and then his right, sending riders to the flanks of the bewildered. His stirrups creaked as he tensed his legs with anticipation. This was a big job. They needed this job to cover all the screw-ups in the past month. He waited until the crowd of guards and prisoners was so mixed they couldn’t tell who was what and he ordered the assault. This now flows much better.

This part is actually a different character, not Mark. I put those ***** things in because of how many viewpoint changes this chapter had. As I've been writing this I've noticed how many changes in view there were and since have written 4 more chapters without hardly any. This chapter in particular is pretty bad thought so I'm thinking about changing it to where its completely from Mark's viewpoint even though the new character introduced into this as "leader" so far is one of my favorites.

Thanks a bunch SarahStrange for reading! As a writer getting good comments is almost like getting a nice hug after a bad day lol

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