City of IF

[DeadManWalking]

This is something I've whipped up in the spare time i've had cause NO ONE HAS BEEN READING MY OTHER SGAMES!!!!!!!!! (except for CrunchyFrog, Phantomfan and Sabriel)

so yeah. It started out less serious than it turned out to be.


Prologue.

Stealthily, quiet as a razor-sharp knife slicing through the still air of a summer night, the figure in black lowered himself slowly from the ceiling, clinging with his ankles to the black silk rope, his hands crossed before his chest, curved daggers clutched in his hands. The moonlight snuck into the building through the stained glass window, as the guard underneath snored on, unaware of the man above him creeping slowly closer and closer….

“No, No, NO. You’ve got it all wrong! Cut!” The actor in black stopped his creeping as the people lowering him paused. The guard opened his eyes wearily.


“Ok, first of all, what’s with the snoring? It breaks the scene! This is supposed to be a quiet scene, no sounds at all. It needs to gather suspense! Absolute silence. And WHAT is with the crossed arms? You look like some kinda Egyptian mummy or something. You need to evoke FEAR not laughter. And unless your audience is a 60-year-old lady who’s seen Abbot and Costello meets the Mummy three hundred times, no one’s gonna have fear in their hearts over a pair of crossed arms. Raul Lightsbane is supposed to be a dark character, a man who’s killed a hundred men without flinching once. He’s supposed to be a scary dude. Try another pose.”

Benjamin Metzger slouched in his director’s chair, his disapproving blue eyes on the actors before him. They were RUINING the script. This film was his baby; he had written the screenplay, and was directing this thing, and now the actors were ruining it. Even HE could act better than these idiots, and he had been laughed out of the auditions for a couple hundred movies by the age of twenty-three.

***

Benjamin Metzger watched the actors, as yet another awe-inspiring scene became a farce in his mind. The priestess is supposed to be pious and holy, not a slut. SERIOUSLY. And she's supposed to be begging for aid from a higher power, not sitting there looking constipated.

This time however, he kept his mouth shut. There was only so much more time they had to film, and he wasn't made of money. A crappy scene was better than no scene at all, right?

***

Benjamin Metzger slouched on his couch at home, back in the misty San Francisco air. The stale smell of truly horrendous beer laid siege to his olfactory senses, as he marinated under the large lamp. The television showed Sean Connery striding about the inside of a submarine.

It really wasn’t fair. Those damn producers. He took a swig from a bottle of something considerably stronger than beer. He had gotten past the point where that swill actually affected him anymore.

This had been HIS baby. He had written it, he had converted it to a screenplay, he had found the actors, found the producers, bribed that guards, and now….

“I’m sorry, Ben. But we’ve decided to cut this one. It showed, promise, but we’ve got a bunch of sequels coming out, and we’ve only got so much money. You know how it is….”

Oh how many times he’d heard that. You know how it is.

Another swig from the bottle.

Now what could he do? He was out of money, out of influence, out of IDEAS. How the hell was he supposed to survive? He’d have to find an apartment with a lower rent. Maybe he’d even have to move back to his parents place. San Francisco was an expensive place.

Another drink.

Oh god. What he’d give to be somewhere else. Anywhere else.

He raised the bottle for another drink, but before he could the room started spinning.

Almost like he’d been drinking too much. Although if he’d been less drunk, he would’ve noticed the cosmic flames and the ethereal lights that filled the swirling room.

But he’d had a lot.

The room stopped spinning, leaving only the couch, James Earl Jones talking to Alec Baldwin, and a beer bottle which spiraled lazily to the floor.

Where Benjamin Alex Metzger had sat, there was only a depression the couch.

This is where his story begins.


There's the prologue. I'm posting the first chapter right after this, because otherwise you wouldn't get my rationale for such a stupid name.

[DeadManWalking]

Here we go. Let's just get right into it.

Chap. 1

Pain. Lots and lots of pain. First thing I remember. I woulda said it was a hangover, but it was worse, and all over. It was so intense that I couldn’t think straight. It just went on and on, for an eternity, like poison flowing through my veins, or fire burning my bones to ash. And it was always on, and had always been going on, and would always go on, and it was-

The pain stopped, replaced by a mere hangover, like an angry porcupine trying to get comfortable in my head.

The world was black. Then I remembered to open my eyes.
I was in a murky room, kneeling on cold stone. I saw strange markings on chalked into the ground around me. Where was I?

I looked up, scanning the room for familiar objects. The only light in the room was two rings of circles, one of seven, and one of thirteen. Other than that, the only light was the glowing purple eyes of the girl in front of me.

Her face was young, about twenty, but her eyes, her purple eyes, which glowed in the dark light, showed a much greater age. Those eyes had seen many things, things that would make a grown man weep. Those eyes were like purple wells; you could sink into them and never return.

“What is your name?”

The voice pierced my mind, quiet, but full of authority. It slashed through my thoughts like a cleaver through a child’s breath. I tore my eyes away from hers, and saw her for the first time. Her face was pale, untouched by sun and slim. Her hair, barely visible under the hood of her black cloak, was a black like a raven’s wing at midnight. One pale hand, decorated with jeweled bracelets, delicately held a staff.

It was a thing of nightmares. The head of the staff was a claw, black and shriveled, and it held what looked to be a diamond. But in the diamond…

In the diamond, was a writhing black thing, the essence of nightmare, like liquid falling from a spout, only… only alive. And moving, inside the diamond.

“I believe I asked what your name was. Would you like to tell me, or should I make you?”

Again, the voice cut through my mind, without remorse, or anger, simply a statement of intent. There was no malice in that voice. It made it all the worse to hear.

I stammered.

“Benjamin Metzger, ummm, ma’am”

Her eyes widened for a moment, and I heard a sharp hiss. Then, her eyes narrowed to slits.

“Do not fool with me, maggot. I do not know how you know that name, but do not deign to use it for you own. None outside the Shadowsworn and the Nightbringers know that name.” She waved her staff, and my feet rose off the ground. I felt like a giant hand was lifting me off the ground, and was squeezing.

I gasped out the first name that came to mind.

“Red October.”

The squeezing stopped, and I had time to contemplate my stupidity. Red October? That was the name of that movie. The Hunt for Red October. God. No one could really believe that as a name.

The woman planted her staff back on the ground, with a thud.

“Reddoc Tober. A curious name, but perhaps the right one this time.” She cocked her head. “Follow me. The Dark Lord doesn’t like to wait.”

She turned, her cloak flaring as she strode from the room.

I ran after her uncertainly. Reddoc Tober? I guess it would have to do. I’d gone by a lot of names before, in acting, and I guess this wasn’t that much different. Except that if he went out of character, he could get squeezed again. Most likely worse. And who was this Dark Lord? That was like, the oldest name in the books.

I followed the woman through dark double doors, inlaid with writing and runes, and down a strangely familiar corridor. It was black marble, with torches like raven claws and gargoyles standing guard at the corners. It was almost like… But no. That was the opposite. All white stone, with angels and… But it was exactly like the summoning scene. Except the reverse. Dark to light. And this time, something heeded the summons. I heeded the summons.

But in the screenplay, this was supposed to be a fortress of Light! Led by the powerful Lord Metzge…. All right, that had been a small conceit. Who could resist little things like that? But that man had been a force of light. If everything was flipped, then that must mean that he was the Dark Lord. But did that mean that the people besieging the castle were the Good guys?

But in the scripts, the castle survives. Also in the script, nothing got summoned. What would happen now?

The scales were weighing heavily on the Evil side right now.

I almost smashed into the woman as she halted before an even more massive portal.

It stood forty feet high, and was ten feet wide, made of some black metal. In the door, reflecting the eldritch light of the torches, shone a ghastly frieze, with horrific scenes depicting things better left unnamed.

The cloaked woman grabbed a knocker, a naked woman, her back arched so that her hands were bound to her feet in an intricate knot, an expression of pain and terror gracing her face. She was so lifelike that I could swear she took a tortured breath as the cloaked woman’s hand wrapped itself around her torso.

The knocker fell against the door once, twice, and I could swear that I heard a gasp underneath those echoing eerie knocks.

The portal boomed open.

The woman walked through.

I followed.

What I saw took my breath away.

A throne faced the door. Not really a throne. Throne is an understatement. If I called Hurricane Katrina a summer breeze an understatement, that’d be the general idea. The back ascended into unimaginable heights. It seemed to glow darkly with an inner light, that somehow made all the torches littering the room seem like pale shadows. The chair was not inlaid with jewels, or gemstones, rather it had places that shone like glass, and places that absorbed the light. There was no discernable pattern to the light and dark.

Sitting on that thrown was a massive figure, easily nine feet tall and three feet wide, encased in black armor. The armor gleams with a black light, absorbing all of the torchlight like the dark material of the throne, yet somehow still visible in every painstakingly intricate detail. Swirls scattered the armor, mystic symbols that could be seen, and perhaps read, but never remembered.

Others were in the room, figures that would have caused me to tremble in fear, to cower and to scream in terror, but all of their dread was as nothing compared to dark majesty of the figure before me.

I stood paralyzed in my horror, unable to move as I could feel its dark gaze upon me from the void beneath its helmet.

It spoke. I have said before that the woman’s voice cut through my mind. This was like that. Kind of. Except a hundred times worse. Or a thousand times worse. Every second was an infinity, and every moment it became more of a pressure on my mind, infinitely worse than the moment before it. I believe I would’ve fallen, if I hadn’t been stricken by that incapacitating glare.

“Is this the result of your summonings, DuskTreader? He does not look like he is up to this task.”

The woman, DuskTreader, stepped forward and spoke. Her voice had no effect on me now, compared to the power of her master.

“Yes. He is the result. He will destroy the Amaranth.”

I would have wondered, but I had no room for thought.

A silence, then that overpowering voice again.

“Leave. Now. All of you. DuskTreader and this new one shall remain.”

Sibilant hissings started, quickly silenced, and dark figures slowly left. From the corner of my eye I believe I saw that some did not use the door, but I do not know. My memory of that time is not quite complete.

As the massive doors boomed shut behind us, the Dark Lord made a gesture.

The armor became smoke, which drifted oily away into nothing. Under the armor….

If I hadn’t already been more terrified than I had ever been, if I hadn’t been paralyzed with fear already, I would have fainted at this point. As it was, it was simply a trickle in the face of a never-ending flood.

Underneath the armor, was me. Only evil. My blue eyes glittered with the arrogance of one who has never been questioned, my pale skin now glowing darkly, like all the rest of the room. My blonde hair was carefully placed, set in place.

Oh the price we pay for our small arrogances.

The voice came again, except now it was my voice, coming from that pale copy. It was worse.

“So this is our savior hmmmmm?”

My blue eyes roamed my frame critically, then saw my face. His eyes widened in surprise, much as DuskTreader’s had upon hearing my name. I saw her eyes now, widened, with her mouth gaping, her eyes darting back and forth between us.

My blue eyes narrowed, slowly darkening to an almost black.

“Do not deign to wear that face. It shall have to be changed.”

Then before I could act, he was in front of me, his hand growing and changing to become a black clawlike thing, a parody of what it had been, and before I could do more than blink, it slashed across the side of my face.

I collapsed then, the left side of my face on fire.

The Dark Lord gestured to DuskTreader, already scrambling towards me. She hauled me to my knees, and then did something I was unable to catch with my one eye. My left eye was blinded with blood. All I saw was a soft white glow, and the eye healed, the pain withdrawing. My hand moved to my face, feeling the scar that crept from my temple down over my eye, around my nose and skirting my mouth, ending at my chin.

I got up. The pain wasn’t as bad as that I had felt not too long ago, but that wasn’t now, that wasn’t here. And the pain was not completely drawn.

The pain did something miraculous. It focused my mind wonderfully. Terror was gone, banished.

When I looked up, the Dark Lord was back on his throne, his hand returned, a sneer on his face. I saw it was directed at DuskTreader.

He spoke again. “So, worm, you have been summoned to join the ShadowSworn. We have had trouble, and we find ourselves down one. You have kindly volunteered to join.”

He paused.

“Come Closer. We wish to inspect you in the light.” His sneer widened, and this time it was directed in my direction.

DuskTreader hesitantly spoke up, approaching the throne. “Lord, is it wise to make him one of the ShadowSworn? The wording of the summoning states only that he will bring down the Amaranth. I did not say that he would not bring you down as well.”

The man with my face calmly backhanded her, sending her skidding along the ground.

“Do you truly believe that this worm could defeat us? We could obliterate him without a thought. And even if he were a threat to us, the oaths would stop him. We have always said to keep your enemies close.”

She stood, her face blank, using a pale finger to wipe away a drop of blood welling at the corner of her mouth.

“So you are the one who will defeat the Amaranth? We shall enjoy seeing you try. And do you believe you can defeat us as well?” His blue stare burned into my skull. I shook my head mutely. “I thought not. So, worm, what is your name?”

I opened my mouth, but the DuskTreader beat me to it, perhaps worried that I would again claim Metzger. I wasn’t that stupid. I doubt I would’ve survived that.

“He says his name is Reddoc Tober, Lord.”

His gaze intensified.

“So, Reddoc Tober, what is your power? What… capabilities do you claim to have that make you able to defeat the Amaranth?”


It's a bit long, but I had a LOT of time.

Anyways, the DP is whether to actually tell him that he's a failure and doesn't have powers, or to make something up, and if so, what?

[Phantomfan]

Nice!

Heh heh... Redoc Tober... Great name.

Well... if Ben says he doesn't have any powers, it is highly unlikely that the DarkLord will believe him, and will possibly punish or torture him painfully.


So I'm all for that.

Tell him the truth- and if he gets hurt or something, he can always make something up after. But try to tell the truth first, being too confused to think of anything else.

[Kalanna Rai]

Say he's faster than a speeding bullet, more powerful than a locomotive, and able to leap tall buildings in a single bound...

Sorry but as long as we're stealing from movies why not become Superman?

[BlackAmaranth]

Ho-kay, I thought I should post something while I'm here. It seems pretty good so far. The priestess part made me laugh :P Like I said before, you might want to draw the writing out a bit more, to avoid rushing the plot. As for the DP, I vote he make something up. The Dark Lord would dismiss him as useless if he doesn't, and then it might be a little trickier to figure out where to take the story from there, yes? Or maybe, even if he lies now, some actual power could materialize later. Or something...I don't know :oops: Anyway, good job so far, keep it up.

[Crunchyfrog]

Get clever and make up some power that he'll never need to totally prove.

Like being able to see the future, but only when he wants to do it, or when the conditions are right for him to have a 'premonition' - and only when he 'knows' its going to happen.

Since this is all mixed up with films he'll have some idea of the plots - premonitions may actually come true by sheer fluke.

:)

[Tavanesh]

Good job DeadMan, very intriguing. You had some wonderful allusions, and some very descriptive sequences. My applause.

Some suggestions, slow it down a little a bit. That's one thing many authors (including myself big time) have trouble with. We want to get to the good bits. Characterize Reddoc, the Dark Lord, and others a little more and the best way to do that is through more conversation.

Quote: The armor gleams with a black light, absorbing all of the torchlight like the dark material of the throne, yet somehow still visible in every painstakingly intricate detail.

Seeing the tense you are writing in, I'd change "gleam" to "gleamed."

As for the DP, I think he should make a fool out of himself by stumbling over his words and a search for his power, so he ends up with something totally ridiculous but is taken seriously.

Honestly, well done. I'm looking forward to more.

[scissorkitty]

Hmm.. it's hard to say what "Reddoc"'s powers might be.. seeing as this new universe he's fallen into is sort of hard to grasp. I would think that his powers would be the opposite of the Dark Lord's, since they seem to be sort of "shadows" of eachother based off movie plots and screenplays. Isn't the underdog always the one to come out on top? I'd play dumb, anyway, and say something true in the lines of "directing".. which the Dark Lord can take any way he likes.

[DeadManWalking]

Thanks everybody!

Scissorkitty, just mentioning it, (this is a good suggestion and i may use it), but even if he did have powers shadowing the dark lord's, he wouldn't know about them as of yet.

But an intriguing idea it is...

Anyways, since I'm putting up polls for my other sgames, and since this one has gotten so many responses, I might as well put one up for this one too.

EDIT: I have grouped Tav and Skitty's options together, simply because i felt like it. And because, in my mind, they are kind of similar.

[Black Hawk]

Yay tie breaker voted for ridiculous as I don't want to put my faith in memory of the script

[DeadManWalking]

Closing the Poll

And the winner is to be intentionally vague and possibly ridiculous.

which might be hard....

*ponders how to write said scenario*

[The White Blacksmith]

This had a different name, once-upon-a-time. Almost didn't recognise it.

[DeadManWalking]

sorry whitey.

BUt i thought i might get more readers if i changed the name.

[DeadManWalking]

I had a burst of inspiration about this chapter, and it just kinda wrote itself although it is quite a bit shorter than the last one.

If it's a bit rough i apologize.

And please don't expect to get any subsequent chapters this quickly.



Chap. 2

His gaze intensified.

“So, Reddoc Tober, what is your power? What… capabilities do you claim to have that make you able to defeat the Amaranth?”

What could I say?

If I told the truth, he might kill me, simply because I would be useless to him.
But if I made something up, and he found it out, he would kill me for lying to him.
Much too risky.
Maybe I could claim premonitions? I wrote the script, and this was that world, even if it was distorted.
But again, that was too risky. If the distortions changed the story too much, he’d kill me.
Also, the script didn’t have me in it.

“Speak.”

My mind raced for an answer, something that wouldn’t leave me dead or crippled. But, as so often happened, my mind found half an answer, a thought half-thought, and my tongue raced before my mind read it out.

“I have power over the fates. I direct destinies and weave the patterns of the future.”

Well it was an answer. And he couldn’t actually disprove that right?

That clone of myself sneered, and again his voice sliced through the fabric of my thoughts.

“So we have a philosopher with us. We have heard the easterners practice such magicks. But they were a scrawny bunch, and we soon showed them our power.”

As he spoke his fingers moved, and I found my eyes drawn to them. A black ball, or what looked like a ball, rolled between his fingers. It looked strange as it twisted between those digits, as if it were not properly of this dimension at all. It somehow changed without changing, becoming different with each second, but not in a way that could be described by any human mind.

He continued speaking, now thoughtfully.

“But those eastern magicks are not much use in battle. Perhaps it may be best if we gifted you with some of our powers. It is done for the NightBringers, and their oaths are not so different from that of the ShadowSworn. The scale will simply have to be… bigger.”

My mind heard and wondered, but my eyes stayed drawn to the dark sphere.
Then his fingers snapped and the ball disappeared.

“Let us begin. DuskTreader. Leave us.”

She left, vanishing into the shadows that swallowed the walls. I heard a door close.

Then the world vanished.

Pain like I had felt only in the space between worlds flooded my body. I think I screamed.

I hope I was dreaming. I don’t think it was possible to survive all that. But every single bone in my body broke and refitted, remade stronger than it had been. And every muscle, every organ, every cell died, and was reborn stronger, and I could feel every piece recreated in the fires of forge. And then the rebirth of the mind started, pain coursing through every vein for years so that pain would never be unknown to me, my mind hovering at the edge of Death so that I could look upon her face and no longer fear.

I don’t remember much of what happened. What I wrote here is all I remember.

The world returned in a flash of color, the shadowed halls appearing to me to be daylight in the desert.

The Dark Lord slumped in his chair, panting.

“That took more power… than we thought.”

He rested for several seconds, before straightening up, the disdainful look once again returning to his face.

“And we have our newest ShadowSworn.”

DuskTreader reentered the room, answering some unheard summons.

“You, DuskTreader, will be traveling with our friend. If he is to destroy the Amaranth, he must be there, yes? And he will need someone to keep him on the road as he learns to get his footing.”

He turned back to me. I stood in the circle, unwilling but powerless to go against even his unspoken will.

“You, Tober, need a name. A title. You shall be known as... the Hunted. For the Amaranth knows of your arrival by now. And she has minions of her own.

“You will travel to her Realm and join with her. She is skeptical or prophecies, despite having fulfilled several herself, and will want to use you to attack me.

“You will get close to her, rise in her councils and become an aide. DuskTreader will be simply someone picked up along the way, perhaps a damsel rescued from distress.

“She will be your backup. You will kill the Amaranth.”

The words echoed through my brain, resonating in my soul. They wrote themselves on my remade soul, and became my purpose.

The DuskTreader spoke, hesitatingly.

“How will we get to the Ixia?”

“Walk. Or ride. Or get NightStalker or the Creeper to take you. That would take less time. But if DuskTreader is discovered as one of the NightBringers, you both will live to regret it.”


There we have our second chapter.
So how do they get to Ixia?

This may not have been clear in the story, but the advantages are thus of Creeper and NightStalker are simply that they are faster.

But there is the risk of the Amaranth noticing that the DuskTreader is also a NightBringer, because she traveled with one of the above.

Also, they could probably sail as well.
I don't really have a geography of the world planned out concretely yet, so a sea could be added somewhere.

[Phantomfan]

Get a Nightstalker or Creeper to take you.

They both sound rather interesting... definitley bring them in.

[Crunchyfrog]

I'd go for walking. Keeps him under the radar, and plenty more could happen on the way.

[Meranos]

Nice tale! I loved your use of similes in the first chapter. As for the DP, I'd say, ride! Not a creeper or nightstalker, but something else. It's faster than walking, and stuff can still happen. Plus, this "Ixia" place sounds like its far away, and sailing sounds more dangerous. And he might as well rush to his impending fate. :smile:

[DeadManWalking]

hmmmm....

I probably should have made this clear.

NightStalker and Creeper are people.

More will be made clear later.

If they do travel tho, it will most likely be by horse.

[scissorkitty]

hmm.. i'm interested to see what the powers of a "shadowsworn" are. Perhaps, giving the weird reversals of DarkLord and Reddoc... he's now a "lightsworn" instead, although no one realises it? Perhaps he's the first. OR perhaps the DarkLord actually has to do REDDOC'S bidding, if he were to assert himself.

either way, interesting developments. I suggest heading out on foot. Surely others have heard of his arrival, and if he stumbles through the desert looking lost, they'd be more likely to pick him up and aid him- and opposed to him arriving safe and sound and in suspicious pomp and glory.

[The White Blacksmith]

scissorkitty wrote: Perhaps, giving the weird reversals of DarkLord and Reddoc... he's now a "lightsworn" instead, although no one realises it? Perhaps he's the first. OR perhaps the DarkLord actually has to do REDDOC'S bidding, if he were to assert himself.


Playing about with the mirrorred identitys sounds good here. Perhaps Reddoc can hear the Dark Lord's thoughts, and put thoughts into his head?

[Christalnightshade]

Quote: Ixia?

Ancient china! lol

Anyway get the peoples to help you, the one most willing. Go by your feet if the horses fail. If their attacked out of the blue, take weapons just to be protected, if the main character uses weapons, or powers. Let see what happens.

[Head Eater]

Thissss ssstorygame is deemed worthy of the Foresssst of Fantasssy.

Congratulationsss!

[scissorkitty]

yay! congrats!

[DeadManWalking]

Yayness!

Thankee HE!

[ceej]

as one of the first stories i have read on this site, i love it!! plus i think it has helped me a bit on what i should be doing! so thank you!!

firstly, creeper and/or nightstalker would be really interesting if they were rebelious, i would add another factor to the dark lords men!
also, walking would be very favourable as it gives Hunted time to learn his powers, test his strength: as well as allowing him to meet new comrades and enemies.
it would also allow the development of time in the story and give more ideas to what side hunted takes, thats if he takes a side!!

hope this helps

=]]

[tayfinch]

I can't help it. I want Creeper to take them by land. What an intriguing name.

[tayfinch]

Unfortunately I did' t have enough time to adequately comment in my last City session. This storygame was pretty incredible. (I’m being surprised by how good so many of these story games are! I was sincerely captivated by the story once it got going, and thought that you had moments of genius) (There were a lot of really amazing stories last time I was on the site, a year or so ago, but every story I’ve read so far has been great)


1. ‘Reddoc Tober’ was a fabulous idea. Loved it.

2. I have two quotes I want to mention:

First is a quote that I thought to be extraordinary. The description of the staff, her hair, the hand was exceptional:

“Her hair, barely visible under the hood of her black cloak, was a black like a raven’s wing at midnight. One pale hand, decorated with jeweled bracelets, delicately held a staff. / It was a thing of nightmares. The head of the staff was a claw, black and shriveled, and it held what looked to be a diamond. But in the diamond… / In the diamond, was a writhing black thing, the essence of nightmare, like liquid falling from a spout, only… only alive. And moving, inside the diamond.”


The second shows a little bit of over-the-top-ness that is minimal in the story, but which I noticed:

Part 1 –Really good-- “Other than that, the only light was the glowing purple eyes of the girl in front of me. / Her face was young, about twenty, but her eyes, her purple eyes, which glowed in the dark light, showed a much greater age…”

Part2 –Overthetopabit—“Those eyes had seen many things, things that would make a grown man weep.”

Part3—Return to really good—”Those eyes were like purple wells; you could sink into them and never return.”

It may just be my reading style, but those sort of semi-abstract comments distract and feel like they’re a departure from the character-narrated text.



Lastly, I wanted to say that I proudly voted for Creeper. If nothing else, I think that it would present interesting story possibilities that would let me get to know this girl and the other characters (through travel dialogue) and the history of the world better.

Purely selfish vote. Ha.

[DeadManWalking]

And so I think i shall be putting the poll up.

Btw, a little background that i will be putting into the story.

(I was originally going to work this in later, but now this seems like necessary information to make this choice)

Creeper and NightStalker are people, for lack of a better term.

Both of them have as-of-yet undiscovered (by you) abilities to make the traveling faster than riding.

Both are servants of the Dark Lord, although they have different statuses.

Creeper is higher up in the ranks, one of the ShadowSworn, and NightStalker is lower, one of the NightStalkers (which makes him equal rank to DuskTreader, and yes, technically a lower rank than our hero (and before you ask, i would like to say that perhaps making all the names Darkness-themed would have been a better idea if i had other words besides dusk, night, and dark))

And of course, even if you do get escorted by one of those two, in all likelihood you wouldn't go all the way to Ixia.

Since (I probably didn't make this clear) Ixia is the capital of the Amaranth's realm, and thus getting too close would mean that the Amaranth would notice.

So they will be riding part of the way no matter what happens (unless they decide to go sailing, which seems unlikely looking at reader suggestions).

So whichever way they DO choose to go will have something happen to them during the trip if something would have happened anyways.

I apologize for not having this information in the story already, and will work toward a greater cohesiveness and foresight in later chapters.

[The White Blacksmith]

Hey... I know it's the author's option, but could I vote for the banana?

[Christalnightshade]

I'd just like to say as a fellow horse rider, that you get tired riding a horse because you never really sit on them. You have a certain trot and gallop rithm. Like you get up at 1 and sit down at 2, you have to get up when the horse's left hoof lifts and you have to climb on the left side of the horse. It's better for the horses back. When walking you sit down. :)

[BlackAmaranth]

Sooo, we haven't really met Creeper or NightStalker yet, yes? Or maybe I just wasn't paying attention :?

[DeadManWalking]

not yet.

[DeadManWalking]

OK, closing the poll after five days.

We will be getting travel from NightStalker.

Will start writing soon.

[scissorkitty]

Why does the writer's option always include a banana?

[DeadManWalking]

because whenever i try and think of something random, bananas almost always factor in somehow.

possibly something to do with quantum energy or morphic resonance.

Also possibly because, as my sister has always believed, i was a monkey in a previous life.