City of IF

[dudewheretheheckami]

Chapter 1

Life comes at you fast.

The turning of Spring, birth, death, and growth. The startling change when the child no longer needs the parents protection, when the fledgeling chick takes wing from the nest. The dawn of Summer, with joyful laughter, reigning freedom, and lengthy days, and yet more growth. With the inevitable dusk of Summer, the solemnity of Fall sets in. Work, work, and more work. Monotonous days and lonely nights, and the smell of fresh rain always, growing evermore. In the cyclic finality, Winter takes its hold, weaving wisdom through bored and locked up days, the monotony of it all painting the tiresome Fall in an exciting light, and growth, always there is growth.
At this particular point in time, life was coming at Michael especially fast. The fair haired boy of fifteen years stood in a wide clearing, a shimmering bright field in the middle of the oak laden Trenith Forest. The pommel of his most dear keepsake, his sword, gifted to him by his father snug in both his hands, ready for action at a moments notice. He took a wide stance, shoulders forward.
It was Wednesday, Michael hated Wednesdays.
Every Wednesday, since he was given his sword four years ago, Michael and his older brother Thristen had ventured to this very field,approximately 10 miles from their humble house, nestled in the thick oaks, to spar and learn the trade of swordsmanship from their father, Gamet.
The swollen fingers, dislocated joints, and puffy facial features that resulted from such endeavors left Michael loathing the trips to the field every Wednesday. His brother, however, reveled in the fear of battle, the feeling of the sword in his hand. Michael shared no such feelings, in fact Michael could not hardly contain himself in anticipation of each Saturday, on witch their father taught them to use their minds in the form of magic. Even his younger sister Heather joined them in these outings. The endeavors of intellect often rendered Michael with much less bruising and soreness on the following days, a most welcome bonus.
Saturdays aside, however, Michael now stood facing his father, who slowly and carefully paced toward Michael, his shining blue-steel sword glinting in the August sun. Gamet quickly pounced forward, closing the the six yard distance in a quick leap, and brought down an overhead slash. Michael stepped to the right and stabbed at his now vulnerable father, who danced away skillfully.
"Very good, Michael!" He exclaimed in a throaty, worn voice. nigh a pause occurred in the old man as he simultaneously swung his blade around and dealt a stinging blow to Michaels knee.
"Goodness," Michael let let out through clenched teeth, "Reprieve, Reprieve!"
Bowing, Gamet sat down on the grass, "Michael, go to the house and fetch salve for your knee, Thristen, it is your turn."
Laughing in a bassy tone, Thristen stood to his full height of nearly six and a half feet and looked down at his younger brother. "Yes, go tend to your sniveling, magician." The teasing stung Michael's conscience.
He rushed through the 10 miles of monotonous oak forest as quickly as his ailed knee would allow. when he reached the creaking, mossy old cottage he and his family called home he quickly salved and bandaged his knee, and rushed back to the field.
The sight he beheld will forever haunt his every thought and memory. He gazed, dropped jawed, tears welling in his eyes, for in the field lay his father and brother, black fletched arrows studded there limp and lifeless bodies, crimson pools of blood stained the innocent virgin grass of the field.
Beside his fallen beloved, six men in black armor with red symbols on their breasts lay cut apart and dead alongside his father and brother, as the shock subsided, fear gripped him. He did not know where the assailants had gone, he sweeped the clearing with paranoid eyes, the forest unnaturally silent.
What should he do now? run? hide? he did not know, and then a though occurred to him, his younger sister, alone and waiting at his house. What should he do?

[scissorkitty]

oo! interesting- and pretty unexpected! I was looking forward to a little malicious sibling rivalry. I would have him run back to the house, and look for his mother (is she around?) and his sister- and probably pick up his father's sword, if available, for protection.

[Crossfire]

Delightful.

I recommend a period in the place of a "comma" after "Wednesday"...

...also, the "and" before "lengthy days" is unnecessary...

...but otherwise an excellent, if short, piece.

He should take his sister, then flee... somewhere far, far away, where the darkness strokes the land and the grass is so very green, where nothing can touch him and he can begin, if only for the briefest handful of moments, to sift through the wreckage of his life.

[dudewheretheheckami]

wow, crossfire, both an in-depth and inviggorating suggestion :D

and i thank you for the critique, critism drives excellence, as they say.

[Crunchyfrog]

Good stuff, and welcome to IF. :)

Well, we don't know yet what he can do with the magic, and he's just run 20 miles with a bad knee. Another 10 miles might just finish him off. I'd say going back to find his sister would be a bad move just now. If the assailants were after his sister, they'd get there before him no doubt, so its pointless running back home.

We don't know who these men in black/red uniforms are either - I think first he should search the bodies for clues as to what happened and why.

He will need to be vigilant whilst he does it, just in case the assailants return.

Good job! Looking forward to seeing what happens. :)

[dudewheretheheckami]

i intend to explain magics role in the story and Michael's proficiency with it in Chapter 2

[scissorkitty]

Wow. We are all for robbing the dead around here! *lol* Keep that in mind while crossing the streets in If, eh?

[FatHairyApe]

Woah! I like this! You have a great style: fresh meets innovative. Tasty. Keep going with it :) I want more!

[dudewheretheheckami]

I appreciate the encouragement FatHairy Ape

[Chinaren]

Rob the dead! Rob the dead!

Oh, and mourn for his lost kin.

But mainly rob the dead. :D

[RandomMN]

Being a novice to battle and apparently still rather young, I would suggest he run home. If nothing else to make sure his sister is ok.

As for the story, you change your word style quite a bit, I would merely suggest you pick one and keep everything in line with that.

I would also offer that you might flesh things out a bit deeper, especially the relationship between the father, the brother, and Micheal. How would he feel about seeing them dead? It makes any DP simply a guess on my end.

With all that said, please keep going with the story. It is after all, how we learn :)

[dudewheretheheckami]

Chapter 2

Michael slowly and cautiously made his way into the field. As he neared his father's body, tears flooded his eyes. His heart filled with the loss of his protector, parent, and mentor. His Father had raised him alone ever since his mother, Ella, had passed while giving birth to Heather.
He examined the mans soft, wrinkled face, witch was etched with chagrin from his last battle. He kneeled by his fallen Patriarch.
in his left hand his father held a handkerchief, a last gift from his mother, in his right he held his blued blade, its transparent blue shimmering in the afternoon sun. He picked it up from the ground and held it at arms length, he grasp the steel hilt in his right hand and gave it a few swings. To his surprise it felt as if it where and extension of his arm. The sword felt as if it where made of light wood, such as pine, not of blued steel.
He walked over to where his brother Thristen lay, four soldiers crumpled and dead at his feet. He knelt down and picked up his brothers hand and a half sword. He examined the blade and realized that it had been broken during the battle. He cast it down in disgust, it was worthless now.
He then began to search the soldiers at Thristens feet. To Thirsten's credit, the only weapon unbroken was a blackened long bow and ten black fletched arrows. He walked cautiously over to the remaining soldiers , as he neared the first one he gasped. in the soldiers hand was a Magestone.
Magestones where the key to magic. Every creature has a magical force, but they have no way of releasing it, Magestones channel that energy into a power over the element bestowed on the Magestone. If his books where accurate, he was sure this was a Magestone of light. With this Magestone he could become invisible, create a blinding flash for his enemies, or a number of other useful techniques.
He held the clear stone in his hand. His father had taught that in order to command a Magestone, one had only to utter the word of weave for that element. The weave was a language created by mages of old in order to better control magic.
His father had never let them use Magestones because if you tried complicated technique, the magic would consume you, and you would become a Gray. A Gray was a mage who did not control himself anymore, the element he was lost to controlled him, and he took the attitude of the element.
He thought back to when he was forced to memorize basic words of the Weave. "Lucis," he whispered. Instantly he felt the magic well up within him and the world was painted in a new light. He saw the nuances of the light waves, and he felt the power to manipulate them. at a Whim he watched as his body was rendered invisible.
he looked at a probable ambush spot along the edge of the clearing, he noticed where the grass was mowed down from the assailants entering and leaving, A tall oak tree with covered branches stood over it. and the end of the clearing dense shrubbery proved a good hideout, and a better vantage point from witch to loose his arrows. He could always jaust stand ivisble in the middle of the clearing, but what if another mage sensed his presence, for he didnt know if that was possible, and what if he accidentally bumped into someone?

What should he do in order to gain revenge, and was he even sure there where any assailants left?

[Crunchyfrog]

Quote: He examined the mans soft, wrinkled face, witch was etched with chagrin from his last battle. which
Quote: in his left hand his father held a handkerchief, a last gift from his mother, in his right he held his blued blade, its transparent blue shimmering in the afternoon sun. Start with capital letter
Quote: He picked it up from the ground and held it at arms length, he grasp the steel hilt in his right hand and gave it a few swings. grasped

There is more than one spelling of Thristen, check through your work
Quote: His father had never let them use Magestones because if you tried complicated technique, the magic would consume you, and you would become a Gray.
a complicated technique?
Quote: He saw the nuances of the light waves, and he felt the power to manipulate them. at a Whim he watched as his body was rendered invisible. Capital for At, whim does not need a capital

Quote: he looked at a probable ambush spot along the edge of the clearing, he noticed where the grass was mowed down from the assailants entering and leaving, A tall oak tree with covered branches stood over it. and the end of the clearing dense shrubbery proved a good hideout, and a better vantage point from witch to loose his arrows. He could always jaust stand ivisble in the middle of the clearing, but what if another mage sensed his presence, for he didnt know if that was possible, and what if he accidentally bumped into someone?
Highlighted single words to correct typos and capitals.

The very last highlighted passage is just a little clumsy. How about:

He could always just stand invisible in the middle of the clearing, but he wasn't sure whether a Mage might still sense his presence. Besides, what would happen if he bumped into someone?

This was very good. Well thought out and well written. It doesn't go too fast, and it gives us time to get the sense of mystery.

Your chapters are a little on the short side, so you have the opportunity to really emphasise his feelings of loss. Try to make your next chapter a bit longer - 1000 words is good.

I like the bit you've included about the dangers of abusing the Magestone, and becoming a Gray.

For the DP
Well this is a difficult one. The Magestone suggests the soldiers could be working for a Mage, or they are Mages themselves. Of course they could have stolen it.

We don't yet know what the red symbol is on their uniforms so he doesn't yet know who he can avenge.

Since there is grass mown down in the clearing he might be able to follow a trail of footsteps, broken undergrowth, at least try and find out which direction these assailants came from. As he is invisible, this would help.

So I would say start tracking!

Good story. Looking forward to reading more.
:)

[Christalnightshade]

Go track! I was listening to the Braveheart theme and the beginning of the story fit perfectly with it. ^_^