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 Posted: Sat Apr 28, 2007 6:38 pm Post subject: The General: Chapter Three is Up!!! |
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Here it is, my first SG.
The General
Prologue:
On a large plain, barren and devoid of even the slightest hint of life, was a city. In this war-torn, weary city there was a castle. The castle looked as if it had been at one point magnificent, but, like the village, was an image of faded glory. In this castle, in a large room that was dusty and decrepit, a man sat on a worn and broken throne. This man was of a height slightly taller than average, and had plain brown hair and piercing green eyes. He appeared just as worn as the rest of the city, dark circles betraying the lack of sleep that he had been feeling recently. Another man walked into the room.
"King Abram, scouts report a large force approaching from the east."
Abram slowly stood, addressing his second in command.
"So begins the end. Rally our remaining troops, we make our stand here, my good Jerrin."
"A beginning yes, but perhaps not of the end. Your men are valiant, and each of them is worth ten normal soldiers," replied Jerrin.
Abram responded with a sarcastic edge, "Good, at least we will take down half of their men before being slaughtered."
Jerrin had no reply to this, and left to issue orders to the king's troops. Abram stood at a window, and prepared himself for the fight to come...
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Chapter One: End of a Legacy
Abram was widely considered a good and just king, but renowned as an accomplished tactician and strategist. Countless wars had come to his fair city-kingdom of Melgaran, as many tried to plunder it's abundant store of knowledge, riches, and other priceless facets of it's culture. King Abram refused to appoint a general, and always planned and led attacks on enemy forces. Cunning as he was in strategy, just as fierce was he in battle, slaying countless raiders intent on taking the greatest city in all the Desolate Plains. The most recent invasion sprung from Melgaran's refusal to join with the lands of Aquites, who was ruled by the King of Blades, whose real name had never been spoken.
Unfortunately, things had taken a turn for the worse. The King of Blades had, by using foul magic that no mortal should ever learn, had caused a plague that rampaged through the city, and even the most accomplished magicians and doctors could not cure it, and eventually all but a small number less than one third of the city's original size succumbed to it's taint. The King of Blades then sent his largest and most brutal regiment, the Blades of Terror to lay siege to the city.
Now it was the evening of the last battle for the fate of Melgaran. King Abram was shouting orders to the remainder of his much depleted army. His second in command was helping to re-enforce the city gates. Jerran had known the king since both were adolescents, and had been more loyal to the king through the years than anyone else. Finally, all that could be done to strengthen the city had been done. Oil bubbled in caldrons above the city gates. Rows of stakes had been dug into the ground and concealed. The walls near the city gates had archers posted on them, and everyone was tense and alert. Abram walked onto a pedestal overlooking the troops of Melgaran, and began to speak.
“Brave warriors, throughout the ages we have withstood invader after invader, withheld attacks that had seemed unstoppable, beaten unbeatable odds. Now, once more, there is one who would seek to destroy us. The army of Aquites is at our gates, and in force far greater than ours. But we will survive! These monsters lack the heart and soul we have, the soul of the city, and the heart of all of the brave and valiant men who have defended this soil.” The king’s face now bore a solemn expression. “Many will die today. Brave young men who could have seen a future will not. Wives will wait by their doors for the husbands that will never return. Children will grow up missing parents that were killed by this invasion. For this reason I ask you all to rebel against this injustice. Fight the oppression that seeks to control and suffocate all that is good about Melgaran. For this I ask of you all, fight! Fight off this menace! Kill these beasts that would defile this ground! Let not one of them escape! For your people, for your city, FIGHT! The men cheered and shouted their defiance of their impending doom to the sky, and took their positions as the watchman announced that the enemy was near.
Everyone waited in anticipation as the enemy approached.
Jerrin shouted from the wall, “Archers RELEASE!”
The archers let loose a hail of arrows that pierced and punctured the Blades of Terror, causing over one hundred to fall to the deadly rain before they reached the gates.
“Archers fall back!”, Jerrin’s voice resounded.
“Swordsmen DRAW!”, yelled Abram, as he drew a beautiful, yet practical-looking long sword. The soldiers held their breath as a resounding boom confirmed that the invaders had reached the gates.
A whispered word from Abram sent two men off to stand beside the oil-filled cauldrons. As the gates slammed into the ground and the attackers rushed into the city, the first to arrive were greeted by boiling oil raining down from above, which was ignited by an archer with a fire-arrow to cause a furious blaze. Eventually the fire died, and the soldiers continued to flood in to be skewered on the hidden stakes. The horde continued to rush forward, climbing over the bodies of their own dead to reach the stalwart defenders.
With a resounding clash of metal on metal, the two sides met, and the battle had begun in full. Hours passed, and even though the professional defenders each had more skill than the best of the invaders, the sheer numbers of the advancing tide of death began to overwhelm the brave soldiers of the city, and they were forced to retreat farther and farther into the city.
When it became apparent that the battle could not be won, Jerrin cried to Abram, “You must leave, my king! We cannot hold them off!”
“I will never desert my troops in their hour of need, Jerrin.” was Abrams fiercely declared response, as he battled off four different attackers.
The two, along with a squad of soldiers, took refuge inside a house and boarded the entrance.
“Please, you must leave!” pleaded Jerrin, “Contact our allies, and tell them of our plight!”
Abram was stalwart when he said, “I won’t leave my troops to die, you of all people should know that.”
Jerrin released a mournful sigh as he said, “I am so sorry...”
Abram’s vision blackened as the flat of Jerrin’s blade collided with his skull.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
When Abram awoke he was in a tent, his wounds bound, and his head pounding. A soldier walked, and Abram inquired as to what happened.
“When you refused to leave, Commander Jerrin knocked you unconscious, and ordered me to take you to safety," replied the soldier. "He and the remaining five hundred of our troops have holed up in the castle, and are waiting for you to return with re-enforcements from our allies."
As Abram stepped out of the tent and beheld the city, miles away, with smoke rising up as the city continued to burn, he said, “What are our options?”
Worry for Jerrin and his troops permeated him like a thousand needles stabbing through his thoughts.
“To the south is Syrtam, and although it is closest, The King of Blades is likely to have sent a battalion of troops there too, but maybe not. To the west, we have Dierm, but they are not on the friendliest terms with us.”
The king pondered this, and thoughtfully asked, “What is your name, soldier?”
“My name is Dartin, Sire.”
As the king paced before the tent, a feeling of foreboding fell on him.
Should Abram go to the southern kingdom of Syrtam, and risk being there if the King of Blade strikes, or venture west,to Dierm, and hope that he is not rejected, or worse? Or is some other scheme viable?
Last edited by Guest on Mon Jul 09, 2007 8:08 pm; edited 11 times in total
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| Posted: Sat Apr 28, 2007 6:57 pm Post subject: |
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| Posted: Sat Apr 28, 2007 7:01 pm Post subject: |
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| Thanks, I will take this into account in the next chapter.
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Sat Apr 28, 2007 9:16 pm Post subject: |
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Good chapter AJ. I echo Z's comments. You need to start a new line when someone new speaks, otherwise it is confusing.
Anyway, DP.
Send a messenger to both can't he?
To the west: You should be able to convince them to help you, by telling them that they will be next to fall to the Blades.
_________________
Neil Hartley Books.
My Amazon page.
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| Posted: Sun Apr 29, 2007 5:06 am Post subject: |
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| chinaren wrote: | Send a messenger to both can't he?
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It is only the king and the soldier in the camp, so they would have to split up to do this, but that in itself seems a viable choice.
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Crunchyfrog
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| Posted: Wed May 02, 2007 2:52 am Post subject: |
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The content is well written, and has the makings of a good story.
*puts RB hat on*
The only technical sticking point at the moment is with the dialogue - as mentioned by Chinaren, when a new person speaks, it needs to start on a new line.
For example, your prologue should look something like this:
| Quote: |
On a large plain, barren and devoid of even the slightest hint of life, was a city. In this war-torn, weary city there was a castle. The castle looked as if it had been at one point magnificent, but, like the village, was an image of faded glory. In this castle, in a large room that was dusty and decrepit, a man sat on a worn and broken throne. This man was of a height slightly taller than average, and had plain brown hair and piercing green eyes. He appeared just as worn as the rest of the city, dark circles betraying the lack of sleep that he had been feeling recently. Another man walked into the room.
"King Abram, scouts report a large force approaching from the east."
Abram slowly stood, addressing his second in command.
"So begins the end. Rally our remaining troops, we make our stand here, my good Jerrin."
"A beginning yes, but perhaps not of the end. Your men are valiant, and each of them is worth ten normal soldiers," replied Jerrin.
Abram responded with a sarcastic edge, "Good, at least we will take down half of their men before being slaughtered."
Jerrin had no reply to this, and left to issue orders to the king's troops. Abram stood at a window, and prepared himself for the fight to come. |
Equally, the following dialogue towards the end of your chapter needs to be arranged something like this:
| Quote: | Everyone waited in anticipation as the enemy approached.
Jerrin shouted from the wall, “Archers RELEASE!”
The archers let loose a hail of arrows that pierced and punctured the Blades of Terror, causing over one hundred to fall to the deadly rain before they reached the gates.
“Archers fall back!”, Jerrin’s voice resounded.
“Swordsmen DRAW!”, yelled Abram, as he drew a beautiful, yet practical-looking long sword. The soldiers held their breath as a resounding boom confirmed that the invaders had reached the gates.
A whispered word from Abram sent two men off to stand beside the oil-filled cauldrons. As the gates slammed into the ground and the attackers rushed into the city, the first to arrive were greeted by boiling oil raining down from above, which was ignited by an archer with a fire-arrow to cause a furious blaze. Eventually the fire died, and the soldiers continued to flood in to be skewered on the hidden stakes. The horde continued to rush forward, climbing over the bodies of their own dead to reach the stalwart defenders.
With a resounding clash of metal on metal, the two sides met, and the battle had begun in full. Hours passed, and even though the professional defenders each had more skill than the best of the invaders, the sheer numbers of the advancing tide of death began to overwhelm the brave soldiers of the city, and they were forced to retreat farther and farther into the city.
When it became apparent that the battle could not be won, Jerrin cried to Abram, “You must leave, my king! We cannot hold them off!”
“I will never desert my troops in their hour of need, Jerrin.” was Abrams fiercely declared response, as he battled off four different attackers.
The two, along with a squad of soldiers, took refuge inside a house and boarded the entrance.
“Please, you must leave!” pleaded Jerrin, “Contact our allies, and tell them of our plight!”
Abram was stalwart when he said, “I won’t leave my troops to die, you of all people should know that.”
Jerrin released a mournful sigh as he said, “I am so sorry...”
Abram’s vision blackened as the flat of Jerrin’s blade collided with his skull.
>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>
When Abram awoke he was in a tent, his wounds bound, and his head pounding. A soldier walked, and Abram inquired as to what happened.
“When you refused to leave, Commander Jerrin knocked you unconscious, and ordered me to take you to safety," replied the soldier. "He and the remaining five hundred of our troops have holed up in the castle, and are waiting for you to return with re-enforcements from our allies."
As Abram stepped out of the tent and beheld the city, miles away, with smoke rising up as the city continued to burn, he said, “What are our options?”
Worry for Jerrin and his troops permeated him like a thousand needles stabbing through his thoughts.
“To the south is Syrtam, and although it is closest, The King of Blades is likely to have sent a battalion of troops there too, but maybe not. To the west, we have Dierm, but they are not on the friendliest terms with us.”
The king pondered this, and thoughtfully asked, “What is your name, soldier?”
“My name is Dartin, Sire.”
As the king paced before the tent, a feeling of foreboding fell on him.
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Feel free to use these examples to correct your prologue and your first chapter. 
If your second chapter is as well written as the first, and you can arrange the dialogue correctly using the example above as a guide, your SG will stand a very good chance of promotion. 
The battle scene was very well written, it conjured some good imagery.
However I echo what Zephy mentioned, which is not to get too rushed into the story too quickly. Pace it evenly, give yourself a chance to develop the characters a little.
I am looking forward to seeing how this one will progress!
For the DP.... Hmmm, venturing west seems intriguing!
Keep it going!
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| Posted: Thu May 03, 2007 3:38 am Post subject: |
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| Thanks for the input. Maybe now the chapter is a little easier to read.
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algu95
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| Posted: Fri May 04, 2007 12:31 pm Post subject: |
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To The South We Must!
Oh, sorry, but i only noticed this SG cuz you commented on my RPG, and seemed to be intrested, if you could be somrthing else than humanoid or draconic.
Anyways, intresting SG. I will follow it's progress.
_________________
Yes, no, what, hello?
Falcon Lord, a linear story by algu!
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Crossfire
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| Posted: Fri May 04, 2007 2:14 pm Post subject: |
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| AlphaJackal (Paraphrased) wrote: | | "...and of height slightly taller than average. He hopped of his throne, taking slightly less time than when he had dropped his toothbrush the other day, this being the day that his aunt had..." |
Well, you get the idea. Description is good, but it has to be interesting as well. Nicely written. I would poke at a few grammatical and/or spelling errors, as is my occasional wont, but I see that exotic beauty Crunchyfrog has taken my dubious prize.
_________________
Thrash, dash and crash alike.
Silent eyes decide the wise and unwise - for one that lies. Let it arise.
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Crunchyfrog
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| Posted: Wed May 09, 2007 4:30 am Post subject: |
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Three way tie so far....
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Crossfire
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| Posted: Wed May 09, 2007 6:49 pm Post subject: |
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Aaaah! I made it a three-way tie again! *winces* Sorry, Alpha...
_________________
Thrash, dash and crash alike.
Silent eyes decide the wise and unwise - for one that lies. Let it arise.
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| Posted: Wed May 09, 2007 7:10 pm Post subject: |
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| Hmm, a tie, and not many people seem to have been on this week so far...
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Crossfire
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| Posted: Wed May 09, 2007 8:49 pm Post subject: |
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That's how it usually is, Alpha... Citizens divide their time between many, many StoryGames, and sometimes some get left out... You were actually pretty lucky. *signing off for at least two days*
_________________
Thrash, dash and crash alike.
Silent eyes decide the wise and unwise - for one that lies. Let it arise.
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| Posted: Thu May 10, 2007 12:30 pm Post subject: |
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NO!!! Now I have to type again the reply didn't get here...
| Quote: | | Should Abram go to the southern kingdom of Syrtam, and risk being there if the King of Blade strikes, or venture west,to Dierm, and hope that he is not rejected, or worse? Or is some other scheme viable? |
If plit into groups then I should say that you should send scouts to search the area if safe and keep an keen eye what is happening around them in the forest or tents.
Keep weary to sleep they might have your location and try and kill you in your sleep.
Abram should Go west ward to recruit if they should split up... Keep a eye out for scouts they might carry valauble information about king of blades which can be proven as being usefull and they might be following your army.
Abram has a storng bond to his army and he looks like the type that ca talk his way out of trouble and yet even if that doesn't work they can always force their way trough, but don't act with brute force before talking to the person first and ask to regroup and maybe jion alliances...
If there should be trouble I think i should be scouts, animal and hunters.
You lost but the enemy is still living they could have retreated back to the king of blades and could have told of your loss, that abram's army is at it's weakest and that it is vunerable.
nightshade
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| Posted: Thu May 10, 2007 1:28 pm Post subject: |
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| Ah! Another tie!
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D-Lotus
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| Posted: Thu May 10, 2007 7:04 pm Post subject: |
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Show, don't tell. Or at least, do more showing than telling.
_________________
 Chapter 5: The Rendezvous 
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| Posted: Sun May 13, 2007 6:10 pm Post subject: |
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| now I can start on the next chapter.
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| Posted: Mon May 14, 2007 4:12 pm Post subject: |
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Chapter Two: Road to Ruin
“We’ll have a better chance of getting help if we split up. You go to the west, and I will go south.” Abram said, while looking upon the burning form of Melgaran.
Dartin’s reply was hesitant and unsure. “Sire, Jerrin would kill me if I...”
“Jerrin can get over it. I am your king, so my orders trump his by far.” Abram’s reply rang out strong and clear as a bell, as if to counter the young soldier’s insecurity. “Start packing, we leave as soon as possible”
As Abram doled out some coins to Dartin, he pondered the chances of his survival on the road to Syrtam, which had been poorly maintained in recent years. Various beasts and raiders were bound to be on the prowl. This was the main reason he had sent the soldier south, as Abram had far more battle experience than Dartin. After packing, he exchanged curt goodbyes with Dartin, Abram started on the road to Syrtam.
---------
It was mid-afternoon of the second day, and with four days left until he reached the capital of Syrtam, Abram was in a foul mood. He had repelled three bandit attacks, fought off a small group of wolves, and had just finished off one of the minor demons that were abundant in the area. He had not yet eaten, and his food was not going to last as long as he had hoped. With no means to start a fire, and his tent shredded by the second wave of bandits, he was ready to kill the first thing that had the misfortune of crossing his path.
Abram released a defeated sigh as he continued down the road. When the evening came, and he was about to bed down, he heard a sharp crack behind him. Swiftly turning, he grabbed the figure who had been coming up behind him, and held a dagger to the it’s neck.
“Talk”, was Abram’s fierce greeting to the stranger.
“Okay, okay, just don’t k-kill me.”, was the stranger’s nervously stuttered reply. “I mean you no harm.”
Abram’s accusatory voice emitted savagely from his mouth. “Then why were you sneaking up behind me? ”
“I was....curious. About you. We don’t get that many visitors in these parts, and more than a few of the ones that come here are up to no good.” The mysterious stranger squirmed in Abram’s grip.
“Why should I believe you? For that matter, why should I even let you live?”, Abram growled in reply.
“You will never make it to the Desolate Woods without me. I could be your guide, until we get to the more populated areas of Syrtam.” For the first time, Abram noticed a feminine tint to the suspicious character’s voice.
“Do you have a torch?” Abram inquired.
As the stranger lighted one, Abram released his grip, and when the torch’s light revealed a tall, brown-haired woman with blue eyes, and a road-weary look to what would otherwise be a pretty face , he was at a loss of what to do.
Still suspicious of the woman’s sudden appearance, Abram realized he hadn’t asked for her name. “What’s your name?”, Abram inquired.
“Christine. Who are you?” Christine said, while trying to look busy building a campfire.
“Abram”, was the gruff reply. “Can you swing a sword?”
“Yes, why?” Christine looked at Abram with curiosity. “I am actually pretty decent with a rapier, and I know some magic.” The more useful she seemed, the better her chances, Christine decided.
“Good. As long as you don’t try anything funny, you can stay until I reach Dethsolm. If you even so much as think about betraying me, I will use your head as a decoration for my trophy room.” Syrtam’s capital was due south, and was a center for trade and commerce. Abram figured if she followed him into Dethsolm, he could easily lose her amongst the crowd.
“Okay, I get the picture. You have a twitchy sword hand.” The sarcastic edge to the Christine’s voice was not unnoticed.
With that exchange of words, they camped for the night. Abram kept his sword within arm’s reach.
---------
As the journey to Dethsolm progressed, Abram discovered that Christine was an interesting conversationalist, and an accomplished swordsman. He began to trust her a little more, and soon they were bantering like old friends. On the fifth day of the journey, Abram noticed an unusual quiet in the plains.
Abram shuddered. “This place...it seems...I don’t like it.”
“What is wrong?” Christine asked.
“Everything seems a little too quiet. A little too dead. Normally the plains are quite active at this time of day. The sun is low, the wind is cool, and the weather is good. But it is silent.”
Unnerved, they continued walking on, each rustling leaf making them jitter. A strangely familiar smell, laced with something that he did not know, wafted to his nose.
“What is that... I know it, but...” Abram’s senses kicked into full gear as he remembered. “Bandits! Krail Necrom!”
They whipped out their swords. The Krail Necrom where a group of bandits who had surrendered themselves to the foul arts of necromancy. They gained lives extended far beyond nature’s intent, and abilities that no man should have, but the cost was substantial, their bodies constantly in a state of half decay, reeking of the dead. A single Krail Talon, the standard footman of the Krail Necrom, was enough to send a well armed group running. A Krail Bone-Catcher was the Krail Necrom’s archer, more accurate than the most well-trained soldiers. The Krail Death-Bringers were the leaders of the bandit groups, malicious and self-serving, and brutally efficient. Most fearsome were the Krail Soul-Catcher, or the Sanctorum Defilte as they called themselves, the Defiled. These were fallen paladins, capable of the foulest magic, and able to control the dead effortlessly. The Sanctorum Defilte were the main suspects of the plague that had ravaged Melgaran, and each one was a force to be reckoned with.
Increasing their pace, the pair readied themselves, just in case the Krail Necrom found them. Suddenly, a Krail Talon walked onto the path from a nearby patch of trees, sighted them, and yelled, “PREY!!!!!”, and drew his sword, a black, malevolent thing, etched with the loathsome runes of necromancy. As the wretched creature approached, Christine began to chant the flowing rhythms of fire magic, as if poetry were being put into pyro-kinetic form. Abram took a defensive stance, and readied himself for a hard fight.
The Talon lunged forward, and Abram parried, countering with a slash that landed on it’s shoulder. The half-undead creature drew back, and in rage renewed his assault, his dark blade slicing through the air as if it weighed nothing, a talisman of the unholy rage embodied by the Krail Necrom. Sweat beaded on Abram’s forehead as his sword as he rushed to parry the onslaught. Abram retreated as the Talon’s sword whipped through the space he had been a second before, and he knew that he was going to lose. Abram noticed another Talon had engaged Christine as he was pondering his impending doom, and felt a pang of regret that she was going to die because of him.
Abram suddenly found a lucky opening, and with renewed vigor, ran the Krail Necrom through, his blade symbolizing his revulsion at the concept of dying by this foul beast. He continued to press his advantage, hacking and slashing with the fury of a demon, a scion of chaos, and his sword rang out the final moments of the Talon, surprised that this human was resisting the aura of hopelessness that surrounded the Krail Necrom, which was the main weapon of the semi-undead bandits. Soon the creature was reduced to pieces by a furious Abram. Beside him, he saw a stunned Talon being incinerated by Christine’s flame. They gained momentum and spirit, and as more Krail appeared, they rushed forward, a symphonic orchestra of steel, flame, and fury.
When they believed that the fight was over, a Sanctorum Defilte stepped out, but this one did not have the bloodlust in his eyes the Talons had possessed.
Have you come to join your four dead comrades, O unholy fiend?” Abram’s sarcastic jeer rang out across the plain.
The Sanctorum’s reaction surprised them both. Instead of rage, a melancholy look took over the fallen paladin. “You spend so much time telling yourself that what you did was perfectly sensible, and that you are merely another part of the world, but they call you unholy, and after a while you start to believe them. Their dying screams are the only response you can think of, and the prayers and oaths ring in your head, eating at your sanity, driving away the last vestiges of rationality.”
Did the creature look a little more dead than before, or did the surprising monologue make it seem more alive? Abram’s confusion multiplied and divided, leaving him stunned, and speechless.
The Sanctorum addressed Abram once more. “Can you take me to the nearest temple?”
The request was even stranger than the previous statements, for stepping into a temple was instant death for any undead.
“One moment to confer with my comrade, please” Abram sauntered away, dumbstruck at this oddity...
------------------
Should Abram trust this monstrosity, fight it, or flee while he and Christine still can?
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Last edited by Guest on Sat May 19, 2007 3:43 pm; edited 1 time in total
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Mon May 14, 2007 4:19 pm Post subject: |
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I say ask it the purpose of such an act, and base your decision on that.
An action packed chapter AJ, though I think it would be nice to know more of Christine's reasons and motives for being there. As it is she just looks like a convenient companion for the king. 
Maybe she was part of a group that was attacked or something?
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| Posted: Mon May 14, 2007 5:09 pm Post subject: |
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I am just trying to amass some characters to kill off, so I have a good selection of people to sacrifice to the plot. as for the reasoning and motives, that will be elaborated on in chapter 3, when they reach the city.
Just so you know, the only reason this might gain an "R" rating is for the violence. I am not a big fan of cliche romances and profanity. I will resist any attempts to turn a supporting character into a romantic interest, and my characters will never cuss.
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Chinaren
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| Posted: Tue May 15, 2007 4:10 am Post subject: |
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| Posted: Tue May 15, 2007 1:40 pm Post subject: |
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| Promoted? That explains my difficulty in finding this topic. As for the comments, I will do what I can to correct the issues. This is my first SG, and any constructive critisism is welcomed.
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D-Lotus
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| Posted: Tue May 15, 2007 5:52 pm Post subject: |
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unusual quiet.
Hey, congrats on the promotion!
Anyway, as far as criticism, I do have to agree with what has been mentioned. You seem to be able to write well, but your story is somewhat synthetic in meaning and emotion. On the plus side, your sentence structure is near impeccable, and you have a clear-cut, direct style. Your chapter lengths are neat, too.
DP: The King should be naturally mistrustful of this creature, but I think that whatever drove him to accept Christine as a companion will also drive him to help this creature.
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Chapter 5: The Rendezvous
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Crunchyfrog
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| Posted: Wed May 16, 2007 2:31 pm Post subject: |
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Zeph has pretty much encapsulated much of what I was going to say.
| alphaJackal wrote: | | I am just trying to amass some characters to kill off, so I have a good selection of people to sacrifice to the plot. |
The more rounded and developed these characters become, the more sense of loss there will be if and when they are sacrificed. Christine needs some background, motives, history, etc. and perhaps try and identify the type of relationship between them.
For the DP - For the sake of developing a relationship, lets say they disagree about what to do. He wants to take it to the temple, she says no, but he makes the decision to take it to the temple against her wish, thereby developing tension between them.
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| Posted: Wed May 16, 2007 2:40 pm Post subject: |
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| Thanks for the input. I will develope the character some more next chapter.
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algu95
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| Posted: Fri May 18, 2007 7:55 am Post subject: |
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What tha- Already Promoted! Congratulations and salutations, for you seem to be a better writer then i am.
For the DP, hmmmm... Let's say that they bring the creature to the temple, but guard him all the time. No tension between the characters (this does not have anything to do that i favour magicans, well, maybe it is so. Hey! One is allowed to favour magicans!), since that would almost certainly make her a enemy in the future. And i would also hear her background thingies. No fun in sacrificing character's if you know nothing about them.
Anyway's, good chapter, the only fault i detected was quite, which would be quiet.
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Lilith
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| Posted: Sat May 19, 2007 3:27 pm Post subject: |
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| I will be putting up the poll tuesday.
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algu95
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| Posted: Fri May 25, 2007 12:35 pm Post subject: |
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Ummmmm... Seems i'm the only one who have voted thus far. Or, people has forgotten this thread. hmmmm..... Should you wait for more, or should you just write the new chapter?
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| Posted: Tue May 29, 2007 3:01 pm Post subject: |
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will be gone for a few days. don't know the proper procedure, so can whoever handles this please not delete the thread?
:EDIT:Am back, so will begin the next chapter immidiatly.
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| Posted: Fri Jun 15, 2007 8:03 am Post subject: |
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Chapter 3: Sacred
“If you are going to travel with us, we need something to call you by.” Abram’s distrustful tone was obvious as he and Christine came out of conference. After much deliberation, the two had decided to let the Sanctorum Defilte they had met join them.
The half-undead creature sounded startled as his reply rang out. “The Krail Necrom forsook names after the changing, but once upon a time I was known as Jeriah, so that is probably the best thing to call me.”
The trio walked on for a while in leaden silence, but after a while Christine spoke up, breaking the tension that was so evident. “So, why do you wish to go to a temple? Surely you know that to step inside one is instant death for the undead.”
“But not for the half-undead.” Jeriah’s reply was slow and hesitant at first, but was soon flowing easily. “I tire of living like this. The only way to redeem myself is to perform a ritual counter to the one performed when we first took on these dark forms.”
Jeriah proceeded to describe the ritual, but Abram soon was confused, so they abandoned that topic of conversation.
Eventually the conversation drifted to reasons for being there. Jeriah’s was obvious, and Abram’s took only seconds to explain(with him leaving out choice bits of information), leaving Christine to explain herself.
“So, Christine, what about you? I don’t mind any of the help you’ve given, but now that I think of it, you seemed a little too eager to join me. What is your reason for going to the city?” Abram’s idle voice carried through the forest, echoing in the nearby caves.
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The rain beat down upon the small hut, causing the straw roof to leak. A small girl sat in the corner of her room, frightened of the thunderous display in the sky. Her parents entered the room, and told her to start packing.
“Why are we leaving, mommy?” Christine’s frightened plea sounded out.
Her father looked at her with sad eyes, and began to speak. “There are bad men here to get us. If we do not leave, then they will hurt us.”
He was about to go into more detail, when an arrow suddenly protruded from the wall. The father whipped out a sword that had been concealed yelling “Go! Take our child and get to the shelter!”
Scooping up Christine in her arms, the mother fled the hut, and ran into the nearby woods, speaking softly to the little girl, who was in tears. “ If we are separated, try to find your way to Castle Syrtam, and tell the guards that you are the fifth arbiter’s child. They will help you. Do you understand?”
Christine nodded, started to speak, but was cut off by her mother. “If anything should happen, to keep you from reaching Castle Syrtam, go to the local monastery, they will help you.”
A scream penetrated the woods, and tears fell down the mother’s eyes at the sound of her husband’s death. She realized that her own time was probably short as well. “Christine, run as fast as you can away from here, and don’t stop for anything until you are well away from here. Be silent, swift, and careful, just as your father taught you when you were learning to hunt. Be strong, no crying now, everything will be fine. I love you my child, more than you will ever know. Go now.”
The child fled through the woods, and eventually came upon the local monastery, who raised her to adult-hood.
The mother smiled as she saw her child running, and she knew that she would one day make a great arbiter, just like her father before her. She smiled as tears ran down her face, and continued smiling when the assassins caught her two days later, satisfied that her child was safe. She continued to smile through the torture, and when her damaged body finally stopped breathing, and her broken heart stopped beating, she was still smiling, an eternal smile that she would forever wear.
Several years later, an adult Christine returned to the ruins of that small hut. She cried as she followed the monk’s instructions, taking several papers from her father’s desk, and she picked up her father’s sword. Upon finder her mother’s bleached bones, her tears ceased, and she was consumed by hatred for the ones who killed her parents. She would have her revenge. It would be her face they saw as the life drained from their eyes, and they would know the true meaning of suffering. She set off for Castle Syrtam.
A few days into the journey, she saw a lone man striding along the road. She did not recognize his garb, and followed him until he caught her. She struggled to think of a reason for her sneaking up on him to give to him, and ended up with a version of the truth that revealed nothing about her. She realized that it would help if she had someone who could help her get to Castle Syrtam, and recognized how dangerous this individual was. Vengeance is smiling upon me, she thought, to send me such a blessing to help me along the road.
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Christine snapped out of the flashback, and said slyly, “I seek to take back something that was stolen from me.”
Abram looked at her suspiciously, and continued walking until they reached the outskirts of Syrtam’s capitol, Telgrand. Castle Syrtam loomed in the distance, a massive construct of stone and wood, the pinnacle of Syrtam’s civilization.
Abram wheeled about, drawing his sword to decapitate a Blades assassin that had been sneaking up behind him. More Blades emerged from the foliage, and chaos ensued. Abram’s sword sliced through the air, his eyes gleaming like a demon’s. Christine’s fire consumed another assassin, and two Blades were ripped limb from limb by Jeriah. A lone survivor dropped his sword, and attempted to run. Abram tripped him, and pinned him down with his foot. The man struggled underneath to escape, but in vain.
“You know what happens when a Krail Necrom redeems himself? All of the darkness escapes from his body, and goes to the nearest person, leaving him in the same situation as the Krail was in. HAHAHA! YOU FOOL!! YOU ARE GOING TO– ” The Blade’s last words were cut off by Jeriah’s foot smashing into the man’s neck.
Abram looked at Jeriah suspiciously, and Jeriah started speaking in a calm voice. “What he said is true, but as I was saying earlier, there is a containment ritual that will trap the dark essence, and dispel it.”
“How do we know you are not lying?” Christine said, thinking her mission might be endangered.
“You will have to trust me.” Jeriah was still calm, and he looked Abram in the eyes as he continued to speak. “What is your choice, Abram?”
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A little shorter than usual, sorry. Anyway, DP:
Should Abram continue to trust Jeriah, or should he send him away? Or something else? Suggestions are welcome.
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algu95
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| Posted: Fri Jun 15, 2007 10:54 am Post subject: |
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AT LAST!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Well, i can't really decide... Yes or no... Hmmmmmmmmmm......
/Goes of to sleep on the matter
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| Posted: Fri Jun 15, 2007 3:45 pm Post subject: |
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| I say send him away, he's acting way too suspicious
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Player of Fates
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| Posted: Fri Jun 29, 2007 9:20 am Post subject: |
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Wow, this went along quick, I had hoped for some description of her growing into a woman but this will do.
They should still keep companionship with the half-undead, Fates know that they'll need his...certain and peculiar skills to help them on their travels now. If he wanted to harm them, he could have done some time ago. Let him be and trust him for now.
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Kalanna Rai
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| Posted: Fri Jun 29, 2007 11:56 am Post subject: |
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I say go for it. If there's a ritual to reverse what's been done then you can always reverse yourself. Besides, the king needs all the help he can get.
And this fallen Paladin just might know something about the plague that hit Abram's city.
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Crunchyfrog
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| Posted: Fri Jun 29, 2007 1:39 pm Post subject: |
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Thought the chapter was a little more rushed than the previous ones, I f5 Plates that more detail was needed on Christine growing up - Also, I felt more could have been made of the scene at the top of the chapter...
Still, good plot, and for the DP - Keep 'em both by his side for the time being. He needs all the help he can get for the moment. I feel that there is still more to learn about both Christine and Jeriah, yet.
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| Posted: Sun Jul 01, 2007 6:00 pm Post subject: |
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| Thanks for the comments. For a while I thought everyone had forgotten this SG. I am glad to see I am mistaked. Yes, the chapter was a little rushed, and that was because I was already late posting it, due to a vacation, so it is about 500 words shorter than what I prefer. I am surprised that nobody went on a grammar crusaade as well.
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| Posted: Mon Jul 09, 2007 8:01 pm Post subject: |
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| I am going to going to go ahead and put up the poll now, since it does not appear that anyone else is going to post.
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| Posted: Sat Aug 11, 2007 8:01 am Post subject: |
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algu95
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| What should Abram do? |
| Let both Christine and Jeriah stay;he can use all the help he can get |
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60% |
[ 3 ] |
| Send Jeriah away;he is acting way too suspicious |
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20% |
[ 1 ] |
| Send Christine and Jeriah away;they are dead weight anyway |
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20% |
[ 1 ] |
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| Total Votes : 5 |
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