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#1 2005-09-19 10:40:36

Zach
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The Power of Words.

As you most likely know, I'm not a great maths-type guy, I'm no big on science. I'm straight up English. I pride myself on having a wealth of knowledge and especially a keen mind for the variety of English. I also pride myself on being about to think illogical as well as logic. So, I've decided to take on a small self challange and write you a scene from my own imagination. No visual aids except for these words ony our screen. Comment, squabble and correct to your hearts content. You do not have to be polite in your critisms, but I'd be delighted if you'd offer them.

Dark Lights Call Forth Battle wrote:

The town of Abaknor has little history or social standings. It, in fact, has little relevance to anything. Sitting just outside the edge of the Tyreaoulean monarchy and slyly tucked away from the Narullian Empire, Abaknor have only themselves to govern. They have no-one to boss them around, except for the mayor of the town. Though, he was one of the Abaknoreans, a simple peasant voted in by his acquantinces. The village has only about 200-400 inhabitants, who farm and trade for living. A single gold mine inside the hills around the town gives them a nice flow of income from the Empire. The town is made from very sturdy wood from the nearby forests, which are often used to hunt within. Abaknor makes no standing in wars and refuse to fight. But, it seems, that this pacifistic idealology is not shared with others.
Blood splattered across the circular town-square. Cloaked Figures, 6 of them all together, stood around the towns monument, a pedestal holding a stone sword. One of the figures had striked out with great accuracy and strength at a protesting villager, severing his head from his body. The male head just rolled along the floor, tapping against the toes of a screaming lady, as she turns and runs in fear.
"Does anyone else wish to complain about our presence?" One of the figures smugly questioned, in a very authorative and stern voice, gruff with slight amusement woven in. "No? Good! Now, you'll let us take you in peace!"
A wisp of cold air suddenly gushed throughout the town, everything went silent. Such silence gave way for the small sound that seemed to scream out from the unsettling quiet. It was a metallic clink. Like a pair of metal-clad boots on the stone floor of the town. That was exactly what it was.
"I," the figure whispered softly to the wind, serenely and lovingly. "Humbly request that you leave this town, without question or reason."
There was nothing strikingly over powerful about this figure, he stood at most 6 feet and 1 inch, robed in a black cloak and no visible weapon. The tip of his boots shone, reflecting the bright light off their metallic surface. There was no aura of fear nor simple details that could strike despair into the very heart of foes. The man raised his head, the hood sagged slightly to one side as the light shone through a small gap. A green iris became apparent, small black traces of hair dangled just in front as the fractional glimpse of his lips showed a completely straight face.
This request made the opposing figures laugh. Robed in beautiful silver garments with no hoods, save for one who in fact wore a hood over his bowed head. Each one had brown hair, green eyes and a pointed chin. The non-hooded all wore swords outside of their robes and each one burst into laughter at this, what they determined to be, challenger. "You humbly request us to leave? Ha! I humbly request you to die!" One of the, now-called, thugs mocked as he unsheathed his already bloodstained sword and advanced towards the enemy. "I shall rip limb from limb for such insolence!"
The sound of a sword being drawn, the whooshing of air being parted and the sound of flesh being torn was all that could be heard within the 3 seconds that the thug took to die. The top half of his body slide slowly from the bottom half, as each fell a separate way. The cloaked man stood in a prone position, his right arm holding a sword, 4 feet in length, diagonally upwards, as straight as can be. Perfectly clean. The hilt was that of a dragon, with the blade expanding from its open maw and the balancers formed to be like the Dragons wings. The man's head lowered down as he stepped forward, lowering his arm, keeping it stiffly straight, until the tip of the blade just touch the ground.
"By Lucifer, what is this!?" One of former thugs companions yelled in disbelief, he, and the other 3 of his noticeably armed comrades, drew their weapons and sprinted towards the swordsman, screaming a battle cry for blood. The swordsman responded in kind, he span his sword quickly, placing it vertically in front of himself to block the first  blow, weaved downwards and to the side to dodge the second, as he ran his sword through an opponents kneecaps. A quick spin, he knocked the injured thug down and spin-kicked another in the head. His free hand floated along the ground with the spin and grabbed a dropped sword. To regain ground from the kick, the swordsman followed through with a second spin kick to regain balance. As he regained such a balance, the third thug striked. By crossing the two swords he wielded, the swordsman stopped the impending attack, pushed the thug away and finally sliced his sword into the already injured thugs head. The pushed back enemy recovered quickly, as his friend had began to run away in utter fear, the swordsman quickly span again. Firstly, he let go of the picked up sword, spinning so fast and with great aim, it removed the fleeing enemies legs. At the same time, the finer sword slice through the third assailant with no problem and left the swordsman uninjured in his assault. He regains a posture and steps over the dead body of his victory and stares towards the final enemy.
"I am Largo Halz. Anti-Mage for the Empire of Narullia and finest swordsman in all lands. Those were my men you just killed." Unlike his 'men', Largo spoke calmly and with a certain apathic tone. He lightly removed his hood, revealing a very slim line face, perfectly proportioned silver hair and a pair of silver irises. His veins ran slightly silver, as abnormal at it was, it was not a striking feature. Largo's eye store without a care in the world. "If it were not an effort to do so, I would be angry."
The opposing force bowed his head, raising his free hand and pulling away his hood. Black hair sprouted from beneath, rebelling against all natural order of hair and just going anywhere it decided too. Dark green eyes tranced outwards as a fickle smile spreads along his face. "Such a boast is for no man nor Fiend* to make. Only one who enjoys killing so much would make such an arrogant boast, to which they have no right to claim. I am Alan Seras, and I demand, now, you leave this place."
"You demand of me with such a tone. You demand of me while you dare to insult me. If I were not so sure your death will be so quick, I might even care a little." Largo smirks as he removes the buttons from his robe, removing it and dropping it to the ground. A thin black shirt, which in fact had some holes in it, and a pair of black trousers. His belt was clasped with a silver buckle, a sword sheath attached and strapped also around his thigh to keep it in a vertical position. The sheath, in fact, ended just around his ankles. On the other side of his belt, the right side, a cylindrical black object which opens up to a larger end on either side. Silver tips cover each of Largo's fingers and each tip has an attached wire which all join into a single circular disc in the middle of his palm. A wire goes from the circular disc to his wrist then digs into his skin. This goes for both hands. On his back, a silver-mechanism has been inserted into his spine, which looks just like an electronic spinal cord, which digs into Largo's back. "Let's play, Alan Seras."
Largo bent his knees and pushed off the ground at great speed towards Alan, his hand swiftly took his sword from the sheath, using the momentum from it being pulled to slice directly in front of him. Quickly pulling his sword up to defend, Alan slides back from the brute force of the parry. Largo regains his hold on the ground starts a run, quickly spinning and sliding across the ground as he attacks Alan at a diagonal, left to right, top to bottom. Alan jumps back in dodge and lunges forward with a slicing attack at Largo's chest, which is swiftly parried with the sword. As Largo parries, he kicks forcefully, forcing Alan back as the blow hits his stomach. Clutching the hit, Alan recovers quickly and kicks off the ground. Largo brings his sword up in defence, holding his sword at an angle horizontally. But, Alan had a different tactic, he spun in the air, keeping his sword close and keeping himself aerodynamic. As he speeds over Largo, who keeps his eye on Alan by swivelling with his head, Alan hits the ground, his back to Largo, but forcefully stabs his sword backwards, as his knees bend to absorb the shock. As he stabs backwards, pushing his sword through the gap between his arm and body, he uses the built up energy in his bent knees to convert the potential to kinetic and bounds backwards, his sword still pointing behind him. The sheer speed of which this is done causes Largo to take a serious hit in the right of his ribs and be pushed by the quick moving Alan, even if he's going backwards. Largo's shock of this attack keeps him from retaliating as he's suddenly smashed into a wooden wall of a local shop by Alan, forcing the sword in deeper. Springing forwards, Alan removes the sword's tip from Largo and springs forwards, altering the position of his sword to be just infront of him, pointing to the right on a horizontal plane. Hitting the ground perfectly, Alan rolls forward, spins on exit of the roll and stands-up perfectly, to look towards Largo, after completing a perfect feet of gymnatstics. Thrusting his sword into the ground, Alan expels his cloak. Silver linked chains constitute his armour, a pair of black trousers and a belt with no real features. His sheath is infact diagonally positioned upsidedown on his back, with a mechanism which enables it to stay sheathed.
"Argh! That hurt!" Largo exclaimed as he checked the wound, pushing on it so less blood came out of it. Lifting his sword with his free hand, he began springing towards Alan, raising his sword above his head and attempting to strike down on Alan. But, as Alan tried to duck and strike Largo's stomach, Largo skilfully took his free hand and grabbed the cylindrical object. As he bought up, he wielded it like a sword, imagining a blade where there was not, to try and block Alan's attack. Though, it would seem foolish, it worked perfectly. Suddenly, erupting from the object, a solid beam of darkness formed, spitting and blade-like, as it clashed with Alan's sword. Not only did it clash, it cut right through it, at the very tip, where it connected tot he dragons maw. Largo span and slip backwards as Alan rolled onto the floor and span on getting up, holding up the hilt of his sword. The blade was thrown elsewhere as Alan stared at Largo, and he back. "Give in now. You have no sword." Largo gloated, as he threw away his material sword and held onto the cylindrical sword. "This is the legendary Sword of Darkness, empowered with Shadows and able to cut through even Fiends like they were mere water." Largo cackled with glee as he stared at Alan.
Alan just stared at Largo, as though he was in a trance. His sword was broken, yet he still held it in his hand, at an angle pointing at the ground. His left foot moved first, then his right as he began a sprint. At the appropriate juncture, he jumped, raising the hilt of his sword above his head. Largo stared up at Alan, he didn't even bother to raise his weapon as he grinned with malice. "Stupidity."
A spark. The dragons maw sparked. "LIGHT! Serve me!" Alan screamed as the spark erupted into the purest beam of light, the a 4 foot blade of glittering light and radiating true power. Alan grinned as he fell towards Largo and used immense momentum to thrust his blade of light downwards at Largo.

(* Fiends are the opposite of Angels in the Tsairian universe. Highly powered and possess more power than normal humans. )


Boy let me tell you what:
I bet you didn't know it, but I'm a fiddle player too.
And if you'd care to take a dare, I'll make a bet with you.
 

#2 2005-09-19 22:16:56

insomnia
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Re: The Power of Words.

Well Done. i congratulate you.


Friends are angels who lift our feet when our own wings have trouble remembering how to fly
 

#3 2005-09-20 02:37:13

ryos
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Re: The Power of Words.

Well...

The Good:  The sense of place is very strong, which is good given you didn't spend very much time explicitly developing it. This means you did it right.

The action is vivid in some parts, but vague and clumsy in others.

The descriptions of the characters are well done. You didn't describe too much; you gave us just enough to be able to automatically visualize the players. Except, of course, for the dispensable generic soldiers, who remain faceless in my mind.

The Bad:  I won't critique it like it's a story, because I don't think you mean to make it into a full-blown story, but rather wrote it as an exercise in writing. Correct me if I'm wrong.

The gore was in places appropriate, and inappropriate in others. Don't make the hollywood mistake of showing gore fore the sake of it; when you show something sickening, make sure you have a specific purpose and a very good reason for it. Otherwise, like a bad scary movie, the audience becomes desensitized to it and it loses all its effect.

Please don't take this the wrong way, but it reads like a piece of bad Anime. Then again, I don't like Anime because (like comic books) so much of it is so bad, so maybe it reads like just plain Anime. So, I guess it might work for your intended audience (people who like Anime), but it didn't work for me.

Oh, and there are a lot of grammar and spelling mistakes. That's not so important, because they're easily fixed. But, in proofreading, before you fix mechanical errors, look for and ferret out the places where the language is awkward and doesn't flow, or impedes the reader from seeing what you see.

The Conclusion:  Even though I knew the good guy was invincible and couldn't lose, I was still curious and interested to see what kind of bad guy would challenge him after his display with the dispensable soldiers. I kept reading to see what antics the hero would go through to win the day.

So, even though I didn't particularly like it (no offense), I couldn't stop reading it. That's good. Keep at it...

Last edited by ryos (2005-09-20 02:43:55)


El que pega primero pega dos veces.
 

#4 2005-09-20 03:46:21

Zach
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Re: The Power of Words.

Thanks, Ryos.

I would use quotes for this, but I can't be bothered.

I came up with this on the spur of the moment, even though I've had the vague idea of Largo and Alan before. The soldiers were, as you say, dispensable. It's based on the battlefield situation of where everyone just looks alike, all soldiers are indistinguishable, except for those more striking figures, those two generals, so to speak. But, I could've gone slightly into more depth of their features.

You're slightly wrong, the two characters are infact from something I've been planning on writing for a long tme now, but this part wouldn't be in it, as I've got it in mind that they're in slightly different roles.

A bad anime. I like that term, especially for this writing. My whole idea of Largo and Alan are wholly based off an anime, which is infact called Slayers. The audience is actually for people who like more fantasy writing, and mainly myself, actually. But, some anime links in with the fantasy genre of writing.

I wrote it at 01:00 in the morning and I was far too tired to actually fully read it and check any kind of errors. If I wanted, I could've easily run it through Word or "Office Word Proccessor" (Which I have on my computer) to check any errors that I'd made.

Now, you've made a very good assumption from the writing. You've singled out that Alan must be the good guy and Largo the evil. It's nigh impossible to tell from the actual piece that Largo is not evil and the draw does not end in Alan winning. The rest would be more misleading to the true styles of either character.

Alan would never define himself as good, especially since he's a mass murderer of sorts. I can tell the reasons why people see him as the good aspect, since he wields a sword comprised of pure light and is fighting for the town. Obviously, the same goes for Largo, but in the reverse sense. He's wielding a sword formed from the deepest shadows and is using force to create fear in the townsfolk. Especially the sadistic nature that Largo gives off, would certainly lead me to assume Largo is evil.

If I do continue the battle, it may become apparent that he's not all that evil and Alan is not all the shining ray of sunshine he's cracked up to be.

Thanks for your input though.

- Zach.


Boy let me tell you what:
I bet you didn't know it, but I'm a fiddle player too.
And if you'd care to take a dare, I'll make a bet with you.
 

#5 2005-09-20 17:37:25

insomnia
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Re: The Power of Words.

Just one annoying thing in the passage, about 1/3 of a way down, you have BBCode in it. I think you made the [/i] for the end of italics [/u].

Slight mistake, but as it was 1:00 I forgive you


Friends are angels who lift our feet when our own wings have trouble remembering how to fly
 

#6 2005-09-20 18:11:57

justlookingforthemoment
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Re: The Power of Words.

But then where is the start of the italics? There is also an [i] a few sentences later.

 

#7 2005-09-21 04:08:57

Zach
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Re: The Power of Words.

I ran it through Word and just C&Ped it. I couldn't be bothered to re-enter the Italics.


Boy let me tell you what:
I bet you didn't know it, but I'm a fiddle player too.
And if you'd care to take a dare, I'll make a bet with you.
 

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