Log in
The time now is Wed Aug 21, 2019 12:09 am
View unanswered posts
Insert tilte here *Warning Contains scenes of violence*

 
Post new topic   Reply to topic    Fantasy Freaks Forum Forum Index -> Writing Workshop
View previous topic :: View next topic  
Author Message
TamAlthor
The Zeppo


Joined: 09 Nov 2006
Posts: 713
Location: Alberta Canada

PostPosted: Thu Nov 09, 2006 12:17 pm
Post subject: Insert tilte here *Warning Contains scenes of violence*
Reply with quote

so i sorta attempted to write a novel about 4...omg 4 years ago?...I got almost 4 chapters written right aways, and after numerous rewrites of the first 3 chapters i decided to spend more time on world building and character/creature profiles. And That kind of all fizzled out once I got busy at work and then Married and then promoted and now working on making a baby....takes a breath. any way. I'm looking for feed back on What I have written so far. So here is chaper one. please be blunt and forward. I appreciate what ever feedback can be given. If this makes you ill when you read it, tell me. If you want to see chapter two tell me. If you feel like you have lost 4 iq points and 15 mins of your life that you'll never getr back I need to know. If you want to finance the completion of the book and make me indepenendly weathly...hmm getting ahead of myself...

*Warning Contains scenes of violence*


Insert Title Here


Chapter 1 Swordfights and Starlight

Looking up at the order and beauty of the night sky was always so soothing. No matter how bad things were, observing the wonders of the nocturnal firmament was always enough. Enough to calm his troubled heart. Enough to let him know that things would eventually work out. Most of all, the stars were enough to remind him of Sonita and the days they had spent together while in their youth. She always found the constellations faster. He would start by looking for Sulmar in the east and try to trace the other groups of stars from there. By the time he had completed the Lion of Rous, she would have already found and clearly defined three other assemblages. He tried harder and harder each time to locate the proper points of light, but she would always be ahead of him. Whenever he realized he was too far behind, he would stop and listen as she pointed out one constellation after the next. Every now and then she paused to tell the story that existed behind a particular crowd of stars. He never tired of her stories. Some of them he had heard hundreds of times. There was usually one new tale every night, depending on which sets of stars were found. He always wondered where Sonita had learned those stories, but she would never tell him. She always acted as though she hadn't heard his question. He never pressed the issue. He was content to just listen and enjoy her company. It was during one of those nights that he began to comprehend how much he loved her. To the world she would never be one of the great beauties. But it was from her that he had come to recognize and appreciate what true beauty was. Oh Sonita, He sighed inwardly, I miss you so much. If only---

The soft scuffling of a shoe along a cobblestone interrupted his dirge. He sunk into the shadows, moving carefully so as not to make the same mistake as his approacher. Night air carried sounds much further than that of the day. He did not want to be seen. The townspeople were very superstitious, and he could only imagine what they would have to say if they were to find out he was on the streets alone so late at night. He had once held those same superstitions and prejudices. Everyone born and raised in Maradeth did. As for himself, the time he spent away had erased most of those traditions. When he returned, all that truly remained of his old self was his inquisitive nature. That nature kept him from returning to his own home now. He was curious as to who else would be out this late. Word had reached him the day before that there were a few outlanders visiting. Perhaps it was one of them. They were very peculiar fellows, by the sounds of it. They had come looking for a sister or a daughter, or some such relative. Apparently, they were paying fairly good money to anyone who could help them to find her. He had made sure to listen carefully to everyone passing along her description. Colum had said she was about twenty-three years, with fire red hair, and green eyes; both were quite uncommon in Madareth. She was supposed to have a fair complexion and be quite a handsome lass, by what Maringtal said. According to Meryan Servengy, the latter is what had led to her disappearance. A very tragic tale the way she told it. The lass, whose proper name was Kellishawn Serina Gashven, had apparently been tricked into running away with a rapscallion of some sort. Her family had warned her that the young man did not hold respectable intentions toward her. However, he wooed and persuaded until he convinced her to leave her family and take her inheritance with her. They traveled together to a few of the outlying towns. People who had seen them said they seemed to be quite in love with each other. After a few days, the man showed his true colors. He walked up to Kellishawn, kissed her on the cheek, picked up her bag, which contained all her belongings, and disappeared into the crowd. She cried and hollered, but to no avail. Alone and humiliated, the young Lady Gashven was too embarrassed to return home. She had been made a fool of, and she did not want to face her family. So she wandered from village to village begging and working for food and a night's lodging. Unknown to Kellishawn, her family was desperately searching, hoping they could find her and let her know they held no malice towards her. They just wanted her to come home and be safe. They had already traversed half of Kavlarn, following every lead, every clue, but to their growing dismay they were always too late. At times it seemed as though she had completely vanished from the face of the earth. Whenever they were ready to give up all hope of finding her, another lead would turn up, and they would go to the next village, town, or farmhouse. People would have seen her, some even had put her up for the night, but by the time her family arrived she had already moved on.

The man waited, comfortably concealed in the shadows, eager to catch a glimpse of one of the strangers. His heart reached out to them once he heard their story. They had come so far, and again for nothing. He hadn't seen or heard of anyone matching the girl's description. In fact these strangers were the only visitors the town had received in a good long while. He wished he had seen their poor sister. He knew what it was to lose family. He wished he could do something to ease their grief. As a kind of sick afterthought, he realized he could really use their money too. Everyone in town could. The last winter had been long and bitterly cold. Most herders had lost the majority of their stock. The snows had stayed long and delayed planting, so very few farmers would be able to bring in a decent harvest. All anyone could really do was bring in what meager food they had grown for themselves and pray for a better season to come. He sat for a few more moments. They should have made it here by now. Maybe they've gone a different way. He held his breath and strained his ears, listening for any sound that would signal an approach. An image of himself ten years earlier poured over his consciousness. He was back in Valtimire, hiding behind a tree, anxiously waiting for someone to sound the 'all clear'. He shook it off, and brought himself back to the present. All that met his ears was the consistent chirping of crickets. Then he heard it. For a moment he thought he was still caught up in his imaginings. Then he heard it again. The dull ring of metal upon metal. The sound was hauntingly familiar. He doubted that anyone in Madareth, besides himself, even owned a sword. He wondered what was happening. A part of him felt he should go and see who and what it was. His smarter side told him he should forget about it. It is none of your affair, it said, You should just go home to bed and leave it well enough alone. But he didn't. He couldn't. Not until he knew.
He began making his way over to where he thought the sound had come from. It had been a long time since he had needed to stalk through any kind of street. He had hoped he would never have to again. But he could not just sit in the shadows and ignore the telltale sounds of a battle. You always have to be the hero, don't you? He remarked silently within himself. As he pressed forward, the intensity of ringing metal seemed to thunder within his ears. He leaned up against a wall. The reality of the grunts and hisses of the combatants was around the next corner. You can still go home, and forget anything has happened. You've seen enough blood already. You have done your duty, leave it to someone else. There was prudence in those words. He didn't have to get involved. It would be wiser not to. He considered going back the way he had come. "Hey Thomas, do-" He swung around grabbing the speaker, one hand covering her mouth. His other arm went around her side, tightly pinning her arms against her waist. Somehow The Brat had snuck up on him while he was lost in his thoughts.

Her real name was Emeal Ranthar, but most people just called her 'The Brat'. She had gained the title due to the crazy and usually irritating stunts she was always pulling. Ever since she was young she had got it in her mind that she should be different than the other girls. She would not sit and learn to sew, or spin or weave. She could cook, but one had to be near death to sample her wares. Instead of playing with dolls, washing her hair, and talking of having a family, she would try and sate her voracious appetite for books. Her hair was almost always an unkempt mess. When out to its full length it reached to the middle of her back. Such long hair was always in the way of her activities. She tried all sorts of ways of tying it up; just so long as it did not look like she was trying to impress the boys. To top it off, and much to the chagrin of the other women in town, she climbed trees and wore trousers. She told everyone how she would leave one day to become a great hero, just like the ones in the stories Balaram Frontman told. It seemed as though everyone in town had tried, at least once, to straighten her around. No one could get through to her and eventually they just let her be, figuring she would grow out of it one day. That wasn't likely to happen any time soon. She was nearly twenty now, and she was getting worse. During her younger days most of the boys thought it was the most fascinating thing to have a girl participating in their antics. As they turned into young men they began to be afraid of her. First they stopped inviting her out. Then they ceased talking to her. She was still determined to associate with them, which led to the boys avoiding her. This in turn led to her picking fights with the boys. She would usually win; not that anyone would admit to it. Last week she tried bullying around the wrong boy. Goran Harol was one of the biggest youths in the area. He was also one of the gentlest. Always moving carefully so as not to hurt or scare anyone. The word in town was that the brat had provoked the lad until he could take it no more. He picked Emeal up and dropped her in a rain barrel to cool off. This blatant disregard for her superiority put her in the most outrageous snit. Nobody could recall seeing her for the rest of the week.

Once he had a good grip he carried her back a few paces, hoping that the fighters hadn't heard anything. "Wphm uu hoiung? Wah oh oh em!" He tightened his hold on her. "Listen carefully Emeal," he whispered. "There is some very nasty business going on over there, and if we are not quiet, some of that nasty business may just happen to us. Do you understand?" He could feel the young woman?s head trying to jerk up and down under his vise-like clasp. "Good. Now I'm going to take my hand off of your mouth, but you have to promise not to make a sound. Okay?" Again he felt the strained jerking of her head. He moved his hand from her mouth, but maintained his hold around her waist. The last thing he needed was for her to get frightened and run off. He took one more look toward the alley and then concentrated on how best to leave, "We are going to go back the way we came. And you, are going to forget all of this," he ordered, "Or, I will tell everyone about the time I saw you down by the river with your hair all curled and singing about Donel Cighbee."
Emeal's eyes got big. He wasn?t sure whether she was afraid of being killed or of people finding out her secret. Either way she didn't put up a resistance. Slowly they backed away, but they had only gone a few steps before he jerked to a halt. There was someone around the next corner. He hadn?t heard anything, but all his instincts told him that something lurked ahead. He cursed silently to himself. They were stuck. He pulled tightly up against the wall, if they were lucky, whoever it was would pass them by. He held his breath and concentrated on slowing his heartbeat. Straining his ears, he heard footsteps. A few slow, calculated creaks of leather followed by soft yet firm thumps of boot heels on pavement. More silence. Then another few steps. Silence again. He's searching for something. The possibility of going undetected diminished. He took his arm from around Emeal and pushed her up against the wall beside him, fixing her in place with a stare. He then moved himself closer to the edge of the wall. Crouching down, he pulled a coin from his vest pocket. As the steps grew closer his heart beat faster. The footsteps were just inches from the corner now. He flipped the coin across the way. It made a couple of clinks as it hit the other wall and then landed on a cobblestone. A figure ran ahead a few paces. Thomas put out his leg tripping the man. As he fell a sword skittered away along the cobbled street. Thomas ran quickly and put a knee into the man's back, as he encircled his arm around the man's neck. The stranger struggled, trying to get up, but Thomas maintained his hold. The man made a few choked sputters, but eventually his thrashings lessened and lessened, until they ceased. Thomas held on for a few more moments, assuring that the man was not pulling a ruse. Thomas had saved his own life on a few occasions by feigning unconsciousness.
Once he was sure the man was out, Thomas released his grip. The man wasn't dead, but he would have a very severe headache when he woke up. Thomas looked the man over. He was about thirty years old with dark brown hair that was graying above the ears. He was dressed in plain dark clothes and tall boots. Thomas looked over to where the man's sword had slid away. The blade had made a great deal of noise. It would be a miracle if none of the townspeople had heard the commotion, let alone one of the fighters. "Emeal! Lets go!" he hissed.
As they started to walk away, Thomas realized that the sounds of combat had ceased. At any moment the victor of the conflict would appear. He stood frozen, unable to tear himself away. "Thomas...Thomas?..." He waved the Brat's whispers quiet. A pained, half cough half whimper, met his ears. A cloaked figure rounded the corner, leaning against the wall for support. The form made ragged, shallow, breaths as it stopped to rest its back against the wall. Whoever it was, they were not in good condition. Thomas took a step and winced as he heard dirt grind against the pavement under his boot. befire he could make a second step, the figure pushed off the wall, produced a sword and began to charge. I told you to go back! He moaned ruefully to himself. He set his feet and prepared for the worse. As the blade slashed toward his torso Thomas dodged to the left, rolling forward on his shoulder. He then spun himself around to face his attacker, hoping to avoid the oncoming blows. To his surprise, his assailant was lying face down on the street.
Thomas moved toward the body very carefully. Nudging the fallen sword away slightly with his foot, he bent down to examine his would-be slayer. He rolled the body over to get a look at the man's face. Emeal's shocked gasp expressed his exact feelings. The still body was that of a woman's. Even more astonishing was the flame coloured hair. Thomas was willing to bet a fair sum that she had the green eyes to go with those burning tresses. He reached out a hand to search for the vein on her neck. Her pulse was faint, but steady. He then began looking over her wounds. There were a few deep gashes that would need to be sewn up, but nothing to account for her weakness of her heartbeat. Then he saw it. A small dart in the right side of her chest. He pulled the dart out and studied it for a small moment. He wrapped it in a kerchief and placed it in his coat pocket. He bound the Lady's cloak tightly around her body. The last thing he needed was a blood trail leading to his house. He picked up the sword and giving it to Emeal said, "Follow me." Picking up the unconscious woman and carrying her in front of his chest, he started for home.

**********************

well thats that. please give me some feedback


Last edited by TamAlthor on Wed Nov 18, 2009 11:15 am; edited 1 time in total
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message Send e-mail AIM Address MSN Messenger
TamAlthor
The Zeppo


Joined: 09 Nov 2006
Posts: 713
Location: Alberta Canada

PostPosted: Sun Dec 10, 2006 10:20 am
Post subject:
Reply with quote

Figured I might as well submit my other chapters. I also have a character index, and a really long winded report on creature classes and an order of monks in progress if any one is interested


Chapter 2 Of Sheriffs and Strangers

A pounding on the door jerked Thomas awake. He had been up late tending to the woman's wounds. She could count herself lucky that he ran an apothecary shop. He and Sonita had opened it three years ago. She was the genius who actually ran everything. She taught Thomas the trade as they went along. He had gained a fairly good understanding of herbs and medicines. There were a still few of her concoctions lying around the shop that he had no idea how to make or what they were used for.
Emeal had been a big help in treating the woman as well. She had surprised Thomas by how much she knew about nursing. Then again she was always scraping her-self up. She had probably learned how to treat minor wounds out of necessity. The only thing that had really worried him was the dart. He wasn't sure what sort of toxin had been on it. After a few hours, when her condition didn't grow any worse, Thomas decided to just wait and see how things were in the morning. There was nothing more he could do. He would just have to let what ever it was run its course and hope for the best. He left the room and told Emeal to get him if anything were to change. He had made his way down to the kitchen to brew a cup tea before heading off to bed. Somewhere along the way he had dozed off at the kitchen table.

There was another succession of thumps on the door. He groggily began to rise from the table. There was a blanket around his shoulders. Emeal must have put it around him while he had slept. He wondered if he would ever get that girl figured out. Three more knocks rumbled at the door. "I'm coming. I'm coming," he muttered. It was probably Mitran Feildmier. She was always so impatient, and for the silliest of things too. Last month it had been her cat. Last week it had been her cat. It was always her cat. Yesterday it seemed to be in a bad mood, and she demanded that Thomas give her an ointment for it. The cat had probably had too many sweets again. It made Thomas sick, the way that woman waited on her animal hand and foot. She would dress it in little bonnets, and drag it around on a little red ribbon, and, worst of all, she would cook for it. He wished one of those wild dogs would come along and put an end to the cat's and his suffering. He had thought about poisoning it along time ago, but he didn't want to get paid for doing that.

He made his way to the front of the house, which also served as the shop. He could see four people through the clouded glass of the door. He turned the lock and opened the door. It was the Mayor, his two counselors and the man Thomas had confronted the night before. "Oh, good morning Chancy," Thomas's mind raced as he glanced at each of the men in turn. "I take it you're not here for that foot powder are you?" All four men were staring at him gravely. They know! They know! Oh you're in for it now. You just should've gone home when I told you. "No Thomas, we are not," replied the Mayor, "It is much more serious than that. May we come in?" Thomas backed away and motioned them in. Once they had entered into the shop he locked the door and suggested they go back to the kitchen. "Do you mind if I go upstairs and freshen up for a quick minute? I just woke up." The Mayor nodded his approval. "There should be a pot of tea on the stove," Thomas said waving a hand toward the kettle, "It has been sitting for a few hours but you're welcome to it. You may want to warm it up," With that Thomas ran up the stairs. He was really curious now. If they had come about last night then they wouldn't have been so polite. And that man, there is no possible way he could have known who attacked him last night.
Thomas wrestled with his thoughts as he rushed into the spare room. "Emeal, how is our patient?" Emeal, who had been staring at the woman's sword, looked up at Thomas with a smile, "She is doing much better. I imagine that she will be waking up any time now." That was good news, but not what Thomas needed to hear. "If she does, keep her quiet, the Mayor and that man who I conked out last night are down stairs." Thomas left the room and went into his own. He pealed off his shirt and went to the washbasin that was on his nightstand. He threw some water on his face and scrubbed with his hands. He toweled off and pulled a fresh shirt out of his closet. He threw it over his shoulders and headed back to the kitchen. He had the last of the buttons done up by the time he reached the bottom of the stairs. "...that's why the council voted for him." Whispered one voice. "Quiet! He'll hear you!" Hissed another. The first had to be Colum Windchar. He was Chancy Melborn's first counselor. A very loud man, but he was loyal to a fault. The one who quieted him was the Mayor's second counselor, Haron Cighbee.
Thomas did not like the man very much. He was a little too smooth for Thomas's liking. He reminded Thomas of a fat boy who had just been caught stealing candy and just smiled, knowing that his parents would get him out of trouble. But as far as Thomas had been able to find out, the man had never done anything wrong. Thomas got to know everyone's secrets sooner or later. People came into the apothecary needing help for some ailment or another. Some came wanting more hair, others wanting to change the colour of it; another would come in wanting something to help them to better conceive a child. He had learned the cures for and how to diagnose most of the common diseases. Which made things interesting when a couple would try to hide the fact that they were spending time together. Of course he would never tell them he had figured things out. He didn't learn so he could show off to people. He learned because he liked to contemplate, and understand things. Some people would go to the town's old soothsayer, Balaram Frontman, but the old man would come to Thomas to get the ingredients for his potions. He would always gossip about what he was going to make and who it was for. Even with all that, never, not even once in the last three years had Thomas heard a negative thing about Haron Cighbee.

Thomas rounded the corner to face the men. So they had voted for him had they? What sort of vote was it? "Now gentlemen," Thomas said with shoulders rounded and set, "How may I help you this morning?" Chancy looked at his counselors and then at Thomas. "This is Franswick Gashven" He said gesturing a hand at the man Thomas had assaulted. "I trust you have heard the stories floating around about he and his brothers?" Thomas thought about saying no for a minute, but he really didn't want to sit thought a long story. His neck was aching him from sleeping at the table. "I've heard a few things, basically they are here looking for their wayward sister. Right?" The foreigner's eyes flashed "She is not wayward by any means, Master Dhorvan. She is very innocent and easily led. I would appreciate it if you could talk about her with more respect." Thomas was a bit taken aback by the man's outburst. He would have to be more careful. "Terribly sorry, I didn't mean to offend. I only know what I have heard," Thomas apologized in his most contrite tone. The man calmed down, but he still did not look very pleased. "Well, just so long as you understand the situation," The Mayor continued, "Things have gotten worse for the Gashvens. Last night one of Franswick's brothers was murdered." It was Thomas's turn to get upset. Half of it was an act. The other half was anger at himself.
Upon seeing the woman the night before, Thomas had completely forgotten about the other half of the conflict. "A murder? Here? But no one in town could do anything like that!" The Mayor stood up and, placed a hand on Thomas's shoulder, trying to steady him. "Tam, we are living in trying times. There are other possibilities, but we have to consider that maybe this was done by one of our own. The whole town is near hysteria. Everyone is losing their trust in one another." The Mayor paused for a moment to catch his breath, "Now Franswick here, has sent one of his other brothers for a man who can hopefully help us to resolve this matter." Thomas wondered who this man Franswick was bringing in was. His thoughts were interrupted by the Mayor, "But until he arrives we need to do what we can to keep the peace. During an emergency meeting of the council this morning, you were voted to be the acting Sheriff of Madareth."
Thomas was shocked. "Chancy! Wha-! Why, I...uh" Lost for words, he sat down and tried to figure a way out of the mess he was in. I told you not to go, he commented bitterly to himself. Thomas very well knew who the 'murderer' was, but he was not about to tell anyone about the woman upstairs. Not until he found out the whole story. Now he was suppose to keep three hundred and twenty two paranoid townspeople from trying to lynch each other. "Thomas, you're the best man for the job. You've been around violent people before. You're the only one in town who knows about these sorts of things. It will only be for a few days. Once Franswick's brother returns with help, you can go back to running your shop. But until then we need your help."
Thomas was quiet for a moment. He looked at the four men. Franswick was indifferent, but the Mayor and his counselors looked shaken. Chancy was right. No one in town had had to deal with anything like this before. They could handle droughts, floods, wolves and their own pigheadedness. They would not have the slightest notion of how to cope with a murder. The people needed someone they could feel confident in. Franswick's man would probably be enough, but it would be a few days until he arrived. "Alright Chancy," Thomas said somberly, "I'll do it. But you have to promise to support me all the way through this."
The three men immediately brightened. "Of course Thomas. All of the town's resources are at your disposal. If fact-" A thump from upstairs quieted the Mayor. Franswick jumped back out of his chair and drew a dagger "What, was that?" Thomas hesitated trying to think of an excuse. "Well?" Demanded Franswick. He began heading toward the stairs. "It's uh? Well..." Thomas stuttered unsure what to say. Just then Emeal came down the stairs. Thomas heard Haron Cighbee chuckle quietly. The man flashed Thomas a lecherous grin. Something is not right with that man. He thought to himself. "I'm sorry Thomas, I was trying to move the table so I could clean behind it but I knocked it over." The girl had a fast mind and for once Thomas was grateful. "Finish cleaning what you can and I'll set the table back up later." Emeal headed back up the stairs; Franswick sheathed his dagger and resumed his place at the table. Colum, Chancy, and Haron stared at Thomas in disbelief. "How did...?" Colum asked trailing off. "She needed a little money, so I gave her some house work to do. I'd appreciate if you didn't let it get around though," responded Thomas.
The men nodded their agreement, still not believing what they had seen. Chancy began pumping Thomas's hand, "Oh I knew we chose the right man for the job. If you can get the Brat to start turning around, keeping the peace in Maradeth for a few days should be easy." Colum and Haron made similar comments. Whenever there was no one watching, Haron would give him one of those wicked smiles. Thomas made arrangements to meet the four men in a half an hour and ushered them out of his house. Each shook his hand in Turn as they left. Franswick didn't look very happy but he seemed to be more at ease than he was before. Haron was the last to leave, "Have fun with your...uh cleaning," He said as he shook Thomas's hand and left the house. Thomas didn't much appreciate the emphasis the man put on the word cleaning.
As soon as Thomas closed and locked the door he raced back up the stairs and burst into the Spare room. There was indeed a table knocked over, but his attention was more on the woman they had brought in. She had a small knife against Emeal's neck. "Just back away and let me leave," She ordered. Thomas raised his hands and started to talk, but before he could begin the woman pressed the tiny blade tighter against Emeal's throat.


**************************************************


Last edited by TamAlthor on Wed Nov 18, 2009 11:51 am; edited 1 time in total
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message Send e-mail AIM Address MSN Messenger
TamAlthor
The Zeppo


Joined: 09 Nov 2006
Posts: 713
Location: Alberta Canada

PostPosted: Sun Dec 10, 2006 11:04 am
Post subject:
Reply with quote

Chapter 3 Rags and Revelations

Emeal jerked awake. Rubbing her eyes and stifling a yawn she berated herself for having fallen asleep at her post. She walked over to the bed and checked on her ward. The woman's color and breathing had improved greatly. Emeal left the room to tell Thomas. In the end she found him asleep at his kitchen table. He must have been fairly exhausted. Her news could wait until morning. Emeal covered him with a blanket she had found and returned to what Thomas called his spare room. It was more like a giant walk-in storage closet; with all it's shelves stuffed and filled to over flowing with a miscellaneous assortment of papers, packets of herbs, and bottles, both filled and empty, interspersed through out. The mess was not merely contained to the shelves, but poured out onto the surrounding tables and armoires as well. How can men live in such filth?
Not that she cared about such things. She was not one of those simpering fools to make eyes so she could have the privilege of being some man's servant to clean and cook and be bogged down with the drudgery of raising a mewling litter of children. Absent mindedly Emeal opened one of the room's closets. It was filled with the same unorganized hodge-podge that lined the rest of the room. It looked as if it had all been uncaringly tossed into the closet.
She was about to close the door when she noticed something different in the back corner of the cabinet. A cylindrical brown leather case. The type used by artists when they transported paintings. She had seen one once before when a Malcainian monk had visited Maradeth. As with most monks of his order the man was a skilled artisan. His painting of Maradeth still hung in the common room of Pan's inn.

Using one hand to hold back on the mess, Emeal pulled out the tube with the other. Staring at the case in wonder she only closed the closet's door. So Master Dunbar fancies himself an artist, does he? Eager to see what would be revealed, she popped off the top of the tube, and pulled out a roll of canvas. It was tied with one of those Suldatenese silk ribbons that Sonita had always put in her hair. Ah! The plot thickens, The thought caused Emeal's hackles to rise. Normally she may have been bothered by the moral implications of snooping through another's belongings, but Thomas was such a mystery. No one else seemed to see it but her though.
After carefully untying the ribbon, she laid the canvas on the floor, and secured the top two corners with a couple of bottles. Sitting beside the roll she took a quick breath and used a hand to brush the roll open. "Oh!" she sighed quietly. She looked intently at the painting. A sad smile crossed her face. The portrait was of a young man and woman. Both looked to be about seventeen or eighteen years of age. The man, in his blue and white uniform, sword belted on his side, was standing behind and holding the shoulders of the woman who was dressed in a beautiful yellow ball gown. Her face was rather common but she wore a rather uncommon smile that spoke of true peace and contentment. The man's smile was so large it bordered on being absurd. The artist had some skill. She could still remember when Thomas had returned to Maradeth. He had been wearing that same smile. He always wore it when Sonita was near. He still smiled, but nothing so large or exuberant as in the portrait. Maybe someday, I'll make a man... She thrust the thought away. Something about the painting tickled in the back of her mind. Moving the bottles she had use as weights, she picked up the portrait and sat down in a chair that was next to the bed. Something was wrong with the image. Something about Thomas...clothes?...Uniform?.

The beating on the door caused Emeal to jump out of her chair. She looked around herself, quickly taking everything in. It all came back to her. She was in Thomas's house; watching over a woman who had passed out the night before. There was further hammering on a door. Emeal placed a hand on the other woman's forehead. She was looking even better. The woman would probably wake up any moment. Emeal was about to rush and get Thomas when she remembered the painting. It was lying on the floor where she must have dropped it when she fell asleep. She rolled the canvas and began looking for the ribbon with which it had been tied. It was lost somewhere in Thomas's mess. The continued banging on the door made Emeal flustered as she poked around and looked for the ribbon. "Aha!" she quietly exclaimed, "I found you!" She snatched the silk tie from between a bottle and an envelope, when she heard footsteps thundering up the stairs.
"Oh!" she moaned and tossed canvas and ribbon under the bed. Turning back and forth franticly her eyes fell on the lady's sword. Quickly she sat down and locked her vision on the weapon. No sooner had she sat down when Thomas came barging in. It wasn't really barging as it was his house, but it still felt the same. As soon as he looked at her, she was sure he knew what she had been up to. "Emeal," He started. Her mind raced for an excuse. "How is our patient?" She gave Thomas a relived smile, "She is doing much better. I imagine that she will be waking up any time now." Not even the Blood Eye had such luck! Thomas just kept on, "If she does, keep her quiet, the Mayor and that man who I conked out last night are down stairs." He then ran out of the room. Oh! The Mayor! What has that fool of a man gotten me into? She began thinking of ways she could keep the woman quiet should she wake before the Mayor left. It was then that she realized that Thomas had said that the other man was down stairs too. She increased her efforts in finding someway to subdue to woman. She darted under a table remembering the bundled up rags she had seen.
They were a bit soiled, but she wasn't going to use them on her self. First she made a gag and tied the woman's mouth. The woman began to stir. Franticly Emeal tied the woman's left arm to a bed post and was working on a foot, when she saw the woman's right fist coming at her. On instinct she blocked the blow by meeting the woman's wrist with an open palm. She noticed there was a tiny blade in the woman's had. Jumping back, Emeal looked about for a weapon of her own. She went for the sword even though she didn?t know how to use it. She was so desperate for a means of defense, that she didn't see the foot that kicked her into the table. The woman was strong for having been drugged and losing so much blood the night before. Emeal hit the table and it fell in mess to the floor, burying the sword. The world was a bit fuzzy for a moment. It cleared up real fast when Emeal felt the blade on her skin. "Listen!" she hissed, "That man you were fighting with is down stairs right now, talking with Master Dunbar, and if I don't explain this noise, they'll be up here." The edge tightened against her neck, and she heard a muffled voice. The knife was pulled away and Emeal heard the gag being cut away. "If you betray me, you will die." They left the room and moved toward the stairs. The woman pulled Emeal close and whispered in her ear, "You stay where I can see you. Try anything funny and the last thing you'll feel is this blade in the back of your head." The sensation of the woman's warm, damp breath in her ear made her want to squirm.

Within a few moments Emeal was back under the woman's iron grip with the knife against her neck. The woman had her open and close drawers and cupboard doors. When Emeal suggested that it was all a useless mess it earned her a slap to the side of the head. The woman did leave the cupboards alone though. "Where are my pouch and cloak?" Emeal told her they were down stairs. The woman cursed. "I don't suppose you are strong enough to lift this table on you own" she sneered. Emeal straightened her back defiantly. She would not be cowed by this woman. "That is it-" She didn?t get to finish, as it was at that moment Thomas burst in again. The woman tightened her hold on Emeal and locked her eyes on Thomas, "Just back away and let me leave," She ordered. Emeal suppressed a squeak as the blade pressed tighter against her skin. Thomas had brought his hands up and was trying to talk to the woman. He looked scared. The realization of Thomas's fear melted the modicum of boldness Emael had mustered. Life! I am going to die. The thought triggered a maelstrom of panic.


Last edited by TamAlthor on Tue Oct 13, 2009 9:03 am; edited 1 time in total
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message Send e-mail AIM Address MSN Messenger
coldbeer



Joined: 12 Jun 2008
Posts: 48

PostPosted: Fri Jun 13, 2008 2:08 am
Post subject:
Reply with quote

I realize that I am new to the board here, and that you posted this nearly two years ago, but I just read every word, and all I can say is I want to know what happens next. Very good my friend.
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message
TamAlthor
The Zeppo


Joined: 09 Nov 2006
Posts: 713
Location: Alberta Canada

PostPosted: Tue Oct 13, 2009 9:17 am
Post subject:
Reply with quote

Okay so I do have like 2 more chapters and i have had them for the last few years. I am less confident in the actual layout of these chapters. I am okay with the plot points but I am unsure on word choices and some of the more descriptive parts. I am also thinking that maybe i have too much in the chapter and i need to spread it out a bit more so please bare with me if you notice a distict difference in quality. I keep meaning to tweek and/or do a rewrite. I just haven't made the time. I blame valve and all their great games.

Oh i also edited the above chapter to change those stupid question marks to quotation marks and apostraphies. I wonder if I'll have to fix the text on this one...


Chapter 4 Changes and Challenges

Thomas fought the urge to panic. He pushed all the ‘what ifs’ aside, and began to evaluate to situation. All he had to do was get Emeal out of the clutches of a crazed fugitive without getting the girl stabbed or alerting the village to what was happening. I should have just let them hang me. Thomas grinned sardonically at the thought as he backed up another step. He turned his head to give Emeal a reassuring look, but his eyes widened instead “What in the Blood Eye’s curse…” What he saw was not the impish young woman’s face.
Somehow it had stretched, and was becoming even more misshapen. The whites of her eyes were yellow and the Irises were turning a deeper shade of red by the second. Her nose seemed more predominant, it had become pink and the nostrils were turned forward. Tuft, triangular ears poked through her hair, as her body appeared to be growing short tawny…fur was the only word for it. What use to be fingers, now looked to be claws. Her back arched and gave the impression that whatever use to be Emeal was leaning forward. The only part that still looked human was an expression of intense fear. Stunned, Thomas forgot all else. The woman, noticing Thomas’s expression, turned to look at Emeal. She gasped, immediately removed her blade from Emeal throat and backed a couple of paces away. She still held her flimsy her weapon defensively between herself and the creature.
Thomas heard a small rumble from what use to be Emeal’s throat as the emotion on her face changed from panic to a vicious confidence. Thomas had formed the same face many times himself, usually before running someone through. Emeal fixed her eyes on her former captor. Thomas swiftly struck with a kick from his left foot. It connected with the woman’s hand, forcing the blade out of play. Rushing in, he grasped the woman’s knife hand by the wrist and pressed it up against a wall. Nuzzling his forearm under the woman’s chin, he used his greater weight to push her body against the wall as well. Shifting his grip a little on the knife hand allowed Thomas to seize the area between the bones at the base of her wrist. Applying ever increasing pressure, he forced the woman to drop her blade.
Satisfied that the woman was secured for the moment Thomas took a moment to glance in Emeal’s direction. She had moved to the opposite corner of the room when he made his attack. Did I Imagine it?No! The woman, she saw it too. Whatever had happened to her, there was no sign of it now. She looked like the same ratty girl he had always known. He would have to talk with her later. He had more pressing matters to deal with.
The woman had begun striking at Thomas with her free hand. Putting more weight on the woman’s throat, Thomas locked eyes with her and matter of factly said, “Please don’t do that.” The woman grew even more angry and struggled with increased vigour. Thomas despised the idea violence towards women. He held no misconceptions about women being gentler than men. There had been just as many women as there were men pelting him and Sonita with rocks when they had left Valtimire. However, the thought of harming a woman still made him cringe. Roughly he tossed the woman to the hardwood floor. The impact stunned her for a moment. Thomas tried to ignore the sick feeling in the bottom of his stomach, and the shiver between his shoulder blades. “If I wanted to hurt you,” He hissed, “I wouldn’t have bandaged you up so well. Think for a moment; Franswick, was just here. I could have turned you over to him anytime I wanted. Consider these facts, before you try assaulting me again.” Thomas was just as angry with himself as he was with the woman. He wished there had been a better way to get his point across. Despite his regrets, the woman relaxed and Thomas released her. Standing, Thomas kept himself on edge. He wouldn’t put it past the woman to try something else. She was desperate, and desperate people held no loyalties. The woman stood and brushed at the nightgown she was wearing. He and Emeal had dressed her in it after they had tended to her wounds.
Still brushing the nightgown the woman looked at the floor as she addressed Thomas, “How did I come to be here?” She seemed to be a proud woman. Thomas assumed it was quite hard for her to condescend to the extent of having to admit to dependence upon his good graces. “We found you last night. You had just finished killing a man, and you were drugged. The ‘Brat’” He nodded towards Emeal, “and I brought you back here, to my shop, and patched you up. I think you’ve figured out the rest from there.” The woman remained quiet for a few minutes after Thomas finished. “It is best that I leave,” She stated, as she started for the door. “That is not an option right now,” Thomas began, “The entire village is in shock over your handiwork and they’re looking for blood. If you step out that door I doubt three minutes would pass before Franswick knows you are here.”
The woman grimaced as Thomas continued, “Someone is bound to suggest setting a watch during the nights too. As sheriff I’ll be able to keep the villagers and your friends from finding you. However, Franswick says he is bringing in an expert of some sort so that only gives us a two or three days to figure out how to get you out of here.” The woman’s grimace lessened somewhat, “You’re going to help me? Why?” Thomas wore a reluctant smile, “Maybe you’re a criminal of some sort and maybe you’re not, but you are not nearly as malignant as your pursuers.” The woman’s grimace became a scowl, and Thomas wiped off his smile, “Besides, once you leave your friends will follow, and I’ll be able to sleep better at night.” Thomas made a point of turning his back to the woman as he set up the overturned table. It was a risk, but not nearly as much as it looked. The woman was still a bit wobbly and if she were to attempt anything he would hear her well before she could strike. Perhaps that is what kept her from attacking him, either way she remained exactly as she was when Thomas faced her once again. “I would recommend you stay in this room. Emeal here will keep you company and assist you as best she can.” There were many reasons why men had joined the Imperial army fought the war in Valtmire. Some of the men fought for a sense of duty. Others sought glory and to make a name for themselves. Most came to defend their homes. Then we those, not so few, and not so far between, who came to their Emperor’s call solely for the opportunity to maim, torture and murder. This woman, though he unsure how far he could trust her, reminded him of the first few. While Franswick’s demeanour stank of the later. Didn’t you once glory in the shedding of men’s blood, his voice mocked from within. He forced it quiet. That was long ago, and he had had his reasons.

The woman seemed to have calmed, and for that he was grateful. Thomas knew he didn’t have much more time before he would be missed, and Mayor would send someone to find what was keeping him. Thomas left the room and pulled the door closed behind himself. He had only walked a few paces before Emeal raced out of the room. “You can’t leave me here!” she half pleaded half commanded, “She’s a killer! You saw! She had a knife to my throat!” Thomas continued to walk down the stairway nonchalantly. “Brat, if she wanted you dead she would have done it when she got out of that bed. Besides if she gives you any trouble, you just pull that trick of yours on her again and I’m sure she will back right off.” The brat stopped and put on a pole-axed face. “What are you talking about?” What trick? Make some sense you rotten lump of a man!” Thomas kept on walking. Emeal stopped her tirade to catch back up. He wasn’t sure which was more puzzling, that Emeal claimed not to know what happened or the fact that he turned his back on what seemed to be a monster to attack the only other person with a weapon. “Never mind Emeal. The woman seems to understand reason when she hears it. I just want you to keep an eye on her for me, ok?” The Brat did not appear to be convinced, “She still looks like a killer to me!” They were back in the kitchen and Thomas stopped next to a cabinet. ”You forget Emeal…” Thomas said as he slapped the side of the cabinet. What had appeared to be seamless, polished wood suddenly jutted out a rectangular shape.

Only Malcainian Monks could be so skilled. First the cased painting and now this. Emeal was curious how Thomas was connected to that reclusive order. Thomas pulled the section out and placed it on the table. It was a long wooden box. He opened the lid and grinned up at The Brat, “…Not everything is what it seems.” Inside the box was velvet lining that formed around a scabbarded sword. Emeal had never really seen a sword up close, but whenever Master Frontman mentioned swords in his stories they were things of wonderment and power. All she saw now was plain black leather, similar to that used for saddles and harnesses, with what appeared to be an enlarged hunting knife’s hilt stuck at the top. Still, it was a sword and therefore reason for excitement.

“Why don’t you ever talk about Valtmire or the war Thomas?” Yes? Why don’t you tell them, his inner voice sneered, Tell her how it feels to spill the blood of brave men. He really disgusted himself at times. “Aren’t you supposed to be a hero of some sort?” The Brat prodded further. Thomas’s face darkened, “Who told you that? Balaram? Some things should stay buried Emeal, and you had best remember that!” he hissed angrily. “Do you really think we are going to be heroes when this is all over?” Thomas immediately regretted his heated outburst and cooled his anger, if only on the outside. He couldn’t blame Emeal for having such thoughts; he had similar when he was her age. “We know nothing of this woman. Who else she may have murdered, how many she could have swindled, or any one of hundred other crimes she may be wanted for. On the other hand she could be some Lady on a mission of mercy,” Thomas stopped to take a breath. He hoped he was getting through, “Regardless, so long as she is here, her pursuers will come and place the whole of Maradeth in danger. Like I told Kelishawn, if that is even her real name, once we can her out alive, then Franswick his cronies will follow.” He took another breath and reached out to hold Emeal’s shoulders, “If we don’t handle this right I know at least three people that will be swinging from Ol’ Zepher’s tree, and there hasn’t been cause for that since before I was born. I’ve got to go and meet the Mayor. If our guest gets any more ideas about leaving just remind her that the town in is on high alert and her friends will also be looking for her.” Emeal still seemed unsure about staying behind, however she launched no further protest and slumped back up the stairs.

Hoping the best for the Brat, Thomas fastened the scabbard’s belt to his waist and made his way to the back entrance. From the back of a high shelf he pulled down a brown paper wrapped package. He squinted as some dust fell into his eyes. Blinking away the irritation, he loosed the packages ribbon and shook out his ‘soldier’s coat’. The coat was of a stiff gray material and lightly coated in seed oil. Enveloping and flowing, the coat was divided from the buttocks down, and had large lapels and Collar. Despite its name, the soldier’s coat, had no insignia, nor did it mark itself belonging as to and particular sovereign. Rather, the name was a result of off-duty and retired soldiers from Valtmire being the only ones to wear them. It was a way for soldiers to identify one another and, on occasion, offered some protection. Even the Rebels wore the coats, and had allowed the defeated imperials that same right. Thomas had only worn his a handful of times before returning to Maradeth and had all but forgotten about it until the Mayor asked him to be sheriff. Might as well look the part. As Thomas put on the coat, he picked his brain for some way out of the whole mess he now found himself in. They wanted him to be sheriff, and they had promised it would only be for a little while. What would happen after? Maradeth had not needed a sheriff in over eighty years. Now that they had one again would he really be allowed to quit? He had no desire to settle conflicts about who’s cow really belonged to who, or what should be done about Renny Kuhl when he had too much to drink, or why won’t an eligible bachelor get married to so and so’s daughter. He avoided village council meetings for that very reason. Lighting his pipe, he put all those concerns aside. For now he had to worry about getting himself, Emeal, and the woman to survive through the next couple days.
_________________
"The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply..unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments..we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers
-M. S. Peck
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message Send e-mail AIM Address MSN Messenger
Tales of Kadakinna



Joined: 17 Nov 2009
Posts: 17
Location: Maine

PostPosted: Tue Nov 17, 2009 5:56 pm
Post subject:
Reply with quote

This is great so far. Really enjoyed reading it. Have you finished any more of it?
_________________
AC Hale
Visit my site! talesofkadakinna.webs.com
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message Send e-mail Visit poster's website
Vilya



Joined: 04 Aug 2010
Posts: 36

PostPosted: Fri Aug 06, 2010 1:27 pm
Post subject:
Reply with quote

I have just a few small critiques. Why wasn't there any blood on him? After stiching up this woman, and there being enough blood that he didn't want to leave a blood trail, I just found it odd that there was none on his shirt which he hadn't changed. When I first read the transformation scene I wasn't sure which impish person you were speaking of. Maybe simply adding the word, "familiar" to impish young woman, would clarify that for the reader.

The only other problem that I had was changing the perspective in the last chapter from Tam's to Emeals was a little confusing. I think that it works better when you write from one perspective for the entire chapter. Simply having her speak her thoughts out loud would solve that problem in an instant.

I am interested in reading more of this, anything that you have on this. I know that this was posted a long time ago, and at that time you said that it was 4 years ago. You have a true talent for writing and it should not be wasted. This could have been from a novel that I picked up a bookstore. I found it to be very high quality, and even though you hadn't finished tweaking the last chapter, I didn't find there to be any real noticeable drop in quality.

I know better than to beat a dead horse, and if that's what this is for you disregard the next couple of comments. I want to see this project come to fruition. I want to read this book. I am already fully engrossed in the lives of your characters. You as an author have definately done your job. Moreover it is not just the story itself that is interesting. You have a genuine talent for writing. I don't know if there is anything that I can say that will make you pick this back up. I wonder why you haven't finished. Though as an aspiring novelist myself, I do understand how hard it is to become disenchanted with your own work. In any case the magic is there. If there is anything I can do to help you change your mind or resurrect this project please let me know, because I am assured that it is a worthy endeavor.
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message
TamAlthor
The Zeppo


Joined: 09 Nov 2006
Posts: 713
Location: Alberta Canada

PostPosted: Sat Aug 07, 2010 10:31 am
Post subject:
Reply with quote

*Blush*

Quote:
Why wasn't there any blood on him? After stiching up this woman, and there being enough blood that he didn't want to leave a blood trail, I just found it odd that there was none on his shirt which he hadn't changed.


*picard facepalm* wow i don't know how many times I've gone over this, and had a few other people go over this and that has never been brought to my attention. Thank you!!!!!! (contenutiy FTW)

Quote:
I want to see this project come to fruition. I want to read this book. I am already fully engrossed in the lives of your characters. I don't know if there is anything that I can say that will make you pick this back up. I wonder why you haven't finished.


Just a time and inclination thing. I started cause i was bored at work, and i had a budy there who was just a bored and he acted as an editor of sorts. I changed jobs and moved around bit, I got myself set up in a new area and had not touched it for any extended period of time. I got back into it a bit but I had no real outline and the story in my mind was progressing to the point where writting by the seat of my pants didn't feel right or feaseable. I also really got into PC gaming. I figured I wanted to know about the world I was writting in and started working out more as to what sort of creatures and people would inhabit the world. I have been working on an essay of sorts to get this all in order. I am all but finished my creature descriptions, just one more to work out. then I need to move in and flesh out the notes I made for the Monks of Malcain. I'm in a job now with more free time and i have done a little more on the story and some minor editing of the already written chapters (more to do now, thank you btw!). I get back to work in about a week and that is where the most up to date copies of what i have are so far. If you want to see the behind the scenes stuff let me know and i'll send you what i have. However it will be spoilers for the rest of the story :)
_________________
"The truth is that our finest moments are most likely to occur when we are feeling deeply..unhappy, or unfulfilled. For it is only in such moments..we are likely to step out of our ruts and start searching for different ways or truer answers
-M. S. Peck
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message Send e-mail AIM Address MSN Messenger
TASB



Joined: 20 Jul 2009
Posts: 64

PostPosted: Sat Aug 07, 2010 9:51 pm
Post subject:
Reply with quote

Tam, I just finished reading it as well and really enjoyed it. Appart from some minor errors in sentance stucture in the last two chapters they were both very good as well. I too agree that it was a little confusing as to who was changing form at first. I do hope you keep up with this project as it is already starting so well.
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message
Vilya



Joined: 04 Aug 2010
Posts: 36

PostPosted: Sun Aug 08, 2010 1:13 pm
Post subject:
Reply with quote

I am up in the air as to whether or not to read the behind the scenes stuff. While there is a part of me that wants to, if you really are intending to finish it, then I almost think that I should wait. .....Oh hard decision..I guess that I will wait. I don't want any spoilers. I am having too much fun imagining where your characters go from here.

I am glad that you are going to be able to have more time to work on this project. Please let me know when you are ready to share more.
Back to top
View user's profile Send private message
Display posts from previous:   
Post new topic   Reply to topic    Fantasy Freaks Forum Forum Index -> Writing Workshop All times are GMT - 5 Hours
Page 1 of 1

 
Jump to:  
You cannot post new topics in this forum
You cannot reply to topics in this forum
You cannot edit your posts in this forum
You cannot delete your posts in this forum
You cannot vote in polls in this forum


Powered by phpBB © 2001, 2005 phpBB Group
Guild Wars Alliance theme by Daniel of Gaming Exe
Guild Wars™ is a trademark of NCsoft Corporation. All rights reserved.