ever notice how some of the best scenes ever are of the hero facing unbeatable odds and never stops fight none the less. How do you capture that in writing. I was trying to write a scene, that was soo full of tension and action, but it seems like something is missing. what makes a hero believeable, relatable? What will make a reader so engrossed in what thier reading that they become the characters, feel every moment of desperation or success? How do you paint a picture with words that just makes a person feel like they came home? As i try to answer all these questions i can only hope that i am up to the challenge, cause there is nothing i would rather do with my life, nothing else i want to do with it. Everything else to me is but a means to an end, writing though, is my life. I have written over 300 poems, some of them more than 3 pages, and started or conceptualized over 20 novels and short stories. this is my life. who can tell me what makes a story relatable, what makes it real to you? What makes the characters stand out to you? what makes a good story? let me know.
12 years agoexniner
Morning came with a soft knock on the door to Clara's plain little room. He opened his eyes and was surprised morning came without a single dream. He sat up and rubbed his eyes, feeling refreshed from sleep for the first time since the raid. He stood and walked over and unbarred it, opening it to reveal Freeblade and two priests he had never before met. One was garbed in robes of white with red gilt, while the other wore deep blue robes with white trim. Both had their faces covered with masks representing their respective gods. "Morning your graces, please come in" he said, bowing and motioning toward the room. "Be glad to," replied Freeblade and he led the two priests in.
Clara shut the door and walked over to a small pile of laundry and grabbed a tunic and put it on. All eyes were on him. Freeblade walked over to Clara and tossed his arm around the young man's shoulders. "Knight Clara," he said, "may I present to you the esteemed High Priestess Yvonne of Bisha," he motioned to the white robed priest, "and High Priest Ramous of Tammuz," he said motioning toward the blue robed priest.
"Knight, we are here to inform you of certainÃ¢â‚¬Â¦anomalies that have occurred since you have made your way back to us," said Yvonne, her voice airy and mellifluous. "We have felt as though a blanket has been wrapped around you, not allowing us to judge your faith." Clara almost balked as the last accusatory note rose through the room. She removed her mask and looked at him hard. Her face was that of a sculpture, alabaster and without flaw, and her icy eyes bore into him. Ramous removed his mask, and his face was dark and etched with lines of thought, though now they seemed to contemplate other things.
"Freeblade here tells us of your undying loyalty, and the circumstances of that loyalty as well. We have nothing but faith that you hold true to your vows, but we must be sure." She looked at him hard and then nodded at Ramous. The man walked over and said in a surprisingly deep voice, "I am going to test you, as we do all those of our orders, our love for the Just Father demands no less."
"What will you do?"
"I will test you by using the gifts our heavenly mother allows."
Clara looked at Freeblade and said, "why must I be tested, was not my loyalty tested enough in combat with the vampyre? Was not my honor tested when I allowed my men to retreat while I faced certain death? Why insult me so?" He looked at the priests, hoping that his fear of being tested did not show. Freeblade looked taken aback that one of his knights would speak that way to any priests. As he opened his mouth to put Clara in his place Yvonne raised her hand, stopping him.
"Knight, you are under oath! How dare you attempt to question those who are above your comprehension? Do you not understand that your oaths are of the utmost importance, and that a hero, yes a hero, of your caliber survives and recovers as quickly as you did that questions would be raised? Child of Bisha fear not. We expect only to find what all here know, that you are a beloved of our patron god's, and we are made better just by knowing you." Then she flashed a disarming smile and immediately Clara felt better. She then looked at Ramous and said, "Proceed."
As the priest prepared himself a tickle in the back of Clara's mind formed. It seemed to warm his body and relax it, and a sense of warning entered his mind. He watched as the priest said his prayers and approached. Ramous extended his hands out in front and placed them on Clara's head. At that same moment Clara felt fingers rifling through his thoughts, and an urge to cast all his secrets forward to be observed, and against his better instinct he allowed himself to retreat farther back, taking the secrets of his new allegiance with him.
There in the back of his mind he waited as the intruding fingers prodded farther and farther. Clara pressed the thoughts as far back as they would go, and used all his will to keep them from rising. The fingers kept coming, digging through memories and thoughts as if they were nothing. Clara felt them touch his consciousness, and then suddenly he was back in the room, and Ramous was lowering his hands, eyes still closed. He then opened his eyes and looked at Yvonne.
"It will take a few days young knight, and we will reserve judgment until then."
They both rose and readied themselves to leave, and Yvonne turned and said to Freeblade, "he is to be released with no restrictions until you receive word from the Temple Council. May His Grace Bless You." And with that they both left the room.
The two knights looked at each other for a moment.
"What the bloody hell was that all about," blurted Clara.
"If have no clue" replied Freeblade. Then both knights started laughing. "You heard them, lets go out and reintroduce you into the world David! I hear the Leaky Riverbed has a new serving girl, eh?"
"Does it now?"
"So I hear," Hammond replied with a wink, "though I wouldnÃ¢â‚¬â„¢t know myself." Then, with the laughter of young boys, the two men left the healer's halls for the merchant quarter.
12 years agoexniner
"I donÃ¢â‚¬â„¢t remember much" Clara lied forcing his body to sit up. "I do remember fighting a blackness that surrounded me, and the voice of two people fighting over me." Freeblade walked closer to Clara as he spoke, a look of apprehension mixed with relief etched on his face. "Then a light came an struck the darkness, and it took hold of me. The light fought back and I felt relief and joy, but the light told me I had work left to do. Then I woke up."
All was silent in the room until a knock came at the door. Avery went and unblocked it; opening it enough for a wiry priest of Shahmeran entered the room and spoke quickly in Avery's ear. Avery's face looked relieved as he pronounced, "the priest of the Learned Lady declares what you have stated as truth." The priest hurried from the room as Clara looked to the two other knights in the room. Avery stood rooted at the foot of the bed, his face a mask. Freeblade on the other hand smiled greatly and engulfed the now sitting knight in a hug. "HA! I knew one of my knights would make no bargain with him of the shadows! My friend, I welcome you back." The big knight smiled and stood up, on his face a look of joy. "And a hero to boot Knight Clara," he pointed vigorously at him, "you fought the beast and lived, and not only that but we caught the vampyre and he is to be interrogated once his regeneration is complete. He got almost as bad as you did, thanks to young Avery here." Avery bowed at the recognition, but his face showed he had heard that praise often.
Clara smiled at his leader, and wondered exactly what was going on, but said nothing. Instead he opted to look from one knight to the other, a smile on his face. "Well Clara, we will leave you to mend further, but the priests say you have shown remarkable fortitude." As if on cue a priest walked in the room with a tray of steaming meat and vegetables, and a mug of what appeared to be wine. "Ah, dinner" said the head knight. "Eat and gain your strength David my boy." Then he saluted and walked out of the room without another look. Avery, who was still standing with a stoic look, looked at Clara and said, "sorry for disobeying your orders at the last sir," and then with a slight smile continued, "but I may be correct in thinking you might like this outcome better." He then bowed and followed Freeblade out of the room.
The priest placed the tray in front of Clara and said, "eat boy, you're not healed yet."
And Clara, being the servant to the temples he had always been, obeyed without question.
Another two weeks went by, and Clara would be leaving this room the following morning. The rest and relative solitude allowed a quick physical recovery, but his mind ached with questions he dared not ask in a temple subservient to the Knights Pendragon. Too many of those questions focused on his loyalties, and he had no idea what he was going to do.
Though just being alive showed he did not have much choice in the matter. Dreams came every night of a jewel that hung in a setting of polished copper, a jewel that seemed to throb with hidden power as he drew nearer. And after each dream the voice of Supay would enter his mind and tell him, remember, I take care of what's mine. Each night Clara would wake, unsure of what the dream was, or what the god expected him to do. Hoping to stop the dreams Clara would work himself through to exhaustion during the day, hoping that he would be too tired to dream, only to find that it made the dreams that much more vivid.
But all in all Clara found his strength returning at an alarming rate, as did the healer priests, one of whom drew his blood with the hope of "discovering some magical portent of healing". Within days of him actually waking he was able to walk and use his body well, though minor exercise hurt extremely. Within the first week he had regained most of his strength and flexibility, and by the beginning of the second was training alone as though nothing had happened. Every now and then a Avery, Freeblade or some other knight would stop by and chat, but would never stay long.
And now, with hours before he would be released to go home, he stood surveying himself in a mirror wearing only his training breeches. He was tall, with a stocky build that he had slowly worked for years so that now his body was not thin, but thick with rigid cords of muscle. His hair was raven black and hung slightly lower than his shoulders, but tied back at the moment. He was pale from weeks of being indoors, but that would change with a few outdoor training sessions. His eyes were a piercing blue, that of a clear lake in the summer, and his jaw was angular, making his face a handsome one, though a plain one. His body had numerous scars, from both training and actual battle; the most recent of which were either stitched up or angry red welts.
He walked over to the bed and sat down hard. Between the dreams and recovery he had not yet had the presence of mind to find out what would be happening to him when he was released, though as day drew nearer the idea gnawed at him. What was he going to do? What had become of Fenrir? What about Supay? Was the god going to make him betray his order, or maybe something even worse? Should he pray to ask the god for guidance? It was all so very difficult to try and understand.
Laying down he looked up and the ceiling, and wanted to be home in his apartment in the western part of the city. It was a nice flat above a busy tavern that his uncle ran. In the morning it smelt of baking bread, and in the evening of roast beef or pork. It was small and poorly decorated, but it was home. There he had all his earthly possessions, and there he would be able to think without worry that some priest or another would pick up on Supay or worse.
He closed his eyes and hoped that he would either dream a revelation, or wake up and it be the day of the raid. But then, Clara thought, I might just have to lie through all of this again. He smiled at the absurdity of it all and let himself fall asleep.
12 years agoexniner
a sharp pain in his chest caused Clara to cough greatly, frightening the white robed healer priest at his bedside. The priest ran from the room in a hurry, leaving the wounded man to stare groggily at his surroundings. Light was shining weakly through a shuttered window on the far wall across from him, keeping the room in half darkness. Candles were lit on every available surface, burning with a smell foreign to the knight, and it burned his lungs a little in every breath. The bed was a simple one, low to the ground and covered in light sheets that were stained with his sweat. Clara felt weak and sleepy, but hunger and thirst overrode thoughts of all else. He tried to sit up, but his body was too weak for even such a simple motion. He lay back down to await the return of the priest and whoever would be accompanying him. He didnÃ¢â‚¬â„¢t have to wait long.
The door to the room slammed open and three priests of Bisha walked in the room followed by two knights. The priests walked over and stood on either side and at the foot of the bed, their hoods obscuring any view of their face Clara could have had. The two knights stood close to the door, but Clara knew their faces well. One was the head knight of Clara's order, Hammond Freeblade, and the other was Avery Garret. Neither looked happy to see Clara awake.
Freeblade crossed the room to stand by the prone knight. "It is only by Bisha's blessing that you are living right now knight," Freeblade said with disdain. "You took a worse beating than any man has ever survived;" shaking his head he raised his hand and began counting, "six ribs, your nose, an arm, a leg, several bones in your back. Add blood loss and your fortnight slumber," he paused and rubbed at the stubble on his face, "it seems impossible that I am looking at you alive."
"I was lucky m'lord Freeblade," Clara replied, his throat going instantly dry. He had a feeling where might be heading and did not like it.
The head knight turned his back and said, "You should be dead, and no amount of luck could have saved you from death." He motioned to the priests and said, "Leave us, this man is in no condition to oppose us, and I'm sure young Avery here could restrain him if needed." The priests bowed in unison and moved without a sound to the door. Avery shut the door behind them and barred it while Freeblade paced for a moment before stopping by the closed window. He lowered his head and quietly said, "And yet here you are, a knight of high regard and talent coming back from the verge of death. I am going to ask you a question David, my friend, and I need an answer." He rubbed his face with one great grizzled hand as if the question made him weary. "At one point during the time of your sleep you were all but dead and the priests said you would not live through to dawn. I sat here with the young knight here to say the necessary benedictions at your passing when we began to feelÃ¢â‚¬Â¦disturbed." The room seemed to close in on Clara and Freeblade's voice seemed muffled as he heard him speak. "All candles in the room seemed dance in an unfelt breeze, and the room grew still as if in anticipation. Then, all at once, a loud wail came forth from your lips and a light escaped your mouth, as the shadows from the room seemed to leap into it. Then we watched as you writhed in pain for the rest of the night as the priests tried to tend to your needs. Not a single priest was able to help." He turned and faced Clara, his face drawn and anguished. Avery still stood still, the color gone from his face. "We watched you die." Avery's voice was quiet, but to Clara it thundered with accusation. "We watched you die in pain and anguish," he yelled, moving toward the prone knight with every word. "And yet during our prayers you mocked our order by yelling the name of foul Supay and coming back, almost a full hour after the priests said you were beyond all help. What black deals did youÃ¢â‚¬Â¦"
"ENOUGH!" Freeblade bellowed stopping Avery in his tracks. He looked at his friend, his fellow knight and almost pleading asked, "what deals did you make to come back?"
The silence in the room choked the air, and all of a sudden it seemed much more humid to Clara than just moments before. He took a deep breath and opened his mouth to speak, but as he did so a voice seemed to come to his mind. Say nothing about me my friend, for it will be your downfall, it said, Lie if you must, but I have work for you that these puppets must not interfere with. What work, thought Clara, and how can I lie to a friend of so long? The voice replied, ask naught of your master, but divert your enemy. He's not an enemy, Clara thought to the voice, but no reply came. He closed his mouth and sat in silence for a moment collecting his thoughts, the other two knights staring at him all the while
12 years agoexniner
Chapter 2: Visions and Visitations
Clara opened his eyes and found he was in a long hallway of obsidian and diamond. He looked down the eternal path and to one end sat a light great in beauty and warmth, though the thought of entering it brought fear to Clara. He turned to look the other way and saw a growing darkness, reaching out for anything that stumbled down that more unwholesome path. He stood and looked down at his body, and it was a form of mist and air, nude in the perfection of man's creation. He started walking toward the light, thinking of the rest he would find in the dining halls of great Bisha, and receiving a robe of the chosen from the lady Tammuz. At the thought of seeing those of his lost family again he began to quicken his pace, and soon he was running toward the light.
All of a sudden his mind was hit with a feeling of pure pain and despair and he could begin to hear two warring voices inside his mind. They grew louder and more violent, causing him seizures that threw him down, and though his body seemed without form he met the floor with solid resistance. "STOP," he yelled, "and leave me in peace I beg." Immediately the voices stopped their argument. A voice came to soft and sweet and said, "My child, come and rest, and let your pain exist no longer. Your old body is broken and dying, as is your old way of life. Rest and live through eternity in the halls of light, my father Bisha awaits his true and faithful servant." Clara looked toward the light and thought of the bliss that awaited him when the second voice began to speak, and it was the voice of gravel on glass.
"You mind your business and stay out of the way of those who know much more you lamb," it spat at the voice of the goddess. "You must go back knight," it crooned to Clara. "Your job is not done and you owe me a debt." Clara looked toward the darkness, realization dawning. "Oh yes human, I convinced that puny man to strike at the creature of my brother in return for a debt, and one I now claim."
"But you did not save me" he cried out, "or am I not here in your halls awaiting my last resting place!"
"Ah, but your body lives still, as the healer priests will strive to keep you living as long as your heart beats, and I am keeping that in hand." The laughter of the god shook the hall. "Do not interfere brother," the goddess warned, "or others will begin to take sides and battle in earnest."
"Hush girl," the god spat, "do not allow the man more than he should be aware of, for he figures in both paths." Clara sat, confused by the exchange between the gods and waited to be addressed once more. His mind swam, for he had pledged allegiance once to Bisha and Tammuz, yet his bodily form lay living due to the god of the underworld! The gods continued to argue over the fate of the knight and soon he could not handle it any longer. "STOP NOW!" he bellowed into the hallway, and the immediate silence was deafening. "I still am warranted free choice I presume, else I would be apart of one realm or another right now," he stated aloud, and he took the god's silence as an affirmation. "My former oaths force me to honor any blood debt that is due before my end, and the saving of my life and the capturing of the vampyre require certain," he thought for a moment, "payment." He then stood straight and tall and faced the hungry darkness and yelled, "What would you have me do m'lord Supay?"
Supay laughed and said, "I would have you forswear your oaths to the pretender Bisha and place your faith on the true path!" Clara began to protest but the god silenced him with a peal of thunder. "None need to know save yourself, I and the other gods, though you will be marked by my brethren and treated accordingly. But do not fear, for I take care of my toys!"
"Choose wisely," the voice of Tammuz interjected, and then silenced reigned in the hall once more. Clara stood thinking about what had just transpired. He had had a conversation with two bickering gods and was given the oddest choice; pay a blood debt and live though forever changed, or finish life and enter the halls and be happy. Common since told him the latter was to be his choice after years of service to his gods, but something deep inside told him he had things to do, that he was needed. Something told him he was important.
"Supay!" he screamed. "I accept your terms and swear fealty to the God of the Underworld". No sooner were the words out of his mouth when the darkness surged forth and enveloped him. A mad cackling rose in his ears, and dampness on his head began to chill him. The light died andÃ¢â‚¬Â¦
12 years agoexniner
I was going through my stuff yesterday and i came across two of my old stories, one is about an insane assylum, the other a serial killer in a New York type city. It made me both miss writing and some of my characters as well. I wish i could just write full time, so that i wouldnt have to come to this hell hole everyday and speak spanish to people that are mostly too lazy to learn english, or even to bathe. I miss the rush at sitting down and knocking 9 or ten pages out at a time, and i miss watching it unfold. Between school and work, its just so damn hard. Anyway, enough bitching on my part. Im having my cousin do some concept art for me, and i am also working tirelessly on my stories, the two i have been talking about non stop, especially the one that was featured in my story time. Look for part two tomorrow.
12 years agoexniner
ive been sick lately, and between that and school work and my internet screwing up i havnt been on lately. That sucks for me. sotry time will resume in a day or two, and for those who are wondering, i am workin on two stories simultaneously. thats how my mind works, i write when one story is active. i dont know how, i just know it works. also, im behind on some requests for cards, but that wont stop me from taking any more, some are almost done,i just need to finish the text.
13 years agoexniner
You know, i think i will let you all in on my personal favorite character, Giles T. Jessup. BTW, if anyone steals him i swear i will hunt you down and devour your heart and soul. Ohkay, now that that is out of the way, here we go.
Giles T. Jessup, Born in 1841 in Corvus, Virginia. During the civil war he was one of the few that was left to garrison the small town that was on a major supply line. It was hit by the north, and GIles was one of the few who survived. He himself slew the commanding officer of the northern troops and took that oficer's sword as his trophy. By 1868 he realized he had stopped aging and was infact discovering strange things about himself, such as conjuring lights and illusions. By 1920 he had discovered most of his talents. He was, by then, and excellent hand to hand fighter, and had worked himself so hard that by the second world war he could deflect bullets with his sword. This was the same sword he had taken from the fallen officer, and he had worked his abiliities more than ever to preserve it, and actually cuased it to be infected with his "magic" making its edge preturnaturally sharp, and increasing its owners strength. In the year 2007 when the Doorway was opened he was one of two people on the planet that was left unchanged, but because of greivous wounds he lost an arm and a leg. Now, 2000 years after the Doorway, he is the commander of the great Plauge Army, and with the magically grafted leg and arm of an Other, he leads the armys of the Others to wipe out what is left of human kind.
thats him, theres more too him, but i dont have the time, maybe the next entry will be more about him
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