Chapter 1 critique. (need help before i sumbit to agent)

[December88]

Hello everyone.

I feel a little bad posting so many things up (think 2 other pieces since Feb 22nd ) but the truth is that i was asked for a partial submission (first 30 pages) of my novel in December and it was so unexpected that i've been paranoid about my previous work and have changed/drafted/edited it an inumerable number of times

Anyhow, i'm really trying to 'nail it' before the story changes itself so i present the 2nd (maybe third, i'm not sure) draft of the improvised version of the first chapter to my novel.

What i've always been worried about is that my opening might be tepid, and that the chapter may not hold the reader's interest. There is a prologue to this which is still on the first page which you may refer to if interested (hah, fat chance, i know )

Also, are the charcaters beleiveable? and is the dialogue/ interactions OK?

Thanks. All comments, good or bad, are greatly appreciated.

Chapter One​

I have killed enough to know that the real enemy is not the one at the end of my sword but the one who told me to kill him.


The words were the final entry on the last page of a bound, black book – a diary which the new girl carried with her wherever she went. She dropped it when the bullies came to take her.


None of the students that dragged her away knew how or why she had offended Aislin but the fact was that she had, and that meant she needed to be punished. For Aislin was an elf and to disrespect an elf was to disrespect the academy because, simply put, everyone loved the elves, even Varrin Ebonlocke though, maybe not all that much.


Waiting until his friends and the rest of the posse had rounded the corner, Varrin picked up the book. Opening it and discovering it to be a diary, Varrin accordingly spent a moment debating the morality of what he was doing. He was quick to defend himself: I'm just going to take a quick look, besides, I'm not going to be pushing her around and calling her names like the others are.


As if on cue, laughter – the cruel sort- erupted from the direction of the main grounds.


“Get her hair!” yelled someone.


“Over here into the dirt!” cried another. More laughter.


Absolved, Varrin began flipping through the pages, searching for something – not because he was a snoop or a thief – but because he had been intoxicated by an alluring curiosity ever since he had first laid eyes on the girl. Or rather, the first time she had laid her eyes upon him.


It had been in class earlier that day; he had caught her staring at him but when their eyes met, his own had been repelled almost instantly. It simply wasn't right; as far as Varrin recalled, the person caught staring was supposed to be the one who looked away, red and burning with guilt, not the other way around.


Regardless, everything Varrin had seen in that panic inducing fragment of a second was more than enough to distract him for an eternity. Simariel was her name, and to Varrin, it was just as beautiful and mystifying as her outlandish looks and quaint dress sense.


Catcalls and jeers echoed in the background. Blank page after blank page stared up at Varrin accusingly as he continued to flip through the diary. Then, he came to the end, and in his excitement, he had to read the words twice before he could understand what they meant. At first he tried to dismiss the writing as nothing more than fanciful scribbling, but after he had gone over it a third and then a fourth time, his stomach curdled. The words were written in blood.


A sudden scream shattered Varrin's now, dumbfounded expression and he jumped to his feet, startled. Voices cried out in confusion, alarm and anger; like the nettling buzz of bees, they steadily grew in volume and number.


Varrin stared at the fringe of trees, waiting. He slowly began to back away, fumbling with the diary as well as his nerves when he heard footsteps approaching over the din of rabble. He managed to get himself stuck in a graceless position just as Simariel broke into the clearing.




Her hair; though only shoulder length, was tousled, her face was smudged with dirt and her clothes were torn in several places. Brown, but cold eyes immediately set themselves upon the diary in Varrin's hand then moved to settle upon his face exactly as they had earlier in the day – horribly expressionless.


Desperately trying to swallow the lump in his throat, Varrin was able to mercifully thwart what was quickly threatening to become a very awkward silence. “You dropped it when they took you.” he said, extending the diary.


“I know” said Simariel in a whisper of a voice.


Silence prevailed, a particularly stifling one.


A bead of sweat broke upon Varrin's brow and his arm began to ache. The diary wasn't heavy, but his unnatural posture -which bordered on fright, fearlessness and everything in between – forced him to hold his arm out at an odd angle. Almost a whole minute he waited, all the while attempting a complex maneuver of trying to shift around as nonchalantly as possible to lessen the strain on his joints.


Simariel moved when Varrin least expected it, snatching the diary from his hand before he knew what was going on. Varrin looked at his empty hand, shocked, then looked up at Simariel, but she was already at the other end of the clearing, back turned to him and stalking away.


Varrin stepped forward and opened his mouth halfway as if to call her back. But to what end? He thought. So that I can stare at the ground stupidly wishing she would leave while she stares at me? And the truth was that he didn't know why he wanted her to come back, so he hastily abandoned the plan.


After Simariel had left, it took Varrin several moments and an equal number of deep breathes to regain his composure. Readily, he stumbled past the fringe of trees and came to the main grounds which he found in complete chaos.


A congregation of students had formed a large circle around something near the fountain and others, mainly juniors ran to and fro carrying what appeared to be soaked pieces of cloth. Some of these pieces were white, however the ones borne from within the circle were stained red.


“Excuse me, sorry. Out of my way!” Varrin pushed and pulled his way through the sea of bodies, fighting his way into the center. “Move! What happened?” he yelled, but his words were drowned in the commotion.


Finally, after a furious struggle, Varrin managed to push his way through into the middle. He looked down to find the grass colored dark from blood, blood that flowed from the prone for of his brother.


“Arrain!” he yelled, rushing to his brother's side. “Move! Move!”


Firm hands prevented him from getting too close. “He's alright Varrin, it's just a lot of blood.”


“Let me go Raegan!”


“Please Arrain, you must allow place for the nurses to work, he is fine, trust me friend. My kin have been hurt too, we must be patient.”


Had the person restraining him not been an elf, Varrin would never have yielded. He stopped, nothing good could come off struggling with an elf. He looked toward the two others who were being tended to.


Rajak and Lyssa mouthed Varrin. Elves, struck down the same way in which Arrain had been. They too bore multiple gashes and purple bruises, they too were slumped in the grass, unconscious. Nearby, upon the ground, relatively unhurt except for a few bruises and cuts sat a group of seniors.


“Who did this?” he asked even though he knew fully well who it was. But he wanted to hear her name, he wanted someone to speak it so that he could be in awe and wonder of her and not anger, even though she was responsible for his brother's condition.


“That new girl, Simariel. She's a damn freak.” said someone.


“Alone?” whispered Varrin, glancing once again at the group of seniors who were now massaging parts of their bodies, wincing in pain.


“Yes.”


“Your brother will be fine dear.” said one of the nurses who had been attending to Arrain. “Seems to have a broken arm but that, as well as the cuts on his face will heal in time.”


Varrin nodded vaguely, the nurse gave him a smile and moved on to her peers who were busy wiping away dirt from the wounds inflicted upon the elves.


Shortly thereafter, a carriage arrived on the scene and Arrain, who was now conscious but too groggy to talk, was loaded in.


“He'll be at the healing houses by the town hall, you may visit and even stay if you like after school” said the same nurse to Varrin, giving him an encouraging pat on the back.


“Alright everyone clear out, back to class, no need for you to be here.” A professor, Remulin, started ushering students back toward entrance hall. “Prefects, are there any prefects here?”


“Right here sir!” offered Joel Silrand, brining two others forward with him.


“Good, you boys saw what happened?”


“Yes sir.”


“Out with it.”


Varrin moved closer, eager to know what had happened. Other students, who had been lingering, nearby, hoping to escape as much of their classes as they could, surrounded the professor


“Best be brief Master Silrand,” said Remulin casting an eye at the students around him. “Looks like this crowd of monkeys won't be dispersed until we are done here.”


A few murmurs of bland laughter rippled through the crowd.


“Yes sir. It was the girl, Simariel.”


“Isn't that the new student?”


“Yes sir.”


“And you're telling me she did all this alone?” asked Remulin, skeptically.


Joel hesitated, his face flushed red. “That's correct sir.”


Remulin cast a bemused eye upon the cuts and bruises upon Joel's arms. “This is her first day here Joel. Tell me, what were you lot doing to her to deserve this?”


A small smile pried its way onto Varrin's lips but he concealed it, realizing that the other students in the crowd didn't share his sentiments. All of their faces were of glum seriousness.


“Nothing sir. It was unprovoked, she attacked us, with a dagger that she had hidden in her breeches.”


Varrin looked at Joel, incredulously. What?


“Unprovoked? A dagger?”


“Yes sir. You may ask anyone here and they will tell you the same.”


Remulin waved his hand dismissively and settled into deep thought for a moment. He sighed, “Well this is serious then. I'll need to take everything down.” He sat down upon the fountain parapet and called for a parchment, ink pot and quill, all of which were promptly brought to him. “You three will be ready to testify in front of the headmaster then?”


“Of course sir.”


Confused and slightly taken back, Varrin did the only thing he could think of, he waited. He waited for someone to step forward and say something. Surely someone would object, surely someone would tell the professor of what had really happened.


No one said anything.


“Alright Joel, give me the details.”


In frighteningly realistic detail, Joel described of how Simariel had supposedly casually walked up to the elves, drawn her dagger and slashed at their faces, then done the same to Arrain who had tried to intervene.


“The others, including myself were kept at bay by the dagger sir...”


Joel's voice faded into the background as Varrin searched the faces in the crowd. Someone will tell the truth eventually, this can't go on forever. Someone would step forward and tell the truth.


No one said anything.


“... then struck Arrain twice sir, across the...”


Remulin's quill scratched across the parchment, recording everything - the lies and the fabrications.


One of the juniors had an uneasy expression on his face and he looked around tentatively. Tell him boy! Varrin scolded the boy within the privacy of his mind. Tell him that they had been bullying her , tell him that they had shoved her around and she had defended herself. Tell him the truth!


But the boy looked away and didn't say anything. And the others watched on, all with the same glum expressions, and none of them said anything.


“Varrin. Varrin?”


Varrin snapped out of his daze, realizing that the professor was addressing him.


“What's the matter? You aren't sick are you? No? Good, you're a prefect too, have you anything to add to this?”


Varrin felt the eyes bore into him, innumerable, dominating and suffocating. “No.” He shook his head, looked down and didn't say anything else.

 

[Boneman]

Ah.....no pressure then....

This version is a definite improvement on the last, and I only have some nitpicks, rather than major shifts in emphasis or storytelling. I like the way we start with the book, with the action almost happening 'off-scene' ie we don't see the girl being dragged off, it happens before the book being opened.

So: Nitpicks........

I have killed enough to know that the real enemy is not the one at the end of my sword but the one who told me to kill him.

Would that be better without the last word? ie the 'him' ? It leaves it open, and it adds something. Not that she might have to kill women (or will she?) but there could be beasties of indeterminate sex, no?

For Aislin was an elf and to disrespect an elf was to disrespect the academy because, simply put, everyone loved the elves, even Varrin Ebonlocke though, maybe not all that much.

I wonder if a full stop after 'everyone loved the elves' rather than a comma? So the sentence would read: For Aislin was an elf and to disrespect an elf was to disrespect the academy because, simply put, everyone loved the elves. Even Varrin Ebonlocke. Although, maybe not all that much.

That way, it seems as though it is a stream of thoughts from Varrin, rather than a narrator, and the last bit is a neat way of showing us that Varrin isn't quite so caught up in the hero-worship.

Waiting until his friends and the rest of the posse had rounded the corner,

What corner? I thought they went through the trees, or at least around them. Maybe just when they are out of sight?

It had been in class earlier that day; he had caught her staring at him but when their eyes met, his own had been repelled almost instantly. It simply wasn't right; as far as Varrin recalled, the person caught staring was supposed to be the one who looked away, red and burning with guilt, not the other way around.

It's the use of the word 'repelled' that infers some kind of force that has hit Varrin, from the girl. Then your explanation tries (I think) to tell us that he's dropped his eyes out of embarassment, which tells us volumes about Varrin in a neat way. Also one is repelled by horror, and it could be taken to mean that she is repulsive (a derivative of the word 'repel', if I'm not mistaken). Rather than repelled could you think of another way of doing this? 'his own dropped guiltily to the desk' ?? See if others agree with me...

Catcalls and jeers echoed in the background. Blank page after blank page stared up at Varrin accusingly as he continued to flip through the diary. Then, he came to the end, and in his excitement, he had to read the words twice before he could understand what they meant. At first he tried to dismiss the writing as nothing more than fanciful scribbling, but after he had gone over it a third and then a fourth time, his stomach curdled. The words were written in blood.

I like the accusing pages, but I'm not certain that 'and in his excitement' couldn't be dropped altogether. The only excitment he is feeling is a curiosity, isn't it? Perhaps a fear he's going to be caught with the book, but you've handled that well, he keeps hearing the sounds of the bullying. And how does Varrin know it's blood, and not red ink? Not sure how you'll get out of that one, and it's only me that's saying it....... but perhaps tell us it's written in red something along the lines of: Then, he came to the end, and the bold words flamed scarlet before his eyes. He had to read the words twice before he could understand what they meant. At first he tried to dismiss the writing as nothing more than fanciful scribbling, but after he had gone over it a third and then a fourth time, his stomach curdled as a thought struck him: The words looked as though they were written in blood.
Flaming scarlet might be a tad strong, but see what you think.... I feel an emphasis on the words leaping out after all the blank pages wouldn't go amiss.

A sudden scream shattered Varrin's now, dumbfounded expression and he jumped to his feet, startled. Voices cried out in confusion, alarm and anger; like the nettling buzz of bees, they steadily grew in volume and number.

'Kay, if you change it, it's not dumbfounded any more, but I was going to advise taking that out anyway, it's very clumsy, and I'm not sure of the correct placement of the comma. How about: A sudden scream rang out. Voices cried out in confusion, alarm and anger; like the nettling buzz of bees, they steadily grew in volume and number.

I assume a beekeeper will tell us what nettling is.....? I have no idea, but it's not important, because I put my own interpretation on it. I assume it was a swarm of the little blighters.....

Varrin stared at the fringe of trees, waiting. He slowly began to back away, fumbling with the diary as well as his nerves when he heard footsteps approaching over the din of rabble. He managed to get himself stuck in a graceless position just as Simariel broke into the clearing.

See? There is no corner for them to turn. Now, I'm concerned about Varrin here. Seems he's turned into a complete wimp for no other reasons than a) he's terrified by a scream or b) he might be caught with the book. But as far as he knows, the girl is getting rubbed in the mudhole, so what exactly is he backing away from? And how do you fumble with nerves? Getting stuck in a graceless position makes no sense to me, if he's backing away and fumbling with a book, unless he's miming. And if there's a 'din of rabble', (?) how exactly did he hear the footsteps? They're outside on grass, aren't they?

Now I know I said I was only doing nitpicks, and I'm sorry I seem to have wandered deeper, but this paragraph demands it. Would it not be better if he is startled by the scream as before, then the din, and then he sees a figure coming through the trees and realises to his horror that it's the girl and he's about to be caught red-handed, and fumbles to close the diary before she gets there, guilty as sin??

By the way, when did he sit down? Forgot that, but he jumped to his feet, and we hadn't been told he'd sat down when he picked up the diary...

Her hair; though only shoulder length, was tousled

'though only shoulder length' is irrelevant and a distraction to the power of the scene. I feel it should be taken out.

Almost a whole minute he waited, all the while attempting a complex maneuver of trying to shift around as nonchalantly as possible to lessen the strain on his joints.

December 88....may I call you Dec?.... I want you to hold a book out in your outstretched arm for almost a minute, and pretend there's someone in front of you, and see where you look, where they look etc... I see that you're trying to get over the awkwardness of this (the guilt, the embarrassment etc) but the complex maneuver of trying to shift around as nonchalantly as possible to lessen the strain on his joints. doesn't do it. It reads awkwardly, and it's just too complex to bring over what is happening. And why hasn't she taken it immediately? Is she punishing him? Unfortunately we don't know, because you haven't told us.
Perhaps it would be better to have her staring into his eyes (echoing their first look) searchingly, and he's almost mesmerised, with his hand outstretched (and I imagine her thinking 'has he read it? is he like all the other? shall I punish him? and so on....which all can be inherent is a searching glance and doesn't even need to be put into words. Anyway you'd have to change pov to do it, and I like the mystery of her that you've maintained throughout) so that when she does take the book it's a better shock to him than at present, ie she's across the clearing before he comes out of it.

Varrin stepped forward and opened his mouth halfway as if to call her back. But to what end? He thought. So that I can stare at the ground stupidly wishing she would leave while she stares at me? And the truth was that he didn't know why he wanted her to come back, so he hastily abandoned the plan.

I think you're telling a bit too much here, with his thoughts. And it's a repetition of what he's thinking, in the last sentence of the paragraph. Perhaps he opens his mouth to call her back, no sound comes, and he just watches her leave. That way you show us in a simple sentence everything that's going on in his head.

After Simariel had left, it took Varrin several moments and an equal number of deep breathes to regain his composure. Readily, he stumbled past the fringe of trees and came to the main grounds which he found in complete chaos.

Excellent, this would tie in better. Not sure why he stumbles 'readily'?

A congregation of students had formed a large circle around something near the fountain and others, mainly juniors ran to and fro carrying what appeared to be soaked pieces of cloth. Some of these pieces were white, however the ones borne from within the circle were stained red.

I know you're trying to get over the blood aspect, but why would they carry the cloths out of the circle? You've given the game away that there is blood, so from Varrin's angle, wouldn't it be better if the students were congregating around the fountain, and there's a hubbub of noise, and then he pushes his way through? No mention of blood yet, so it's more of a shock when he does see it? Especially as his brother's involved? Then this bit is has much more power.

Finally, after a furious struggle, Varrin managed to push his way through into the middle. He looked down to find the grass colored dark from blood, blood that flowed from the prone for (FORM) of his brother.


“Arrain!” he yelled, rushing to his brother's side. “Move! Move!”


Firm hands prevented him from getting too close. “He's alright Varrin, it's just a lot of blood.”

How can hands prevent him from getting too close if he's rushed to his brother's side? "It's just a lot of blood????" Isn't that serious? And if he can see it flowing, there must be an artery cut, at least. And there's a couple of nurses there, aren't there? One speaks to him, calls him 'dear' in minute. Whatif:

Finally, after a furious struggle, Varrin managed to push his way to where he could see into the circle. He looked down to see his brother lying on the ground, a nurse applying a cloth to the bleeding wound on his face.


“Arrain!” he yelled, trying to push through. “Move! Move!”


Firm hands prevented him from moving. “He's alright Varrin, it's not serious.”

??

“Who did this?” he asked even though he knew fully well who it was. But he wanted to hear her name, he wanted someone to speak it so that he could be in awe and wonder of her and not anger, even though she was responsible for his brother's condition.

Again,you're telling us his thoughts, and they're really quite bizarre.... I seriously think you should consider finishing this after he knew fully well who it was. That gives us some tension for the next meeting between them, and goes a little way towards explaining why he doesn't speak up later. He's just too accepting, almost fawning in his thoughts about her, and to me, it doesn't fit right. But that's only me.....

And I have nothing else to say. Handling dialogue is a real strength that you have, and you do it really well, so the rest reads easily, and tells its story perfectly.

Dec, I hope I haven't confused or depressed you....I'm only one person, and if you disagree with anything I say, then ignore it: it's your writing, your story. All I've done is manipulated your words to make them IMHO more readable....

The very best of luck with your submission, I'm sure everyone on the Chrons echoes that.

 

[Susan Boulton]

but the truth is that i was asked for a partial submission (first 30 pages) of my novel in December .

You mean you haven't sent the agent/publisher the partial yet? Just a bit concerned if you haven't, as from my experience if an agent/publisher requests such, they expect you to have a work "ready to go"

 

[December88]

Thanks for both the responses.

SJAB: I actually did have the whole story down and drafted when i sent the query. When an agent actually requested a partial, i got so nervous/paranoid about actually sending in the stuff that i couldn't help but think it was terrible. Hence i started drafting it many times over


Boneman, that was an incredible critique and i am very grateful for that. There are many things you picked out that i normally wouldn't have 'seen' from my PoV. I've changed (tried to the best of my ability) it up and will post the updated version soon.

The only thing i have still stuck to is the part where his eyes were 'reppelled' since i still think that fits in there (maybe wrong but hopefully others will comment on it).

Thanks again!

 

[dustinzgirl]

Thanks for both the responses.

SJAB: I actually did have the whole story down and drafted when i sent the query. When an agent actually requested a partial, i got so nervous/paranoid about actually sending in the stuff that i couldn't help but think it was terrible. Hence i started drafting it many times over


Boneman, that was an incredible critique and i am very grateful for that. There are many things you picked out that i normally wouldn't have 'seen' from my PoV. I've changed (tried to the best of my ability) it up and will post the updated version soon.

The only thing i have still stuck to is the part where his eyes were 'reppelled' since i still think that fits in there (maybe wrong but hopefully others will comment on it).

Thanks again!

You should send the agent whatever you have already done.

First off, this shows that you have the work done.

Secondly it shows that you are serious.

Thirdly, the agent can and will go over the work and help you out. Not as much as an editor would, but an agent wants to see your work so that he or she can sell your work.

The agent would NOT have wasted time asking for more if they didn't think you at least had a shot.

IMO you should send what you had BEFORE you got nervous and paranoid about it.

 

[BSCVadhan]

Hi,
A few things that strike me that you might want to look into...

1. The writing in blood. Of course, there is a difference between writing in red ink and writing in blood...the texture, the flakes of dried blood on paper as opposed to ink soaking into the paper..et all. However, there ought to be a reason for the boy to think its blood unless he's seen writing in blood earlier and can recognise it. For all he knows, it could be old ink...old paper...so you need to figure out what sets him thinking it is blood...maybe it is the way in which the line is written...erratic, hurried...
2. The second issue also relates to blood I am afraid and that's about the boy's brother and his injury...why are people dashing around with blood soaked cloth...to what end? where are they taking the cloth? why/ why not?
3. If My brother was bleeding a whole lot of blood and he's down on the floor, I wouldn't let my respect for someone stop me from reaching his side. I would be at his side, at the least to comfort him...and get onto the wagon that was taking him to the healing house...unless I didnt particularly like my brother, the boy's concern for his brother is a little underplayed.
4. The last issue is the lack of direction in the boy. He doesnt seem to care too much for his injured brother and behaves just as casually as any other student...he doesnt stand up for the girl and lets the other boys/ elves lie to the Teacher about her...what's more he keeps wilting under pressure and he lies to the teacher too about the girl. is that how you want to depict him? A boy with a strain of morality and a weak will. Nothing wrong with it...its done absolutely well...but I was wondering if you intended to add another, stronger shade to his character...I may be completely wrong.

The chapter is a good read...needs a little polishing I am sure...some loose ends need to be tied up. Its a good read though...I would love to read your book!
regards
BSC

 

[crystal haven]

December88

I hope you don’t mind me adding to this thread with my opinion. It is, of course, only my opinion, but as you know I have read your previous work and have always enjoyed it. When reading this, however, I felt I was reading someone else’s work not yours. In my opinion the first draft is so much better.

It is quite possible to edit the life out of a piece of writing. I think you are worrying so much about getting every word right, and the explanations to your reader just right, that you are not allowing your characters to do their job for you. Or your reader to use their imagination.

I might be wrong, but I suspect when you write, you are very much character driven. This writing feels forced, as if you are trying to tell the characters what to do, rather than letting them just get on with it.

Where is the parchment? I accept we now have writing in the back of a book, but this is an academy – this could be just words written down about a lesson, history class, but a piece of parchment, written in blood. . . . now that got my attention.

If you need an explanation of how or why he knows it is blood, bring that in later, but not at the beginning. Leave some mystery for the reader to discover.

You have taken out the mystery for me. You are telling me a story rather than showing. I am being told why Varrin did something, not watching him do it.

You have put the word ‘had’ in where it wasn’t before, pushing your reader to a different view. We are being told a story. I want to be in this story.

You can do this. You already have, with your previous work, and Dustinzgirl is right.

Your work is good, especially the work I have enjoyed previously. My test readers throttled me when I did the same thing with my first chapter, and I ended up changing it back. Like you feel now, I was convinced it was rubbish.

Believe in yourself. And please, please, stop editing.

 

[Roy1]

he had caught her staring at him but when their eyes met, his own had been repelled

he had caught her staring at him but own his gaze had been repelled (or even attention) otherwise it's an 'eyeballs in the sky' and a cliche. If you keep the 'eyes met' you don't need 'at him'. Maybe

 

[Robby]

In my humble opinion, Boneman is spot-on. In the first instance, 'repelled' gave me the impression of an ugly, repulsive girl.

'I have killed enough to know that the real enemy is not the one at the end of my sword but the one who told me to kill him.'

I would delete 'him' ... it just reads better.

 

[December88]

Thanks again for all the responses. I've been tweaking the second and third chapter and will post them up soon along with yet another 're-worked' version of this current chapter.

The first three chapters (and the prologue) is all i'm sending since the partial request was only for the first 30 pages. I'll start up another thread in a few days with the 'final' draft of everything and if you guys could comment on that, it would be great.

Thanks again.

 

[Bombadillo]

I think Boneman made an excellent reply, touching on most of the things I would highlight.

One extra thing that I don't think anyone spotted, I have highlighted below.

“Arrain!” he yelled, rushing to his brother's side. “Move! Move!”


Firm hands prevented him from getting too close. “He's alright Varrin, it's just a lot of blood.”


“Let me go Raegan!”


“Please Arrain, you must allow place for the nurses to work, he is fine, trust me friend. My kin have been hurt too, we must be patient.”

Should be "Please Varrin".

Apart from that, I think you have a very engaging start and if you follow most of Boneman's advice you'll have a great opening few scenes together.

 

[December88]

Thanks for pointing out that typo Bomb.

Hmm, i was thinking about making a new thread and posting up my *edited* prologue up but since Bomb was kind enough to bump this up to the top with his reply, i think i'll just post it here and hope it gets some crits.

This, being the prologue, obviously takes place before chapter one (which was what i first posted in this thread) so if people are willing to read this, then go back up and read the first chapter and then comment on the overall effect of both pieces in conjunction which each other, i'd be eternally grateful.

Of course i am also re-editing the hell out of the first chapter and will post that up once i'm done.

So here is my prologue, any comments are welcome.

ps: I think my opening line REALLY SUX but it's a placeholder until i get to the third(?) draft.

PROLOGUE​

The voice that drifted from within the tent belonged to Terinis, the most dangerous enemy of mankind. “An instrument of martial perfection,” the voice spoke, “against whom even your most hardened and famed veterans would have no chance general. My secret weapon, my answer to the invincible vindicators.”


Outside the tent, where the harsh wind howled and ravaged, Terenis' secret weapon was crying for the first time in her life. A single tear at first, then another and yet another until soon, she was drowning in a sea of saline sorrow, gasping for air whenever she could.


“I named her Simariel,”


The girl started and instinctively stood at attention as she had always done when her name was spoken by Terinis. There was no need to; Terinis was still inside and she was alone with her closest, most trusted companion – the empty night.


Terinis' voice continued. “It is a name of my kind although she is one of yours. Fitting I think, since the future of your people belongs under us.”


Stifling her sobs, Simariel brushed at her face. Having no experience with tears however, she failed to notice that they left behind trails of meandering melancholy that glistened silver upon her cheeks in the pale moonlight. She forced her face into one of strained impassiveness.


“ Enter.”


Ten steps to the tent, brisk, exact and determined. She paused on the ninth.


“Enter!” ordered Terinis again, this time with an edge of impatience.


Jaws clenched, back rigid, Simariel didn't move, not even when a sudden and particularly frigid gust of wind blasted against her back and cut into her skin. How long could she stand here, on the threshold of no return, delaying the inevitable?


“Simariel!”


The nerves all over her body reeled in panic. A deep breathe, a last look at the starless sky and she went forth.


“Closer.” ordered Terinis, beckoning Simariel forward with a curled finger. The tent was bare and lit inadequately by a single flame that waned and flickered within a pitiful brazier. “I'd like to introduce you to High general Karrad Ebonlocke, first in command to the armies of Lind Therwin.”


Upon the floor, propped up against the side of a large chest, lay the general. He swore loudly when Simariel edged forward into better light.


“Not what you expected general?” chuckled Terinis. “Too young? And too pretty?”


The general's chest heaved up and down in angry, sporadic jerks. “You stoop to the lowest forms of morality. No wonder your kind were cursed.” he rasped.


“Morality.” whispered Terinis. “You have devoted your life to morality and look where it has led you and your children.”


The general's brow furrowed in worry and distress, prompting a sneer from Terinis. “Oh I know all about your sons general. I also know that you left the letter you stole from my king is with them. In fact, I'm going to send Simariel to Boughsire, have her kill your sons and retrieve that letter.”


Fueled by a desperate strength, the general lunged forward but was held back by coils of raw hemp rope. He thrashed and bucked but the brute force only tightened the knots. He gave up and looked at Simariel, trying to catch her eye. “Please, not my boys!”


Simariel looked away.


Terenis smiled in satisfaction and walked up to a cabinet. “She won't look at you general,” he said casually, opening a draw and rummaging through it for something. “See,” he continued after securing an object and drawing up next to Simariel. “she has been taught to never look into the eyes of someone she is about to kill.” He pressed the cold steel hilt of a dagger into Simariel's hands.


“To look into the victim's eyes risks the onset of empathy; a weakness.” recited Simariel to a dark corner of the tent.


“Very good,” said Terinis softly while closely examining Simariel. “You have prepared for this night well then?”


“Yes.”


“Don't lie to me!” thundered Terinis all of a sudden, grasping Simariel's chin in a painfully violent movement and tilting it upward into the light of the fire which roared and brightened as if on cue. “Do you think I couldn't hear your pathetic sniveling outside? You're a nervous wreck!”


“That... that isn't true, I swear.” stammered Simariel, succumbing to hesitation in front of Terinis for the first time ever.


“I should have you done away with.”


Simariel's muscles tensed.


Terinis eyed her thoughtfully and sighed. “But what a waste that would be. Your martial talent is second to none, yet you are emotionally weak, you always have been. There is a way however, to fix that and tonight, on your first kill, I want you to look into the general's eyes when you take his life.”


“There is no need for this...”


“Look into the general's eyes!”


And Simariel looked, and all the hate that had been taught to her shattered and ceased to exist. She saw the general's grizzled cheeks, his long drawn out face, his broken nose and his red, watering eyes.


The warmth came, it was just like she had thought it would feel; quaint and tingling, gracing her empty heart with something it had been secretly been longing for her whole life – compassion. She closed her eyes and shuddered as it smothered her and left her breathless and wanting more.


“Fight it!” snarled Terinis. “Fight the folly of man. All it will ever cause you is pain and misery a thousand fold for every scrap of false happiness it throws at you. Fight it and be true to yourself and what you really are!”


Simariel gasped, the air rushed out of her lungs and she gripped the dagger tightly. Then, she nodded. She nodded because everything Terinis had said was true and she knew that she shouldn't trust her fickle heart, it pained too much. She wasn't meant to have a normal life; she wasn't meant to laugh or cry or have a family or children. There was no changing what had been taught to her since she was a child; she was meant to do one thing and one thing only, and that was to kill.


Even as the general looked at her and forgave her for his own life but pleaded for his sons, even as she began to hate and curse herself, Simariel stepped forward and knelt down.


“I'll make it as quick as possible, painless.” she whispered.


“Quick? Painless” snapped Terinis, swooping down beside Simariel. “Make it as painful as possible! Do not give into the feeble weaknesses of your kin, do not think about it and there will be no guilt!”


Clutching the hilt of the dagger harder than ever, Simariel lifted it above her head where it lingered.


“Do not prolong! Finish him!”


“I will!” snarled Simariel, glaring murderously at Terinis. “I will.” she said again, this time nothing more than a suffocated whisper. Trying to calm herself, she took several deep breathes to no avail. Instead, blood began to pound within her head and thunder in her ears.


“Please, not my boys”


Simariel heard it. Uttered in despair and helplessness, a soundless whisper, a plea for mercy. It called to something deep and raced, screaming across the immense emptiness of her soul to strike as the single greatest force she had ever felt. She had the sudden urge to help the poor general, to comfort him and assure him that his children would be alright, that she would never harm them. But she knew she couldn't, there was simply no way. Unless. For the smallest fraction of a, Terinis' wicked face flashed through her mind and she contemplated the impossible, the unforgivable.


“No! Let it be done with!” cried Simariel, closing here eyes and trembling. The dagger wavered in her hand for a moment, as if unsure of its target, then plummeted downward with frightening speed.


Nearly a full minute later, Simariel opened her eyes to silence. “You were right Terinis, I feel no guilt.”

 

[December88]

Ugh nevermind, I'm not happy with the above piece at all. I would delete it but for some reason, i can't delete the post (maybe because i posted it from a different computer )

So if you people would be so kind as to not comment on the prologue it would be great

Thanks and sorry if i wasted anyone's time with the terrible prologue. Will post a much better version soon.

 

[dustinzgirl]

Ugh nevermind, I'm not happy with the above piece at all. I would delete it but for some reason, i can't delete the post (maybe because i posted it from a different computer )

So if you people would be so kind as to not comment on the prologue it would be great

Thanks and sorry if i wasted anyone's time with the terrible prologue. Will post a much better version soon.

Its because nobody can delete posts.

You know, there is such a thing as over editing.

You'll be just fine, you sound a bit stressed.

 

[dreir]

Yeah, you do sound a bit stressed..

Should be "Please Varrin".

(in reference to: “Please Arrain, you must allow place for the nurses to work, he is fine, trust me friend. My kin have been hurt too, we must be patient.”)

I think some of the commas are misplaced here, and there are not enough full stops. Maybe you'd want to consider this version: "Please, Varrin. You must allow place for the nurses to work. He is fine. Trust me, my friend. My kin have been hurt, too. We must be patient."

- Dreir -

 

[December88]

Yes, very stressed.

Anyhow, i've got another re-draft on the prologue which i'll be posting in a new thread.

Thanks to everyone who replied to this one.