Decided I'd get back into writing

[Drakon Sssharxx]

So I wrote a lot a few years ago and after recently starting to play Geneforge again I decided that I would like to write again. Please let me know what you think of the first chapter.

 

The golden sun rises into the sky over the fields of the village. The shadows flee as the roosters crow loudly and signal the dawn of the day. This village in particular is called Chelo and is one of the most remote places in the mainland. As the roosters cease their crowing the farm hands stumble out their doors and head out to check on their respective fields or flock, some of the farm hands are accompanied by short hunched creatures they call serviles. Of the farm hands stumbling out the doors one of them in particular is distinguishable from the rest because despite the mild morning chill he wears shorts and a t-shirt and yet is avoided by everyone else. The other farm hands spit muttered insults at him if he walks too close to them and it isn’t a surprise when one of them pushes him over into the dirt with a choice curse. This lonely outcast is known as Vatra, a young man of eighteen years and laying on the floor six foot long. He isn’t skinny as you may think from his sudden introduction to the floor but of average build which to the other farm hands is small. Now that I think on it he turned eighteen today but as you can see he doesn’t hope for much out of a birthday, it’s the same as every other day to him. Vatra slowly gets up off the floor once the coast is clear, brushes himself off and then sets about doing his work. He feeds the ornks, a cow like creature created to be hardier and more resilient to be farmed in harsh climates, tends the chickens and makes sure the rest of the farm is in good condition. As he works the day passes, he eats a small chunk of bread with some cheese for lunch. As the sun begins to set on the other side of the horizon Vatra heads back to the house. It isn’t his home, nor even his house. Just the house. The house he grew up in, the house he learnt to cook in and the house he dreams of leaving.

 

 

Vatra enters through the back gate and washes the dirt from his hands and face in the garden and before he enters through the back door he removes his shoes. He enters into a kitchen and proceeds to the sink to wash more thoroughly. Once clean he starts to prep the surfaces in order to begin cooking the evening meal for the residents of the house. As he is chopping some onions he hears his name being called from the sitting room.

“Vatra, come in please”

Vatra carefully puts down the knife and checking once more that there is no dirt going to be taken into the main house he proceeds into the sitting room. It is not a large room in fact just large enough for a small bookcase and two wooden armchairs. In one of the armchairs is sat the woman of the house, a plump woman in her forties flicking knitting needles back and forth with dazzling speed. In the other sits a thin man in his early fifties with gray hair and squinting eyes.

“May I help you sir, ma'am?” enquires Vatra,

“We understand you have been trying to save up to buy provisions to take the road to the city?” the elderly man asks,

“I have sir but I don’t expect to be leaving for many years and you should know I would have given you plenty of notice before I left” Vatra was starting to panic now that they may be planning to foil his dream,

“We are not worried about that we can find a new farmhand. You turn eighteen today, you have been a man for two years now it is time you go into the world and find your place. Our son will be coming back and inheriting the farm while you will still have nothing to your name. You came to us when you could barely talk, we know nothing of your parents or where you come from. We did you a deed in taking you in and providing you food and shelter but it is time you be off. Tomorrow you need not tend the farm one of our neighbours has agreed to lend a hand for the week, use the time to pack your bags, you should be gone the day after.” While the speech was said in monotone Vatra liked to imagine there was emotion behind it but he had little time to think on it as his first thought was the measly pile of copper coin hidden in his pillow.

“What am I to do for provisions? I wasn’t lying when I said it would take me years to save up.” Vatra asked with a hint of panic in his voice.

“Don’t be daft kid you’re on a farm. Take what you need but be careful not to take more than you need.” With that the old man waved his hand to signal Vatra to continue his work. Vatra smiled as he bowed and returned to the kitchen to finish the evening meal which he served the owners of the house and retired to the kitchen to eat by himself as he always does. Once he had finished and collected the dishes from the table he washed them up and retired to his small straw bed and started making a mental note of what he would need for his journey. He struggled to get to sleep until late that night for the clash of emotions running through him. Excitement, anxiety, joy and fear were but a few of them but at last his eyes closed and he fell off to sleep.

 

 

As the cocks crowed in the morning Vatra threw his eyes open, stumbled out of bed and pulled his work clothes on. He walked into the kitchen next door and grabbed a small piece of stale bread left over from the evening meal and hastily ate it washing it down with a swig of milk. Afterwards he stumbled sleepily out of the door into his boots and down the path towards the fields. As he got out the gate something big and heavy collided into his chest knocking him back into a puddle where he woke with a start. Once again he found himself knocked over by another farm hand but this time he wasn’t put down by it, he remembered he should be packing not working! He jumped up and ran back to the house kicking off his boots and walked briskly through the kitchen to his small room where he grabbed his pack. He opened it up and put into it a spare set of work clothes then carried it to the larder where he packed into it a variety of salted meat and dried vegetables, only that which would keep for a few months on the road. He packed enough for two months journey and on top of that he packed a small iron pot and inside that he placed an even smaller tin bowl and wooden spoon. He went back to his room and picked up his belt, a smooth leather belt that had a knife and sheath hooked on it. placing it at the foot of his bed he returned to the kitchen and collected his pack fastening it and leaving it at the foot of his bed next to his belt. For the rest of the day he wandered around the village and seeing the village tanner he stopped by to get his boots repaired and fitted for the journey, it cost him four of his twenty three coppers but he figured having boots the whole way to the next town was worth it. That evening he went to sleep with a smile on his face ready for the weeks ahead.

 

 

This time when the cocks crowed Vatra opened his eyes and got out of bed remembering that he was leaving today. He got into his usual work clothes but this time wore full length trousers and strapped on his belt. He fastened a light traveling cloak over his shoulders and left the hood down. He grabbed a small bite to eat from the kitchen before shouldering his pack and leaving the house. The farm hands had all passed by into the fields by now and as Vatra got to the gate he looked back once more at the house he was leaving. He smiled a wide open smile and turned towards the road out of the village. The edge of the village was bordered by the forest and as Vatra passed under it’s branches with almost a skip in his step the forest seemed happy to meet him. Several hours passed and Vatra began to feel the weight of his pack and his feet dragged along the path occasionally he noticed the sky was getting dark and he figured that he should stop for the night. He found a clearing about a hundred meters from the path with a small stream flowing through it he gathered wood for a fire and used it to boiled water which he turned into a stew with some of his food. He ate and fell asleep in the roots of a tree.

 

 

His days continued much the same for the next few weeks he would wake up and walk a while before he would stop to eat lunch then walk further until it was getting dark where he would find somewhere to stop for the night and eat an evening meal before sleeping. By the pace he had set Vatra figured he was about two weeks from the nearest town when disaster found him. The night before had been the same as any other night, he had eaten and gone to sleep but the morning couldn’t be more different. Vatra woke to the sound of voices, The sun was still down but he somehow knew it was early morning. Vatra kept silent by the tree hoping that the voices would pass by. As he lay there he started to notice that the ground in the clearing was heavily worn, he hadn’t noticed that last night, the voices were also getting louder. Vatra started to get scared, he was alone with strangers nearby. He was from a village where everyone knew each other. He didn’t know what to do so he stayed huddled under his cloak. Footsteps accompanied the voices until the voices cut short. Vatra heard the footsteps approaching the clearing but he hoped the night would hide him. He was wrong.

“What we got ‘ere eh? A stranger in our home, bit far from the path arn’t you lad? If we weren’t respectable you may be in a pickle eh?” It’s true the closer he got towards the town the further from the path he went to sleep, also these strangers didn’t seem respectable.

“What you dumb? Speak up lad” Vatra was about to speak when the second man decided to speak first.

“Sod it J lets just have done with him an leave him. Looks like he still got a nice lot of food there eh?” Vatra didn’t like where this was going and was about to get up and run when a boot collided with his side. They must have been reinforced with iron because Vatra felt something crack in his chest and he cried out loud. Another boot hit him, and another until Vatra couldn’t call out anymore and his vision blacked out. He knew he had to wake up but couldn’t manage it so he just focused on keeping hold of himself as he fell through the darkness. He lost track of time but at least he was still he if you get my meaning. The thieves threw Vatra’s cloak over his body but as they were about to sort through his pack they heard a shout. The thieves grabbed the pack but in their haste some of the contents fell out. The thieves ran away with the majority of the food.

 

 

As a man came into the clearing Vatra was still falling through his internal darkness. The man looked around and noticed the cloak which he pulled at to find Vatra’s body bloody and bruising. The man poked and prodded at the boot marks assessing the injuries and each time the darkness got deeper for Vatra. At last the man extended his hand and pale glowing tendrils extended from his fingertips curling towards Vatra’s injuries. As the tendrils touched the wounds it knitted them back together. Light flared through the darkness and Vatra started to wake up. He opened his eyes just in time to watch the last of his wounds heal. The man sighed deeply and sat down to rest. Vatra also felt exhausted but looks at this new stranger to see who saved him. The man is old, very old. His hair is pure white and long with a beard to match. He wears elegant green robes that hang from his thin, small and hunched frame. After several minutes Vatra regains the energy to get up and wander round the clearing. He collects his pan and spare clothes but barely enough food for a single meal. He gathers it together along with some wood for a fire. He gets the fire going and prepares a simple stew which he offers to the old man first. The old man eats his share before passing it back to Vatra. The food seems to have done wonders for the old man who looks positively awake now and Vatra feels better for it too.

“Thank you sir for coming to help me, I felt for sure there was no hope” Vatra opens up the conversation to his unlikely saviour. The old man looks at him and gives out a simple “Hrumph” before looking away. Vatra decides to try and start conversation again.

“Is there anything I can do to repay you?” The old man looks back at Vatra with a squint in one eye. Vatra feels quite uncomfortable under the stare.

“Can you read?” The old man speaks with a raw and callous voice.

“No I was never taught my letters sir”

“Just your manners and your words I see hrumph.” The man seems to dislike Vatra’s pleasantries. Vatra remains quiet looking at the man.

“No worries, I presume you’re heading to Gwres?”

“Yes, sir.” Vatra replies

“If you can be patient with an old mans pace and help me get there too then I will teach you to read. You will find it useful in Gwres and i’m sure anywhere else you plan to go afterwards.” Vatra considered the offer for a few minutes before nodding his acceptance. Whatever this strangers intentions they can’t be bad after saving him and Vatra was curious how this old man healed his wounds. With that the old man helped Vatra tie his remaining belongings into a bundle and they set off walking together while the old man pulls out a book and begins to show Vatra the alphabet.

[Upon Mars.]

Nice intro!

[Questionably Legal]

It would benefit from some double-checking of the ol' grammar & punctuation.

[Death Knight]

Writing is only good from my perspective if you yourself like it and a group of people that are likeminded like it as well. If you get no likes and only negatives about a certain work, your not going to want to continue with that work. I find that its like Van Gogh (get the right guy?). The guy didn't sell one painting in his life and lived a miserable existence. He finally sold something and was recognized when he died. The problem with that is that he never got the respect or recognition he deserved.

 

If one avenue works, go for it. If it doesn't then move onto something maybe someone else likes. But don't whatever you do, don't just pick something you hate and write about it.

 

I used to write action/horror but was humiliated when a company reviewed my work. I felt that they were basing a lot of stuff on what they consider common sense. They judged my character based on how his thought processes were thinking. They said it didn't make sense. Too bad crazy people aren't known to make sense.

 

Getting a review is like getting a date. Its only good if it turns out alright. If it doesn't then your worse off then before.

 

I don't like reviewers because of that even though I managed to get a very positive review on amazon kindle. Nevertheless it was enough for me to quit writing action altogether. Or at least until the reviewer gets cancer, heh.

 

I started writing comedy and got a much better audience and people liked it much better than Action stories. The humor is on kindle and while it doesn't have a review yet, it can still make me laugh (the creator) every time I read it.

 

I hope that all you writers keep the positives to heart and don't worry about getting published like I did. Worry about making people like it and the rest with all fall together.

[Wizard Orcasus]

I loved the story! i can't wait to read the nexts part

[SamSniped]

I like the story, but the grammar and spelling stuff sorta kills it

Just a tip- you might want to describe stuff more. I always enjoy reading when something's described well.

[Drakon Sssharxx]

On the second day after the incident Vatra awoke feeling fresh and pleasant. Aster wasn't as slow as Vatra expected but he was still slow enough for Vatra to recover from the attack and the days spent walking before it. Vatra discovered the old man’s name during a short break from the man’s constant dictation of letters and words. Vatra stretched and sat up his stomach rumbled and the fact he hadn't eaten for a day caused him to let out a groan. Aster stirred and sat up, he looked at Vatra and sighed.

“You’re hungry” it wasn't a question but Vatra answered a yes anyway.

“Then go get something to eat you fool before everything goes into shelter for the day.” Vatra’s face must have shown his confusion and Aster continued in a softer tone “Go hunting my lad” Vatra regained his voice to reply this time.

“I haven't hunted before sir. I’ve killed animals but that was as a farmhand and the animals there didn't need tracking.” Aster got to his feet then and walked over to Vatra. As Vatra felt the mans arm on his shoulder he felt energized and able to face the day.

“That will keep you going today while I explain to you the basics of hunting and tomorrow you can give it a try.” Aster seems noticeably more fatigued.

“What did you do?” Vatra asks the man.

“Gave you some of my energy, don’t worry I still have enough for the day.” Aster shrugs and turns to gather his things.

“But how?” Vatra responds with a look of awe on his face.

“Maybe i’ll explain in time” With that Aster turns completely and stops the conversation.

 

The day goes by as Aster explains the basic components of hunting, from habitats to tracking prints and trails, exploiting weaknesses in animals and even goes on to explain about archery and skinning. By the evening Vatra’s head is throbbing with a slight headache from all the information but he decides to head out hunting to see what he can find. He notices the forest is thinner and the oak trees give way to birch and other varieties. As he gets a few hundred meters from camp he notices an unusual track that hadn't been explained to him. Vatra had no idea what it could be. Although he didn't recognize the track itself he could tell the creature that made it had three clawed toes. Vatra felt hungry now and having found no other tracks around he decides to follow it. He enters a crouched sneak and heads in the direction of the tracks. The creature had no intention of hiding it’s tracks and they show up plain as day on the soft forest floor. Occasionally Vatra notices a tree with bare spots on the trunk. As he gets close to one of the bare trees he notices that the bark has been rubbed off and a few red scales are stuck in the tree trunk. Vatra pulls one out and examines it. It is smooth, tough and hard but unusually pliable, like a copper coin. It is blood red and it’s shape is circular except for a small indent around the circumference. The scale is about an inch in diameter. Vatra returns the scale to it’s place in the tree and continues to follow the tracks. As he progresses he begins to see more trees stripped of barks and blackened patches start to appear also. Vatra hears a twig snap behind him and he wheels around. In front of him stands a menacing creature. It is reptilian in appearance and stands about seven foot tall, covered almost head to toes in red scales. It’s mouth is bared in a snarl and inch long sharp fangs run along the muscular jaw. As Vatra watches a bit of saliva falls from the corner of the mouth and springs into flame as it falls. Vatra curses under his breath, this creature doesn't look friendly. The creature utters a hissing noise and as Vatra takes a step back the creature draws back it’s head. Vatra realizes what could be about to happen and jumps sideways landing heavily on his side. The ground where he was just stood bursts into flames just moments afterwards. Vatra rolls and jumps up to his feet drawing his knife. He turns around to face the creature just as it slams into him. A memory flashes in his mind of all the farmhands knocking him down for as long as he can remember and with the rage of past oppression lashes out with his right hand burying the knife into the creatures flank. The creature roars and retreats away from him and proceeds to circle him more cautiously. As Vatra steps to the right the creature cuts him off and Vatra attempts to go left. The two combatants proceed as such for several movements trying to gain the upper hand and cutting the other off. Vatra hears a second hiss behind him and he steps right and pivots to get a better look. Fear hits him even harder as he sees three more of the creatures approaching. Vatra moves to retreat but is backed against a tree. At that moment one of the creatures lunge at him only to have it’s face contort and freeze, then crack. The creature slumps to the ground dead. The three remaining fyoras look around to identify the new threat when an arrow comes from the right and hits the second creature in the temple. The other two look at each other and flee. Vatra looks around for his rescuer and identifies Aster hobbling towards him from his right with a short bow in hand.

 

Aster plants himself in front of Vatra and stares him in the eye.

“Well I give you an eight for finding them... Killing them however not so great. You’re a fool to try and take on a rogue fyora on your own. Seems you have even more to learn now.” With that he turns away and inspects the two dead bodies. He kneels besides the smaller of the two and pulls out a knife. He starts to cut through the skin and then pauses to look up.

“You going to join me today? This is something else you could do with knowing.” Vatra shakes himself and proceeds to kneel next to Aster. Aster carefully explains each action from a large incision from the throat to the groin and then as he proceeds to skin it. He explains how the fyora’s skin and scales are fire resistant and how each organ works. He spends extra time on the purple glands in the throat, these hold the flammable saliva. He cuts one out and hands it to Vatra who was initially squirmish about holding the slimy insides of the creatures although when he takes it he finds it surprisingly dry like old parchment. Aster explains that the saliva of the creature contains high concentrates of a metal that reacts vigorously with water which is why the saliva catches fire on contact with most things. The rest of the lesson goes by explaining about antagonistic muscle pairs in the legs and core body and the main internal body organs. It is clear that Aster has a deep understanding of the creature’s advanced anatomy. With the conclusion of the lesson there results a nice sheet of fyora hide and a bunch of expertly cut meats. Aster finally cuts out several of the tendons and ligaments and stores them in a pouch. With the lesson over they collect the meat and hide and return to camp leaving the other fyora whole.

 

Back at camp they boil some water and cook the fyora meat in a stew. While the stew cooks Vatra asks “What were they?” Aster looks up from the hide that he is cutting up.

“They are fyoras a creation of the shapers. They spit globules of fire like you witnessed. Them ones in particular were rogue and vicious although normally they are created as fighting creations or even pets.”

“They are made by the shapers? But how? and how could anyone keep something so dangerous as a pet?”

“If kept around people and other shapers they are quite timid. The problem with shaper creations arise when they are left alone. You’ll see when we get to town there will be plenty of creations there other than the serviles that you are used too.” Aster replies.

“Serviles were created by the shapers too? I didn't realize how complicated the things they created could be.” Vatra responds in disbelief.

“Yes serviles were created by the shapers and many other things also, the ornks which you farmed, some of the trees in this forest, even some of the tools you use. The shapers are truly the masters of life.” Aster smiles as he finishes.

“I have never thought it possible. I wish i could have been chosen to join them now although no shapers venture this far out” Vatra finishes with a sigh and serves the stew. The fyora meat is tough and rubbery but after almost two days without food he swallows it gratefully. Once finished he rolls over and feels his eye droop from the days events. He slips into a heavy sleep.

 

Vatra’s eyes snap open, he loosens his dagger from it’s sheath as he sits up and looks around. Nothing. With a feeling of unease settling over him he stands up and puts on his cloak and without making a sound leaves the camp. He ranges around looking for a sign of anything that caused him to wake and stumbles once again on the tracks he found the previous evening. Out of curiosity, and stupidity, he starts to follow them quietly but quickly. before long he reaches the place he was ambushed the previous evening. The two dead fyoras are still there once surgically reduced to bone the other as fresh as it was left. Vatra draws his knife and maintaining his curiosity proceeds to practice what Aster taught him about the creatures anatomy. It starts off much the same as he makes the first long slice and proceeds to remove the dead creatures hide. Vatra proceeds on to the throat and glands noticing that they are noticeably larger than the others. As Vatra continues on to the muscles he notices differences in the proportion of some areas of the skeleton. he assumed this creature was simply older than the other but he begins to doubt it as he notices a larger chest and pelvis. As Vatra peels away the last of the abdominal muscles he notices first the stench of day old stomach contents but then as he observes closer he sees an enlarged organ below the stomach. Vatra cuts away the stomach careful not to loosen the contents and slowly excavates the unknown organ. Once isolated and in full view Vatra observes the unknown organ but cannot identify the purpose. In the hope of revealing the use of it he makes a long incision and marvels how the tissue parts easily as if it was stretched over something solid. As he finishes the cut the remaining tissue continues to tear and split and the cut widens over something solid and white. Vatra understands immediately what the organ was it was the fyora’s egg sac. He reaches out and pokes the egg, it feels solid and warm. Vatra thinks back on the fyora’s attacking and thinks immediately to destroy the egg he fumbles around and grasps hold of a rock, raises it above his head and remembers Aster explaining to him about the shapers creations. He returns the rock the the floor and reaches out with both hands to grasp the egg. He wraps it in the hide with some of the meat and quietly returns back to camp as the sun begins to rise.