Posted: Mon Mar 17, 2008 3:52 pm Post subject: Prolouge- for a story with no name as yet
Prolouge
Kenzer
Enganthia
Thursday, June 13th, 1843
“Send Fourth Shod Regiment over the the left flank, quickly. I’ll support you with heavy artillery.” Lieutenent General Bernard Kestler shouted to one of his aids, “Move, quickly!”
“Sir, enemy cavalry have broken through the center and their troops are pouring into the city!” one of his aids shouted.
Soon a young boy, who couldn’t be more than thirteen rushed into the town hall that the Enganthian higher-ups were using as a headquarters, “Sir, message from General Sheridan.”
“Go ahead, Ensign.” Kestler said turning around.
“He says that the enemy has broken through and that enemy grenadirs are pouring into the city heading straight here.” The young man said.
Before Kestler could reply one of the Colonel’s on his staff turned to him, “Sir, enemy troops have reached the rear of the city and are attacking north. They’ll be on the Royal Family within moments.”
Kestler stood silent for a moment, “Major, get over there and get them out of here, go!” A major rushed off to evacuate the Queen and her daughter. Kestler continued to think for several moments, while the sounds of battle grew louder, “Send messages to all the brigade commanders, tell them to get the hell out of here!”
Kestler’s aids nodded and went to quickly writing small notes to send out with the young messengers to get to the Brigade Commanders, who were trying to at least stall the enemy troops who were trying to get into the city and after the Queen. This invasion had been launched from Falorm with such speed that the Enganthian troops didn’t have time to re-act. Most of them were still on their way to the capital, though their orders were now to abandon that and make it to Fort Brockner in the southern end of the country.
A girl looked up from her mother’s arms, as she heard the sounds of battle growing closer. The girl’s red hair looked as bright as the sun against her mother’s pale skin, “What’s going to happen to us?” The young girl’s brown eyes looked tired from crying and exausted from the amount of moving they’d done after the enemy forces had captured the capitol of Alenda.
“Don’t worry, we’ll be safe. Besides we have Magnus with us.” Queen Bleowydd said gently.
The young girl set her head back on her mother’s bossum just as a great comotion was heard downstairs. Two men rushed up, shortly after. One of them was wearing a dark blue coat with tanish facings, cuffs and collar , called “buff”, with brass buttons. On his shoulders were two silver eppaulets. His knee-breeches were slightly dirty and his boots were scuffed. His silver sword knot, which hung off the hilt of his sword was ratty. The man next to him was wearing a long brown over-coat, which hid a special weapon which hung off his belt. His hair was longer, and a bit curled, but not as long as most of the military officers and no where near as well kept. His boots were brown, his knee-breeches were white, and his long over shirt was also white.
“You’re majesty we have to go, now.” the man in the brown over-coat said.
“What’s going on?” Bleowydd asked as she stood up and set her daughter on her own two feet.
“Enemy troops are behind us, we must leave the city! Our forces are surrounded.” The Major said.
Another man walked briskly in from another room. He wore the same brown robe as the first man. His hair was much longer, and much better kept than his companion’s. His boots were also brown, but a bit more heavy duty. His knee-breaches were a dark brown, and his over shirt was white, “I agree your majesty. You’re not going to do our people any more good here.”
Bleowydd nodded, “Prepare our carridge.”
“As you wish Ma’am.” The major said walking back down the stairs.
“Any word from your fellow Kari-Voshka?” Bleowydd asked.
“Not as yet, your Majesty.” the man with the longer hair said.
Before Bleowydd could answer, the sound of shooting could be heard below the building. They man with the more unkept hair walked over to the window and looked down, “Falorm troops, Master.”
“How many?” the taller man asked.
“A company at least.” The first man replied.
“Your Majesty we need to go.” The Master said.
“Master, we have larger problems then the Grenadirs.” the first man said with a tone of caution.
“I felt it too.” the Master said.
“Felt what?” Bleowydd asked.
“Lord Krieger.” The Master replied, “Marcus, take the Queen and Princess Gretchen out of here.”
“What are you doing, Master?” Marcus Arthros asked.
“Someone has to slow Krieger down.” The Master said, “Go.”
Marcus picked up the young red-haired girl and motioned for Bleowydd to follow. He paused a moment and turned when they reached the top of the stairs, “Master, good luck.”
The Master bowed slightly and shrugged off his brown robe and sat down in a meditative state. He waited, patiently, his legs crossed waiting for his advesary to arrive. He detatched his weapon from his belt and held it in his hands. It looked like a silver cylander with a green jeweled button. Inside however were a series of steel tubes that would slide together with a press of the green button. To a normal person that was all it would do, but to the men and women of the Kari-Voshka , the weapon would connect to them. It could feel the user’s life energy and that made the metal tubes become surrounded with a colored energy. The color would depend on what role the owner filled. To a Master or a Guardian it would appear green, to an apprentice or warrior it would appear blue, and of course to those who practiced dark magic it would appear like a shadow and be a dark grey. The weapons were also a tool with which the user could channel their magic through. These chosen people were the keepers of the light magic. Passed down through generations they had become in touch with this invisable world around them. It gave them special abilities, including the ablity to feel other keepers of that magic, and slight forsight.
A tall man in a black robe walked up the stairs. He wore black knee-breeches with silver buttons, tall black boots, and a black over-shirt, though normally he wore a black coat with black facings trimmed in silver with silver buttons. His hair was long and jet black, and was tied back in a pony tail which was allowed to hang free, unlike the style of the era which was to wrap it in a black ribbon. He walked up the stairs, while his soldiers took up security postings around the building. A couple of them shot at three people fleeing for the local stable.
The tall man continued up the stairs where he found the Kari-Voshka Master sitting in his meditative state. The tall man dropped his long black robe and reached for his weapon. Dilan Yelyus, the Kari-Voshka Master, continued to sit in his meditative position, not even so much as flinching to his opponents’s prescence. The tall man, who was the Lord Krieger, that Magnus was referring to, pressed the dark button on the handle of his weapon. The metal pieces shot out and a slight flash was seen before a dark haze decended over the weapon. Krieger narrowed his eyes at Dilan as he prepared to swing his weapon to sever his head. As the weapon came forward and almost made contact, Dilan rolled forward with the blow, the weapon swinging harmlessly over his head. He rolled up onto his feet and turned on his own weapon, a green haze covering his.
The two warriors glared at each other for a moment before Krieger made his move. He swung his weapon down in a circular motion that Dilan was easially able to block. Dilan made the next move and swung his weapon up and swung down at Krieger’s head. Krieger blocked it and quickly moved his weapon to the side and knocked Dilan’s to the side. Dilan followed his weapon and spun around with a side slice that Krieger blocked. Dilan kicked Krieger in the side sending him off and splitting the two of them up. Dilan rotated his weapon in his hand and went back to his ready position while Krieger glared at him.
The two once again glared at each other, slowly circling. This time it was Dilan who moved in, swinging his weapon to the side. Krieger and the two closed on eachother. Dilan gripped Krieger’s wrist so that he couldn’t move his weapon. The two stood locked together, until Krieger head-butted Dilan, which broke the two apart. Krieger followed up with an overhead swing and a kick to the center of Dilan’s chest. Dilan staggered backwards a bit before regaining his balance and standing in his ready position.
This time Krieger came in with a different move. He had rotated his weapon in his hand, so that the aura surrounded cylenders lay back paralell with his forarm. This was called the Scorpion Grip and was only used by Masters in the Magic Arts. Krieger swung his weapon at Dilan, who brought his own weapon up to blocked infront of him. He then raised his arms up so that his weapon went paralell with his back, blocking Krieger’s next move, which was aimed at his back. Dilan pushed Krieger’s weapon to the front before elbowing him in the face.
Krieger stepped back. His eyes flamed with anger as he moved back in, his moves coming a mile a second fueled by his anger and hate. This was the power of the Black Arts. Everything was based on anger and hate and passion. That’s what made the Black Arts so appealing and much easier to follow than the ways of the Kari-Voshka. Krieger continued to swing his weapon and Dilan continued to block it. His brief forsight made him able to block Krieger’s lightening fast moves. The two slammed their weapons together in an “x” above their heads. Each pushing slightly against the other, until Krieger pushed Dilan’s weapon to the side and before Dilan could even react, Krieger swung the weapon at neck level. The energy being produced by the Dark Magic which gave the weapon it’s shadowed haze, made the cut through Dilan’s neck easy, and severed Dilan’s head. The Kari-Voshka Master fell to the ground. The green haze from his weapon faded and the stone fell out of the handle and the cylander’s returned into it. No one would be able to use Dilan’s weapon again. _________________ “Fixed fortifications are monuments to man's stupidity.” ~General George S Patton Jr.
Hmmm, since I haven't posted in a while, I might as well take a stab at critiquing this. Bare with me, I'm rusty.
Although the dialogue in the beginning was a little hard to follow, the way it opened up, in that rash, fast-paced manor, it felt as though it was in total sync with the rest of the piece.
The fight scene, to be frank, was riveting. Breaking into it like you did made it feel like there was a definite sense of duty to it all. Then came the actual meat of the package. And how juicy and succulent it was!
Breaking in with snippets and hints at things to come, it was wonderful. The mysticism and mystery presented by these two, seemingly accustomed, men fighting tooth and nail, and the way they seemed to know each other!
Obviously, in a prologue, there should be an aura of foreshadow, but that was taking it, beating it over the head and saying "DO WHAT YOU'RE TOLD MISSY!" and you pulled it off with outstanding efficiency!
I don't know if that's what you were going for but it works.
Long story short, the beginning could use a little work, but the middle and end of this scene are phenomenal, as I'd expect from you.
There's actually quite a bit more to this prolouge, so stay tuned! Because of our "2 pages to intro work" rule I wasn't able to post as much as I'd like, however the next chunk will have the rest of the prolouge in it. :) I hope you enjoy the rest of the prolouge as much as you enjoyed this part.
Thanks for your critique! I'll take a look at the beginning of it and see what I can do to tweek it a bit. _________________ “Fixed fortifications are monuments to man's stupidity.” ~General George S Patton Jr.
Okay, mostly grammar issues. I will print out a copy of this and "red pen" it so I can go over it in person.
Speaking of red: do not over state anyone's hair color, especially with red heads. You didn't do too horribly, but I winced at the comparison to the sun a little. Maybe I'm just jaded by all my years of reading about magical and special girls with red hair that shines like the sun.
You also really don't need to tell us the young girl's eye color. I would not go up to someone and ask them why their brown eyes were crying.
As much as I appreciate the detailed clothing description, I don't think that level of detail is needed. Just a few of the details that would have been picked out to tell the difference between one character and the next in the panic of it all would be enough. Leave some of it up to our imaginations!
As far as I can tell, the 'young girl' is the only 'girl' other than the Queen, so there is really no reason to call her "the red haired girl" once the fact has be established.
In general, I think your biggest down fall is telling too much. You can save us some suprise. For example, you did not need to describe what happens when the Kari-Voshka use their weapons until it happens.
All in all, I think it is a great start and I agree with most of what Cadeau said. It is intriguing and I do want to hear more, there is just no reason to get excited and tell us all the cool things right up front. _________________ Everywhere I go I find that a poet has been there before me.
~Sigmund Freud~
Krieger hit the button of his weapon causing the shadowy haze to disapear and the cylander’s to return into the handle. He picked up his black robe and walked back downstairs where his troops were waiting. Another Kari-Voshka had been killed.
Magnus paused a moment and grabbed his heart. Bleowydd looked at him concerned, “Master Magnus, are you alright?”
“I just felt a horrible ripple through the White Arts.” Magnus replied, “I fear something horrible has happened.”
“MOMMY!” Gretchen practically screamed as a group of black uniformed Grenadiers rushed around the corner.
“Gretchen, get back!” Bleowydd shouted.
Magnus grabbed his weapon and hit the blue jeweled button. The cylander’s shot out and a blue haze encompassed it. Though it was obvious that it wouldn’t do anything, Magnus was ready for a one on one fight. Bleowydd pulled a sword from her belt and stood ready. The two of them were drastically outnumbered, and it wasn’t made any better when another squad of them rushed around the corner and entered the small square they were in. Gretchen shrunk behind the wall she was hiding behind as her mother and her body guard prepared to fight for their safety.
“Make ready!” one of the black coated officers shouted. His men raised their muskets up to the ready position.
“Present!” Fifteen muskets were pointed at the trio in the square.
“FIRE!” the roar of muskets crashed through the square as a billow of smoke emitted from the ends of the fire-arms. Musket balls hurreled towards their targets, and most of them struck home. At this range it wasn’t hard to hit the black uniformed men who were trying to kill their Queen.
“Form a circle around the Queen, quickly!” A young man, who couldn’t be more than twelve shouted. His blue uniform, with red facings fit him baggy. His sword was in his hand, but it was more like a short sword to the adults. His shoes were worn and his white stockings were full of holes. His red sash was worn and shredded into several pieces. His hat was missing and his dark hair was dicheveled, and several strands of it had been pulled out of the black ribbon that held the pony-tail.
A group of soldiers in blue coats with red turnbacks, cuffs and collar rushed over and formed a half circle around their queen. Their fourteen-inch bayonets, which were red with the blood of the enemies they’d slain earlier that day. They stared at the company of black uniformed men waiting for them to attack. The young man rushed up inbetween Bleowydd and Magnus.
It was a moment, a moment of absolute anticipation while the soldiers of Enganthia waited to see what their invading enemy would do to try and cut down the royal family. Most of them figured they’d fire a volley into them, but what they didn’t know was that this company of enemy had run out of amunition. They formed a line and advanced with their bayonets fixed. The blue coated men of Third Company, 2nd Valoreen Regiment were ready to take whatever attack their enemy wanted to give them.
The black uniformed soldiers charged into the ranks of the men in blue coats with red facings. Bayonets thrust foward into bodies and blood spattered on the stones of the square. The young man batted a bayonet away with his sword before cutting his enemy, giving an older man time to slam the butt of his musket against the man’s head.
One of the black uniformed soldiers lunged himself at Gretchen who had emerged from her hiding place to be near her mother. As the bayonet lunged towards her all she could do is freeze in absolute terror.
“GRETCHEN!” Bleowydd shouted as she turned and saw the man heading for her daughter.
Before the bayonet could puncture the skin of Gretchen’s pale neck a blue blur went by, knocking the weapon out of the direction of the princess. As the young man landed on the ground the enemy soldier finished his thrust, straight by the young man’s cheek, cutting it deeply with one side of the blade. The young boy looked up at the enemy soldier as he prepared to thrust his bayonet into the young officer. Before the man could actually build any forward momentum into his thrust, his head fell fell off his shoulders. The young boy looked up to see Magnus standing above the decapitated body with his cylindrical weapon in his hand. It’s blue haze covered the cylenders as Magnus held it. The young boy stood up and turned in time to see Magnus running off towards a large group of black uniformed soldiers who were dragging Bleowydd down an alley.
“Magnus! Get her out of here!” The queen shouted, “GO! Get the hell out of here!”
Magnus turned towards the young princess who was still petrified at what she was seeing. The blue coated soldiers had held off their enemy, but a full evacuation of the city had been ordered, it was time for these soldiers to get out of the city.
“Second company, prepare to withdraw!” The young boy shouted as he stood up, his face defient as ever.
The blue coated soldiers slowly backed up, their bayonets glistened red with the blood of their enemy. They formed a semi-circle and moved back slowly facing their enemy. These men were brave indeed. While other units had simply turned and fled in the face of their enemy, these men had stayed and fought and defended their Queen and Princess. All under the command of an annanomous twelve year old Ensign who had taken command after their Leftenent had been killed.
Magnus grabbed Gretchen and headed out of the city, cylindrical weapon glowing in one hand, child in the other. He rushed out of the city, heading west. Truth was he didn’t know what way he was heading, as long as it was away from the black uniformed soldiers who were trying to destroy them. He met little resistance as he continued through the woods and within a couple of days, over the border between Enganthia, and Reyarth. It was nearly a week before Magnus found what he thought was a good home for the young princess, but time would tell a different story.
Alenda
Capitol of Enganthia
Saturday, June 15th, 1843
Crowds gathered, woefully, into the city square where the crudest invention had been errected. It was a bed, however one end had two long boards nailed to it vertically These were runners for the large blade that hung high above. It was the latest execution machine. The blade was connected to a rope, and when the rope was released, the blade came hurrling down decapitating the victum in the bed.
The crowd gasped as a tall woman with hair a bit deeper red than Gretchen’s walked out onto the balcony of the palace that over looked the town square. Her dress was a deep red, which set off her pale skin. Her nails were as red as her dress. Her cold grey eyes scanned the crowd. She was of adverage build, but no one could say she was unattractive by any means, however her nature had been compared to that of a angered rattlesnake. She was evil encarnate, this was Severina, Queen of Falorm and now Enganthia. She was cousin to Queen Bleowydd, though neither would admit their relationship to eachother with any enthusiasm.
A man who probably towered at six feet, four inches, walked up behind her. This was the same man who had struck down Dilan in the city of Kenzer two days earlier. Krieger’s uniform had changed a bit. Instead of the black over-shirt and robe he had been wearing durring the battle, he now wore a black coat with black turnbacks, and silver trim. The buttons were also made of silver, and he had two large gold eppulets on each shoulder. Hanging from the left shoulder to a button on the left facing was a braided silver chord. He wore a black waistcoat with silver buttons and black knee breeches with tall black boots. On his belt hung the handle of his cylinder weapon. This was the enforcer of all of Severina’s laws and campaigns, not to say that she couldn’t do it herself, but why should she when she had a perfectly good warrior working with her?
“Bring out the prisoner!” She shouted. Her voice pierced the silence. It was high and shreeking, though for some-reason full of joy.
Several tall black uniformed guards, wearing tall helmets brought out a defient woman wearing a black corset over her well formed body. Her black hair came down to the middle of her back. Her black skirts, were a bit torn, but this woman still looked like a Queen. She held herself high and proud as she walked through the streets, bound in irons. She proved that she had not been defeated just because she has been captured and her country had been captured and her people enslaved and executed.
The guards led her up to the platform of the machine that would end her life. Her people cried as she had passed them. Some threw flowers, some attempted one final touch of their Queen before her life was ended. Now Bleowydd stood on the platform staring eye to eye with Severina, who gazed down at her with a very amused look in her eyes. The two stared at eachother while the guards got the machine ready for her.
“I hope you’re ready to die, my dear cousin.” Severina said almost with a girlish amusement, “Put her in face up.” her tone turned back to her normal commanding voice before turning back to amusement, “That way you’ll be able to get a good view. We wouldn’t want to deprive you of any of the fun.” She smiled wickedly.
Bleowydd was laid down in the bed of the machine. A board was raised and her head was put so that her neck rested in a hole which would prevent her from moving. She stared up into the sky, looking at the metal blade which lumed above her. Her face showed no emotion except that of a proud woman. The only thing that worried her was, what had happened to her precious daughter? What had happened to Gretchen? She trusted Magnus to get her to safety and that alowed her some comfort in her final moments.
“Ta Ta, dear cousin.” Severina said practially giggeling, “Sleep well.” She dropped her hand and with that the rope was released and the blade came speeding down to sever Bleowydd’s head from her body.
In reality the event only took a matter of seconds before Bleowydd’s head ended up in a basket, but to Bleowydd it seemed like an eternity. She thought back to when she’d first met her husband and how special he was, she thought back to when Gretchen was born, she thought back to all the happy times in her life, each of them flashing for an instant, but long enough for her to remember them fully. It seemed the saying about seeing one’s life flash before their eyes as they die was true after all.
As Bleowydd’s head fell into the basket below her people turned away, feeling a piece of them torn out. The mother of their country was now dead and they were damned to a life of terror and tyrany. It seemed there was no hope for the people of Enganthia any longer.
Severina turned and walked back into the room she had exited to get to the balcony, “Lord Krieger, we have a small problem.” she said walking over to a painting of her mother, which hung on the wall.
“I’m listening, Majesty.” Krieger said, his voice was much lower than most people expected.
“The Kari-Voshka,” Severina said, “They are the only thing left thtat can challenge our rule in this country! I want them exterminated!” Her last statement was one of pure hate and made the walls shake as she bellowed it out. Her voice became lower and much more of her usual demanding, evil self, “I want you to hunt them down, one by one if you have to,” She slowly walked towards Krieger slowly moving her black cane up her hand, “I want every single one of them dead!” She shouted the last word and hurled her cane into the throat of her mother’s portrait.
So entered the dark days of Enganthia. Their Queen was dead, a tyrant had siesed the throne, their elite magic wielders were nearing their deaths, and their army was defeated. No one knew where Princess Gretchen had ended up, or if she was even alive, which over the years Severina used to her advantage by convincing the people of Enganthia that she was dead. Dispite what she told people on the outside world, she never stopped hunting her second cousin. Soon the machine that had killed Queen Bleowydd had killed over six thousand people with more dying every day. Lord Krieger hunted down and killed all the Kari-Voshka, securing Severina’s rule of Enganthia. _________________ “Fixed fortifications are monuments to man's stupidity.” ~General George S Patton Jr.
<i> “I just felt a horrible ripple through the White Arts.” Magnus replied, “I fear something horrible has happened.” </i>
As I know your influences, I think I can safely say this line is practically plagerism. The sentance structure itself is nearly identical to "A disturbance in the force" and substitution does not save you from being a severe copy cat.
As with the first part, I am so "red pen" correcting a copy of this for you. I sincerely hope that I am not coming off as cruel, I just want to help you make this the best it can be.
It is also worth noting that you are giving the weapons far too much screentime. Yes, they are cool. We got that the first time.
"blue coats with red turnbacks, cuffs and collar"
Again, you tell us too much!
Really, you need to watch that, it is your greatest writing vice. If you give too much detail it is practically an insult to your reader's imagination. This is true for costumes, hair color, skin color (I am quite sick of the words 'pale skin'), weapons, magic, ect.
I promise you, readers do not need constant reminders or over loaded descriptions. I suggest revising what you have before you throw more story at us. Don't jump the gun without revising this section.
_________________ Everywhere I go I find that a poet has been there before me.
~Sigmund Freud~
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