| 05-22-2005, 01:47 AM | #1 |
Chapter One: Waking Up Without Clothes... and Skin too. He awoke to the sounds of churchbells. His eyes were still shut when he felt something ice-cold on top of him. He pushed it up, still without opening his eyes. When he pushed the cold object, more cold objects fell atop his back, and he realized he was buried in something. Possibly his bunkmates. He couldn't remember the battle the night before, but he was waking up in the same way. But this time was different; when he opened his eyes from annoyance, he was startled. He tried to scream; nothing came out. He tried to open his eyes wide; they hurt horribly. He was buried in dead bodies. He looked at his arm, which was merely a bone covered in the rags of the dead. He was mortified, and jumped up. Finally he was able to speak. "Ashti ankh genyyt!" For some reason, his language had changed without him knowing so. His ears hurt horribly, and he spoke again. "Ugh, my ears!" He realized where he was. He was at the bottom of some sort of crypt. He was speaking Gutterspeak, the language of the dead. He thought to himself, "What if I'm in Hell? Did I die? What happened last night?" At the words 'last night', he suddenly remembered what happened. His poor captain and all his soldiermates; they must be dead now. All because of Colonol Garrison. Garrison sent them on a useless suicide mission. He ordered them to patrol the southern border to check on the other patrols; whom, of course, were all dead when they found them. They were ambushed by ghouls, and their bodies were recovered by a meat wagon. They were all dead, except for our little protagonist here, Erris. When Erris was brought back and realized to be alive, he was tortured for information before he was brought down to the lower chambers of the graveyard building by ghouls. He was then faced with a busy necromancer. The necromancer turned and said, "Leave me alone! I'm working! Take the potion and leave, please." He wasn't very patient; apparently the ghouls had adminstered him a vial of the plague. The plague created magical regenerative properties inside the bone marrow, which destroyed the skin, muscles, and organs. However, the body was reanimated. "Ohh, you be just on time, ladee!" Said a tiny, chirpy voice, coming from upstairs. "I was just about to burn the whole lot of you in case the potion was a dud." The other skeletons looked about as well, and had the same reaction of shock Erris had. One, he recognized as his captain. He was relieved, to the extent of a skeleton. He leaned forward to realize he had a mohawk. He looked at the gravekeeper with the chirpy voice, and glared at him. The gravekeeper put on a delighted smile. "I do that sometimes." He tried to mat the hair down, but couldn't. His captain was worse though; gargantuan red hair-spikes stuck from his head. He was about to begin his tale as a 'darkman', as the paladins called them. __________________________________________ Chapter Two: The People in the Glades Although his body ached, he was able to move. He was certainly not used to the sound of bone against bone lest it be in battle, which horrified him then too. When he moved, he made a slight scream. He got up and moved towards the stairs. The cryptkeeper walked with him. "The Vial of Undeath rarely works. It only works on the few destined to be darkmen. Be honored, ladee." "Oh, I am very honored." He said sarcastically. The cryptkeeper led him up the stairs. He brought him up the stairs as if he was an old woman. Erris felt like one, he was very weak. He was, however, pleasantly suprised when he reached the top of the crypt. He looked upon the densely-forested glade beyond him. It didn't have any blight on it; in fact, it was a beautiful place. But that didn't mean an unnatural darkness was upon them. "Where am I?" He stated rather darkly through a nearly closed mouth. "Why, yer in Tirisfal Glades. Nicest part of the undead lands, in my opinion, mate." The cryptkeeper didn't look like an intelligent fellow. He must've been undead for a while; it sounded as if he was knowledgable about the dark lands. Suddenly, Erris's captain crawled up from the crypt. He jumped atop the cryptkeeper. "KILL ME, KILL ME!" Erris pushed him off and yelled at him. "Stop! That won't help. We're stuck like this, and taking the easy way out won't work! We've got to accept what we've become. We'll find a way through this, but there's no changing things now!" Erris spoke strange words of wisdom he hadn't thought about before. They came naturally, as if all darkmen knew this. His captain stared into space and his mind began to listen to reason again. Erris did the same. *** "He has potential." Two figures; perhaps acolytes, or maybe fellow darkmen, were watching Erris fight zombies from the window of an abandoned home. The village had been taken by the plague; but when they didn't turn into darkmen, they turned into mindless zombies. That's why they burn the dead who don't turn into dark-men. "Has he realized what's going on yet?" "What, with the war? Probably. It'll be a matter of time till the darkmen are turned into meatshield by the acolytes. And this guy could be on the front lines." "Yes; he seems ignorant. Keep watching. See if he can kill the corrupted animals too." Erris had been sent to cleanse a town of the Mindless after the acolytes had infected the entire village. It was quite a mess, but Erris was up for the job. Erris dodged swiftly as the dead swarmed him. He knew how to fight zombies; he had been taught in the Alliance military. Never let them sourround you, and make sure you aren't slowed down by anything. Speed is key. The floor had become littered with heads till the point where the zombies were tripping over them and breaking limbs. Erris, a masterful swordsman, jabbed back and forth, removing the heads of the dead with a pair of short swords in either of his hands. But something distracted him from the slaughter of the Mindless. He had noticed two men covered in runic robes staring at him from the window. He was becoming more merciless every day, more like the dead, and planned to beat them without a weapon for spying on him when he was done. But something had made him focus on the Mindless suddenly. Several dogs, bleeding from the mouth, were running towards him. He made a loud battlecry, and ran towards them sword drawn. One dove on top of him; it lost it's head soon after with a quick swipe of his sword. He wrestled another and rolled on top of it. another quick swipe of his sword removed it's bottom half. He suddenly realized that the Mindless were sourrounding him, so he pulled his eyes (or whatever he saw with) up. He pushed a dog off him, and ran through a good chunk of the zombies, taking limbs and heads with him. He looked back up and decided it was time to try something new. He pulled his hands into a ball and put them together. He let out a fierce battlecry and his hands burned a demonic purple. He pounded the floor, and a white light flew in all directions. The dead were... dead again. He then proceeded to walk inside the building with the two men and walked to the top floor, where he saw them. Nothing. He searched the house again; nothing. They couldn't have left without my knowing so, he thought to himself. He slung his sword across his back and ran back to the clearing where the crypt was in the glade. As he approached the clearing, he saw another dark event going on at his home. _______________________________________________ |
| 05-22-2005, 02:16 AM | #2 |
Because he forced me to do it :P, here's another review. It's just a quick review because I gave you a longer one on your other post. Heh. Writing Skill 17/20 Character Development 10/15 Creativity 7/10 Descriptions 9/15 Grammar 10/10 Flow 7/10 Tilt 16/20 Overall 76/100 |
| 05-22-2005, 02:23 AM | #3 |
what my inner nerd was screaming while reading this: SHINANIGAN! why: reminded me of the ghouls diary. reminds me of alot of things. overall: 7/10 |
| 05-23-2005, 04:46 PM | #4 |
Guest | I saw two good ratings yet. But, I don't want to seem harsh, this is totally unfinished. I don't mean that it has no ending, because it's a chapiter 1, but that the text you posted so far is almost ridiculous. There is a nice story and script idea yet, but you achieve it badly. Take your time, read again and again, think that I need a whole week to post a good story usually. |
| 05-26-2005, 02:31 PM | #5 |
The purpose of criticism is to convince the author to make the story better depending on how you liked or disliked the story. That criticism did not outline what you disliked about my story, thus there is no basis for calling my story bad. In fact, most of your criticism is illegitimate because you are far too critical without sufficient reason. |
| 05-26-2005, 03:06 PM | #6 | ||
Guest | Actually, my rating said it: Quote:
And I already said it: Quote:
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| 05-26-2005, 07:38 PM | #7 |
Cliche. Define cliche. I notice you blam most stories as cliche. Most aren't. It's near impossible to write a story without external influences, as I noticed when you wrote the story about some guy forgetting a button on his doom-device. I don't want to flame. It's rare I flame. I flame because I disagree. If I feel an extreme need to disagree, I do so. |
| 05-26-2005, 08:04 PM | #8 | |
Quote:
Don't bother, you'll never be able to convince someone as arrogant as him that he's not perfect. Look at his title, what did you expect ? :/ |
| 05-26-2005, 08:19 PM | #9 |
Guest | Well, Dorelian is right there, and so are you stoner peon, I should have defined cliché. I will do it if the 2nd part continues the same way. Right now, I don't have time to read and rate your 2nd part, but, depending on how it is, I may completely change my mind. |
| 05-26-2005, 09:25 PM | #10 |
Pshw, it was a little joke I made with John. He was supposed to be "The Number Two Writer." I just posted the second one. |