"Be Valiant"
PostPosted: Sun Apr 18, 2010 1:14 pm
Hello everyone! I've been trying to write a story for some time now, and I'd like to share with you what I've got so far. I'll post a little more here as I write more, usually one or two chapters at a time. Constructive criticism is highly appreciated.
In terms of content, there is violence, but it doesn't step into bad taste; it's nothing worse than a typical anime fight scene. Also, this is a fantasy story, so there will be magic, faeries, etc., but I will NOT include demons or anything like that, in case you're worried that I would. Lastly, I don't plan on any cursing being in the story, but I will mention things like "he swore".
Now, enjoy!
_________________________________________________________________
The novel you hold in your hands recounts a tale of treasure hunters turned heroes and their crusade against villainous madmen of evil intent. Betwixt these pages lie dragons and clockwork humanoids and flying machines and monsters among other fantastic things. With gun and magic and argyk, the heroes must face horrible foes and their darkest nightmares to achieve peace, gain respect, win hearts, and, most importantly, rescue the world.
Oh, and there’s a ring involved. It is most important to keep the ring separated from the paragraph above, for it is not a magic ring, nor is it a piece of cleverly disguised technology, nor was it passed down through ten generations of kings; it was mundane. Ordinary. Boring. Yet that very ring changed Karmelex.
My name is Lucas Alan, and I’ve been associated with the Knights of Guiler for seventeen years now. Allow me, if you will, to be your narrator as I guide you through the first couple of those years…
Chapter One: Down and Out in the Mundane Kingdom
If I were to pinpoint exactly one point at which my life changed forever, It’d be impossible, but if you forced me to say, I’d choose May 2nd, 1654 (Parpian Calendar). It was almost six o’clock, which was roughly the time one group of guards’ shift ended and another’s began. Some of the other guards and myself were enjoying a bite of food or a drink of some sort in Central Guiler’s own Topaz Town Tavern‘s first floor. In fact, aside from the barman, the only people on the floor were members of the guard. It was a particularly warm evening, made only warmer by the fact all of us guards were in uniform: white breeches and a long sleeve red jacket with Lightside’s stately symbol, a war hammer encircled by thorns, stitched on the back in gold thread. Why the uniform was the same year round is beyond me, but I digress. Outside it was bustling as always; street vendors were hawking their wares all along the cobbled stone streets, people conversed as they walked and observed the canal that ran parallel to the street, and several automobiles carried their passengers to wherever they need be. The sky was orange, not a cloud in the sky, so the tavern master had left all the lights off, as the light coming in from the glass door and the windows was sufficient. It was a very lively, attractive, desirable evening.
Forgive me; I’ve just lied to you. The evening was not desirable, nor attractive, nor lively. Also, none of us were really enjoying our food or drink. There wasn’t a peep in the bar, save for the song on the radio behind the counter. I believe it was by the group Blazedrop, but that’s beside the point. The point is, all I was interested in as I drank my mint soda was the time; I just wanted to get out of the bar and finish these rounds. My last rounds to be precise.
“Coo-coo! Coo-coo!” rang out the clock on the wall. I jumped up from my seat immediately and tried to make it for the door; I didn’t want another pity party from the other guards. I had almost reached the door when the door slammed open and Captain Sting made his way in. The Captain was dressed in the same uniform as us, only his uniform was adorned by a ridiculously large, gaudy medal. To this day, I haven’t the foggiest how he obtained it. He says that he fought off a revolution, but the last revolution in Lightside was over a century ago and he was four or five years older than me, making him twenty-seven or twenty-eight. For purposes of this novel, I’ll refer to it as his Decorative Cake Making Award.
But again, I digress. Anyway, the Captain looked like he was a teenager, and a particularly scrawny one at that. No one dared say it to his face because his fighting prowess rivaled that of a dragon. “Everyone,” began the Captain in his trademark booming voice. “Get to it!” I began to resume my path to the door, but the Captain said as I had my foot through the doorframe he said “Lucas, you stay,” he said. My fellow guards just kept on walking. Gee, thanks.
As soon as the last person left out that door and the barman went in the back room again, Sting began to speak after remaining silent. “Sit, Lucas,” he said. “Captain, I-” I began to say before he interrupted me. “Sit!” Sting commanded violently. I complied, needless to say. “How long have you been in service to the guard, Lucas?” he inquired. How long have you been asking pointless questions, I pondered. “Seven years,” I responded, not wanting to leave the bar with broken bones. “Must you go? I can offer you a twenty percent increase in pay,” he said. Hold the phone: Sting’s capable of an emotion that isn’t anger or vanity! “I’m sorry, but I need more than that,” I responded. “Hm,” Sting uttered looking sad, “Just hand in your gun and uniform to one of the guards when you’re finished with your rounds. For your years of service, we’ll send your medal in the mail.” Oh, goody; now I can be a decorative cake maker too!
With that we both left and began to patrol the city for any crimes or suspicious activity. I’ve read many pulp magazines about city guards, but none of them really captured what it’s actually like to be a guard; there are far more guards in real life. Even though argyk exists in almost every story, as it does in real life, you need many, many people to ensure that nobody’s setting fire to buildings with the power of their mind, telekinetically launching people across town, or freezing over the canals just by looking at them. Nevertheless, it was just like any other night, no problems whatsoever.
It was a particularly slow evening. Well, slower than usual. Every time I’d pass one of the other patrolmen, they’d sort of look all somber and just stare at me. It didn’t exactly make me feel better that I had killed all of their mirth by resigning, but, once more, I digress.
The sun looked like it was fixed to one place, but as time moved on, it grew dark. The only thought I could think was what would I say to my family when I got back home to Bravetown. A twenty-three year-old man begging his parents for money and a job didn’t sound very becoming, so I tried to make myself sound as professional as possible as I went over the conversation in my head. Little did I know that I wouldn’t be seeing my family for quite some time.
It was nighttime and my shift would be done in one hour. It may sound clichéd and ludicrous when I say that one small event can change your whole life (and it may sound even more clichéd to point out that it sounds clichéd), but it’s true. My father became a millionaire because the circus was passing through Aksala when he was a kid. For me, the little silver ring on my finger…
“Sorry man,” a man said as he bumped into me. It was too dark to make out his face, but for some reason he kept on running full force, not even stopping when he made contact with me. I am not a moron, so I knew when a seedy man bumps into you at night, he most likely stole something from you. I checked everywhere on my person as I began to run, pursuing the possible thief. Nothing was out of order, so I stopped just short of catching up with him, but that’s when I noticed that my silver ring was missing. I should’ve just let the ring go; it wasn’t even real silver! I, however, being an idiot, let the sentimental value of the ring get to me, and I began to pursue the thief again. He was already far ahead of me, but it was a clean, clear shot between me and him. I whipped out my arm and began to focus. My arm glowed purple and I thrust both arms outward. I had created a wave of telekinetic force and it was rapidly speeding toward him until BAM! It made contact!
The thief fell to the ground and I caught up with him. I took my ring off his dirty fingers, and, now that we were under the white glow of the street light, I could see that he was a red faerie, with white hair and a small frame.
I bound the thief’s arms and legs and lifted him up over my shoulder. An easy task made easier by the fact he was a faerie. Just as I began to move away, ready to take him to the HQ, I could hear swearing and yelling from the alleyway, and man after man after man after man poured out of the alley. There were at least twenty men surrounding me, all looking angry. I could see that their arms were glowing with argyk in various colors, and most of the men were faeries. They had guns and switchblades and I knew what I had done: it appears I had apprehended a Blip gang member right out side their local hideout. And thus began the first of many encounters with the Blips, other criminals, madmen, revolutionaries, and much, much more.
In terms of content, there is violence, but it doesn't step into bad taste; it's nothing worse than a typical anime fight scene. Also, this is a fantasy story, so there will be magic, faeries, etc., but I will NOT include demons or anything like that, in case you're worried that I would. Lastly, I don't plan on any cursing being in the story, but I will mention things like "he swore".
Now, enjoy!
_________________________________________________________________
The novel you hold in your hands recounts a tale of treasure hunters turned heroes and their crusade against villainous madmen of evil intent. Betwixt these pages lie dragons and clockwork humanoids and flying machines and monsters among other fantastic things. With gun and magic and argyk, the heroes must face horrible foes and their darkest nightmares to achieve peace, gain respect, win hearts, and, most importantly, rescue the world.
Oh, and there’s a ring involved. It is most important to keep the ring separated from the paragraph above, for it is not a magic ring, nor is it a piece of cleverly disguised technology, nor was it passed down through ten generations of kings; it was mundane. Ordinary. Boring. Yet that very ring changed Karmelex.
My name is Lucas Alan, and I’ve been associated with the Knights of Guiler for seventeen years now. Allow me, if you will, to be your narrator as I guide you through the first couple of those years…
Chapter One: Down and Out in the Mundane Kingdom
If I were to pinpoint exactly one point at which my life changed forever, It’d be impossible, but if you forced me to say, I’d choose May 2nd, 1654 (Parpian Calendar). It was almost six o’clock, which was roughly the time one group of guards’ shift ended and another’s began. Some of the other guards and myself were enjoying a bite of food or a drink of some sort in Central Guiler’s own Topaz Town Tavern‘s first floor. In fact, aside from the barman, the only people on the floor were members of the guard. It was a particularly warm evening, made only warmer by the fact all of us guards were in uniform: white breeches and a long sleeve red jacket with Lightside’s stately symbol, a war hammer encircled by thorns, stitched on the back in gold thread. Why the uniform was the same year round is beyond me, but I digress. Outside it was bustling as always; street vendors were hawking their wares all along the cobbled stone streets, people conversed as they walked and observed the canal that ran parallel to the street, and several automobiles carried their passengers to wherever they need be. The sky was orange, not a cloud in the sky, so the tavern master had left all the lights off, as the light coming in from the glass door and the windows was sufficient. It was a very lively, attractive, desirable evening.
Forgive me; I’ve just lied to you. The evening was not desirable, nor attractive, nor lively. Also, none of us were really enjoying our food or drink. There wasn’t a peep in the bar, save for the song on the radio behind the counter. I believe it was by the group Blazedrop, but that’s beside the point. The point is, all I was interested in as I drank my mint soda was the time; I just wanted to get out of the bar and finish these rounds. My last rounds to be precise.
“Coo-coo! Coo-coo!” rang out the clock on the wall. I jumped up from my seat immediately and tried to make it for the door; I didn’t want another pity party from the other guards. I had almost reached the door when the door slammed open and Captain Sting made his way in. The Captain was dressed in the same uniform as us, only his uniform was adorned by a ridiculously large, gaudy medal. To this day, I haven’t the foggiest how he obtained it. He says that he fought off a revolution, but the last revolution in Lightside was over a century ago and he was four or five years older than me, making him twenty-seven or twenty-eight. For purposes of this novel, I’ll refer to it as his Decorative Cake Making Award.
But again, I digress. Anyway, the Captain looked like he was a teenager, and a particularly scrawny one at that. No one dared say it to his face because his fighting prowess rivaled that of a dragon. “Everyone,” began the Captain in his trademark booming voice. “Get to it!” I began to resume my path to the door, but the Captain said as I had my foot through the doorframe he said “Lucas, you stay,” he said. My fellow guards just kept on walking. Gee, thanks.
As soon as the last person left out that door and the barman went in the back room again, Sting began to speak after remaining silent. “Sit, Lucas,” he said. “Captain, I-” I began to say before he interrupted me. “Sit!” Sting commanded violently. I complied, needless to say. “How long have you been in service to the guard, Lucas?” he inquired. How long have you been asking pointless questions, I pondered. “Seven years,” I responded, not wanting to leave the bar with broken bones. “Must you go? I can offer you a twenty percent increase in pay,” he said. Hold the phone: Sting’s capable of an emotion that isn’t anger or vanity! “I’m sorry, but I need more than that,” I responded. “Hm,” Sting uttered looking sad, “Just hand in your gun and uniform to one of the guards when you’re finished with your rounds. For your years of service, we’ll send your medal in the mail.” Oh, goody; now I can be a decorative cake maker too!
With that we both left and began to patrol the city for any crimes or suspicious activity. I’ve read many pulp magazines about city guards, but none of them really captured what it’s actually like to be a guard; there are far more guards in real life. Even though argyk exists in almost every story, as it does in real life, you need many, many people to ensure that nobody’s setting fire to buildings with the power of their mind, telekinetically launching people across town, or freezing over the canals just by looking at them. Nevertheless, it was just like any other night, no problems whatsoever.
It was a particularly slow evening. Well, slower than usual. Every time I’d pass one of the other patrolmen, they’d sort of look all somber and just stare at me. It didn’t exactly make me feel better that I had killed all of their mirth by resigning, but, once more, I digress.
The sun looked like it was fixed to one place, but as time moved on, it grew dark. The only thought I could think was what would I say to my family when I got back home to Bravetown. A twenty-three year-old man begging his parents for money and a job didn’t sound very becoming, so I tried to make myself sound as professional as possible as I went over the conversation in my head. Little did I know that I wouldn’t be seeing my family for quite some time.
It was nighttime and my shift would be done in one hour. It may sound clichéd and ludicrous when I say that one small event can change your whole life (and it may sound even more clichéd to point out that it sounds clichéd), but it’s true. My father became a millionaire because the circus was passing through Aksala when he was a kid. For me, the little silver ring on my finger…
“Sorry man,” a man said as he bumped into me. It was too dark to make out his face, but for some reason he kept on running full force, not even stopping when he made contact with me. I am not a moron, so I knew when a seedy man bumps into you at night, he most likely stole something from you. I checked everywhere on my person as I began to run, pursuing the possible thief. Nothing was out of order, so I stopped just short of catching up with him, but that’s when I noticed that my silver ring was missing. I should’ve just let the ring go; it wasn’t even real silver! I, however, being an idiot, let the sentimental value of the ring get to me, and I began to pursue the thief again. He was already far ahead of me, but it was a clean, clear shot between me and him. I whipped out my arm and began to focus. My arm glowed purple and I thrust both arms outward. I had created a wave of telekinetic force and it was rapidly speeding toward him until BAM! It made contact!
The thief fell to the ground and I caught up with him. I took my ring off his dirty fingers, and, now that we were under the white glow of the street light, I could see that he was a red faerie, with white hair and a small frame.
I bound the thief’s arms and legs and lifted him up over my shoulder. An easy task made easier by the fact he was a faerie. Just as I began to move away, ready to take him to the HQ, I could hear swearing and yelling from the alleyway, and man after man after man after man poured out of the alley. There were at least twenty men surrounding me, all looking angry. I could see that their arms were glowing with argyk in various colors, and most of the men were faeries. They had guns and switchblades and I knew what I had done: it appears I had apprehended a Blip gang member right out side their local hideout. And thus began the first of many encounters with the Blips, other criminals, madmen, revolutionaries, and much, much more.