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| Fractured Shadow; Based on my RP Character, Knifis. | |
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| Topic Started: Jul 8 2008, 08:51 PM (76 Views) | |
| Shadowspaz | Jul 8 2008, 08:51 PM Post #1 |
Official.FAN.Artist
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.F.R.A.C.T.U.R.E.D . S.H.A.D.O.W. Some of you may remember me posting this on GmOv, but... that is no more. So I'm transfering the first three chapters over here. I'd still like criticism!  .C.H.A.P.T.E.R . O.N.E. --- .T.H.E . N.I.G.H.T. Knifis sat, crouched at the apex of a magnificent hotel building, staring out over his kind. He had perched there many times before, yet something felt… out of place. Releasing a heavy sigh, Knifis closed his eyes, reaching out to his surroundings with his mind. He felt the forest of metal before him, protruding from earth’s flesh, the hundreds of people in the building below him who floated through their lives without a second glance. He pulled at everyone’s minds, some watching TV, others eating a late snack. Some were fast asleep, their motives to keep going stolen. He recognized a stray dog’s hunt for survival, and envied him for it. Knifis saw through the hard crusts of the people around him, into their hearts, into their pasts. Many were orphans, their souls torn from them, others lived happy, sheltered lives, and some… “I can’t kill him! I won’t!” “Knifis, if you don’t kill him, I will. And you’ll be next in line!” “No!” “Look what he’s become, Knifis! He isn’t the same person you knew! Kill him!” A gunshot was heard, as if from a distant, waking dream, followed by choked sobs of hatred and loss. Knifis fought back tears as his eyes flashed open. Even though the event occurred many, many years ago, it still pained his as if it happened yesterday. Rising to his feet, he turned swiftly and came face to face with another of his kind. Looking into the newcomer’s familiar eyes, he saw his own pain and fury mirrored back at him, as if taunting him. Knifis sighed, his breath heavy with sorrow, and pushed his way past the newcomer. “You come up here every night, and for what? To relive your bloodied past?” The newcomer’s voice was thick with concern. I… I never wanted to do what I did. They forced me to, they made me what I am now.” Knifis replied with his back to the man. He pounded the button on the wall to call the elevator, to remove him from sight. “If… if she never died, none of this would have happened.” He struggled to get the words out, but he knew that the newcomer’s empathy was genuine. “Come on down to the bar with me. I’ll buy you a beer. Two… no. Three beers. Whatever it takes to drown your feelings.” “Beer doesn’t change the past, Mecks. It doesn’t move my finger from the trigger. And it sure as hell doesn’t bring them back to life.” Knifis proceeded into the gaping maw of the roof elevator as he forced out another pained sigh. “If you need anything, you know where I’ll be.” As he hit the button for the ground floor on the elevator, he called back, “And Mecks?” “Yeah man?” Mecks’s voice had a hint of hope, as if Knifis changed his mind about the bar. “Thanks for the offer. It really does mean something to me.” A grim smile passed over Knifis’s sorrowful expression as the elevator’s jaws closed him off from the world. He slumped over in a corner and sobbed silently until the ding of the ground floor echoed through his mind. As he gathered himself together enough to stand, he murmured to an invisible audience. “They will pay.” Knifis limped down the hallway and fumbled with his key until he managed to summon it from his pocket and jam it into the door. It swung open at his command, welcoming him to the dingy area he called home. The ceiling was a sickly yellow, tarnished from age. The carpet had a disturbing green tint to it as well. An old, worn desk sat in the corner, a flickering lamp perched on its edge. Next to it was a sinister, wooden cabinet, filled to the brim with clothes, trinkets, and the tools of his trade. On the wall perpendicular to it was a cot, hardly large enough for Knifis to sleep on comfortably. A frighteningly unstable-looking shelf clung to the wall to the left of it. At the opposite end of his bed was a small refrigerator, stocked full with various beverages, most of which were alcoholic. Knifis stumbled to his makeshift bed, flicking the door, almost shut, with his worn fingers. He collapsed on the cot, his face buried in its rough texture. As he lay there, not entirely sure if he was awake or asleep, dead or alive, happy or sad, fatigue swept him away. Unaware of his condition, he heard sounds he heard every night, since the one night so long ago. A glass shattering. A woman scream. A man shout. A sickening crack. A deafening roar. A gunshot. And then… silence. |
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| Austin | Jul 8 2008, 08:52 PM Post #2 |
Pathos Reborn
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I love the formatting you did with it. If it connects with the overall theme of the story somehow it doubles in effectiveness. But even now, it is awesome. |
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| Shadowspaz | Jul 8 2008, 08:53 PM Post #3 |
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Official.FAN.Artist
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.C.H.A.P.T.E.R . T.W.O. --- .T.H.E . M.E.S.S.A.G.E. With a groan, Knifis sat up on the edge of the cot. He rubbed the crusted sleep from his eyes, and cringed at the taste of copper in his mouth. He gazed for an extended period at his watch as 1:43am glared at him with its red LED’s. As he pulled himself off the miserable bed, something on the shelf caught his eye. Suspended in an old, bronze picture frame were a man, a woman, and a child, who appearing to be around six or seven years of age. Knifis’s eyes overflowed with sorrow as they lingered on the worn photo. He managed to tear himself away from it, as if waking from a bad dream. The fridge was brought into Knifis’s reach as he lumbered toward it. He snatched the door open, a bit harder than expected, and a loud crack rang through the small room. From here, he protruded several assorted bottles of alcohol and a tall glass. As he mixed the drinks randomly and mindlessly in the glass, a bellboy scurried down the hallway a few hundred yards away, something that would change Knifis’s life forever. The bellboy seemed to be new at his job, as he kept glancing at the numbered doors, halting for a moment, then proceeding to the next row. By the time he reached room 138, Knifis heard the bellboy bang on his door. His response was choking and coughing, his concoction burning his throat. “Yeah?” His voice was raspy and metallic from the beverage. “Is this room rented to a mister Knifis Exeumis, sir?” The bellboy’s voice was frantic and afraid. Knifis coughed again, and groaned. “Shouldn’t you assume that I was asleep?” “Oh. I-I apologize, sir, but I was told that this was urgent, sir.” A hint of panic entered his voice. “Well? What is it?” Knifis was beginning to lose his patience. “A-A message, sir. But, I-I apologize, sir. There was no specified sender, sir.” Knifis couldn’t help but chuckle at how pathetic the bellboy sounded, yet he retained a rigid tone. “Well slide it under the damn door already. And stop saying ‘sir’ so much. You sound unprofessional.” “Yes sir-“ The bellboy noticed he said ‘sir’ again. “I’ll just-” He slid a thin, black disc under the door and ran back down the hallway. As well as Knifis could tell, the bellboy was terrified out of his mind. After he was sure the bellboy was gone, he drifted over to the black disc and hit a button on the side with his toe. A loud humming noise emitted from the disc, and a second later, a translucent, man materialized from the center of it. He was on the thin side of healthy, a wispy, gray beard clinging to his deprived face. His skin was a smooth black, and a cloak covered his head. Somehow, his back supported a massive arsenal of various guns. He spoke with a weak voice. Knifis sat on the edge of his cot with his stinging beverage in hand as he listened. “I am sorry to resort to calling upon you. I didn’t want it to come to this, but I require your… services.” He struggled with the word ‘services,’ as if he didn’t want anyone else to know what he meant. “Oh, ha ha. Last resort my ass.” Knifis’s speech brimmed with sarcasm. He remembered the man. He offered him his “services” once before, yet he joyfully declined. That was before he retired, of course. He took another swig of his drink as the man continued talking. The man never caught wind of Knifis’s swift remark, as he was simply a recording. “Listen fast and listen carefully, for I’ll only say this once.” He spoke the rest of his message slowly and carefully, choosing his words with precision. “We tracked down the agent behind the… shootings before the ‘Incident.’” “What?” Knifis’s jumped to his feet as his surprise echoed endlessly around the small room. His drink splashed all over the already sickly carpeting. He cursed under his breath as he listened more intently than ever before, now standing a foot from the man’s projection. “It was…” The man sighed before continuing. “Agent 01.” “Dammit! Why?” Knifis was now terrified and angry. Agent 01 was none other than Vortiak, the man who single-handedly doomed the human race, and gave birth to the Shades. “Now, we both know your connection to Agent 01, and we have located who he was working for. We need you to come down to our headquarters so we can discuss this in privacy. I doubt you’d want to miss out on this information.” The man grinned as he faded from sight. Knifis was left speechless. How? Why? Who was he working for? An endless string of questions was pulled through his mind, as he paced the length of his room, panting. It seemed obvious to him: He needed to meet that man. His first instinct was to bolt mindlessly out the door, but he caught himself. There were plenty of other men with his talent that were a lot closer, not to mention still in the craft. He was retired. Yet Knifis was chosen. He walked over to his cabinet and pulled out a .357 magnum and his trusty assault rifle. Strapping the rifle to his back and the handgun to his side, he headed out the door, closing it gently behind him. The hallway was narrow, and the ceiling and carpeting were the same despicable colors. Knifis ran down to the middle of the hallway and made a sharp left into the lobby, if even that. It consisted of a few wobbly, stained tables, a handful of school chairs, and a small counter where newcomers could check in and out. The clerk was asleep, her head against the splintered wood. Knifis paid no attention to this as he pressed through the windowed doors, the one appliance that wasn’t defiled in one manner or another. A light drizzle befell the city Knifis knew and cherished. He crossed the street in a hurry and ran up the steps to the third floor of the parking garage; the elevator hadn’t worked in years. The rows upon rows of metallic beasts starred at him innocently, although any one of them could contain the humans he was expecting to ambush him. Knifis found his old wreck of a car in 38-C, just where, miraculously, he remembered it being. The last time he used his car was two months ago, when he took Mecks up on one of his many bar offers. The wheeled creature of aluminum ate his keys and growled as fiercely as always. Knifis grinned. After too many years, he was about to bring the mass murderer behind the ‘incident’ to justice. The sad convertible drifted down the ramps, out of the parking garage, and onto the highway. Back when Knifis was still in his trade, he wouldn’t need a car. His skill and knowledge of the shadows allowed he to jump across rooftops, run faster than his car could, and practically meld with the darkness around him. Driving down the road at this hour made him… almost happy. Yet he knew he couldn’t let his guard down. He had a suspicious old man to meet with. As he neared the off-ramp, a gunshot pinged through the eerie silence, and the car pitched forward and to the left. “Crap.” Knifis knew an ambush would be set up. As the car continually rolled forward, he back flipped six feet in the air. At the apex of his leap, he pulled his rifle off of his back and shot into the night. The flash gave him enough light to see a bush rustle, so he stowed his rifle away, pried out his handgun, and cocked it as he landed, light on his feet. Knifis surveyed his surroundings. To his left was a medium-sized field, leading to a corner store. A few bushes were in front of it, but no trees. To his right was the highway, abandoned, save for a few loners out for a drive. A bullet ricocheting off the back bumper of the convertible was all the insight he needed, and he sprinted across the black field towards the suspect area. He leapt into the starless sky and shot a single bullet, straight into the back of a cloaked man. The ping of metal on metal struck Knifis as something he should have expected. Startled, the man whipped around and shot a well-aim cap at Knifis’s left eye, yet it only impacted against the brick wall behind them as Knifis cocked his neck at an angle, easily evading the shot. The next instant, he kicked the man in the knee, pulled his arm behind his back, dislocated the man’s elbow, and took his weapon. A groan of agony resonated off the wall, as he ran off as fast as he could with a damaged leg, his own gun pointed at his head the entire time. However, before he could get too far, Knifis hurled the man’s gun at the back of his head, knocking him out cold. “I can’t kill anymore,” was Knifis’s only response to his unfathomable deed, his voice sounded used and tired. Knifis stored his weapon away, the worst thing he could have possibly done at the time. By the time he realized the possibility of there being more than one, it was too late. A bullet found its way to the outer right edge of his ribcage, and he collapsed in terrific pain. The rifle was forced off his back as he collapsed against the wall, and he instinctively caught the weapon. Regardless of how much damage was dealt to him, he remained as still as possible, attempting to convince his attackers that he was dead. As expected, his plan failed. He heard the click of a handgun and the sneer of a man. A human. Before the shot could be fired, Knifis shot the man in the shin, as it was the only target he could hit without moving from his current position. The unexpected attack threw the human’s aim off, and the bullet grazed Knifis’s left thigh. Pain coursed through his body in the form of a brief spasm before he tripped the human with his good leg. With his attacker on the ground next to him, he thrust the rifle to his throat. The human’s breathing noticeably quickened. “How many of you are there?” Knifis forced the question out past the pain he endured. The intruder remained silent. “How many, human?” He thrust the rifle into his throat again, harder. A choked squeal seeped past the human’s lips. “Th… th... three…” The man grinned. He knew Knifis only reached two of them, himself included. The final one could be the end for Knifis. “Dammit!” He wouldn’t kill the man, but he felt that he had to knock him out, for safety’s sake. Knifis swung the rifle up over the man’s face, clubbing him on the top of his head. Now with two humans unconscious and one in hiding, he believed his life to come to a close soon. “Come out, coward! I’ve been shot twice! Finish me!” He yelled into the unforgiving night. The only response was a chirping cricket. “Reveal yourself!” He looked around frantically before pulling himself onto his good leg and deciding to go hunting for his own death. After a moment, Knifis noticed a body lying in a bush, shot through the throat, clipping his jugular. This confused him to no end, until it struck him. His initial shot with the rifle after leaping from his car hit the third man, who was perched on the roof of the shop at the time. The rustling bush he saw was the body landing in it. Relieved, Knifis dragged himself, slowly and agonizingly, to his car. He could care less that it only had three operative tires; he was shot twice and had bigger problems than a flat tire. In addition to his other problems, he could no longer operate the gas pedal. A solution came almost instantly to his mind as he pressed the butt of his rifle against the smooth piece of metal. The rest of the drive to the headquarters was relatively uninteresting, except for the occasional pang of suffering in his ribs and thigh. For that stretch of road, only one thought bounded around his mind: He had a mysterious old man at HQ to kill. Knifis knew where “Headquarters” were, simply because he’s been there before. He attempted to join the guild of his craft, yet it was that same man that declined him. He said that he was too good, and that his name was too well known. This would cause a lot of people, humans, to come after the guild, bloodthirsty to avenge the deaths of thousands. And so, Knifis operated independently of the guild. He came to join, and many years later, he came to kill. The car slumped up the slope to the door of an old, run-down shack. It was supposedly run by a old barkeeper, but this was just a muse invented by the guild to prevent the government from demolishing it. This wouldn’t be a problem if the government was infiltrated by Shades, but it was too well guarded. At the time, several Shade cities dotted the US, as well as everywhere else. These were impregnable, due to the warriors and assassins that protected each one. If humans got in and out, an assassin was sent after them. Knifis threw open the door and limped inside. His thigh pain had subsided slightly, yet burned like none other if he used it. His ribs still stung, and Knifis was sure that at least two were broken. Around him were a handful of creaky tables, cold metal barstools, and a long, splintered counter lining the right side. An empty wine rack sat calmly behind the counter, its hundreds of empty eyes watching Knifis mournfully. He bounded toward a small, dark stairway on the opposite side of counter, and descended down it as quickly as his injured leg would allow. After taking three turns in the rickety old staircase, he came to an old wooden door. It swung open at his command, welcoming him to black metal halls, doors lining the sides. Dim lights flickered overhead every hundred feet or so as Knifis proceed down the eerie hallway. At the end of the hall were two great doors; he knew the old man would be on the other side of them, awaiting his arrival. But then again, maybe not. Maybe he expected the humans to successfully finish the deed assigned to them. As the doors swung open, his .357 magnum in hand, Knifis sent an array of bullets at the silhouette, standing at the opposite end of the room. He grinned, seeing that the silhouette was no longer there. Just as he was about to leave, he felt a gun press against the back of his head. “Welcome, Knifis.” |
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| Shadowspaz | Jul 8 2008, 08:58 PM Post #4 |
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Official.FAN.Artist
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.C.H.A.P.T.E.R . T.H.R.E.E. --- .T.H.E . F.I.R.S.T . A.S.S.I.G.N.M.E.N.T. Knifis was dumbstruck. The man holding him at gunpoint should be dead. “How?” His voice was startled, weak. The man grunted. “So it’s true. You really are retired.” He surveyed Knifis in the dim light. “What happened to you?” “What happened to me?” Knifis was furious. He considered elbowing the man in the face, but the cold cylinder of metal against the back of his head kept him still. “Your human henchmen nearly killed me! That’s what happened!” The man furrowed his brow. “My henchmen? I sent no henchmen.” Knifis felt the metal release from his head and instantly fired a bullet at the man’s skull, nailing the door behind him. He evaded it with such ease that he looked bored. “Well, for starters, stop trying to kill me. I’m obviously more powerful and more agile than you are in your current state.” He began pacing around the long, black table in the center of the room, elegant chairs encompassing it. “If humans were sent to kill you, they know about our meeting. This is not good. We must hide,” He looked Knifis up and down, flinching whenever his eyes scanned over a wound. He raised a bushy, gray eyebrow. “And you must heal.” Knifis didn’t know what to say. Years ago, this man didn’t want anything to do with him, and now he was his highest priority. “Why are you helping me now?” “Because…” The man stopped, concentrating on finding a suitable answer. “You are the only one with the skill and motivation necessary to avenge your parent’s deaths. Well…” He thought back to Knifis’s poor attempts at killing him. “The skill will return, but you can’t be retired for it to do so.” He shot Knifis a somewhat friendly smile and walked briskly out the door. “Come. We will get those bullets removed for you.” Knifis followed him down the hallway, to the best of his ability, yet fell behind immediately. “Hey!” His yell was hoarse. The man looked back at him and raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m sorry.” He chuckled and walked at a slower pace. Knifis was lead through the fifth door on his right, down to the end of the identical hallway, through the door on the left, into the elevator on the right, and down to the eighth floor. From here, they walked down the hallway, just like the others. The entire time, an awkward silence sat comfortably between the two. Knifis broke the silence by asking a spontaneous question. “What’s your name? I know everyone calls you ‘sensei,’ but you must have a name.” His response was simple, yet discomforting. “I have no name.” He spoke harshly, as if he wanted no one to know of his identity. They entered the ninth door on the right, where a woman with long black hair, skin the color of charcoal, and a slim body awaited him. “Knifis Exeumis. Didn’t expect to see you back here so soon. And definitely not in such a condition.” She had a friendly enough voice, yet she felt… strangely hostile towards Knifis. “I’ll be back in the conference room,” the old man mumbled to Knifis as he wandered out the door. “Yes, well… desperate times call for desperate measures. And being ambushed by three humans qualifies as desperate times for me.” He grinned as he laid back on the surgery table, which was black and glossy. The woman spawned a colorful laugh. “Well, let’s clean your wounds, shall we?” She smiled brightly as she shoved a pair of tongs into Knifis’s thigh and extracted a red case of metal. Pain shot up and down his leg as he shouted in agony. The woman inspected the bullet, set it down on a tray, and dabbed a damp cloth against his leg. “Well, you’re not as durable as you once were. I suppose Sensei will fix that for you? “What?” The question caught Knifis off guard. “Y-Yes. I hope. Did he tell-“ he stopped in mid-sentence, choosing not to reveal what the old man told him. It was too precious a piece of information for others to know about it. “Nevermind.” He shouted again as the woman began probing about his ribcage. A look of concern crossed over her face. “Not good. Three ribs broken, and the bullet is nowhere to be seen.” She lowered a bulky machine over the chest wound and scanned the area. After a moment, she flashed another smile. “Ah! Here it is!” Tongs jumped from her hand to his chest, pulling out another deadly cylinder. She grinned, holding it to the dim light, amused by the way the light reflected off the blood. All the while, Knifis was holding back screams of pure pain. “Time to mend some bones!” She seemed all too excited by it. For a moment her back was to Knifis, rummaging through random tools, some of which he had never seen before. “Aha! Found you!” She plucked what appeared to be an electric drill out of the heap and held it over the blooded area. After the initial startup hum, a red light blasted Knifis. The glow felt soothing to him, something he definitely did not expect. On the monitor still positioned over his chest, the bones glowed red as well. They moved and twisted, as if guided by a supernatural hand, into their positions prior to the inferior attack. The sight of this horrified Knifis, yet he felt minimal pain. By the time he was healed, the only remnants of his injury was the blood soaking his shirt. “Now, I could only do that cause no muscles were torn. For your leg…” The woman gave Knifis a concerned look. He noted something alarming: No smile. She turned around again, and after a minute, protruded a spray bottle of a blue fluid from the disorganized pile. She sprayed his thigh, watching in amazement as the muscle twisted together, the skin melting back into place. Knifis, on the other hand, nearly passed out from the pain. “Try it out!” The woman was back to smiling brightly as ever. Knifis stood on his good leg, and cautiously, extended his left. It touched the ground with nothing more than a hint of stiffness. He slowly put weight on it, and was awed by how normal it felt. He smiled calmly at the woman, and startled her with his lack of appreciation as he headed out the door. “You’re welcome, Knifis.” She called to him with a touch of annoyance. “Thanks!” He yelled back as he walked down the hallway, as enthusiastic as he could muster. By the time he realized he was lost, he was three doors away from the woman’s lair. “Now, let’s see…” He mumbled curses to himself, as well as bits and pieces of information he took in on his path down. A good thirty minutes later, he was back in the conference room. “Thanks for the help getting back here.” The man ignored all of the sarcasm sent flying his way. “Yes, well… if you’ll be living here for a while, it’s best that you learn your way around.” His back was to him, just as it was when the attempted murder took place. Horror clouded Knifis’s face. “No… no. I can’t stay here. I have a life now! Not a good one, but a life that isn’t centered around death!” He slowly backed out of the door as he spoke. “Well, this is backwards. Instead of you begging to join, it’s the other way around.” The man chuckled. “Besides, how will you get back? Your car is a wreck now, and they’ll be waiting for you.” “Wait…” Knifis felt that the situation was worse than it was. “I thought you said they’d be coming here.” Caution poured out of his throat. “Correct. Look around.” The old man gestured around the room, where seven humans, clad in black, lay dead. “I lost you down there for your own protection.” Knifis couldn’t help but grin. It was pure genius. “Now, let’s play the game we assassins play. It keeps the reflexes sharp, the mind alert, and the individuals involved entertained.” He stood from his chair, walked around to the side of the table, and pressed a button on the side. The mahogany wood split apart in the middle, revealing a grid, the intersecting lines illuminated by green. At the touch of another button, a translucent city sprang from the grid. After a third press of a button, Sensei sat down in his chair at the other end of the game as two men, one red one black, materialized at opposite ends of the table, proportionate to the city. “The goal is simple: kill your opponents, or, in this case, opponent. Control him with your mind. After all, it is you.” The man waved his hand lazily, and began to explain more in-depth. “The more involved in the game you are, the more realistic it becomes. First, you will share your character’s sight. Then hearing. Next thing you know, you feel the ground under your character’s feet. You will not, however, feel the pain.” He smiled calmly at that. “The name of the game is focus. Without it, you are useless. The more you focus, the more becomes available to you.” Upon closer inspection, Knifis noticed that the red man standing at his side shared his physical properties. He understood the game well enough, but couldn’t wrap his mind around the control. He thought about walking forward, and, to his obvious amazement, the character walked forward. He concentrated as hard as possible, hoping to gain his character’s sight, and was soon immersed in the projected world before him. When he took a step forward, however, his focus broke and he was transported back to his own body. After several experiments, he got the hang of grabbing for his handgun, his rifle, and all the basic movements. The game had begun. Seeing a ladder next to his character, Knifis sprinted up it to the roof. Grabbing hold of a cable nearby, he slid down the length of it to another building. Jumping from roof to roof, he neared the far end of the city. Because it was virtually impossible for him to share sight and movement together with his character, he had to stop and look around occasionally. By the time he crossed paths with Sensei, he was more than ready. He hopped from wall to wall, nearing the ground behind the opposing character. With a triumphant feeling, he flipped off a wall behind the target pulled out his rifle, and… At that moment, Knifis flinched. It felt as if a piece of his mind just went missing. “What happened?” He was confused. Sensei just smiled. “You died.” Knifis’s anger got the best of him. “We’re sitting here playing a stupid game, while I could have already killed the man behind the incident. This is ridiculous.” He slammed his fists against the table, causing parts of the city to flicker, and rushed toward the door. “Your mother.” It was all Sensei said, but it was enough. Knifis stopped in his tracks, turned around, and sat back down. “What do you know, old man?” Knifis demanded the information locked away in his mind. “She’s connected to all of this. I’ll explain, but you must stay with the guild and train. You need to reach your potential again before you can avenge your family.” “Where do I begin?” Knifis was eager, determined to find out how his mother was connected to it all. It was a dramatic switch from the anger and confusion that clouded his mind moments ago. “You must complete your first assignment.” The statement was incomplete, yet Sensei said nothing more. After waiting out an excruciating period of silence, expecting more, Knifis responded. “Which is…?” “This game… it’s more than a game. It contains your first assignment.” The old man still refused to say what it was. “What is it?” Knifis grew agitated. The man looked up, grinned, and said calmly: “Defeat me." |
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| Austin | Jul 8 2008, 09:07 PM Post #5 |
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Pathos Reborn
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Interesting situation that you put Knifis in. Quite interesting indeed. I have no real huge complaints with this chapter, the length was quite good, and you are able to keep the reader immersed. It might be a bit brief, but on a forum like this, I kind of enjoy using my head to picture things more than letting the story do it for me. That's personal preference though. Nice job, rating this 4.5/5 due to personal tastes, keep up the good work. |
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| Shadowspaz | Jul 8 2008, 09:55 PM Post #6 |
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Official.FAN.Artist
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So I should really add length to them if I want to publish this, correct?
Edited by Shadowspaz, Jul 8 2008, 09:55 PM.
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| Austin | Jul 9 2008, 08:25 AM Post #7 |
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Pathos Reborn
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I am assuming yes, because depending on how long your story is, you may turn out with less than 100 pages once you're done. Add things that might help the reader understand the story, or things that will thicken the plot or otherwise make the story more interesting. |
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| Shadowspaz | Jul 9 2008, 04:27 PM Post #8 |
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Official.FAN.Artist
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Meh. I might add length, or I might just have a lot of short chapters. I'm shooting for at least 100 pages. But if I do both... I'd have a nice sized novel. We will wait and see... 
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| The1Kobra | Jul 9 2008, 04:31 PM Post #9 |
The Deputy of Common Sense
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Nice story, the one thing that I'm a bit confused about is what Knifis is, or at least what species. It is implied he is not a human, but I would at least like some physical description, and what he is. Other than that, it's a nice piece of work that draws the reader in as if he saw through the main character's eyes. |
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| Shadowspaz | Jul 9 2008, 04:34 PM Post #10 |
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Official.FAN.Artist
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YES! IT WORKS! I will never actually say what he is until Edit: Well, not the end. More around the middle. Edited by Shadowspaz, Jul 9 2008, 04:36 PM.
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-----------------------"Impossibility" is simply the limits of the human mind.----------------------- | |
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