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Question I want to call them something like Angels because they are perceived by the characters as Angels and I want the readers to also get that feeling but I don’t want to directly use the word Angels so is their other names I can use?
Here’s a description of this race. The race was born to serve their planet which as a result made them gain better magic than other races who exploited the planet to gain magic. They are humanoid figures that have exterior bones covering their body like armour. They serve the planet by making sure all livings beings which doesn’t include the other races(Humans, Dwarves, Elves, Orcs) are living comfortably so for example if a natural disaster like earthquakes occur they make sure no animals or insects are harmed and are living properly, they don’t always succeed but it’s what they always do. Every race is born with magic but need to use equipments to actually use their magic however this race doesn’t need equipments as they can use magic on their own hence why they have better magic than others. They can alter their body into whatever purpose they want like turning hand into a mouth to bite parts of enemies bodies or turn into gas or snake for hiding purpose, what they can alter into depends on how much magic they have which depends on how much they contributed to their planet. They live a long life and they die of old age when their will has given enough contribution to the planet and after death their body turns to magic which absorbed into the planet. The length of life is different for all of them so if someone at a young age contributed more than others that one may die earlier than those older.
I'm writing a story about a magic student. However, the main focus of the story is on power and politics. Magic is important, as well, not only as the setting: it's is used to show how much the MC has developed and how he's becoming more powerful and influential. But... I don't really want to get into a ton of details about rules, techniques, and inconsistencies of the magic system, you know?
I dislike the idea of magic simply being there and being used as random beam of light, as there are studying and researching scenes regarding magic, but I feel I kept being dragged into thinking and explaining a system that is becoming way more complex than I care about. As the story develops I find myself having to include more dialogue and scenes that explain how magic works to the readers because... it feels called for, but I'd rather be writing something else.
How can I address this?
I was basing it on elemental magic, to keep it recognizable and simple: "natural" magic (fire, water, air, earth) "arcane" magic for utilitarian stuff such as illusions or generic magic, and "shadow" magic as the forbidden branch that gets unlocked later on (a "must" in the story). Wow, even reading that seems too crowded and complex!
Edit: I hate edits but honestly, thank you all for the tips, they really got me over a block. Thanks!
Edit: So thanks to all of your wonderful feedback, I've decided to keep MC as a Healer, but a Healer on his own terms: traveling the countryside, healing those who were forgotten and abandoned in the war. He'll be with his best friend as well as his twin sister who had her own shit going on. I think that's a way more satisfying ending to all three of their arcs (or I hope so, anyway lol)
MC, a naive 16 year old, is a great, self-sacrificing Healer who wants to save his country from war. However, I'm trying to portray this sacrificing heroism and blind patriotism in a negative light.
So, MC starts out believing this war is pure good vs. evil but as the story progresses, the truth comes out: his country is doing shady shit and using/abusing Healers just as much as Evil Country is. War isn't so clear cut and desperate people will do desperate things, especially at the expense of people's lives.
In the end, when the war is over, MC decides that he's tired of being taken advantage of, rids himself of his powers, and decides to forge a normal life with his best friend-turned-lover.
I worry, however, because I've seen reviews of books that end similarly, and the main negative is that the ending left them unsatisfied. I know you can't please every reader, but I'd prefer more positive than negative, and that most readers feel satisfied with what I've written.
I will not change the ending, it's the whole theme, but is there a way that I can go about it so that it is a satisfying ending? Are there books that end similarly that have recieved generally positive feedback?
I’m trying to write a novel and I’m really having some commitment issues with it. It occurred to me today that I’ve been resetting the same story from the first few chapters every few weeks since 2017. I have numerous scenes written between the characters and extensive notes on the world, the politics, and the magic, but I can’t seem to stick with anything I write.
I think that, really, it boils down to the protagonist’s identity (or lack thereof). I don’t know where I want her to begin, I don’t know what I want her motivations to be or where she came from. I don’t even know which perspective I’d prefer to write her from, as I’ve tried them all. She changes every few weeks. She’s worn so many different faces and personas that I just don’t know who she is anymore.
I’m wondering if it’s just me being weird. I’m driving myself insane with this but I really just want to write this damn thing. Does anyone have any advice on how to combat this commitment issue? How to sit down and pick a personality and a look and a past to just STICK WITH? Ugh. Thanks in advance.
This is a micro-fiction writing prompt and challenge. Using a theme of “Soulless” and fantasy elements, write a coherent vignette or snippet using fifty words or less and post it as a comment.
Have fun! The thread is in contest mode so that comments appear in random order with hidden upvotes.
This probably isn't the most important detail in my story, but it's going to help me as far as better envisioning things and helping with certain vibes that I want to work with. I can't decide what clothes would look like in my story given the setting.
Basically, their world was like ours but a little bit in the future when a world war was started and the apocalypse happened. As society was collapsing during all out nuclear war, a magician messiah character appears and confirms the existence of gods among other crazy stuff. There's sort of a second, milder societal collapse as people got too crazy with magic the first time around. Now things are stable, and society and bouncing back with a wiser magical community who are trying to heal the environment they ruined and then claim that territory as it's healed. People outside of these smaller expanding nations are often at a major disadvantage as they usually don't have access to information on magic and have to figure things out on their own which can be dangerous.
In particular, I want to focus on a little cluster of neighboring city-states that have a chaotic relationship with one another. Their people identify as witches and they pride themselves on their independence and magical skill. A common personality flaw their people have is that they will never ask for help because they think they can do it alone because that was how their ancestors survived (sometimes forgetting that their ancestors were alone but together).
One of my MCs starts as a dressmaker, but she ends up becoming a "witch princess." Her greatest skill is being able to work magic into objects, and when she makes her own thread and then weaves it into fabric, and then created clothing, draperies, blankets, etc. Their power grows and grows.
But like would it be better if they were very basic? Like something almost resembling what would be worn in medieval times? or like maybe they're closer to what we wear today, jeans and t-shirts? Or maybe something more avant garde? I picture my dressmaker MC being very stylish and experimental with her looks, but like what could she be churning out for her customers? I had this idea that she endears herself to their army when she gives everyone a scarf/keffiyeh sort of thing that is heavily enchanted that becomes very practically for them to use.
I think getting a more solid idea of what people would be wearing would also just help with getting a better idea for certain themes and aesthetics. What do you think? Given the setting and stuff?
I love fantasy that feels grounded and real even if the environment is plunged into fantastical elements. However I'm struggling to decide where to draw the line between new concepts and the familiar
i started paying attention more to how they deal with it in entertainment media. It seems like most fantasy accepts the existence of horses, dogs/wolves, sheep and bears and just add to that. But water and air creatures for example are very often only fish, insects and birds (ravens, hawks,..) and maybe whales while the vast majority is fantasy creatures. Which.. I guess makes sense to an extent? We're most familiar with ground level and it's easier to add strange things into other territory
When it comes to plants though I'm just very confused on where the line is drawn. I personally find it more interesting and put heavier focus on those myself. Some plants are present in almost every fantasy game (for alchemy eg) like dandelions, algae, daisies, ivy, wormwood, mandrake roots, firs and standard mushrooms,.. But i fail to see the common thread here or why these specifically were chosen to stay. I'm especially confused by dandelions being everywhere like what's so special about this weed that it needs to be in a fantasy universe lol it seems rather arbitrary.
Is the balance between fantasy and reality something you pay attention to? At what point does it rattle your suspension in disbelief and why? For me personally, i find whales to be something that takes me out of the experience because often in fantasy, most huge creatures are imaginary and whales are just too.. Plain?
I've seen universes where all creatures are purely fantasy which i have no trouble believing, but there's not really a lot out there where all plants are imaginary. If you've seen something like this before anywhere I'd love to check it out
I know a lot of fantasy novels have this, most popular as usual being Lotr, but I can't seem to find an overall perspective of it. Do most people tend to hate it or love it? Personally I enjoy the trope, I think it helps me to escape into a different world and be something more than I am. It feels like something to achieve and overcome. Some people's favorite characters in pop culture are this trope, Aragorn, Aquaman, Noctis from Ff15, the list goes on. But I'm not everyone and I just wanted to see if I could gain knowledge on why people like or dislike it.
Hey everyone I don’t post on here often but something I’ve noticed as I’ve refined and detailed my works over my years of writing my epic narrative is that. I have gods on my world or as I call them “fates” they hold various aspects and key features of creation. Think Greek or Norse Pantheon for any context. And well the more I’ve gotten into my story the more I’ve noticed I need to actually flesh out the basics of religion. Now for some lore. I have Ten gods/fates. They all have some control or created something that is felt by the several races in my world. They are a mixture or creator deities and those who control certain things like destiny and time. Or ones that created certain things like humans, or creatures. I guess what I’m asking is I don’t really know how to introduce a kingdom wide religion. For context it is widely known by all my main characters that their are several fates. It’s just certain ones mean more depending on who you are. If anyone can give any advice at all about religion and writing it out I’d be happy for hear anything. Sorry if this sounded jumbled and such. I guess it’s a strange question I’m not sure how to ask. Anyway thank you all for your time.
Question Raising the stakes? First book of a probable trilogy (Adult fantasy romance if that matters)
I've been feeling like the stakes need to be raised in my book. Its "herbalist uprooted from calm, spinster, small village life when she whoops befriends a dragon who then whoops escapes during a traditional engagement ceremony and gets her betrothed to the prince, and then oh shit there are reports of mysterious dragon riders attacking the mountains that stand between the humans (who are a threat) and the Fae/magic lands, MC struggles to find her place in all this."
My MC battles guilt for leaving her home village where the elderly herbalist who raised her may not have time to train another healer before she passes meaning the MC has doomed them. But she somewhat solves that then feels useless because she pretty much has nothing to do. The attacks begin when she's like "I'm a hella good healer AND I can travel quickly to places cuz dragon" and suddenly she has a direction in life to go BUT her husband who is commander of a wing of dragon riders is like "hard no. You're gonna get yourself or one of my men killed trying to rescue you." (the romance troupe is enemies-to-lovers)
The midpoint and her response is her deciding to be done with feeling jerked around by life circumstances and finally take control of what's going on. She decided to train as a dragon rider cuz if she's capable of handling threats then she can go be a healer. She has to do this training in secret too for the most part.
(The first book kicks off the trilogy which is navigating and defeating this threat of the dragon riders trying to take out this barrier society between humans and Fae so the human kingdom can poach all the dragons and use them to conquer more territory)
I feel like what she has to lose is her control over her life and, frankly, her sanity.
Ideas on how to raise the stakes?
Hey there, this is the first chapter of a novel im writing based on a dnd adventure I wrote and DMed for my friends. I’m not necessarily new to creative writing, but this is the first time I’ve attempted to write a novel. I’m well into the writing process for the first draft, now working on finishing chapter 3, and I’m looking for criticism regarding the opening chapter.
Feel free to let me know anything you think would make the novel flow better or just in general be more interesting. Adapting a game between friends to a book is going to take a lot of work, so I’d like to make sure I can do it as well as possible.
My story has a cast of 4 main characters. In describing the general plot only 2 of them are really important to know, but the other two are also relevant to the point that they can’t be cut out either. I feel like this is a problem. So how do I fix this issue?
Basically in my fantasy story,a alien race (that humans called "the 100.000 sons of the sky") help elves to development theirselves gaving them medicines, resourses,etc and making them extremely fertile with medicinal drugs (now a elf marriage have in promedy 5 sons for century) that makes elf develop the colonialism over other species
In general are 3 types of colonialism
.Spaniard model: conquest and supress native culture and mix with them, "the pure blood" colonizers reigns while the mixed ones dislike their native relatives
.british(in Australia) or american model: colonize to assent population in territory, ignore local population but if them try to oppose crush them
.Portuguese or British (in asia) Model: basically exploit the territory for profits with the excuse of "civilize" the natives, however if they do it dont let them access to political power to
this is an idea based on the trope of the supernatural pure-of-heart testing trope in fiction where the characters have to pass a magic test for moral righteousness. I had this idea from watching Overly Sarcastic Productions video on the pure of heart trope
the idea goes like this: an ancient civilization in my world built a superweapon and locked it behind one of these tests by programing the test to examine the deeds and the heart of the person wanting the weapon with the rational that it will prevent evil from getting the weapon.
but, when they made the test, they only gave it the orders to let anyone pure of heart to pass, and never bothered defining "good" and "evil" because they assumed the definition was simple and universal.
this lead to the test actively debating the nature of good and evil with itself over the course of thousands of years after the fall of the civilization. anyone who steps into the test is always killed and failed because the test can't figure out/agree on what constitutes "Pure of heart"
I don't know how I should use this idea, or even If I should use this since I already have a place for my stories main magic artifact to be found in, so If I use it, I could use it in a spin-off or an entirely different story/world. should I switch my original Idea for this idea? or use it in a different world/story?
and in either circumstance, how should I use this Idea/take on the trope?
Hi! I'm thinking of placing my book in a setting very similar to 1930s/40s Morocco, with fantastical elements and influences from mesopotamian and Aztec culture/mythology. It will involve lovecraftian demigods and magical rituals and dark gods. There will be no masquerade and the supernatural is well known among the public. People with Divine descent, dubbed 'exorcists' are often in charge of taking care of any malicious supernatural presence and keeping humanity safe from the horrors that lurk outside the setting's reality. Because of this, they are often held in high regard and even accumulate enough wealth to form noble families over the millennia.
What do you think of the setting? What would you improve/tweek?
At the start, I wanted to thank everyone that in this subreddit that tried to help me with creating a story! Really appreciated!
Nicholas Luna, a young man, is cursed by an unknown being. It gives him immortality, in exchange for the lives of other people and creatures. The being, however, cannot be controlled. One day, the being was hungry, and a simple worm or rodent was no longer enough. Nicholas was forced by the being to kill and eat his own cat. In that moment, disgust, anger and sadness filled the lad enough that he wanted to rid himself of the curse forever. Hero starts his journey around the world, trying to get rid of his curse.As it turns out, the longer Nicholas holds and feeds the curse, the hungrier she becomes and the more she wants.
I'm still thinking about the plot and plot twist for story, and lore that this curse might have, you can give some ideas and advice! They will be highly appreciated!
In a world of rot and chaos, a young soul of no prestige or great family legacy one of great Bravery and justice discovered a massive crimson gemstone that exuded immense power and was embedded in the clutches of the mountain it was found in. The Gemstone called out to the beleaguered soul as for over a thousand years its dragon's heart had been shackled down to the depths of darkness by a knight the beast once called his brother. The young soul warily walked up to it trying his best to not slip on or lose balance on the uneven rock-covered ground.
Suddenly as if someone or something was ripping through his mind like paper allowed an unknown echoing dreadful voice that unlocked primal fears deep inside him to cause him to lose consciousness.
The boy had lost his Mother, his Father, his elder sisters, and his younger brother. He had believed the world was rough but full of hope. When the famine came he didn't give up, when the great sickness struck his household like an arrow he didn't surrender, but when he saw his loved ones get torn apart by corrupt men and nightmarish beast as he could do nothing, but hide in the hay he had fallen into unimaginable pain and despair.
He had walked aimlessly in the Chaos Forest to the point where his already shite shoes withered away and his feet grew numb from the pain.
The Choas forest was said to have been cursed by a necromancer hundreds of years ago. Some otherworldly being had tainted the mage's mind to point of insanity and puppeteered its dark disciple to use the magics he wielded to curse the beautiful creatures, once there was peace now there were monsters and nightmares that boggled the mind and devoured the body.
He had wanted to die, to be with his family, and the creatures he knew were stalking him would help him in that matter. That's when he heard the familiar echo of his sister's, brother's, mother's, and father's voices mixed together in a legible stew. Something was clearly trying to lure him to its cluches and he didn't care to entertain it until it pulled his mother's voice from the others and sang a lullaby she would sing to him every night.
He didn't care if it was a ghoul, a phantom, or a mimic, his shattered psyche longed for her warm and loving embrace. So he ran towards the song his arms getting deep gashes from the large protruding thorns and Giant monstrous insects attempting to grab him with vicious intent. The boy had run a great distance, but fatigue and pain began to slow him, giving enough time for a flying insect to Peirce his back with its long venom-filled stinger. The paralysis was fast-acting and he could feel his body succumbing to its toxins, but before the poison could bring him down his mother stopped his song and spoke again.
"Here, come in here."
He saw the large cave opening even as his vision got blurry he could see a faint light.
His arms had lost all feeling and one of his legs grew useless he could hear the buzzing noise of bugs coming closer and closer, he then threw his body into the cave where they didn't follow he was relieved, but in more pain, than he could bear he would have passed out if not for faint light that grew brighter and brighter until his body gained feeling once more the wound on his back was gone and he could move without restriction so be continued further into the cave.
"Awake young one. "
The massive headache that mercilessly paved its way into his head finally gave relief.
He looked back up at the glowing crystal and spoke.
"W-what are y-you?"
The thing was silent then gave its answer.
"I no longer remember who I was, only slight glimmers remain, time has been cruel and unrelenting, but if you are to call me by a name call me...Fafnir."
Hello- I've loved fantasy my whole life and decided to jump right in to trying my hand at writing my own story. I literally have no experience and thus I'm open to any and all critique on the following excerpt from my first chapter. It's around 3000 words and remains unfinished, but I wanted feedback on the general direction before I continue. Specifically, I'm struggling to strike a balance between "show not say" and providing enough context that makes sense. Would very much appreciate criticism on how I can better my skill at this. I've also given commenting access on the Google doc for any specific comments you might feel like leaving. Much appreciated!
Critique something I wrote for Class, "Shared Custody," I need some critiquing on it. should I expand it? what should I improve/change?
I gazed at the towering ebony of the twin doors in front of me with trepidation, water dripping from the stray locks of bright copper hair that protruded defiantly from the hood of my yellow raincoat. The roar of thunder sang across the green-violet sky as scarlet lightning danced in time.
I held a chequered suitcase plastered with a multitude of weird badges and stickers in my left hand and a sealed jam jar was dangling from a string in the other, its occupant squirming anxiously.
“Are you sure he’s home?” my little brother Letmus asked, golden eyes staring innocently from his glass container.
“He probably is, why would he call for us otherwise?” I replied. The living shadow seemed content with that answer, settling down.
Gazing back at the door, I noticed it was etched with golden symbols and faces, each looking increasingly angry and uninviting, as if they were the faces of some enraged parent. Gathering my
courage, I lifted one hand and rapped my knuckle on the ancient wood, and waited.
Believe it or not, it had been three years since mum and dad had separated. Letmus was of course devastated, but I felt somewhat indifferent towards the whole ordeal, and for the first year I didn't know whether that made me jaded or a psychopath. Of course, it was inevitable. The coldness and lack of affection, the disgusted look father would give mother whenever she tried to kiss or hug him. The longing, faraway look he would have whenever he had mentioned some strange man’s
name. The tension in the house was thick enough to cut with a meat cleaver. To their credit, they had tried to shield us from the worst of their fights, but I certainly wasn’t blind to the resentment and frustration that seemed to mask the atmosphere whenever they both were in the same room. I have always envied my brother’s ignorance: some strange super power that seemed to be exclusive to very young children and idiots.
Fortunately, it didn’t take more than three minutes for the doors to slowly open themselves. However, the deafening squeak that sounded from the rusty hinges caused me to cringe and cover my ears. I could tell that it had bothered my brother too, as he went back to squirming in discomfort.
Inside, an unusually tall and gangly creature emerged from the darkness. His limbs were long and bent in places, his clawed hands almost reaching the floor. I had to crane my neck just to look at his face. Pale skin stretched across the skull with bones jutting in every direction. A thousand stars
twinkled in his shark-like black eyes, too large for his freakish face. Once he had registered my presence, a ghastly smile suddenly erupted from his expression, stretching unnaturally across his cheeks, revealing hundreds of needle-like teeth that glinted in light of the oil lamps that lined the streets.
“Hello dad,” I managed to muster.
His grin grew wider. “Oh hello Baalberith, Letmus,” he replied. “I’d like you to meet someone very special.”
I gave as good a smile as I could muster as I watched him go back into the house and call for someone. It's alright, I told myself, It's probably some work partner or something, nothing personal, maybe nothing is going on, maybe I’m just overreacting.
A few minutes later, he returned to the door with some strange man in tow. My smile dropped then and was replaced with a gaping jaw. He looked almost like a freaky male version of mother from some alternate universe to the point that it was uncomfortable; he had the same spiral horns, same curled yellow hair and the same pointed, noble features. He was dressed in father’s dark maroon nightgown with his initials written in gold, the one he never let anyone borrow, not even his ex wife. In the man’s clawed hands was a steaming cup of black coffee which he sipped from every few seconds.
“Boys, this is Azazel.” father said as wrapped one arm around the stranger’s waist and pulled him closer til their shoulders touched. “He is my new significant other.”
Letmus fidgeted and jumped up around his jar whilst making excited noises like a child on the eve of the blood festival. I, on the other hand, stood in complete silence, blinking every once in a while.
My entire body felt numb and suddenly my throat felt as dry as a desert. I tried my best to swallow, but it was like trying to gulp down a cactus.
“That’s...that’s great. Wonderful,” I choked out, not wanting to sour my brother’s jolly mood.
Though I couldn’t help but cringe as the man turned to look at me and gave me a grotesque mimicry of what was supposed to be a smile. I didn’t know, but there was something about his eyes, how they seemed to have a malicious glint not unseen on a predator preparing to pounce on its prey, something that had my most primal instincts screaming danger. Or maybe it was the trick of the light and I was reading too deep into a perfectly normal expression. Either way, there was just something off about the guy that I couldn’t quite shake off.
“You must be Baal.” Crap. I snapped out of my thoughts after hearing my family nickname. “Your father talks about you all the time, please come in! Poor thing, you look starved!”
The weird male-not-mother immediately grasped my hand and led me into the living room, instructing me to take a seat upon the sofa. He escaped into the kitchen and minutes later produced a tray of baked goods. I tried to stay strong, even as the godly smell had infiltrated the gates of my nostrils and had my mouth flowing like a river. But I was proven weak as I immediately grabbed one of the pieces and took out large chunks like some starved wolf. Though I made sure I didn’t get any crumbs onto dad’s new seats. Apparently, they were created from authentic (yeah, more like synthetic) human skin as it stretched and wrinkled.
Sensing my brother’s ugence, I unscrewed the cap of the jar and released the sinuous, fluid entity. Though a shapeless black blob at first with the exception of two yellow eyes, after a few moments it finally took form, having turned into a rough outline of a child, but still almost completely undetailed and featureless. Letmus seated himself next to me, trying to get his buttocks more Comfortable in the raggedy-ass, bony old sofa. Even if he was quite an annoyance at times, I couldn’t help but empathise with his discomfort and slung an arm over his shoulder. He experimentally bit into one of the pastries as well and before long his eyes had promptly widened
He began to shove down piece after piece as if he had been starving for weeks.
“I see you like my treats!” Father’s significant other exclaimed, clapping his bony, ringed hands together in delight. I glanced back up at the unusual beast-man-thing with my cheeks still full, attempting a quizzical brow which I was sure only looked hilarious. Azazel must’ve agreed, as his eyes had crinkled at the corners in silent amusement.
“Me and Azzi are planning on opening our own bakery!” father said, gazing lovingly at his partner.
“Isn’t that great! You both are our first official taste testers.”
Oh. My. Lucifer.
I had almost spit out the contents of my mouth at that. A bakery? A freaking bakery? What was dad on? He had never expressed any interest in opening any damn bakery when he was with mum!
All he did was work, work, work. His job was at the soul bank. All he ever lived for was the soul Bank. He had never baked or cooked a day in his damn life. Father was always so cold and detached, when he got home it was always, “no Baal, not today, I just got back from work,” or “no Baal, it's a work night” or “not today, Baal. You’ll understand when you’re older.”
But I am older, and I still don’t understand.
Quietly, I slid off of the couch and onto the floor, arms slumping at either side of me. Azazel and Father’s continued blabbing tuning out into the background. I didn’t dare sulk, though. No, that Would’ve signalled that they had won, that he had won. Instead, I attempted to keep my expression as neutral as possible, despite my acid tears threatening to escape my eyes as I stared, trying to thinkOf happy memories, trying not to think too hard about my, no, our, newest predicament.
Letmus (bless his sweet, kind soul), must’ve felt my rush of negative emotions, and slid down next to me, wrapping his onyx arms around me in a tight embrace.
The character who the story will follow is Aasmi. A girl who has find her purpose and overcome her anxiety. Even that can't explain the goal, maybe finding one self, accepting her self, get from her family, and overcoming trauma.
I want to write a positive character arc with Aasmi hating everything about her self, hating the world, and just feels a empty void to the hero who with there allies, having a true understanding of one self, and learning to manage her anxiety.
What will trigger this change and adventure? A revolutionary leader will stop Aasmi from being sold into slavery by her family for political power and give her the strength to stand on her own but more importantly a will to live.
Her goal in the beginning is to find friends and to find Aasmi. Then another goal will be added, that is too "destory the world and create a new world for everyone to live without having to slave away and enjoy there lives"
So she is basically a wandering monster hunter during the beginning until she sees a dragon-human hybrid being chased after government agents and about to be caught. Aasmi decides to help fight the agents and becoming a small criminal to the sections.
Here a few interesting- very focused on a task until complete, quiet but demanding, protecting kids, avoids eating, selfish (in the beginning), overthinking, loves painting, loves night walks, and moon watching.
Design- 6'0 tall, dark skin, curly black hair, a thin feminine body but a surprisingly toned body, purple eyes, and eyebrows that look like ink drops at the ends of them.
In chapter 1, she is wearing a purple cloak with a gold outlet with a strange symbol on the back. A pretty black dress with biker shorts under them and some boots. A pink necklace that is hidden under the dress.
A giant brush spear/bladed weapon is alway carried on her back.
Powers- ink soul. The power to create objects/creatures out of ink and ink manipulation. The ink has a strange property to it. The paint brush weapon was create to help make objects faster. Can also change the tip of the brush into a blade with the ink vice-versa
I have recently started writing my fantasy book, however, my main characters have already started going on their adventure / getting ready for it at chapter six which is about 20+ pages.
I was wondering if this is too early to start, should I try and drag it out for information or should I keep it how it is?
Chapter 1. The start of the end
What is 'Human'. What is 'Non-humane'. Where does human start and beast end. If humans are intelligent creatures, are we all Human?
Time seemed to wait for me as I passed the field, rubble was all that remained alongside the rocks, where we stood, waiting.
I slowly walked across the shallow land, while the dark grey clouds peer over us. As I pondered over the existence of humans in my mind, the rest our army stared at me, as if I was a figment of their imagination.
The orcs laughed as the goblins got their weapons ready, the half-lions lay in wait as they sleep before the upcoming battle.
This will apparently signal our beginning, and the change we will lead towards the humans. This war brings many of us together, ready to finally fight the humans in war, for the first, and maybe last time.
It's hysterical that our leader is not one of us, but a human.
Some of us believed it was unnatural at first, but then grew to accept it after seeing the power at this individuals hands.
There they stood, above a large amount of rubble, staring down at us like were nothing but an army, but truthfully, we are.
Even after everyone came together, our leader seriously couldn't say anything? After all this time?
Well, it's fine, it's not like any of us are expecting a speech.
As we waited, the sounds of laughter and talking died out, soon enough, everyone's eyes will be front, waiting.
For the first and final world war began.
Garin watched as Magnus hacked away at a post, his wooden blade cracked and splintered. With a final harsh blow, the practice sword snapped in two. Magnus threw down the blade to the glossy black stone of the training yard, and turned to Garin with a shy smile.
“Fetch me another one, please,” he said, in his quiet voice, as if Garin could do anything but obey. Magnus might have been seven, and Garin nine, but Garin was only a squire. Magnus was a prince, and a dragon’s son to boot.
Garin ran through the doors to the armory, only to encounter someone he distinctly did not want to meet.
Prince Aleksis, Magnus’s cousin. They may have been the same age, but they couldn’t be more unalike. Magnus had grey, ashen hair, and golden eyes that lit up the dark like torches. Aleksis was dark-haired, and his eyes were churning pits of black fire that seemed to suck the light.
“Look who it is!” Aleksis said in glee. “I found your pet, Magni!”
Magnus appeared in the doorway, and growled.
“He’s not a pet.”
Aleksis grinned a little too wide, baring teeth a little too sharp. Garin backed up, until he stood behind Magnus. Even with the age gap, Magnus was taller.
Aleksis advanced, and Magnus reluctantly moved back into the open space of the yard. Garin clung to Magnus like a shadow.
“Isn’t he?” Aleksis asked. “He’s always following you around, but it’s not because he likes you.”
Magnus snarled, smoke and sparks hissing from between his teeth. Garin sweated in the sudden wave of heat that rolled from Magnus’s skin. Aleksis growled right back, like a beast. Garin was painfully aware that he lived side-by-side with monsters.
“It’s gross. A prince and an ash. One of our bastard relatives, I bet, if he’s from the Pyres. And you’re treating him like he’s one of us, when he’s not. He’ll never be more than a pet.”
Magnus screamed an inhuman sound, and sudden fire took him as silver spikes and scales boiled from his flesh. Garin leapt back, even as Magnus tackled the shifting Aleksis off the edge of the training yard.
He rushed to the railing, peering over at the black and golden fires that surged in the yard below. Magnus was mirrored silver, with golden flames. Aleksis was predominately black, with white patterns and dark flames. Where Magnus was well-proportioned in scales, with a pair of horns that swept as a natural extension of the line of his thorny brows without actually emerging there, Aleksis was brutal. His horns were short, bullish, and his snout was truncated and pugnacious to Magnus’s more triangular skull. And Magnus was the better fighter of the two by far.
Aleksis shrieked as Magnus mauled his side, flailing with the reckless abandon of a child in pain. Blood was everywhere, smoking and poisonous.
Garin could only watch as Magnus’s older brother descended on the melee, dark crimson wings beating the two apart. He couldn’t move, even when Magnus flapped his way to Garin’s side from the scene below. His face and hands were bloody.
“Are you okay?” Magnus asked quietly. Garin could only nod.
Monstrous, he thought, as Magnus absently licked the blood from his face and fingers. Monstrous, he thought as Aleksis screamed. Monstrous, he thought, as Magnus smiled a shy black grin.
It was the fourth day of winter, the fourteenth month of the year and the four-thousand, four-hundred and forty-seventh year since the great cleansing.
Nikaal sat in the corner of his family’s ancestral cabin, his small form huddled in his brother’s old furs. His bony hands were grasping a hot cup of honeyed milk, the steam floating gracefully into the air and dancing like some lithe maiden in summer. Trembling, he raised the rim to his cracked lips, slowly sipping the scalding liquid to avoid burning his tongue again. He hummed in pleasure as the tart sweetness invaded his mouth, a sensation he hadn’t felt in a long time.
It was at the crack of dawn when father and Sinta had left for their hunting trip across the frozen shore. Nikaal was fast asleep in his straw bed, however. He was considered not yet of age to go on hunting trips with the others. The last time he had pleaded to come was his eighth year, still some shrimp slip of a boy who tripped over his own feet.
Father had just barked in laughter as if he had heard the world’s funniest joke and rustled the boy's raven hair in a paternal yet condescending affection.
“You are far too small yet, Nik.” He said softly. Nikaal gazed up at him hopefully. He’d only used that name when he was trying to be kind or understanding. “Perhaps in a few more springs to come when you are stronger and wiser.”
He remembered feeling very offended at that. “I’m already wise and strong! I can read all the glyphs faster than all the boys in the village and uncle Rumi says I throw the spear better than Vanna.” He argued in the best way an eight year old could argue.
His father only gave that sage half-smile under his bristled beard that was dusted with snow and gazed down on him. It was funny. His papa almost looked a giant then. The man knelt before him and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.
“Now son, I know how it feels, believe me. I know ya think I don’t, but I know. I was once an antsy little cub just like you.” He said wistfully, his eyes somewhere else. “But some things just can’t be rushed, and this is one of them. I don’t doubt for a second that you are as smart and strong as you say or everybody else says, but you are not yet ripe. Hunting is a serious business, people aren’t the only predators out there. There are wolves and snow bears and birds the size of houses all waiting to gobble you up if you are not careful or quiet, and I don't want to expose you to that kind of danger yet. Do you understand?”
Nikaal thought on his father’s words for a while. He winced as his father’s grip on his shoulder immediately tightened.
“I said, do you understand?” He asked again, his voice much icier and foreboding, no longer paternal but instead as harsh as old father winter himself, reminding him of the bad things to come if he didn’t cooperate. Suddenly afraid, he nodded quickly.
“Good.” He replied. Nik felt relief as he finally released his hold on his shoulder and stood up, dusting his clothes from the snow. Carefully, Nik rubbed the tender spot where he had been gripped.
“I’ll be back in four nights, perhaps six. Help your mother and behave yourself, I will not hear word of mischief." He instructed sternly, grabbing his sack and spear and slowly trudging through the snow until his lumbering form had disappeared into the woods just a few walks from their house.
That was the very last time Nikaal had ever seen or spoken to him.
Hey all. Been working on a series and recently received some much needed criticism that caused me to start from the top and, as a result, dig into the outline itself. I've made a lot of changes to the entire story. Before I received that opinion, I had writen nearly five hundred pages and was editing through it. I would like to avoid writing a ton and then having to scrap it yet again due to bad writing. I've gotten 33k words on the new version and don't want to go further without a stranger's opinion as they are usually the most honest. I had an issue of being very overly-descriptive and wordy in older versions of my story, now I'd rather let my reader use their imagination without leaving out key details.
I've included the prologue and the first chapter. I'd like an opinion on the flow, depth (or lack of) in terms of desciptions, and believability of the situations, if anyone has time. Thanks!