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Elara Divine Mamkute Dark Elf Goddess Chaos Imp Penguins Fan Ms. Invisable          Since: 08-15-04 From: Ferelden Since last post: 100 days Last activity: 100 days |
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| Okay, this is a short story that I wrote for my creative writing class and it's kinda a prequel to Darkfang. If the beginning seems rather familiar, it's because it does start with Psycho's nightmare, though I've made some edits to it. I'm also introducing a new character here that will be seen later on in Darkfang. Just give me your honest opinions please... and I'm sorry it's so long, 12 pages actually.
It was dark in the house, but Rebekah could hear the sounds of the explosions outside. Every so often the hallway would be lit up by them, illuminating the broken glass on the floor. She crept silently to the front door to see what all the fighting was about, her nightgown dragging on the floor because it was too long. She entered the living room, walking past the animal-a-day calendar that showed a black kitten for June 6, 2015, to see the front door open. She knew her parents had gone outside, but she didn't know why. She was about to go outside when she heard a sound behind her. "Rebekah, is that you? Where are you going?" It was her little sister, Sarah, clutching her teddy bear and staring at her with wide eyes. "I'm going to see what is going on out there and find mom and dad. Go back to bed Sarah. Its okay." "Okay... but, be careful," her sister replied before she slowly disappeared into her parent's room. “She's going to hide under the covers or something, I know it,” Rebekah thought to herself. Rebekah slowly opened the screen door and slipped out onto the porch, looking around to see what was happening. Her eyes opened in shock at what she saw. It looked like a war, but it wasn't on the television or in a book. It was in the street in front of her small Los Angeles house. She saw the military police with their big black guns shooting at a group of people who also had guns. She recognized a lot of them as friends of her parents, or her friend's parents or older brothers and sisters. “This must be part of that rebellion I saw on the news last night... but where is mom and dad?” She looked about frantically, trying to keep out of site. That was when she saw them. They were with the other rebels, wearing bullet proof vests and shooting at the police. Rebekah slipped through the railing on the porch and into the bushes, watching her parents fight. The branches scratched against her skin, making her want to move them away, but she stayed as still as possible. People were running everywhere, a lot of the rebels were being killed, and she felt a knot in her stomach. She saw the grenade land at her father's feet; saw the look on his face as he noticed it and shoved her mother away. It was too late for him; it exploded as he dove away. It was loud, for a moment all she could hear was the sound, and then a ringing. She feared she might go deaf. The wind generated by the force of the blast shook the branches around her and sent shrapnel in all direction. A piece of the metal debris hit her, slicing open her cheek, but she didn't feel the pain because of the shock that had set in. She felt herself trembling. Her eyes widened as tears began to flood her vision, the salt mingling with the blood of her wound and bringing it to her attention finally. It stung so badly, like a thousand ant bites, but she dared not cry out. "Daddy," she whimpered. She blinked her eyes free of the tears so that she could see, hoping that her mom was alright. When she was able to see though, her breath caught in her throat—a group of police had her. She was on her knees only 20 feet away, her hands bound behind her. One of the men was pulling her hair so that her head was jerked back while he held a gun to her head. He had a slimy look to him and a voice to match. Rebekah strained to hear him over the gunfire which was dying off as the military police slaughtered the rebels. She was barely able to make out his words. "Well, looky what we got here.... What a fine looking whore. What do ya say boys; she's a free woman now. Why don't we take her prisoner and have a bit of fun before we blow her brains out?" The other men all cheered and started to reach to grab her. "Mommy! No, let her go! Let go of my mommy!" Sarah screamed as she came running out of the house, her teddy bear swinging at her side and tears streaming down her face. "Sarah, no," both Rebekah screamed, hearing her mother do the same. The men turned toward the little girl, firing their weapons. Rebekah saw the bullets hit her sister and the spray of blood and gore as they tore threw her body. One of them must have hit her in the head, because all of a sudden the left side of it exploded, showering brains and blood everywhere as Sarah’s body jerked with each impact. Rebekah felt some of the gore hit her face. She knew she was probably covered in blood, but she refused to look down and check. Sarah's limp body fell to the ground, her teddy bear still clutched in her hand. She heard her mother wail in despair as her six year old daughter was slaughtered in front of her. "That little rat yours," asked the man holding her hair. Suddenly a pair of hands grabbed her through the bushes, pulling her out into the open. "Hey Captain! I found another one in the bushes! Captain!" She heard her mother wail again as she cried out her name. The man jerked her mother's hair harder so he was looking down at her face. "How many of those fucking kids you got bitch? Did you spend half your life on your back?!" Her mother spat in his face, some of it dripping back down on her. "Fuck you, you government bastard,” she yelled. “This how you show your might? Killing children and raping women?" He jerked her head again, making her yelp in pain and pressed the gun to her throat. "Don't you talk back to me like that you rebel whore. You violated the laws, so you ain't got no say in what happens to you. Hell, you've probably had so many fucking kids that you ain't no good to us anymore—more trouble than you're worth." Rebekah tried to struggle to free herself as she saw the man move the gun to the top of her mother's head, pointing it right between her eyes, but the man holding her had a tight grip. She saw the captain move to pull the trigger, and then the world started to spin into blackness as the shot ran out in the night, mixing with her mother's scream. She came to tied to a bed in a dingy room. The captain stood over her, leering at her. She felt very sore, like she had been beaten and it really hurt down where she went to the bathroom. "Well, you're alive after all. That's even more pleasant," the captain said in a slimy voice. "And useful too! Perhaps you could settle a little argument for us. How old are you, Rebekah?" After a moment of silence he added, "You better tell me or I’ll start cutting off your fingers." "Nine," she said boldly, "now let me go." She heard the men laugh, and she turned to look at them. They were sitting at a table playing cards. "Well Danny, looks like you were right," the captain said to the man who had pulled her from the bushes. "I would have sworn she was at least thirteen!" "I mean it," she said, "let me go!" "Oh I don't think so, you little bitch,” the captain continued. “We got some questions for you about some of those other rebels; and you ain't going nowhere until you tell us everything you know." "I don't know anything," she replied. "I see,” the captain said as he picked up a thing that looked like a cattle prod. "So that is how it is going to be huh? Alright, we'll just have to do it the hard way... you'll talk eventually." She pulled on the ropes that bound her to the bed, but she couldn't budge them. The captain came closer, an electric blue light dancing at the tip of the device in his hand. He jabbed it into her side quickly as he gave her a sadistic grin. She closed her eyes, bracing herself for the pain, but when it came she couldn't handle it. It felt like her body was on fire, like she was covered in a million needles. She felt the skin being seared from her body, smelled the burning flesh mixing with the smell of ozone from the electricity. He pushed it harder into her side; she heard a loud crack as a rib bone snapped. Her eyes flew open as her back arched in excruciating pain. She let out a piercing, blood curdling scream as the blackness closed in on her again, ending in a strangled gurgle as she started to choke on her own tongue. Rebekah jolted awake, her screaming still echoing through the empty Los Angeles apartment building. She felt the sweat-soaked sheets clinging to her body as she panted, trying to calm herself down. “It was a dream… just a dream. They’re not here… they can’t hurt you. Just a dream. Get a grip, Psycho!” She put a hand to her forehead as she spoke, leaning against it for a moment as her heart rate slowed back down. Almost every night for thirteen years that dream had plagued her, and it never got any better. She wondered how she got any sleep at all. She ran a finger across the scar on her left cheek, the scar from the shrapnel that hit her after it killed her father. It ran nearly three inches from just below the corner of her eye and nose downwards toward her jaw and was fairly straight like a thin, pale ribbon against her light tan skin. Oftentimes, it was the scar that confirmed that her nightmare wasn’t just a dream, no matter how much she wanted to believe otherwise. Finally, she sat up straight and looked around the room. Everything had that grayish quality that comes with the light of early dawn; it seemed calming in a way. There wasn’t much in the room, just the old bed she slept in, an aging wooden dresser that held her small amount of spare clothing, a black desk lamp on an old computer desk along with a small stack of papers, and a bare light bulb above her head. The only things in the room that she really cared about at all where on the chair next to her bed, a custom made black hunting knife, curved to resemble a fang; and two Glock 17 handguns along with 6 extra clips of 9mm bullets. They hung in their holsters on the back of the old wooden chair along with her black duster. Swinging her feet over the edge of the bed Psycho, as Rebekah was now known, stood up, feeling the cold wooden floor under her feet. She had always liked wood; it was just more natural to her than concrete, tile, or carpet. Reluctantly she made her way about the apartment, getting ready for a mission of a different type than usual. Today she was going to attempt to purchase a building to turn into a bar, not just any bar, a bar that also served as a hidden base for Darkfang, the rebel cell that she lead. As she strapped her belt on, she adjusted the gun holsters so that they would be hidden by the duster. The knife was always kept in the hidden pocket inside the coat, so she didn’t have to worry about that for now. Before heading out the door, she grabbed the bag that she would be using as a purse today. She didn’t like the idea of using a purse, but it looked more normal, and it was the only way she could think of to carry the $10,000 needed to make the purchase. Prices had dropped since the new government had taken over, at least it looked that way—they always managed to get a large amount of money out of people for things like repairs, taxes, and hidden fees. Luckily they didn’t demand that extra money upon purchase. She left her black hair down for once, figuring that she would not be as recognizable that way, or hoping at least, since her hair was usually pulled back when she went anywhere. A half hour later Rebekah stood in front of the building itself waiting for the government realtor to show up. It was a two-story building near the LA docks and the border of Long Beach and, from all appearances, used to be a bar when it was open years ago. She liked the building for that; it would cost less to set up since it already had the bar and basic layout. The best part by far, in her opinion anyway, was the second story. It was almost perfect for the base, since there were rooms upstairs that they used to rent out to people back when it was open… all they needed was to modify the basement storage room to hide a few things. Rebekah leaned against the wall next to the door staring up at the storm gray winter sky, the same color of her eyes; there were dark clouds moving in, a good excuse for wearing the duster at least. Out of the corner of her eye she thought she saw movement across the street, but when she looked again there was nothing. ‘Probably just a bird,” she thought. Rebekah felt that nervous churning in her stomach as she saw the realtor approaching and straightened up while adjusting the strap on her bag. Nervousness was a strange feeling for her, since she rarely ever felt it. They say it was because of the mania she suffered, though she did not particularly mind it, it was a lot easier to make up escape plans on the fly when you believed you were invulnerable. However here she couldn’t just whip out her guns and shoot up the enemy, and if some problem should arise she didn’t know how she would handle it. The man seemed like your typical realtor, not at all different from the ones before the “new government” had been implemented in 2015, but she knew that if she said one wrong thing to make him suspicious he could find out who she was and have her in custody before she knew what happened. Idly she wondered if he had a gun on him… in this area it would be foolish not to have one. He did, after all, work for the government; and all military personnel were trained in at least minor combat and issued a firearm. “Ms. Williams I presume,” asked the man as he reached her, holding out his hand. “Yes. Hello,” Rebekah responded politely as she shook his hand. “I’m Karl Henderson from the Federal Realtor Agency, nice to meet you. So you’re interested in buying this establishment, huh?” He looked at her appraisingly, his green eyes giving no indication if he was wary or not. The blue suit he wore seemed a bit too starchy for comfort, and he tugged absently on his sleeve. “Yeah, it’s been a dream of mine to own a bar since I was a kid,” she said enthusiastically. It wasn’t a complete lie; she had often thought it would be a fun job to have. Besides, she figured it would be a good line to say to make this whole thing go smoother. After all, who would truly be suspicious of a childhood dream? “Really? Yeah, I guess it would be a nice dream. Anyhow, why don’t we just take a look inside and you can decide if you really want the place or not,” Karl said as he took a set of keys from his pocket and moved to unlock the old wooden door as Rebekah nodded her head. There was a layer of dust on the furniture and the bar and cobwebs in more than a few corners, but Rebekah liked the place. Karl gave her a grand tour, showing her the main bar area, the upstairs rooms, the storeroom behind the bar as well as the basement storage area, pointing out things that would need to be brought up to code to open it. It wasn’t going to cost as much as she had figured, since most of the building was in good condition seeing as the tables and bar were build of oak. Whoever had owned the place before had certainly designed it well. She tried her best to act like a normal citizen who wanted to start a business, but more than once the realtor gave her a strange look when she asked questions about the thickness of the walls, the size of the basement in square feet, and other things she needed to know for modification purposes. She also felt ill at ease, like someone was watching her, but she saw no sign of any cameras, nor could she think of a reason that they would monitor a possible real estate sale. According to her watch, they had only been there for an hour and thirty minutes, but it felt like an eternity for the rebel leader. Her muscles tensed up when he turned to face her as they returned to the main room. “You look familiar,” he said as he seemed to study her face, “have we met before?” “Not to my knowledge,” she said as casually as possible, her heart pounding against her rib cage. She didn’t think they knew what she looked like. Quickly she thought up something to say. “I live in the area; perhaps you’ve seen me out doing errands while showing off property.” He raised his eyebrow for a moment, but finally shrugged. It seems that he bought the idea. She didn’t want to have to kill him, but she knew that if he figured out who she was that she would have no choice. She ran her hand along the surface of the bar, wiping away the dust and revealing the smooth wood beneath. “Probably. So, down to business, do you want the place,” Karl asked, setting his briefcase on the top of the bar. “I’ll be honest with you, you’re not gonna find a much better deal than this.” “I figured as much,” she said as calmly as she could manage. She knew what was coming, “I like the place, so yeah, I’ll take it.” “Excellent! Now, I just need to run a quick record check on you, standard procedure you know, and we can talk about payment.” He took out a small computer, a handheld device used by FRA workers on the job since they were much more portable than the laptops of the past. She saw him type in her name and the little flashing screen saying ‘please wait while database is searched’. She didn’t think that the government knew her real name; at least she hoped that was the case. However, until today, she didn’t think they knew what she looked like either since no one that saw her on raids lived very long; but now she was beginning to wonder. Her hands twitched in anticipation. He was facing away from her, if she needed to she could kill him quickly with the knife, though she hoped it wouldn’t have to come to that. The floor was old and worn enough to soak up some of the blood, and that would look horrible if she managed to still get the bar—that is if she could get away with the murder, which she most likely wouldn’t be able to do. The computer beeped when it finished, showing a clean record for the citizen known as Rebekah Williams, except for the ban on leaving the country because her parents were rebels. “Hmn, that is rather interesting…. You have a relatively clean record of course, but it doesn’t show you having any occupation or education for the past thirteen years since the death of your parents,” he said with a furrowed brow. Rebekah tried to swallow the lump in her throat, her hands falling to her sides in case she had to go for her guns. For once she felt her hands moisten, her nerves causing them to sweat. She had to come up with a story and quick, since it wouldn’t be wise to say that she was taken in and raised by one of the main leaders of the rebellion. “Well, I’ve sorta been living off the streets since then,” she lied. “You know, doing odd jobs for money, reading books for education. My family overseas has helped me out the best they could, but because of the circumstances of my parents’ death I am barred from leaving the country.” “Ah, I see… yes it does mention that on your record. So I take it your family helped you get the money for this purchase,” he asked as he looked up at her. Her muscles tensed up as she set the bag on the counter. He had made the natural connection that she had hoped he would, but would he actually believe it? “Yes, they sent it to me when I told them about the place,” she said as her left hand drifted casually to her hip, the handle of one of her Glocks within easy reach just in case things turned messy. “Cash I hope,” he said with a small smile, “we could get all this taken care of today if that is the case.” Rebekah relaxed, moving her hand away from the hidden gun as she opened the bag to show the ten thousand dollars in crisp one hundred dollar bills. The realtor nodded his head as he pulled out a document. “Excellent! So here is the deed for the place,” he said as he handed her a document, “just look it over and sign at the bottom to show that you approve of the appraisal of the property and the repairs necessary… you’ll have to cover that cost separately, but I’m sure your family can help with that. There are two copies of the document, one for you and one for our records.” Rebekah blinked as she took the pen he offered her in hand and scanned the documents. It was perfectly normal, everything was listed as it should be, and she felt the churning of butterflies in her stomach. “This is going almost too well,” she thought to herself, “There’s got to be something. An MP hiding in the shadows waiting, a hidden camera, something!” She signed the documents in the sloppy scrawl she always used to sign her real name, one a doctor would be proud of, and handed the papers and the pen back to the realtor. She felt that sensation of being watched again, perhaps there was a hidden camera after all. Her left hand again drifted towards her hidden weapons surreptitiously in case she needed it. Mr. Henderson took his copy of the papers and placed them back in his briefcase before looking at her again. “Now,” he said seriously, “if you could just hand me the money I will count it to make sure that it’s all there and the place is yours.” Rebekah took the money out of the bag, placing it on the counter. It was divided into five stacks of twenty $100 bills. He counted out the bills in the first stack to make sure it was right and placed the money in his briefcase in a moneybag of his own. Part of her suspected that part of that money might vanish before he got to the office, considering it was cash and most government officials were just as corrupt now as they had been before, if not worse… but from all appearances this man was the most honest government worker she had ever met. It was that exact reason that set her on edge though. She had the deed to the bar though, that was all that mattered to her, and she didn’t care if he kept all the money for himself. The realtor closed his briefcase and extended his hand to her. “Well, everything is in order. Congratulations on your acquisition, Ms. Williams, I hope to come have a pint or two once you open to help celebrate.” “Thank you,” she said as she shook his hand for the second time that day, yet another fake grin on her face. “I’ll make sure to save you a pint of my best.” Rebekah walked out the door with the realtor, taking the keys to her bar from him before he left and placing them along with the deed inside her duster’s inner pocket. She collapsed against the wall as he walked away, giving a sigh of relief as she pushed her hair out of her face. It was midmorning, the clouds from earlier had moved in, but there were still a few spots in the sky where sunlight shone through like spotlights. A few moments passed as she leaned against the wall, eyes cast on the ground as she tried to gather her thoughts and calm her paranoia, when suddenly a man’s voice spoke next to her causing her to jump up. “Morning, Psycho. Purchase went well I see.” He was tall, a few inches past six feet, with an olive complexion, short black hair and dark brown eyes that were currently hidden behind dark sunglasses. The faint breeze caused his black trench coat to flutter slightly against his legs. He wore all black actually, and carried a large black case with him. He reminded her of a member of the mafia, but she knew what he really was: a recent recruit of the rebellion; and a former member of the military special operatives unit. Which meant that under that coat were most likely no less than five guns and a knife of some kind. She glared at him as she returned to leaning against the wall, moving her hands away from the Glocks at her waist. “Hello, Ghost. What have I told you about sneaking up on me like that?” “Hey, it’s not my fault I’m a sneaky bastard,” he said. He was teasing her and she knew it. Best to get to the heart of the matter quickly. “So why the hell are you here? And furthermore, how did you know what I was doing?” He smiled as leaned against the wall next to her before he answered. “You forget who’s cell I’m in. General Rock sent me out here to make sure you didn’t have any trouble.” Rebekah rolled her eyes slightly as she heard his words. General Rock was the rebel leader that had raised her; she should have known that he’d send someone to watch her today. “But how would you have known if I’d run into any trouble,” she asked with a raised eyebrow, the scar on her face falling hidden again beneath a lock of her hair. “Simple, I bugged the place.” He then went on to explain how he had broken into the building before dawn and placed wire taps throughout the building so he could monitor what was going on at all times from across the street on top of a thrift store, the same building that had caught her attention that morning. Rebekah just stared at him for a few moments before saying anything. “You broke into my bar by putting acid in the lock of the backdoor?” “Yes… but in my defense, it wasn’t your bar at the time.” “You owe me a new lock,” was all she could really say. After a few moments she added, “So I was basically worrying over nothing?” “Pretty much, I was across the street with my scope trained on his head,” he said as he nudged the black case, which most likely contained a sniper rifle. “And I suppose you brought your entire arsenal of weapons just in case you had to go inside anyway,” she asked as she straightened up and readjusted her duster. “Actually I traveled light today,” he replied. “So you left the knife at home?” “Yeah, pretty much.” “Goodbye, Ghost. I’ve got people to see.” Rebekah started to walk off towards her apartment, tired of dealing with people for one day. She just wanted to relax for a few hours before she met with the other members of her group and gave them the news, perhaps take a nap or something. “Hey, wait,” Ghost called after her, “What are you gonna call the place anyway?” Rebekah turned and looked at him, a smirk on her face as she gave her answer. “The Cove,” she said as she turned away again and continued walking, leaving Ghost to figure out the simple meaning behind the name. |
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Rauni Since: 08-14-04 Since last post: 1545 days Last activity: 1545 days |
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| Elara... I thought this was 12 pages... the Microsoft Word said it was 8 pages long. (Just kidding, it was 8 pages long without any enter space.)
But I was kinda surprise on how specific of detail you made into this story. Although the work of emotion need to improve on her history (what was she really feeling during the death of her family, how painful it is to bear when she hear about her family and feeling the guilt or something.) I like how the whole things set up when Rebekah (I kept mispronouning it) felt like she was about be revealed. But just a little reminder to you. If you are dealing with someone's past, not only post in the detail but also describe the deeper feeling of that event. For example, when Rebekah saw her mother get shot, I saw that she was lost of thought but you didn't easily explain her feeling. You could make her feel so cold and alone in the unvirse, where she feel so pointless of living for a reason during that moment. I don't know if I am giving out any information about the up-coming story but keep up the work... just add a bit emotional affection to the background and you should have a great story. |
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Elara Divine Mamkute Dark Elf Goddess Chaos Imp Penguins Fan Ms. Invisable Since: 08-15-04 From: Ferelden Since last post: 100 days Last activity: 100 days |
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| Oh, I wanted to add more detail like that... but like I said, this was for class and supposed to be only 10 pages long... and my teacher was an ass. | |||
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Rauni Since: 08-14-04 Since last post: 1545 days Last activity: 1545 days |
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| Well, Elara... sometime, teacher are complete asshole so you should make this story based on your way. Because if your teacher is being a bitch about your story, let him or her that way, because the way I see it, you are doing VERY good for yourself.
Just add a powerful emotion and you will be well. Don't let the teacher jugde you or your book, only let you jugde the way of how your story should be. This is YOUR story, and nothing should be ever to change that. Alright? Do not worry about the teacher, just write out your story the way you wanted, because anything that come out of you and that pour into your story is completely priceless. Nothing can ever take that away. Continue, please.  |
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AlpoRaggins Troubadour Not so much dead. Since: 12-11-04 From: Someday, Somewhere, Over the Rainbow Since last post: 6612 days Last activity: 6502 days |
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Originally posted by Beowulf Cor Leonis This is advice the best of us should take. I've been handing in half ass work for so long, never thinking once about this. But anyways, I liked the story a lot, it kept my attention the entire way through. I liked how the tension between Rebekah and the realtor was never ending, and that twist with how she was safe the entire time was very nicely done. The death scenes in the beginning were pretty graphic, but don't change that; I think there are enough subtle aspects in the story (like the foreshadowing used with the black cat on the calendar) that the violence is balanced out. To take more words from Beo, keep it up. |
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Elara Divine Mamkute Dark Elf Goddess Chaos Imp Penguins Fan Ms. Invisable Since: 08-15-04 From: Ferelden Since last post: 100 days Last activity: 100 days |
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| I didn't even mean for it to be foreshadowing actually, I just needed an image for the calender so that it would establish when the story took place.
This was actually half-assed, since the whole first part of it (the dream) was written a year before. I did edit it a bit, like by putting in the calender, and I rather like those edits, so I think those are going to be put into the actual novel when the nightmare shows up (somewhere in chapter two or three). My teacher complained that the plot dropped after the nightmare ended and didn't get the constant tension thing, but I'm glad that someone gets it. Oh yeah, and as to the other reason that Rebekah doesn't show much emotion in regards to her family. In the dream, where you see it all happening, she is in shock. When she wakes up she's tortured, so again, more shock. I didn't want to have as much of the sorrowful flashback emotion stuff in the dream because it was a nightmare, so my goal was to disturb the reader as much as I could so that they would fully understand why she wakes up screaming and covered in a cold sweat like that. As to why she isn't angsty and brooding about it now, well... she kinda snapped. The tragedy she experienced caused her to have bipolar disorder (manic depression), but she is in a near constant state of mania... hence why her alias is Psycho. Oh yes, and what are your opinions of Ghost? He's only a minor character, but I'd like to see if I was able to convey his basic personality well enough. How did he seem to you? |
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AlpoRaggins Troubadour Not so much dead. Since: 12-11-04 From: Someday, Somewhere, Over the Rainbow Since last post: 6612 days Last activity: 6502 days |
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| Ghost seems like a character that would be difficult to tell what he's thinking, even though another character can depend on him on many occasions. He seems very organized and swift. And though he knows all these tricks, it doesn't seem like he'd turn on his allies and use those tricks on them. He's pretty caring, if he took the time to help out Rebekah. And he's calculating and thinks ahead. I got that from the whole conversation about the door handle, and how he ruined it before Rebekah bought it so he wouldn't really owe her since it wasn't her property. | |||
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Elara Divine Mamkute Dark Elf Goddess Chaos Imp Penguins Fan Ms. Invisable Since: 08-15-04 From: Ferelden Since last post: 100 days Last activity: 100 days |
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| It seems that I did a decent job then... did the smart ass part show through as well? I hope that it did, though I might have lost it in the editing.
I'm tempted to ask you to give your opinion on Darkfang itself, or at least what I have written anyway... it's a bit further down. Told from the perspective of a different character though, at least for now. I'm going for third person limited narration, so different chapters will be told in different characters POV. |
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AlpoRaggins Troubadour Not so much dead. Since: 12-11-04 From: Someday, Somewhere, Over the Rainbow Since last post: 6612 days Last activity: 6502 days |
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| I've read the beginning, where Psycho is at the rally with the news reporter and the rebels, but thats as far as I have gotten in my reading. I'll look for it and post a comment in the thread (causing more bumpery, but I guess it's okay figuring the forums activity). I can't quite formulate an opinion much beyond the fact that Darkfang looks worth reading, until I read it later of course. Also, would you suppose it was better to read this portion of the story first, before I went any farther with Darkfang? It does explain a bit about Psycho, so my guess is it probably was. | |||
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Elara Divine Mamkute Dark Elf Goddess Chaos Imp Penguins Fan Ms. Invisable Since: 08-15-04 From: Ferelden Since last post: 100 days Last activity: 100 days |
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| Perhaps. The nightmare that provides much of the exposition on her character shows up in the novel as well. Later on when the bar shows up in the novel I suppose it is good to know just how it was aquired, since it will only be briefly mentioned there I suppose. |
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