posted
Firstly, I'd like to begin this post with an introduction: Hello! I just registered here at Hatrack a few minutes ago, and I am very happy to see the large population and devotion to the Great Creator, Orson Scott Card. With my first post, I'd like to show you one of my literary works in progress. Admittedly, it's not exactly world-class quality... But it's a very early attempt at a novellete, shall we say.
This is a story that I've been writing for a few months. It's eight chapters long, 29 pages on MS Word. It's based on an online MMORPG called Runescape, but the plotline is all my own. I'd like to see what you guys think of it. Please note, I write what I think. I have made no changes to this story (except for what spellcheck tells me to change) and still have gotten good feedback. So, without furhter ado I present... The Mark of a God!
The Mark of a God
Prologue
I'm sure all of you know of an island, just south of the Wizard's Tower, built specially for mortal beings to be introduced into the realm of what we call 'Runescape'. It is an island with a noble cause - to teach all entering this world the specific skills needed to survive in this world. There are many inhabitants of this island, all ready to enrich their students' lives with learning and wonder, always with a smile ready to shine. It is known as Tutorial Island, the land of beginnings.
However, this place did not always exist in the state that it presently lives in. Oh no, Tutorial Island used to be a place of evil. Its presence could be felt along every dripping stalagmite of its caves, every limb of its dead trees within its desolate landscape. It would need to go through unimaginable changes to become such a place of generosity and learning. And there was a force, deep beneath its landscape, that would make sure none would do so...
All must understand the wonders of life to really appreciate it. They must understand how our mortal bodies work, how they are maintained, and how the Gods do their part in seeing to it. And on this day, like any other, life was in the air. The setting was the city of Lumbridge, and the time was of mid-day, or noon-time as some might call it. And life was everywhere. People bustling around, ever-ready to go wherever they were needed, beggars yelling out desperate cries for money, and thieves stripping helpless men of their gold pieces. But most of all, beyond the born, the ongoing life, there were ones being introduced into this realm, and ready for it. In a flash of nothingness, they were suddenly aware of themselves, of their surroundings, of existence. These were the Runescapians that had just been created, in a flash of life, breath and blood. Their faces glimmered with wonder as their eyes beheld their first sight: their hands. Oh, our senses, the miraculous feeling of, well, feeling something, smelling, touching, seeing, tasting, everything! To them, it was almost overwhelming in its joyous nature.
Just like that, in a flash, was another mortal born from emptiness. He was called Nathaniel, and little did he know that he was to be the savior of many.
"Woo-hooooooo," yelled Nathaniel at the top of his lungs. "I am alive!" Of course, it wasn't as if many of the other people in Lumbridge cared for a newly born soul. To them, it wasn't any news. It happened hundreds, maybe thousands of times a day. It wasn't even old news to them anymore.
"Keep it down, will ya'?" they yelled back to him. Ignorance... Such a quality was not a redeeming one, but what did they care? Their greed for money and rare items blinded them.
"And good day to you too!" laughed Nathaniel. He didn't care what anyone thought about him, or what he did. He was alive, and that was all that mattered. Suddenly, his curiosity took hold of him. He noticed to be wearing a brown leather backpack, within which was a bronze longsword, a wooden shield, a bit of cooked meat, and some strangely colored runes. "I wonder where these came from,” he thought to himself. He was also wondering how such a small backpack could hold all of these things, but then it occurred to him that is was probably enchanted by some useful spell. To test his theory, he began stuffing chunks of earth into the backpack, watching carefully if its shape was altered in any way. Despite the looks of others that clearly radiated thoughts such as, "Crazy that one is..." and, "What's he trying to do? Grow plants in that thing?” he persisted. After a bit, he finally concluded that he was right. The backpack had no unusual bulges or protrusions, and there was enough earth in there to burst a normal one. He confidently gave a nod, whilst extracting all of the soil and mud from his new accessory.
After completing that task, his eyes strayed to the sword, shield and runes. Casting the carved rocks aside for a moment, the presence of someone... something greater than he was enveloped him. Suddenly, he was floating upon a white cloud, looking down at great cities, yet at the same time looking at a close up view of... himself? "What is going on here?" he thought. Suddenly, an enormous face enveloped his sight. It was the face of a kindly old man, yet young as he was, with no wrinkles in sight. He had silky, smooth white hair, which fell in strands down to his waist. The head was gargantuan, many times bigger than he himself, and he fell to his knees in worship. "O mighty one, who am I to be honored with Your presence?" The great head looked upon him then, and showed him a radiant smile, one that gave him courage and dignity. He stood up. "Who are you?" asked Nathaniel. And so the God spoke, in a baritone voice so powerful, so inspiring that the matter beneath his feet seemed to shake.
"I am Saradomin, one of the three creators of this realm. And I, Nathaniel Denya, am your God. I can give you everything you ever wanted. Power, riches, invincibility. All if you worship me as if your life depended on it." Nathaniel looked up at this God, this incredible being, and declared, in his strongest voice,
"O Great Saradomin, though your offer would tempt many a man to his last string of sanity, I cannot accept your offer. I am but a humble Runescapian, and have only just come into existence. If I wish to have any advantage over my brethren, then I feel I should have to earn it myself." The Great One looked at him then, with one eyebrow raised, incredulous with disbelief that this mere mortal had declined his age-old offer.
"Are you quite sure about your decision, Nathaniel? This is your last chance..."
"I am sure," replied he. "For I am but a peasant, but I wish to be a noble one, and so I forfeit my chances with this offer." Saradomin seemed to frown then, but then one corner of his cheek seemed to perk upwards. Then the other, and then his whole mouth turned into a huge smile, and such a laugh that you have never heard, radiating from between His lips. It was the most joyous thing that you could have ever heard anyone do, as this was no mere laugh, but a laugh of the gods. Tears streaked down His cheeks in torrents, and in his state of laughing and crying, Nathaniel wept. "O Mighty Saradomin, what have I done? To make you, a great God weep, I have shamed myself. Please, take me back. I must repent for my wrongdoings."
"No, no Nathaniel, you do not understand!" said the God through his amiable joy. You have not displeased me at all. In fact, you have made me as happy as I could have been in eons. Every man I have ever tested with that offer has always chosen the way of Greed and Want, and attempted to accept my offer, leaving them back where they were, a broken shell of a man, knowing what he wished he could have been. But you, you have passed my test! You have shown yourself to be many things. Honest, brave, selfless, and just are just a few of the attributes you have shown yourself to have earned in such a short time. And for this, I shall bless you like I have blessed no one before.
You shall be my prophet, but not in a way you might think. You will spread the word of my Greatness, and in doing that, banish evil from this land. My brother, Zamorak, saw to it that that wouldn't happen, but we'll see about that! And now, I bestow upon you the first of many gifts..." Saradomin closed his eyes and chanted something. Suddenly, Nathaniel found his limbs strengthening, growing greater and more muscular. He felt more alert, and ready for anything to happen.
"What has happened, Saradomin?" asked he in wonder.
"I have bestowed upon you the gift of experience," said Saradomin. "Your skills are now sufficiently trained in many of the things you will need to do in the mortal realm of Runescape. But use this gift wisely, and only for good, for I should have to strip it from you otherwise. And now, I give you my second gift..." Suddenly, around his neck appeared a talisman on a cord of wool. It was in the shape of a four-pointed star, a pure, shining white.
"What is it, O Holy One?" inquired Nathaniel.
"It is my symbol, known to many as the Holy Symbol of Saradomin. Keep it with you always, and so I will be with you to bless you in times of need. But be warned: without it, you will keep your strength, but lose whatever connection we hold. And now, I give you my two final gifts, ones which any man might dream of..." All of a sudden, Nathaniel was clothed in a beautiful suit of armour, both crimson red and aquamarine in color on certain parts. It seemed almost indestructible. As well as this, his backpack felt considerably more filled.
"Now you are ready to go back to the mortal realm. I have given you the gift of possessions. You are wearing the finest of armour, only available to the finest of Runescapians. On your head is a Dragon Medium Helmet; you are clothed in Dragon Chain Mail and Runite Plate Leg Armour. In your hand is a Dragon Halberd, the most powerful of weapons. I have also given you other weapons in your backpack, as well as some bows and arrows for long-range combat. I have also given you 10,000,000 gold pieces, so that you may obtain newer items in your quest. Now, my prophet, I must give you your quest. There is an island, south of the Wizard's Tower near a city called Draynor Village, where there is a great evil. Its presence radiates from every nook and cranny of that island, and it is corrupting many a citizen. I need you to find out what is happening in there, and destroy it. That is your quest, as well as smiting all evil in your way, and alerting all of My presence. Good luck, Nathaniel. Remember, I am always with you..."
And so Nathaniel's surroundings faded away from him, and he faded into the blackness of unconsciousness.
After what seemed like an eternity, Nathaniel finally woke. He was lying in the same spot he had been before his incredible encounter with Saradomin. He felt quite dazed. "Steady," he told himself. "Steady now..." He stood up. His vision was clearing, as were his thoughts. The memory of the meeting with the God suddenly rushed upon his mind in an avalanche of remembrance. All of the things he saw, heard and felt were suddenly upon his mind. He looked down at himself, and found himself still wrapped in the cool embrace of his powerful Dragon and Runite armour.
Just then, his eyes flashed. Nathaniel's task was upon him, and it was time to begin. He picked up his backpack, slung it over his shoulder, and set off on his first journey in the mortal realm. Though he did not know quite where to go, it seemed someone was guiding him, telling his feet where to go, and so they responded. He walked neither with a timid step nor swagger, for he walked with purpose, his eyes emitting a white halo of light in such a majestic fashion. People stared at him as he passed by as if he were not from the world they were in, but from some unknown world filled with milk and honey. They stared with Want and Astonishment, and in doing so just about giving it new meaning as they took it to the extreme. But Nathaniel paid them no heed - they were but mere pawns on the chessboard from which he played.
Walking by a wheat field just out of the boundaries of Lumbridge, he spotted in the corner of his eye a mugging being administered upon a farmer. The two young men who were brutally beating the farmer saw no wrong in their actions, only amusement in seeing the farmer squirm and grimace as the next blow came soaring towards his torso. All the while the farmer stared daggers at the two boys with unimaginable loathing and malice.
Nathaniel then whipped his head towards the trio, and pointed his bronze longsword at their faces. Notice, at this moment, that he did not take out his immensely powerful Dragon Halberd. He stuck with his old weapon given to him by whatever power brought him to the realm. Not the one that was given to him by such a Godly presence, but an average weapon, so as not to give himself a fair advantage. With such fancy armour on, this should have hinted to the two muggers how brave and valiant this young man was. But it did not occur to them until it was too late.
"Halt!" boomed Nathaniel in such a voice that he had never ever known to have before. "Cease your brutality to that man at once, or suffer the consequences!" The two men looked at each other, with eyebrows raised, and their eyes wide. Then, what started as just a small chuckle between them evolved into a fully blown, hearty laugh.
"Hahaha!" they hooted in their amusement. "You must be joking! This old man got what was comin' to him, right Gorfald?"
"Yeah, you sure are right Dallen," said Gorfald, with a dazed look upon his face.
"Yeah, you -" started Gorfald, but he was abruptly cut off by Nathaniel.
"Enough of this foolishness!" said he. I demand you release that farmer, and never come near his land again!"
"Pfft. Yeah right," said Dallen.
"Well, I have warned you two," warned Nathaniel. "Now it is time to pay your due."
With that, Nathaniel took on a fighting stance, and slowly strode towards the muggers. "Let's get him," they cried, raising their fists and sprinting towards the young hero. The distance between the two forces rapidly shortened as the assailants readied their punches. Suddenly, Nathaniel dropped his stance and ducked under the oncoming punches, while the thugs ran by, allowing him to go right through their legs! The two aggressors looked at each other in confusion. "Where'd he go?" they both thought in unison, despite their separate minds. Suddenly, Nathaniel was on them, hitting high, hitting low, hitting wherever needed to be. They wailed for mercy as he worked away at them, but their cries were not heard, for Nathaniel was doing as his God had told him. He suddenly ceased in his efforts, and stood over the two brutes as they cowered in fear.
"Have you learned your lesson?" asked Nathaniel with just the barest hint of a smile.
"Y-yes, of course!" they both managed. "W-we've got to g-go now..." they stuttered. They both clumsily got to their feet, running as fast as their cowed bodies could carry them. As Nathaniel observed the two figures shrinking into the distance, he gave a chuckle. Suddenly, a cheering erupting from all around him. He whipped his head up, only to see himself surrounded by a ring of spectators, all cheering for the kind and just act that Nathaniel had just committed. Smiling at the audience, he then looked at the farmer and asked, "Hello there, are you all right?" The man looked up and him with a grin. "A few bumps and bruises, but nothing a good night's sleep won't fix."
"Lend me your hand," requested Nathaniel, and pulled the farmer up as easily as lifting a scroll of parchment.
"How can I ever repay you?" inquired the farmer, wishing to repay his savior for his act of selflessness and kindness.
"I need no payment for my actions," Nathaniel told the farmer. "It is the will of Saradomin, and I am but his lone servant. I was only carrying out his will."
"Well this Saradomin sounds like a mighty fine guy,” said the farmer. "Any chance I could meet him?"
"He is not of this realm, or of any other you might be aware of," Nathaniel informed him. "He is my God, a just and fair being, and I would be honored to introduce you as a follower to His will."
"Consider it done, my friend,” exclaimed the farmer. "I will take it to heart to serve our God Saradomin."
"Goodbye, my brother. May Saradomin's presence fill your being and enrich your life." And so the two mortals parted, one to fulfill his destiny as a farmer-turned-priest, and one to become a savior to people everywhere.
Nathaniel's journey continued. He passed purposely through farmland and forest, orchid and road, until he finally came to the great city of Falador. Upon coming to the southern gate, the two statue-like guards locked their spears together, alerting him of their unfriendliness. "None shall pass but citizens of the great city of Falador," they both said in unison.
Not wishing to be turned away, Nathaniel spoke up. "I am but a lonely traveler," he replied. "Would you be so heartless as to turn a hungry man away from a warm meal?"
The one on the left then spoke up. “You are clad in the finest of armor, and wield one of the most powerful weapons in Runescape. You could easily be an enemy, rather than an ally, and so we question your motives. We will not allow you to gain citizenship in the regular way.”
"Fine then," said Nathaniel. "How might I become a citizen of your great city?"
"You must pass the three trials of Asgarnia," they informed him. "We shall take you to the first trial. First, however, you must be bound and blindfolded. This is a sacred place that we are taking you to, and it is our king's wish that none shall know the way," said the guard on the right.
Nathaniel was a bit skeptical to their request. "If this is so, then how is it that you know the way?" The guards stuttered their answer.
"We, ah, the king, well... Just put on the blindfold, will you?" they finally said in defeat.
Nathaniel grinned wryly. "Yes, your majesties!" The two guards bound his hands behind his back as he put the itchy blindfold. Suddenly, he was struck with a violent blow to the head. He swooned and fell into the blackness of unconsciousness before he could even wonder what had happened.
Nathaniel woke to a blinding headache. "Ahhh!" he cried, cradling his head in his hands. "Was that really necessary?" he asked through gritted teeth, attempting to avoid the relentless pounding in his cranium.
"Yes," said one of the virtually identical guards. "Secrecy precaution."
"Y'know, it's not as if I was going to take it off..." started Nathaniel.
"Regardless," said the guards. "It is the king's wish that it be done. Now, let's get started. We are in one of the deepest chambers of the king's palace. This is the Chamber of Trials. All three of your trials will be done down here. Now, please follow me." As soon as the last word of the guard's sentence was finished, both of them were off, striding towards wherever his first trial would be. Groaning, Nathaniel got to his feet and started after them.
After about a minute of catching up, Nathaniel fell into step with the guards. As soon as his steps feel even with theirs, they came to an abrupt halt in front of a large wooden door. Nathaniel actually had to backtrack a bit to come even with them. On it was the symbol of Saradomin. "It is time for your first task," the guards notified. "The first task is the task of Purity. You must catch a swordfish from our holy reservoir, which runs from under the Altar of Saradomin in Entrena. Only those judged pure by our God Saradomin are able to catch one. Good luck."
The guards handed him a gleaming black harpoon, then stepped out of the room. Nathaniel was left in the gray room with a small, sparkling blue stream in front of him. Nathaniel looked at the Holy Symbol of Saradomin around his neck. It shone even more brightly than usual in the presence of the stream.
"O Great Saradomin," vocalized Nathaniel. "Guide my hand so that I may obtain one of your great creations." He then plunged the harpoon deep inside the stream. All of a sudden, the harpoon began wriggling. It seemed almost to be struggling against his will. Nathaniel wrenched the murderous tool up out of the water, and impaled upon it, amidst the glistening water was a swordfish. It was as purple as a sunset, and its sword-like nose was as sharp as a sewing needle. He laid the creature on the floor, and released the fading fish from its grasp. The guards entered the room, eyeing the swordfish with satisfaction.
"You have completed the first task," said the second guard. "We will begin the second task immediately."
"Do you have to hit me over the head this time?" asked Nathaniel jokingly.
"Fortunately for you, no," one of the enforcers told him. "Follow us."
Nathaniel followed the two guards down a hall, and through a winding corridor that seemed endless. They just kept walking and walking. Finally, they came to another door. On it was a symbol of a red mask. "This will test your cunning. Inside of this room, we have a trained guard and a market stall full of gems. You must obtain a diamond and cut it with this chisel," At that, Nathaniel was handed a rough chisel, obviously used many times. "There are two ways to obtain a diamond. You may either choose to answer a riddle he gives you: the fair and just way, or you may try to steal it, the more... cunning and malicious way. Alert us when you have finished or you give up." The guards then backed up, and motioned for him to enter the room. Nathaniel did just that, and stepped into the area.
It was a dark room, lighted by a single candle on top of a wooden stall, holding many precious, gleaming gems. In front of the stall was a light-skinned man with dark eyes. He was adorned in brown trousers of cloth, and a white buttoned shirt. He also had a goatee upon his face. "If you wish to obtain on of these," he said in a raspy voice, motioning towards the jewels in the stall. "Then you must answer my riddle. Do you accept?"
"I do," answered Nathaniel. "Now ask it from me." The man nodded once, then closed his eyes.
"It's nothing at all Yet it does take shape It follows you around Leaves nothing in its wake Black as the night It flees from the light Moves all around With not even a sound Grows bigger yet Far away as you get What am I?"
The man opened his eyes and fell silent, leaving Nathaniel to ponder his riddle.
"Nothing it all, but it has a shape..." he thought. "Nothingness with a shape. Not getting anywhere yet... Okay, follows you around, but leaves nothing in its wake. So its nothingness with a shape, and it follows you around. But how can nothing follow you? Whatever... Let's see, black as night, flees from the light. So we've got a black shape of nothingness that follows you around and flees from the light... This is getting difficult." Nathaniel groaned in his effort. This was hard stuff. "Okay, it moves without sound, and it grows bigger yet, far away as you get? Whew... Ok, let's get logical.
First, it follows you around. Okay, that's a start. It's black, and it leaves nothing in its wake, with no sound. Could it be some kind of animal? No, they always make sounds, and, well, they leave something in their wake..." Nathaniel began to pace around. He looked at his surroundings, from the riddler to the market stall. He began to think of his other option of trickery. But where was the honor in stealing? There was no justice or righteousness in that... It was not of Saradomin's will. He gathered he thoughts and looked around him again. His eyes strayed from the solid brick walls, to the candle on the market stall, to the shadow behind him... But suddenly, it hit him. "Wait a minute, black as night, flees from the light, and follows around... Makes no sound, has a shape and is nothing? My shadow! It's so obvious in its complexity! Of course a shadow's black, makes no sound. It's nothing at all!" Nathaniel felt like jumping for joy. He looked over at the man, and spoke up.
"I am ready." The man looked over at him, eyeing his profile carefully.
"Well then, give me your answer," he requested. Nathaniel took a deep breath, and told him.
"The answer is a shadow! Please tell me now - Am I correct?" The man looked around him, almost as if afraid that someone was watching, and then let out his breath.
"You are correct," said he with a smile. "Here is your reward." The man fetched the precious treasure from the stall and handed it to Nathaniel. It was very cool to the touch, and it almost surprised him. He quite appreciated its beauty. He then took out the chisel given to him by the guards and carefully cut the gem, bringing out its full luster and astonishing beauty. "Go face your final task," said the man. And then Nathaniel was back out of the door, ready to face the guards.
"I have retrieved a diamond by solving the riddle," he said, handing the diamond to the guards. Both of the guards looked very carefully at the beautiful stone, inspecting it to make sure that it was real. After a few moments of this, they turned to him.
"You have completed the second task. You are now permitted to rest for this night to prepare for the final task. You will follow us to a room where you will be given a bed and supper. We will wake you with breakfast and then inform you of your third task." Nathaniel then followed them off to his temporary room.
Later that night, after a meal of cooked chicken, carrots and fresh spring water, Nathaniel lay in a cot in the dark, pondering what might happen in his future. The final task would undoubtedly be the hardest yet, and it was fairly frustrating that he would be forced to spend the night struggling with unknowingness. But beyond that, he wondered if he would be able to finish the task, and assuming so, find followers of Saradomin or others to convert, and ask where he might find the Wizard's Tower. He needed to purge the evil from this land, yes, but the immediate task at hand - to smite the evil, which lay waiting south of the Tower. He finally fell into a restless slumber, dreaming of evil demons and spirits.
Nathaniel was falling. Falling through a canyon, falling through memory, falling through eternity. He was falling, with a great feeling of despair in his heart, with images all around him. A thief, beating an old man for money. A barbarian, slaying a woman for amusement. Even a goblin constantly tripping people and chuckling maliciously. But among all of these images was a light. A pure, white light. He was falling towards it, trying to reach it. He was almost there...
"Wake, traveler," said the guard quietly. But the man would not stir in his fit of tossing and turning. He decided to try a bit harder. He shook Nathaniel gently, while whispering in a gentle crescendo, "Wake, traveler. Wake." This statement gradually grew louder and louder, until finally…
Nathaniel was racing downwards towards the light. He was so close to it, he was almost there… Suddenly, he hit the plume of brilliance, and with a crack he suddenly…
Nathaniel bolted up, very confused. “Where is it? Where is that bright, white light? I was falling… All around me… Faces… People… Where is the light?”
The guards had already jumped back at the start of Nathaniel’s outburst, but now they cautiously toddled back. “You were dreaming, sir. It is morning and we have brought you breakfast. You should also know that your third and final task is to take place in the time of one hour. We will come back to you in this time.” They then both left the room in silence, leaving Nathaniel to his breakfast of bread, butter and fresh fruit.
A few minutes later, after he had completely recovered from his nightmarish experience, Nathaniel sat on his stomach munching a strawberry from the breakfast tray. He was quite thoughtful in pondering the third task. Seeing as he had no idea what thing there were soon to impose upon him, he could not prepare or train for it. He looked over in the corner of the room to his weapons, armour and supplies, showing off their luster in the candlelight. He wondered whether they would be needed, and if so, what for. “It’s quite obvious that this will be the hardest task yet,” thought Nathaniel. “But what could they possibly do? Saradomin has granted me quite sufficient experience in all of my known skills. Hopefully my gift will see me through this task.” He looked to the Holy Symbol around his neck. He grasped the item in his hand tightly, and closed his eyes. “O Great Saradomin,” said he. “Grant me this moment of conversation so that I may cleanse my mind and continue in my search for this island.”
Nothing really happened. There was no flash of light, any big “Bang” or “Poof!” But suddenly Nathaniel was back on the white cloud on which he first met the great Being.
Nathaniel looked up and the huge God and said, “Oh Saradomin, please, help me to get through this. I am, after all, only a simple adventurer. I have not much experience with these things.”
“But don’t you?” replied Saradomin. “When I granted you the gift of experience, did I tell you in which areas I had granted you it?”
“No, you didn’t but –“
“Now listen to me, Nathaniel Denya. Please hear me out. I did not only bestow upon you experience in regular skills such as fishing and smithing. I gave you experience in life. Your skill and readiness for this task is as keen as any seasoned man’s. You are as ready as any man could possibly be. All you must do is believe in the power that has been granted in you. Remember – there is nothing you can do if you do not believe that you can do it. Now get back into that mortal realm, and get ready for your final task. I will be watching you.” And with a wink, he was gone, leaving Nathaniel to the recesses of his temporary room.
Precisely forty-two minutes later, it was time. The guards entered the room. “Follow us,” said the leftward guard. “Your final task awaits.” Nathaniel followed them back through the hallway that led to the room, and through various corridors and flights of stairs. Finally, in the damp, dark recesses of what appeared to be some kind of basement, they came to a halt. As in the other two tasks, there was a large wooden door before them, bearing the symbol of two crossed swords.
“Quite a good thing that I remembered my weapons and armour,” thought Nathaniel with relief.
“Through this door is your final task. It is the task of strength. There is an enemy that you must defeat, whether you slay him, knock him unconscious or bring him to surrender. You must bring go into this room and bring him out. However, this task is not as simple as it might sound. The man who you must defeat is known as Bosei the Razor. This is because that he is known for his extraordinary fighting skills. He once came to our city, without a sound, and passed all the tasks with flying colors. He never spoke once. He always let his blade: a silver, shining katana do the talking, or so they say. This man shall be your opponent to defeat.”
“I am prepared to take on he or any other foe,” replied Nathaniel confidently, already with his armour on and weapon wielded.
“Very well then,” returned the guard. “Good luck.” And so the battle was to begin.
Nathaniel creaked the door open and stepped in. It swung away on its hinges and closed. He had entered a chamber with candles on the walls. The walls were dripping with moisture, and the terrain was rough and hilly. In the middle of the vast room was a beautiful embroidered carpet, on which was a man who appeared to be meditating. Curious, Nathaniel walked up onto the carpet, within a sword’s reach of the man.
“Are you –“ started Nathaniel, but suddenly a blade stabbed out at him from Bosei’s hand, coming within a hair of his face. “I see,” replied Nathaniel coolly. “You must be Bosei. We shall fight to determine my citizenship, yes?” The warrior only nodded, his eyes still closed. “This fight begins now.”
Bosei abruptly opened his eyes, standing up. The hands at his sides opened to reveal twin katanas, shining in the candlelight. “Let the battle begin,” vocalized Nathaniel softly. And so it did. Nathaniel certainly did look more intimidating in his fancy armour, but Bosei had some kind of mystical look to him, one that could incite fear in even the strongest foe. But Nathaniel was unmoved. He was prepared for anything.
Nathaniel began by pulling out his dragon longsword from his backpack. He adopted a ready stance and waited. “This fight will go nowhere without movement. Come and fight, Bosei the Razor,” he yelled. But Bosei would not be moved he just stood there, twirling his twin blades expertly. “Then so be it!” said Nathaniel. He began to slowly pace forward. Bosei made no move to neither avoid nor intercept him, but acted still as if anticipating his enemy’s actions. Once within a sword’s reach of the katana-wielding man, Nathaniel stopped. He looked his enemy in the eye for a few moments. He saw no fear, no confidence in those eyes. No emotion. Only the desire to be victorious. He struck with his longsword, flashing it down upon Bosei, on a course to collide straight with his skull. About an inch from it, however, Bosei’s first katana whipped up and blocked the blade, while the other one was guided about, dancing towards Nathaniel in short thrusts aimed expertly for the faults in his armour where flesh was exposed. Nathaniel began to duck and dodge these thrusts, leaving both of Bosei’s weapons free.
Suddenly, he stopped. Bosei looked passive, as if not concentrating on the fight at hand, but on something… otherworldly. Nathaniel took this as his chance, and ran at the man, roaring. In mid-stride, he exchanged his longsword for a dragon halberd, the most powerful of weapons with long range. The distance between the two warriors was shortening quickly. Twenty feet, fifteen, ten, five… Nathaniel wound his halberd back behind him, and then whipped it around. But as soon as the deadly blade would have struck Bosei, a great wind started up, blowing Nathaniel violently away from him. The ground began to tremble, as the wind grew stronger and louder. Nathaniel was forced to shield his eyes from the ongoing onslaught of wind, which fiercely pelted him with dirt. All of a sudden, the back of his eyelids shone with a bright light. Nathaniel took a chance and upon his eyes, only to see Bosei in the middle of a great whirlwind, a pale glow emitting from his figure. He was spinning as fast as the wind itself, his blades a silver blur. Worst of all, he was making a beeline straight for Nathaniel, and the huge distance between them was being devoured by the whirlwind. Bosei would be there in seconds to fling all over the walls and chop him into unthinkable quantities of pieces. Only his quick thinking could save him. Desperately, Nathaniel racked his brains for some miracle, some shred of knowledge that could possibly save him. Suddenly, he remembered himself stuffing grass into his backpack. He recalled coming to the conclusion that the backpack might as well have been an endless pit, and he could stuff anything in there… It was a crazy idea, but it was his only hope.
Nathaniel seized his backpack from his shoulder and into his arms, and opened the flap. All of his weapons, gold and accessories were enveloped by the oncoming whirlwind, but Nathaniel held his ground, his leather backpack stretched out wide in his hands. The distance was shortening, with many feet per second. One second they were fifty feet apart, the next thirty, ten…. Nathaniel closed his eyes and prayed, waiting for the onslaught of wind to come and envelop him in darkness. But it never came. The wind suddenly ceased its howling, and the chamber became shrouded in silence. He opened his eyes. There was debris and dirt everywhere, spattered all over the walls. But there was no sign of Bosei. Sighing with relief, he dropped to his knees and prayed to Saradomin. “O Great God, thank you for the great kindness you have shown me in sparing my life.” But Nathaniel heard the reply to this prayer in his own head.
“Do not thank me for this victory,” replied Saradomin kindly. “It was your own ingenuity and quick thinking that saved you. Not me, you. Now get out there and earn your citizenship. You have made me very proud, Nathaniel.”
Nathaniel got to his feet, and walked out of the door.
”Well?” said the guards, obviously anxious to know if he had defeated Bosei.
“I am victorious. I have defeated Bosei the Razor,” Nathaniel said, confirming their thoughts. But the guards were skeptical.
“How can this be true?” the asked. “You have not brought him out of the room.
With a wry grin, Nathaniel replied, “Oh, I sure did…” With that, he opened his backpack, unleashing the great gust of wind with Bosei enveloped in it. Except this time, that force was headed straight for a stone wall. Nathaniel winced as he heard the crunch that Bosei made as he was hurled against the wall. He fell a few feet to the floor, the wind gone, with a trickle of blood streaming from his forehead.
Nathaniel turned back to the guards and smiled. “Now do you believe me?” And to this, the guards did not answer. Probably because the couldn’t, as their mouths were so agape that one would be very disturbed at the look on that person’s face. Nathaniel just kept on smiling.
Half an hour later, after the guards had finally regained their wits and brought Bosei to the hospital turret, Nathaniel was facing the king of Falador in his royal chambers.
“So you, Nathaniel, have completed all three of the tasks required for citizenship?” inquired the king.
“Yes sir,” replied Nathaniel.
“You have caught a swordfish from our holy reservoir, earned a diamond from our marketplace and defeated Bosei the Razor?”
“Yes sir,” repeated Nathaniel.
“Very well then,” said the king. “I hereby declare you, Nathaniel Denya, an official citizen of the great city of Falador. Well done.”
”Thank you, good king,” said Nathaniel. “I am very pleased to hear that you have accepted me. Now, I have to ask you two things.”
“Yes, of course,” said the king.
“First, do you or your city believe in the God Saradomin?” inquired Nathaniel.
“Well of course we do!” said the king. “He is our lone God and protector of these lands.”
“I am glad to hear it,” said Nathaniel. “I myself am a prophet of this great God, and I am here in this realm of Runescape to do his bidding. Now, secondly, might you know where the Wizard’s Tower is, south of a place known as Draynor Village?”
“Certainly,” answered the king. “Most people in this city do. If it is Saradomin’s will for you to go there, then I can send scouts with you to guide you along with some good provisions.”
“That would be greatly appreciated,” said Nathaniel, relieved that the king had been so nice. “Could I begin journeying today?”
“Of course,” said the king. “But first, let’s get you brushed up. You seem to be quite filthy, and cut in a few places. I’ll bring you to the hospital turret myself and get that fixed up, and I shall let you rest in the royal suite for a few hours.”
“Thank you very much,” said Nathaniel. “I really appreciate this.”
“No trouble at all,” said the king gaily. You are a follower of Saradomin, and that is all I care about.”
And so the two Believers went off to attend to each other’s needs.
“Goodbye!” yelled Nathaniel to the king, waving to the tiny figure under the entrance to Falador Castle.
“And the same to you!” replied the king. “May you and Bjorn have a safe and successful journey, and may peace be with you, my friend!”
This was the exchange of words between the two men hours after Nathaniel had first begun conversation with the royal person. Nathaniel had spent a brief stay at the hospital turret, having his cuts and bruises brushed up with some exotic herbs and certain unique concoctions. Just before his discharge from the area, one of the king’s servants had asked for an audience with Nathaniel. He had accepted willingly.
“The king requests that you be at his personal quarters immediately,” said the gentleman. “Your presence is requested for a meeting with His royal highness, where both of you shall be served a casual supper. Please come as soon as possible. That is all,” The man then promptly left the room without uttering another word.
Hmmm… A meeting with the king… thought Nathaniel. I wonder precisely what we’ll be discussing. I don’t mind the fact that supper will be served, however… thought the restless adventurer, allowing himself a small smile along with the thought. I’m simply famished.
About five minutes later, by Nathaniel’s estimate, the nurse on duty informed him that he was sufficiently healed and ready to go. As soon as he had received this news, he zipped over to the door outside the king’s private quarters. Panting ever so slightly, he knocked on the hardwood door that had had many mystical runes carved into it long ago. Nathaniel could hear the muffled speech of the ruler from inside the room, followed by the king himself appearing under the threshold after setting the door ajar.
“Hello Nathaniel,” he said pleasantly. “I’ve been expecting you. Come in, come in.”
The king’s quarters were enormous, compared to any ordinary bedroom. It was almost as big as some houses that he had seen on his journeys. There were numerous crystal chandeliers, intricately carved wooden chairs and a few desks and tables. It appeared almost as if a mess hall filled with homely items fit for… well, a king.
“Quite a big room you have here,” remarked Nathaniel. “It must be quite a hassle to keep tidy.”
“Oh, no, not at all,” said the king lightly. “At least, not for me. The servants take care of most all physical labor such as that. At any rate, why don’t we get down to some supper, eh?”
He walked over to one of the fine, polished wooden tables near the center of the room, and motioned for Nathaniel come sit opposite him. As soon as Nathaniel sat down, the king snapped his fingers in a very practiced fashion. Instantly, a numerous amount of servants, all carrying silverware, glasses, napkins, various covered dishes all of which emitted a distinctive aroma, and even a pair of candlesticks enveloped the two diners. They worked quickly and efficiently. Within only a few seconds, they were done, and the men’s meal prepared.
“Quite an efficient workforce you have here,” observed Nathaniel with interest.
“Thank you,” said the king. “I suppose it comes with the responsibilities of royalty. Now, let’s get down to our meal. Take your pick of dishes, and dig in.”
After examining and sampling a few of the steaming dishes upon the linen tablecloth, Nathaniel finally settled on a dinner of roast duck, mashed potatoes and a significant portion of green beans. He accompanied the cuisine with a glass of a particularly sweet wine. It was a delicious arrangement, and Nathaniel thoroughly enjoyed it. The king also seemed to find his quite sufficient to his liking, and he too was enjoying his dinner. About halfway through his plateful of rations, after a substantially silent meal without any discussion, Nathaniel finally looked up at the king and cleared his throat.
“Oh, yes, what is it?” asked the king, a bit startled after his peaceful sitting had been abruptly interrupted.
“I was thinking about the scout you’ve told me I’ll be accompanied by. Who is he, and what is he like?”
The king pondered this thought for a moment, appearing to look very intently at the space above Nathaniel’s head. After a moment, he began speaking again.
“The scout I am assigning you is the best of the best, and you should be quite grateful to hear so. He is the Chief of Stealth operations, and he is well known for it. He is the greatest tracker I’ve ever seen, whether it is looking for escaped prisoners, foes, or just animals on a hunting trip. He is also quite experienced in the way of weapons, with a fast blade and an exceptionally accurate bow. He is a good leader when it comes to scouting trips, and is known for his great senses. His name is Bjorn.” The king cleared his throat after this sentence, removing whatever substance had lodged its way in his gullet. “As for his credentials apart from his valiant position, he has earned many medals for service to the king, and has saved many a soldier from certain death or imprisonment. He has my full confidence, and you should have no reason to be worried while with him.”
During this informative speech, Nathaniel had looked intently at the ground, summing up all that the king had said. When the king finished, he closed his eyes for a moment and thought. Still with his eyes closed, he then said, “I see that you have virtually infinite confidence in Bjorn, and I understand that he is quite the man when it comes to getting around. However, what do you know of his social whereabouts?”
The king’s confidence seemed to falter then, as his face took on a very startled look. He pondered the thought intently for a while. He seemed very unsure of what he was going to say. Finally, he sighed, and went on. “Admittedly, I have never really known him to the point of social interaction. I do not just sit down with all of my men and have dinner with them as I am with you. However, from what I have heard, Bjorn is not a very social man. He is known as a strong, silent type. He rarely talks other than to bark orders or report something. He is single, without a wife or children.” The king’s eyes seemed to flare there, and he seemed a bit more hurried. “However, I’m sure you two will get along just fine. Whether you make great friends with him or not, he is only accompanying you in your quest for protection and direction. Nothing more than that, or so I would expect. Now… onto another topic.
“From what I have heard from my servants, your rations and water should be quite enough. In fact, I’ve been told you’ve got enough food to feed an army for a week! I don’t think you should run into any trouble there. Now, why don’t we finish our meals?”
The dining went on without speech, as it had for the beginning of the supper up until the conversation between the two. Nothing could be heard but the sound of their chewing and their forks upon their plates. After the meal had been finished, Nathaniel graciously thanked the king for his hospitality, and was instructed to go to his temporary quarters until precisely seven thirty, when he would be called forth to the front of the castle. He was told that he would meet up with Bjorn at that point.
During the time between the arrival at the room and the coming of the informant, Nathaniel rested. Not just physically, but mentally. He dozed, not quite asleep, but not fully awake either. Nathaniel later would enjoy this leisurely moment of peace, in which he did not have to think of what was coming next, or what horror he would need to face.
In what seemed like a blink of an eye to Nathaniel, it came time to go. The informant had come, and his things were all with him. He had been led down to the gate, where he found the king. At the side of him was a man, which he instantly recognized to be Bjorn, his new partner.
“Hello Nathaniel!” said the king. “This is Bjorn.” The king then looked to Bjorn and nodded. “Bjorn, this is Nathaniel. Nathaniel, Bjorn.” Bjorn proceeded to extend his hand to Nathaniel, which he accepted, grasping tightly in a firm handshake.
Nathaniel looked at Bjorn, a short man with messy, unkempt black hair. He was wearing a bearskin vest, under which he wore a pair of gray trousers. The backpack containing their food and supplies was already upon his back. He was fairly short compared to Nathaniel, the top of his head only just reaching past Nathaniel’s chin. He looked fairly muscular, with a jutting chest, and a powerful looking set of arms. Most of his features were fairly nondescript, and quite normal. But what really jumped out at Nathaniel were Bjorn’s eyes. They seemed to define his whole character. As Nathaniel looked at him, he could almost feel certain emotions emanating from the man. Grief. Pain. Loss. The sadness in his two bright blue eyes could easily be seen, and it spoke to Nathaniel. The man’s eyes both sang for love and kindness.
After what seemed almost an eternity, Nathaniel wrenched his eyes away from the grasp of the other man’s. “Ready?” he asked. Bjorn nodded a response to him, signaling that he was ready to go.
The two newly joined comrades walked in unison to the beginning of the bridge that separated Falador Castle from the rest of the city, and the world.
“Goodbye!” yelled Nathaniel to the king, waving to the king with sadness in his heart knowing he would not see his friend for quite a long time.
“And the same to you!” responded the king. “May you and Bjorn have a safe and successful journey, and may peace be with you, my friend!”
And so it was set, the journey of the duo of adventurers to make their way to Draynor Village and beyond. After a silent walk to an intersection in the right, the two men made a right and continued onward. While doing so, Nathaniel noticed, to his left, a beautiful park with many a flower and well-kept bushes. He could smell the sweet fragrance of the flowers from a fair distance away.
“Wouldn’t it be great?” said Nathaniel. “To be a gardener? To live out your life peacefully, tending to new life every day, and nurturing it? To walk among the flowers and care for the hedges, just to appreciate life as it stands.”
“I’m sure that could be arranged,” replied Bjorn blankly, surprising Nathaniel with the first words he’d heard from the man. “If you wish to be a gardener, I would suggest talking to Wyson. I’m sure he’d be happy to work out a deal with you.”
Nathaniel just shook his head and smiled, amused at how his travel companion had taken his statement so wrong. The men passed through the rest of the city quickly, Nathaniel in awe at the great buildings they passed.
“Isn’t it amazing,” he remarked. “That man built all of this? That a force of men could raise so many great structures, such a majestic city, from nothing? To me, it shows the determination of our species. When we have a goal, we make sure it is completed.” Bjorn only nodded to this statement, and continued on as if nothing had happened.
A few moments later, they passed through the gate of Falador, the border between the city and the wild, where they were bound and would continue in until they reached the village of Draynor. The journey passed uneventfully as the couple passed the “Great Gate”, or so Bjorn said it was called. Apparently, it ran all the way from the waters of Port Sarim to the borders of Barbarian Village. Nathaniel was awed by this fact; again amazed that man was able to accomplish such feats.
Only minutes later, Nathaniel caught his first glimpse of Draynor Village. It was a tiny speck of colors in the distance, right at the horizon line. Nathaniel enjoyed the sight. He could see tiny people bustling around the village and likely talking with each other, as well as numerous stone houses. As it got bigger and bigger as they came ever closer, Nathaniel began to feel excited. He was getting closer and closer to the first part of his quest.
Finally, they arrived. The front of the village did not look anything like Falador – quite the contrary, in fact. There were a few houses cluttered together messily, some seemingly abandoned, and all with noticeable cobwebs growing inside as Nathaniel looked into the houses where the door was ajar. There was no shortage of rats or spiders, either. But as they moved along, he began to appreciate the quaintness of the little village. They were fields of grain, a modern (and often used) bank, and, most of all, a marketplace, with many yelling occupants. As the two men walked over there, it was evident that this was the central point of Draynor Village. Many cries offering exotic items such as lobsters and jewelry were heard, such as “Selling one thousand cooked lobsters, only one hundred gold pieces per fish!” and “Selling rare purple party hat! Eight million gold!” The crowd smothered Nathaniel, especially the eccentric salesmen who flooded him with offers for this and that. He managed to push his way through the sea of occupants, and came out on the other side unscathed and un-tempted.
“Whew, what a place!” remarked Nathaniel. “Not a bad place to live, I’d say.” Just as he was about to suggest they move on, the sun began to set, turning the puffy, white clouds of day into a majestic magenta, the sky darkening in a gold prelude to night. “I think we may want to find someone who could give us a room for the night,” commented Nathaniel. Bjorn nodded in agreement. But no sooner were the words out of his mouth that a passerby overheard him and leapt to his rescue.
“I’ve got an empty guest room in my house,” he said eagerly. “I can clean it up and give you each a bed for the night for ten gold each. So, how about it, guys?” Nathaniel and Bjorn looked at each other squarely in the eye. Bjorn gave Nathaniel a nod, and he took it as a signal to accept.
“We’ll accept your offer,” said Nathaniel. He began rummaging around the loaded backpack that Bjorn carried and finally came up with twenty gold pieces. He handed them to the man. “By the way, my name is Nathaniel, and this is Bjorn.”
“Thank you,” he said gratefully. “I don’t work much, so I don’t often make much money. I am Naro, by the way. Follow me, I’ll lead you to my house.” Naro then went back off in the direction of the entrance of the city; the two adventurers following close behind. After about thirty yards, he stopped at a nice, one-story house. He retrieved his key from his pocket and unlocked the door. There to greet Naro was his wife and daughter, who were promptly introduced to Nathaniel and Bjorn, and the other way around. It was only then that Nathaniel realized how weary he was, despite the short doze he took in Falador Castle.
“Would you mind if we went to our rooms?” he asked amiably. “I’m quite weary, and I’d really enjoy a good night’s sleep.”
“No problem,” replied Naro pleasantly. “I can understand the circumstances with travelers such as yourselves. The room is right down the hall. You can’t miss it. Just put down your things and hit the hay. I’ll see you in the morning.” Naro’s wife and daughter both said a quick good-night to the two, and then they were off. Only minutes later, after washing his face in a bedside basin, Nathaniel was in bed. He was asleep before he hit the pillow.
Bjorn was alert. His pupils were zipping across his eye sockets; constantly searching for something that was not there. He was on his back in a small cot, in the house of Naro, a kind man who had offered Bjorn and his companion lodging for the night.
O Mighty Zamorak, Ruler of all Being, hear me in my pitiful cry that I may be honored with your presence.
Bjorn knew of the task that awaited him, staring him straight in the eyes with an intense glare. It was quite obvious that Nathaniel was the N’emar, the one blessed by Saradomin Himself to vanquish the great evil from the mortal realm of Runescape. But it was clear that Nathaniel did not know of the Pema’an, the Other, to be chosen by the all-mighty and powerful God Zamorak. Only the Pema’an would be able to spread Evil throughout Runescape, and destroy the N’emar. Only then would Zamorak be able to descend upon the mortals of Runescape, and begin his quest to rule this world and any other.
All of this Bjorn knew. He knew that the time was ripening, bringing the world ever closer to its pending fate. It was only a matter of time now. Bjorn knew this. All of it. He also knew that he would be the one to do it.
Nathaniel was dying. His cries of agony could not be heard in the great pit he was in. His feet, his chest, and his face were burning. His whole body was on fire, and there was nothing to soothe the torture that he was being subjected to. He was in a pit of white-hot flames, and there was nowhere to run. He was, in addition to being violently seared by the flames on the outside, being devoured from within. He was in hell. “Ahhh!” he screamed in the extreme pain, but still no one could hear him. Suddenly, a high-pitched whistling erupted from inside his mouth. He despised it, but he could not contain it. It became louder and louder, rising in a great crescendo until finally....
Nathaniel jolted up in his bed, his back making a split-second ninety-degree adjustment. Beads of perspiration were rolling down his red face, and his breaths were in short gasps. It took him a few seconds to recognize his surroundings, and then his memory of the previous night came rushing back. He could hear, in an adjacent room, a teakettle working up a storm, producing the telltale whistle that everyone knew. It was just a dream, thought Nathaniel. Nothing more than a silly old nightmare. Still, the recent experience sent a chill down his spine. It had been so real, and it scared him.
Nathaniel put on a set of robes that had been granted to him by his God Saradomin, and preceded to the kitchen. As he walked, the soft material of the robe gently played against his skin, giving him a soothing feeling. It somewhat refreshed him as he walked into the small room. Naro was over by the hearth of the fire, where a healthy blaze was rising and falling in classic manner. Above it was a bronze kettle, rapidly producing steam out of the spout.
“Good morning, Naro,” said Nathaniel, rubbing his eyes to extract the last traces of drowsiness from his mind. Naro looked up at Nathaniel, removing the frying pan he had been holding over the fire in the process.
“And the same to you,” replied Naro cheerfully. “You slept a bit late,” he remarked, gesturing towards the sun’s golden rays that were streaming through the window. “I take it you slept well?”
“Mostly,” said Nathaniel airily. “A short nightmare, but nothing that really disrupted my slumber.” Nathaniel knelt down towards Naro, taking a whiff of his cooking. “Mmm! That does smell quite good. What is it?” Naro smiled at Nathaniel, appreciative that someone liked his culinary work.
“This is a breakfast fit for a king, if I may say so myself. Or, in this case, three kings and two queens.” Naro winked at Nathaniel. “What we have here is freshly cooked steak, right from a cow that I took in myself. It’s on a nice bed of eggs cooked sunny side up, with some spinach and carrots mixed in there.” Naro allowed himself a rueful smile. “I don’t cook to often around here – it’s usually my wife who does that sort of thing. But whenever I do, no one seems to appreciate it. I’m glad you’re here, Nathaniel. At least there’s someone who really appreciates my delights.”
Nathaniel gave a genuine grin. Naro had such a good heart. He almost wished that he could stay here, at Naro’s house in Draynor Village and reside there for the rest of his life. But he knew that his destiny would not allow it, and it would accomplish nothing.
Morning passed without any major events. Bjorn arrived from his room, silent as usual, and ate his breakfast in silence, as everyone conversed and laughed at the table. For everyone else, it was an enjoyable time, where everyone shared their thoughts and experiences with whomever they wished. But Bjorn stayed silent.
Finally, morning turned to afternoon, the sun high in the sky, almost at its zenith. It came the time to go for Nathaniel and Bjorn. Their belongings were packed, goodbyes were said, and even a few tears were shed. Nathaniel and Bjorn were standing side by side, waving at Naro’s family. They all seemed so happy, so content with their lives. They were together, as a family, and that was what mattered to them.
“Goodbye Naro!” yelled Nathaniel, waving vigorously at the threesome. “Thank you for your kindness! I will never forget you!”
“I am glad I did,” said Naro with bright eyes. “It is my wish that we meet again. Goodbye Nathaniel!” said he as the pair finally turned away and began walking into the horizon. “My friend.”
Nathaniel and Bjorn were on their way. “It’s only a short walk to the Wizards Tower,” Bjorn informed Nathaniel. “Barely five minute’s walk.” The two companions set out towards their immediate destination. They passed a few houses, the marketplace (as busy as ever), and the bank. Finally, after passing that final mark, they left Draynor Village. Looming up in front of them was an enormous wooden bridge, twisting this way, that way and every way around. “This is the Bridge of Segnia, named after the wizard who founded the great tower that we’ll be seeing soon.” They walked across the bridge in peace, with not a sound between them apart from their own footsteps. Almost two-thirds of the way down the bridge, Nathaniel’s foot became trapped in a loose board. He shook and shook, but he could not get it free. Bjorn watched in amusement as Nathaniel wiggled and kicked, trying to get his foot free. Finally, he tried kicking the board. At once, the board gave out under him, plunging Nathaniel’s foot down, under the bridge. But the wood could not withstand Nathaniel’s weight, and all of the wood around him suddenly gave out! Nathaniel groped around himself, grasping his fingers around the bridge around him. He was hanging by his hands, with a gigantic drop to the sea below him looking him straight in the eye.
“Bjorn!” he yelled in desperation. “Pull me up! Help!” Bjorn looked at Nathaniel’s struggling figure, and bent down to help him. But then, he stopped. He looked at Nathaniel, with almost a quizzical look on his face. All I’d need to do is step on his fingers, and he’d fall. That would be the end of the N’emar. This was Bjorn’s chance. He walked over to Nathaniel with a powerful stride, preparing his foot for the dastardly deed he was about to commit. But just as he was about to raise his shoe, and crush Nathaniel’s fingers from above, a wave of heat swept over him. He could feel the presence of Zamorak all around him, and he looked towards the skies. It is not yet time, you fool! He could hear Zamorak scolding him. You must wait until the time is right. You will get your chance very soon, my minion. Inside the Wizards Tower, your opportunity shall come. And just as suddenly as it had come, he felt Zamorak’s presence leave his body. The voice was gone. He then instantly focused back on Nathaniel. Almost ruefully, he lent him a hand and pulled him up as if it was nothing. He was so close! But his chance would come. If his God had said it was so, then it would be.
Finally, the two men reached the Wizards Tower. It was a great wooden structure loomed above them for many stories. “Are you ready?” asked Nathaniel, inquiring about whether they should enter. Bjorn only nodded, signaling that they should move on. They entered through the great wooden doors in the front. The gold knockers on them shone in the afternoon sunlight, glittering as a sign of majesty. Inside, they noticed that the room was circular. There was no one around. Inside the room was a table with some chairs; a few bookcases crammed chock full of books, and a small stool. Near the corner there was a ladder, which obviously led to the next floor.
“I don’t know about you,” said Nathaniel. “But this place looks deserted. Let’s move on. Maybe we’ll find someone upstairs.”
The two went and climbed the ladder, but found the room, which seemed almost a replica of the previous one they had been in, save a few minor details. “Well, no one here, either,” commented Nathaniel.
The two searched the next two floors to the same result: finding nothing out of the ordinary, and not a single person. “Let’s try the next ladder,” said Nathaniel, clearly disappointed with the results they had found thus far. The two climbed the ladder, only to find a room just like the last four they had been in. However, sitting on a chair in the corner was a small, yellow canary, glaring at a large open book. It almost looks like it’s reading! Thought Nathaniel. But he shook his head, erasing the possibility from his mind. “It’s not as if birds can read,” he said aloud. Suddenly, the bird shook. It was a violent shake, not just one you might see a bird do to shake something off. It began shimmering, glowing brighter and brighter until it appeared to consist completely of white light. Bjorn and Nathaniel were forced to shield their eyes. As the glimmer seemed to fade from behind their hands, they slowly lowered their outstretched palms to their sides. As they took a look, they noticed one huge chance in their sight: the canary had turned into a man!
He was wearing blue robes, known to many as the sign of a wizard. He had a pointed hat and he was holding the book that the canary… or he had been reading by its spine.
“Hello there,” said the magician, his eyes sparkling with enjoyment. “I heard you say something about birds not being able to read.” The two men were too astonished to say a word. They just stood, staring at the wizard with their mouths agape. “Yes,” said the wizard, chuckling slightly. “That does happen sometimes. Yes, I can turn into an animal at will. I sometimes prefer to be a canary than a real human. It calms my mind, somewhat, to have a form different than my real one. So, what are you here for?”
Nathaniel had somewhat regained his posture enough to speak. “We’re, ah, here to, er, ask you about an island. I’ve been told that there is an island, south of here, where there is a great Evil. Do you know of the place of which I speak?”
The wizard then seemed very cautious about saying anything, almost scared as if someone could overhear.
“You do not… you cannot mean… the island of Sheilin?”
“I never knew the name of this horrid place,” said Nathaniel. “However, I believe that, considering the way that you are referring to it, that this is the island that I mean.”
The wizard seemed to freeze then, as if contemplating what to say to Nathaniel. He looked very concerned.
“I have heard of this place, and I know of legends… dreadful stories of people who have gone and never come back. I don’t remember the details, but I do remember this: I have a book, which tells of this area and what lies in it. It is downstairs, two floors down. Look on the bookshelf to the far left of the room, and search for the volume entitled The Darkness Around Us, Volume VII. Then bring it back to me.”
Nathaniel nodded, already walking to the ladder. “I’ll go right now. It is my duty to investigate the whereabouts of this island, and so I am obliged to do this. Thank you for your help.” And with that, he was gone, already down the first ladder.
Meanwhile, Bjorn was still in the room with the wizard. He knew that it was time to act. First, you must rid yourself of the magician. Bjorn heard his God say. You must act quickly, and strike while the time is still ripe.
At the present time, the wizard was hunched over, skimming the book he had been reading for some information that Bjorn did not know. It did not matter. As long as he was distracted, he could carry out the plan of Zamorak. He patted one of his many pockets, sensing the poisoned dagger that would end the ridiculous magic man’s life.
Bjorn began to advance on the magician from behind; his hands kept inside his pockets so as to give him a quick path to his dagger, all the while not looking too suspicious.
“Hello there,” said the wizard absentmindedly, not even bothering to look up from his book. Little did he know it would be the biggest, and last, mistake in his entire life. “Seeing as you’re with Nathaniel, I figure that you might want…” But Bjorn heard no more. He had no intention of listening to the old man’s babblings. There was work to do.
As the wizard kept talking, his back still turned towards Bjorn, he was already preparing for the kill. Bjorn plunged his hand into his pocket. He grasped the handle of the deadly weapon, and wrenched it into the open air. The dried cobra poison on its tip seemed almost harmless with its virtually clear color. But Bjorn knew how deadly it could be, and kept a close watch on where his hand was positioned. He advanced; closer and closer to the wizard, all the while making sure the man’s back was still turned.
Suddenly, the wizard began to turn his torso towards Bjorn. “Oh, and one other thing,” he began, still not fully turned towards him. “You may want to –“ but he didn’t get that far. Bjorn saw the rotation of the man’s torso as if in slow motion. Everything seemed completely silent as he began the descent of his hand towards the wizard’s neck. As the wizard twisted, Bjorn adjusted. He increased the speed of his hand, and, stopping the magician in mid-sentence, he thrust the dagger through his neck. Death was instant. The shock to his jugular as well as the poison, which was rapidly invading his system, combined together in unison to end the wizard’s life quite rapidly. He fell to the floor; his eyes wide and his torso twisted ninety degrees. The first part was done.
The wizard has been vanquished. Now, for the N’emar…
Nathaniel was searching for answers. The bookcase the wizard had described was enormous, wrapped around all four walls of the wooden room, and finding one single specific volume was quite a challenge indeed. A Wizard’s Guide to Dust Motes, Anatomy of a Runestone, History of the Dragon Race…the list was endless, and finding The Darkness Around Us, Volume VII would take incredible patience and discipline. Fortunately, if those were the qualities you needed, then Nathaniel was the man to get. However, this did not stop his frustration from showing.
“Blasted wizard!” he muttered to himself. “There’s no way he’d need all of these books… Now how will I find that volume?” Nevertheless, he kept searching, as diligently as ever. Patience… Patience… All answers will come, in time.
Meanwhile, two floors above the immense bookcase, Bjorn was preparing for the kill.
O Mighty Zamorak, bless me so that my aim shall be true, and the N’emar shall fall, and your greatness will be proclaimed all throughout Runescape!
There was no answer, but he immediately knew that his prayer had been acknowledged by the sudden tightening of his muscles, and the sharpness that had been added to his vision. His knife at his side, he crept down the first ladder.
There was no one on the level above Nathaniel, and that was good, for no one would interrupt Bjorn’s silent strike. He wanted the murder to go as smoothly as possible, and with no extra repercussions. He slunk along the wooden floor, his footsteps as light and graceful as a cat’s. Only a being of extremely acute hearing would have been able to hear his controlled stride. Finally, he descended the final ladder. Nathaniel was at the other end of the room, staring intensely at the titles of the masses of books. He occasionally muttered softly to himself, keeping him alert to anything that would come his way. Anything, that is, except me, thought Bjorn.
It was time.
Bjorn lengthened his stride, though giving off no more noise than he had before. He moved with the liquid grace of a cheetah, each step so precise that one false step was completely unheard of. He raised his dagger to eye level once he was only a mere five yards from the blessed individual, and ready to execute his dastardly deed.
Suddenly, Nathaniel yelped. “This is it!” he cried. “Finally! The Darkness Around Us Vo-“ But he could get no further. The moment was to belong to Bjorn, and he had struck at precisely the opportune moment. Just as Nathaniel was basking in his victory, Bjorn interpreted it as the moment when Nathaniel was most vulnerable. He leapt forward and rammed the pointed blade straight into Nathaniel’s neck. Bjorn’s eyes flashed in triumph. Saradomin would meddle no more. Or so he thought.
Suddenly, everything went wrong. As soon as the dagger’s tip permeated the flesh of the holy servant of Saradomin, a white halo of light flashed out from him, hurling Bjorn and his dagger straight into the wall with tremendous force. Nathaniel was floating a few inches above the ground, enveloped by the pure radiant glow. “I see that my brother has sent a disciple of his own,” boomed a powerful voice. It was a deep, bass tone that could calm even the most crazed people, and seemed to come from everywhere at once. “Whatever may change in this world over time, one thing will stay the same: The fact that Good will continue to triumph over Evil.”
Nathaniel gently sank to the ground, and the light slowly waned.
“It is such a pity that you chose to ally yourself with the most evil of forces,” said Nathaniel softly. “Why did you do so? For power? For the love of chaos? Everyone has desires, good and evil. It is easier for us to give in to our more sinister wishes, but to strive to accomplish our good and justified ones gives such a great reward.”
“I would never ally myself with such do-gooders as your filthy good… Saradomin,” he spat, treating the word of Nathaniel’s god as a piece of foul-smelling bile. “You’d do well just to kill yourself now, after shaming yourself with such a worthless cause. I am loyal to my god Zamorak, ruler of all Evil and lord of Chaos. For such defiance you shall die.”
Bjorn got to his feet, and looked at Nathaniel, straight in the eye. The two, drew their weapons, Bjorn his poisoned Dragon dagger, and Nathaniel his Dragon halberd. The two men stared daggers at each other, waiting for one to make the first move. Finally, Bjorn gave in to the tension. He leapt into the air towards Nathaniel, feinted a low strike, and then rammed the dagger upwards towards his chin. Yet it was met promptly with a clang of metal, as the pole of Nathaniel’s halberd blocked the blow.
Nathaniel then took a swipe of his own, making a move as if to jab at Bjorn, but sweeping the weapon around him and opening a small slit in his back. Blood gushed out in a torrent, as the Zamorakian disciple cried out in anguish. The bleeding stopped quickly, but Nathaniel was on the attack again. He jabbed at Bjorn with the butt of his weapon, forcing him back. In response, Bjorn drew a knife from his pocket and threw it on a course to Nathaniel’s gut. It hit home before he could block it, and he clutched at his chest, pulling the knife out. He tossed it aside and began circling, his eyes full of the fire of battle. He spoke quietly. “Bjorn, you cannot win this battle.”
“Oh?” he asked, acting in mock surprise.
“No, you can’t,” said Nathaniel. “You may win this fight, yes, and I may die. But you and your god cannot win the battle of good versus evil. No matter what, there will always be someone to defy you, and the good people of Runescape will grow. Even if you outnumber us in men and strength, we will always know the truth: that you cannot extinguish the bright flame of Good.”
At this, Bjorn yelled and let fly his dagger. But Nathaniel had been prepared for this moment in which Bjorn had expected otherwise. As his poisoned dagger came within a single foot of the Saradominist, his Dragon halberd whipped around, deflecting the deadly weapon into a crash course with the wall, where it stuck with a dull thunk. Bjorn was now without weapons, and at Nathaniel’s mercy.
“You do not deserve an honorable death by the blade,” said Nathaniel. “For your crimes, you deserve a hard death of torture. But I believe in peace, and so I will leave it to you. I will let you choose. I can either end it all now, with you dying with honor by my blade, or I will spare your life. However, there is one condition. If I am to spare your life, you must take an oath to never commit evil again. No treachery, no murder, no lies, nothing.”
“I would sooner die by suicide than choose either of your options,” said Bjorn defiantly. You and your god will fall to the growing influence of Evil. Never forget that.”
“I don’t plan to,” replied Nathaniel. “But I believe that this world will eventually end up how it should – with Good reigning, and all citizens of the entire world in a peaceful coexistence.”
“You and your order are all such fools,” said Bjorn. “You may think what you want, but in the end, you will see how right we really are.”
Bjorn looked Nathaniel in the eye once more, and then bolted towards the open window, leaping outwards into the bright, sunny day. He would see the sun one last time before he left this world and joined his god once and for all.
Nathaniel watched his former guide and friend commit his final act of defiance, and commit suicide, all the while knowing that it was just an act that Bjorn had put on, pretending to be his friend and guide, and really trying to lea him to his doom. Now he understood why he had hesitated pulling him up when the bridge gave out on him. Still, why hadn’t he just killed him right then and there? Maybe there was a spark of decency inside of him, and maybe, just maybe, he was capable of some Good. But it was clear now that Bjorn had meant to die as an evil person, and so he did so.
He already knew what he would find upstairs. But he still went anyway. The blank stare of the wizard who had so recently befriended him seemed to look right through him, as if there was something that Nathaniel couldn’t quite see that was right in front of him. Nathaniel closed his eyelids, and said a prayer. Then, he called to his god Saradomin while holding his Holy Symbol. He was suddenly back in the clouds, like he had been when he first felt the presence of this god, and staring at the wizened old face of the god Himself.
“Hello Nathaniel,” said the god. “I see that you’ve found Bjorn to be… a bit less than you thought he was.”
“Yes, about that…” started Nathaniel. “How is it that people can be so evil? How is it that people can partake in lying, stealing, treachery, even murder, and not even think twice about it? It baffles me about how so inexplicably evil people can be.”
“My friend, let me answer your question with a story. Once, a long, long time ago, millions, even billions of years ago, there was nothing here. Nothing except beings known as the Het Shamo. These beings were somewhat… supernatural, shall we say, and could affect the way that the nature of worlds worked. I am one of those beings. Only a few beings from this race were able to claim a world for their own, and the ones who did gave their best effort to maintain it as well as possible. But this world was a special case.
“We took a claim to the worlds just by saying that we wanted them. It just so happened that, at the exact moment that this world was set to be created, four beings claimed it. One is myself, Saradomin, god of light, Good and Justice, and the others being Zamorak, god of Evil and Chaos, Guthix, god of Balance, and Zaros, brother of Zamorak, who was banished after doing things that I cannot reveal to you. At any rate, all three gods set out creating the world. At that time, all of us were mainly neutral, and had no god-like status, and had no particular qualities. We just wished to create the world.
“First came the planet itself: the earthen sphere that you see today. We gave it livable conditions, and all was well. But it needed life, and variety. And so, that is just what we gave it, in every possible shape, size and form. We created vast forests, swamps, hills and mountains. We created deserts, plains and canyons. We created all the animals of this world, from the tiniest little gnat to the biggest of elephants and giants. And finally, we created humans.
“Such a unique species, with such a desire to learn about everything about them and then tame it. You were the species with serious potential, which we saw after a few millennia. And so, we fought for control. Eventually, we went our separate ways, and because of it, we all took on our unique qualities that you see today. We all tried to make humans in our own way, and in doing so; we made some one way, some another way, and some with all of our ways. Zamorak and Zaros set out to spread evil, spreading greed and treachery, inflicting forests, and creating demons. Guthix went to create balance, creating green forests, druids and even dwarves, everything with its opposite. I set out to create peace and justice. But in the end, it mainly came down to Zamorak and myself. He created the wilderness, and finally we had done too much. We fought.
“Finally, it was just too much. We all made a pact never to meddle with Earth again. But already too much had been done. Zaros kept going, and so for that we banished him. But there was too much done. Humans were no longer the perfect species we used to see them as. They were mixed, different, some of them even corrupted. And so, Nathaniel, that is precisely how Evil came to be. You can thank Zaros and Zamorak later. But now… I must go. Remember Nathaniel, I am with you always…”
The last word of Saradomin reverberated in his head as if it had been said in a tunnel, and soon, Nathaniel was back in his own body, aware of everything around him. It was time to go about and fulfill his duty, and purge the island of Sheilin of evil. He went down two levels, retrieved the book, and began to read.
posted
First of all, let me welcome you to Hatrack! I hope you'll have a pleasant, active & fruitful stay here.
Second... boy, you sure hyperfried yourself with that story! I hope you don't scare people off with it. I haven't read it yet - it's midnight here, so I'll probably leave it for tomorrow - but I tell you one thing... It's heeeeeuge! Posts: 4519 | Registered: Sep 2003
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Hi, Hyperfried, welcome to Hatrack! I also don't have time to read your whole story right now, but I wish you well here and look forward to hearing more from you. Perhaps usually, however, in somewhat smaller doses.
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Isn't it funny how if a short story is just a few pages, we'll sit down and read it in no time, but if the same amount of text were pasted on a forum, it would be too intimidating to even begin?
I think maybe this format will have long-term effects on our attention spans.
Posts: 8504 | Registered: Aug 1999
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No problem. I got the name while I had KFC on the mind so... yeah. By the way, does OSC ever post in this forum? I notice that he frequently posts in "Discussions About OSC", but I haven't seen one by him in here yet.
quote:Isn't it funny how if a short story is just a few pages, we'll sit down and read it in no time, but if the same amount of text were pasted on a forum, it would be too intimidating to even begin?
I think maybe this format will have long-term effects on our attention spans.
Twenty-nine pages isn't that short... But yeah, this kind of board makes my eyes hurt after just a bit. Personally, I'd suggest InvisionBoards.
Welcome to Hatrack! You have started off with a bang. I think OSC usually declines to read other authors' manuscripts, as I imagine doing so would result in a onslaught of submissions. And we all want him writing more books, as much as possible.
He's only just started posting at either forum here with any regularity, so I think we are all trying to be gentle with our demands on his attention. But I'm sure there are some great critiquers here, and you might get lucky.
How much and what sort of criticism are you looking for? Content, grammar/spelling, perspective, general flow? Some mix? Is this one of your first works, or are you quite comfortable with getting and fielding both positive and negative feedback? (I haven't read it yet, so this isn't a directed question. Promise. )
Would you prefer people concentrate on postive feedback, or on negative feedback?
Ya gotta give us some more to work with, Hyperfied. We don't know you at all yet -- although we hope to! -- and we don't know anything about how you are about this sort of stuff.
Tell you what. Stick around for two weeks, post regularly, and I'll give you whatever sort of feedback you ask for. I want to get a feel for you first, and I think that sort of investment from you is worth it, in order to get what you're seeking.
(Being a good reader and critiquer is hard work!)
Anyone else join me in the offer? I'm working on Jay's sonnet, but after that (and with more time and information), I'd love to get familiar with Hyperfried's project.
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I don't have personal experience with it, but I've been told in the past (and when I say I've been told, it probably means that I read it here) that many publishers will refuse to print a story that has been available publically on the net. If you're looking at selling this, you might instead choose to make it available via e-mail to those who would like to read it. Or maybe just post a smaller snippet here, and e-mail those who are interested in reading more. Just thoughts.
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Oh, no, I never had plans to actually sell this. As well as being posted in multiple places on the internet, I also have certain minor elements of the MMORPG Runescape mentioned in it, including the names of the gods, city names, and names of various items, namely weapons and armor.
Posts: 53 | Registered: Apr 2005
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quote: Oookay... You've managed to utterly and completely lose me...
People are derailing your welcome thread with inside jokes and fluffiness. It's a common occurance around here, I wouldn't worry too much about it. Posts: 7954 | Registered: Mar 2004
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Hyperfried, no worries. You are being welcomed in the most open and warm way possible. Now lots of people will look at your thread, as it is growing rapidly.
Despite, er, some rather transitory posts that got mislaid-like thereabouts in the middle.
Trust me, this is a good Hatrack initiation. There used to be a tradition of either eating newbies or crisping them like burnt toast.
posted
I dont like the name Saradomin. Too close to Saruman for my taste.
At any rate, welcome nuevo jatraquero and resist the urge to speculate as to who wil be playing Ender in the movie.
Posts: 2532 | Registered: Jul 2001
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Welcome. (I'm not actually as newbie-ish as my post count/join date show, but I'm too lazy to log out/in again. I'm Desdemona. Nice to meet you)
Posts: 36 | Registered: Apr 2005
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Was there really a Dobie that got nixed? I had to take Mooselet to a doctor's appointment, so I didn't get to lay any smackdown or anything. I'm so bummed when I miss all the fun stuff that goes on here at....
Er, I mean... shame on you! And don't think I don't know who you are....
Hyper, this truly is about as warm a welcome as Hatrack (as a whole, anyway) knows how to give. Just so you know.
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Yup, Hyperfried Tennessee Chicken it is. Welcome, HFTC. (I know, I know, Kentucky. But here, we also have Tennessee Fried Chicken, and I can't help it!!!)
Posts: 8355 | Registered: Apr 2003
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Of course, you may want to get a second opinion; I sat down for a few minutes to think of some gentle way to both be welcoming and, as requested, honest, and this was the best I could do -- so, like I said, you should take my opinion with a huge grain of salt.
For what it's worth, I appreciate your eagerness to share, and I'm glad to see you here. And I did read the whole thing, at least what's posted here.
But I'm intimidated by the thought of going through that story, line by line, to give you my suggestions. While it's not replete with typos (leaving aside your overuse of commas), there are lots of little, niggling things that I'd still like to see addressed. Let's just take one section, which I pulled randomly out of your text:
quote: You shall be my prophet, but not in a way you might think. You will spread the word of my Greatness, and in doing that, banish evil from this land. My brother, Zamorak, saw to it that that wouldn't happen, but we'll see about that! And now, I bestow upon you the first of many gifts..." Saradomin closed his eyes and chanted something. Suddenly, Nathaniel found his limbs strengthening, growing greater and more muscular. He felt more alert, and ready for anything to happen.
"What has happened, Saradomin?" asked he in wonder.
"I have bestowed upon you the gift of experience," said Saradomin. "Your skills are now sufficiently trained in many of the things you will need to do in the mortal realm of Runescape. But use this gift wisely, and only for good, for I should have to strip it from you otherwise. And now, I give you my second gift..." Suddenly, around his neck appeared a talisman on a cord of wool. It was in the shape of a four-pointed star, a pure, shining white.
"What is it, O Holy One?" asked Nathaniel in wonder.
Okay, first off, lines like "asked he in wonder" are pretentious Yoda-speak. They don't belong in poetry, and certainly don't belong in prose. And since you have the same character "asking in wonder" twice in as many lines of dialogue, you should probably just have Nathaniel "say" or even "ask" once or twice.
The other problem with this passage -- and with most of the story -- is that it's too beholden to its source material. It reads like a newbie training quest as transcribed by Tracy Hickman. This may well be your intent -- I suspect that it is -- but it limits this as a story and puts it firmly into the realm of fanfic.
(Let me briefly touch upon the whole "shadow" riddle, which is quite possibly the most excruciating form of the classic riddle game that I've ever seen in print. Please, for the love of God and all His angels, rip that down to its essence. You don't want to force us to read a play-by-play of your character's internal monologue over a laughably easy riddle unless you intend for us to think he's an idiot. Trust me. As a matter of fact, the three trials themselves are a bit questionable. Leaving aside the issue of whether a large city would indeed require three trials of anyone who wished to live there -- costing them a rare fish, a diamond, and a swordsman whose job appears to be completely thankless -- the trials themselves are neither particularly interesting nor well-written. (The last trial is the best, but it's also worth observing that it would take some pretty big hands to conceal two katanas.))
You have said that you solicited a lot of good advice from many people, but that this draft is as yet unchanged. If so, why have you solicited advice at all?
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Er, thanks Tom, I guess. I've never really gotten any true constructed criticism from this. I've posted it on a few forums, and gotten some nice, happy feedback, but there haven't been any real suggestions.
Before you post with more, understand this - I am twelve years old, thirteen on June 30th. Please don't expect my writing to be up to par with OSC.
However, seeing as you are the first person willing to evaluate this piece fairly... Do you have MSN? If so, I'm Hyperfried@comcast.net. I'm on once ever so often, but, well, if these forums have PMing... You get the idea.
Posts: 53 | Registered: Apr 2005
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I used to play. I was FROOP. Almighty leader of the Black Tiger clan. But I lost my password and got hacked by one of my friends who guessed my password. So now, I'm the humble stupidduh3 (there is a stupidduh1 and 2 for any who wonder) trying to reclaim my glory.
Posts: 6026 | Registered: Dec 2004
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I don't play too much anymore either. Not since RS 2 started. I've been playing for about four years. Something like that. I lost FROOP. He was really good. Full of all types of armor and, I think, a level 85 combat. I don't remember. They won't give him back either.
Posts: 6026 | Registered: Dec 2004
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Hyperfried, as much as I respect Tom's opinion, I think he's wrong, although he didn't know your age when he made his comment.
If you're writing this much aged twelve, then you're doing fabulously. The best way to improve is to be as ambitious as you're being, both in reading and writing. Even without any critiques you can improve immensly. Mostly I'd just say at this stage keep writing stories. Of course, there is lots you can do with this piece in particular, blah de blah...
I have two exams this week but if you want me to go through it in detail you could send it to me as an .doc attachment to the e-mail address that is in my profile (the little face/question mark) button), I could take a look this weekend. Up to you .
Oh, and welcome to Hatrack!
EDIT: Although I think the way you're going to improve most is through writing...
posted
At twelve, it's fabulous. He even spells correctly.
However, he did not ask "tell me what you would think of my writing ability at age twelve" -- which is clearly quite good. He asked "tell me what you think of my story," which is something else altogether. *grin*
It's a very impressive effort for someone who's twelve years old. And HF has showed considerable grace in the face of criticism. So yay. I haven't been so enthusiastic about a young face here since, I dunno, Hobbes.
Posts: 37449 | Registered: May 1999
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See? Twelve, it's great! And I got your e-mail. I will have read it and commented by Monday.
quote: However, he did not ask "tell me what you would think of my writing ability at age twelve" -- which is clearly quite good. He asked "tell me what you think of my story," which is something else altogether. *grin*
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I just registered here at Hatrack a few minutes ago, and I am very happy to see the large population and devotion to the Great Creator, Orson Scott Card. ![[Razz]](tongue.gif)
With my first post, I'd like to show you one of my literary works in progress. Admittedly, it's not exactly world-class quality... But it's a very early attempt at a novellete, shall we say.
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I hope you'll have a pleasant, active & fruitful stay here.
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Oookay... You've managed to utterly and completely lose me...
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