The Pit => Creative Endeavors => Topic started by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 10:26:38 pm
Title: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 10:26:38 pm
What I am about to post is very long, or so I've been told. I have some friends who were supposed to read through this and basically pick it apart for me. That was a month and a half ago, they still haven't done it. Instead, I have decided to toss it in the direction of Utterly Mad and see what happens. What I desperately need from you, is to just read. At your own pace. Give feedback. I want this story to be right, and to make it right, I need feedback. Please do not comment on spelling or grammar, I'll correct it myself later. What I need is what you feel are the weakest points, what about the strongest points? Where are the plot holes? Are there bits I should axe? Most of all, I just need to see what people think. My other friends have no time for this, and I trust most if not all of you enough to put it here.
I'll be throwing it up a few paragraphs at a time.
Ferret considered, not for the first time, returning to Bright point. She thought about how much safer she would be in Bright point. Bright point was bitterly cold, but it wasn't as damp or infested with the undead as the bleak coast. It hadn't always been called that of course. Not long before the birth of her great great grandfather, Bha-Yahn had not gone into decline, Gulgatha's capital hadn't yet sunk into the ocean, and the ravening horde had not yet breached the Paint Valley. Back then, it had been called "The Gulgatha Grazelands." Shortly after breaking through the forest on the overgrown southern coast road, Ferret crested a low hill and found that her objective had come into view. Peeking out from beneath the thick fog that hung over the swamp of tears, was the Tower of Gulgatha. The land below had not always been swamp, and the city of Gulgatha's descent into the ocean had not been gradual. It had been a disaster. On an early winter night, the land had suddenly given way and an entire region of farms and grazelands had slipped several feet. Guglathas residents found themselves neck deep in salt water. Many had drowned, many more froze to death with no homes to seek refuge in. Those that survived went south, but did not dare to approach Bha-Yahn. Bha-Yahn had no idea of the doom that had come to Gulgatha, and the displaced Gulgathans had their doubts that they would be welcomed in the city of their long time enemies. Besides, Bha-Yahn had it's own doom to deal with. For Ferrets part, she had seen Bha-Yahn, and had given the diseased and dying city a wide berth. Below, in the leaning tower, she could see a flickering light. Possibly the camp fire of some hermit. Her goal had been to go to Gulgatha and see what had become of the home of her great grand father and to reclaim an heirloom seized by the Ateshites in those long ago days so she might make use of it, but that light gave her pause. Was their still someone down there in that drowned tower? The light gave her an odd forboding feeling in the pit of her stomach, but she determined to set off at once. She had to cover some ground that day, and wished to reach at least one of the farms on her grandfathers old map. Speaking of which, She took off her small pack and knelt over it. From inside she took said map, and a sheaf of notes. Both of which she had pilfered from the her fathers old things. After a quick glance at the map and replacing it, she looked through the notes. They had been written by her father, her great grandfather, and another traveler to this region. A deceptively young appearing man by the name of Stam Dalenson. A friend to Ferrets family and tutor to a great many of Bright Points young people. The sword at her hip had been a gift to her on her 16th birthday. "An item from my own collection." he said, "A girl can use a sword as well as a man, and in these dark times she may have more need of it than for dresses and jewelry." Her mother had scowled at the well kept steel blade. Swords, her mother believed, did not belong in the hands of women. Ferret had given the short sword a few testing swings when Stam had stopped her. "A short sword is not for swinging girl. Rather, it is for short cuts and stabs. I will show you some day." Stam had not the time to show her on that occasion before he left to journey into the ruin lands again. Later though, he had taught her a great deal. The notes detailed a few of the hazards to be found in the swamp, and hazards to be found in the city itself. The most common of these were swamp lights, and corpses which had sunk into the bog and lain dormant even after the magical taint in the land had reanimated them. She put the notes away and looked back down towards the sunken city and noted that the light in the tower had gone out and that the morning sun, just cresting the hills in the west, had burned off a bit of the fog. She slipped her pack back on and adjusted her belt. It would be a long day.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 10:49:17 pm
It slithered between the buildings, a hulking serpent of bone and metal with the skull of the great temple wolf upon it's head, in so far as it had a head. In truth, the skull was simply the centerpeice of it's adornment and the teeth with which it bit and tore. Beneath it was situated a variatable hedge of broken bone, horn, and the shattered remains of the various weapons brought against it. "It" was a demon. One of Gulgatha's tainted residents, and though you wouldn't know it by looking, beneath the rows of scavenged bones and broken armor, there was a mass of tangible darkness. When the city had flooded, it had been little more than an imp pulling small objects from the pockets of drunks. Afterwords though, he had drunk in the resulting energies. So many dead, so much to consume. He had grown large on the cities dead. He dipped beneath the water for a moment, long enough to ambush one of the large birds that nested on the sunken walls, but had come down for food. It had almost escaped him when it noticed his approach, the waters had recceeded in recent years and hiding beneath them had become more difficult. He considered going outside those walls today. Perhaps he would find one of the living looking for treasures in one of the farm houses again. The thought of the ones he had found the month before would have made him smile in fondness, had he a mouth that could smile. They had been dressed in clothes decorated with feathers and wearing skulls like the one he had adorned himself with. Perhaps they had done so to disguise themselves? Or maybe to appease him? Either way, it had not helped them. Among them had been a woman, her screams as he dealt with the others had been as music to him, and he found it a great shame that necessity required him to squeeze the wind from her lungs and in so doing deprive her of the air needed to create such a sweet sound. He consumed their fleeting life force, and later had watched as their bodies rose from the murk and wandered off into the foggy swamplands. Thinking of eating brought his thoughts to the tower. It galled him. Something was in there, he knew, he could feel it. Something old and powerful and oh, how he would gorge himself if he could only gain entry. Alas though, the tower was sealed to him and his ilk. Someday though. The demon drifted on towards the shattered eastern gate, day dreaming of what might dwell within the tower or what he might find out in the flooded countryside, and the sound of screams still ringing in his memory.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 10:50:00 pm
Ferrets footing slipped on something beneath the mire. A stone maybe. It was not the first time one of the stones hidden beneath, their surfaces coated in the thick slime of the swamp, had tripped her up. The least she hoped for, was that she wouldn't get stuck again and this time she was pleased to find that she was not. Still, the slip had only added to the water soaking into her clothes and filling her boots. The mosquitoes were not yet an issue, but she knew from Stam's notes that they would be, come evening. Thinking of Stams notes, she realized that her pack would probably be filled with water. She hoped it wasn't, and when she checked the outcome was distinctly opposed to the last time she hoped for something. The water had drained quickly through the seams in her pack, but before doing so had fouled Stam's notes, her grandfathers map, and several other supplies she had brought along. "Bah!" she cried, casting aside most of the contents of her bag. As she did so, she had the feeling that she was no longer alone. She could not yet see them, but she knew they were there all the same. Their kind had followed her through the woods bordering the cold desert. When the sun had set, she thought they would have shown themselves, but they had only whispered or laughed in the dark. The undead. They were thick in this land. Such bodiless spirits as had harassed her in the woods were commonplace, as were the variaty she saw now. Emerging from the thick fog from whence she came. A group looking almost like old militia men, Wearing the uniforms Gulgatha's ancient regular army. They came in crude formation, a wall of copper chain links and bone. A skeleton from the front suddenly broke away from the group and stopped short by a few feet, brandishing a rusted sabre. "Vaads yeh waads?" came the buzzing whisper from somewhere beneath it's skull. Ferret could't think of what to do. Somehow, these were different than any of the undead she had encountered on this side of breakers endeavor pass. More menacing, yet somehow less threatening. The skeleton stood still, it's saber held at it's side. Words of her tutor came back to her in that moment. "When you speak not the language of the land, and find yourself at the mercy of that lands guardians, raise your open hands to them. It is a gesture of harmlessness, and accepted as such from bright point to the cities of the rat kind and even across the sea in Zantia or the plaguelands." She doubted it would work, but she couldn't possibly take on this many. She raised her hands to the level of her eyes, palms open and facing outwards. There was a long moment. "Vaa-a-adss...s.." It's speaking was labored, and ferret could see that the bones could no longer hold themselves together. The skeleton dropped it's saber, staggered, stumbled on something beneath the murk, and fell apart. The others, had already done similar or were in the process of doing so. "They just can't keep going." Ferret said aloud, lowering her hands. "Just bones in the swamp." She didn't know why, but there was something sad about what she had just experienced. These undead had lain in wait for none knew how long, only to burn through whatever energy held them together and kept them somewhat sentient in the time it had taken them to approach her and seemingly ask a question. They had clung to whatever form of life they now had in the hopes of continued service to whatever master had bound them. The fog thinned then and out in the swamp, she spied an old farm house resting on a barren mudbank well above the water level. The weather had become overcast since that morning earlier when she had looked down at the shrouded ruin in the swamp. She only looked back to where that old contingent had collapsed and though she felt deeply for them, she did not weep for the dead and for the plight they faced after death, and so the sky chose to do so for her.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 10:50:39 pm
By the time she reached the farmhouse, the rain was coming down in sheets. The farmhouse was ancient, but once inside Ferret found that it was quiet dry. Well kept in fact, for the most part. It sported a fire place and more surprisingly, there was dry wood at hand. In short order she had a good fire burning in the hearth. She had been soaked through by her day in the swamp and the gentle warmth of the fire gave a welcome respite. Once she had warmed up a bit, she took stock of her surroundings. The farm house was sturdily built and sparsely furnished. She closed her eyes and, as Stam had explained in his notes, waited. The purpose, as Stam Dalenson had written, was to try and feel the "intent" of ones surroundings. The lands beyond the cold desert had a palpable sensation of threat to them that one could feel simply by concentrating and listening. She felt nothing more than the warmth of the fire and the damp still clinging to her clothes. She smelled the dull aroma of old wood and the astringent scent of burning pine, and the only sounds she could make out were the low crackle of the fire, the rythem of her own breathing, and the heavy drone of the rain on the shingled roof. The house, such as it was, was safe. She removed her clothes and set them before the fire to dry. Folded up on a shelf was found a large, thin blanket and wrapping herself in it, Ferret decided that she would hole up here until the weather cleared, or at least lessened.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 10:51:20 pm
The demon had felt something in the swamp as soon as it had emerged from the ruins of the great gate. Something moving around out there. The thing disrupted the waters and those that slept beneath. The imps brought it whispers of a young female traveling alone outside the city. The demon had been idling, coiled in wait, near the old mile marker indicating some long gone road when it had first sensed her drawing near. Fresh life to drink in. His movements had disturbed not a single thing, living or dead, in the swamp. Not a sound was made by the demon as the aged farm house came into veiw through the pounding rain. She was inside, and it could feel her. Asleep, yes, asleep. Easy prey. Except... At it's approach, something here flared to life. Runes and images burned into the foundations, hotter and brighter to him than the sun itself. It hissed and recoiled. The touch of the old master was upon this place. It would wait. Such masters had no power over the living. She would leave eventually. Carefully, it coiled its bulk beneath the swamp, out of sight and away from those hot runes, and waited.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 10:51:58 pm
The rain did not let up for two nights. In that time, Ferret kept busy by exploring the house. On the shelf where she had found the blanket on the first day, she discovered several sheets of supple leather and soft fabric. She had thrown out her pack the day before and so from what she found and a heavy needle she carried with her, she fashioned a rough bag. On the second night, while eating a strip of dried meat found in a jar tucked under the farm houses single table, Ferret found a series of small iron rings and realized they were a sort of puzzle. It delighted her, but it was the sort of thing she had never been good with and so she gave it up after awhile. Before leaving, she went over her objectives. In all likelyhood, today would see her at the sunken cities eastern gate. Once she reached that, she had to make her way to the chapel of Gulgatha and find the heirloom that had been taken from her family. Ferret didn't know exactly what they were. A pair of white ceramic orbs, each about the size of a human eye. Well before Gulgatha had met it's doom, it had been home to a religion. Many religions in fact, but one in particular held a great deal of power, and was fond of excersizing that power in anyway it could. Even to the point of oppression and inquisition. The only thing holding back the church from taking full control in the city were the great houses of Gulgatha. The house of blood, ruled over by the working class. Contrary to it's menacing name, the house of blood was more about hard labor and earning ones living through the work of ones "blood." The others were the house of paints, a fairly obvious organization centered around works of art and culture, and the house of scrolls, which dedicated itself to the pursuit of knowledge at any cost. Ferret had been taught by her tutor that the great houses had become the patrons of a small organization known simply as "the historical society" when the church had begun to take a deep hold on the city. The "eyes" she was after, she had learned from old letters, were a gift from a patron in the house of paints and had been confiscated from the skull of her ancestor during a spate of religious fervor by the church in an attempt to take possession of any old Gulgathan relic they could find. Anything from old books to the false eyes of an old man or woman, it mattered very little to the church. The church, she thought, would have taken them to the chapel. It wouldn't be hard to locate. Just look to the largest of the sunken cities structures. Her plan was made then. Enter the city, locate the chapel, get inside, and take back the eyes. She believed then that it would be easy. Later, she would think back and wonder how she had ever thought that.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 10:52:38 pm
There was an odd feeling in the air as she left the farm house. Ferret checked her sword, the damp of two days before had done nothing to mar it's surface. It occured to her in the moment she examined it, that she hadn't noticed the makers mark before. An image of a lit candle was carefully engraved into the blade just above the handle. The opposite sides image she had noticed. A deer skull. When she looked back up from her blade, she half expected to see something approaching out of the fog. Instead, the feeling ended, vanishing as quickly as it had come. Her sword was sheathed, but she kept her hand on it just in case.
It looked towards the house as it had for the last two nights. It was the second day it had waited. Today, as the rain eased off, the door suddenly opened. The girl emerged slowly, blinking away the sparse light, and then stopped. It doubted that she could see him through the fog, but she suddenly seemed warry. Had she some idea of his presence? The demon determined to take her quickly then and there, but what she did next gave him pause. She drew out her weapon. Normally, he would have simply ignored it, he was an old thing and while weapons could do him harm, he had no fear of them. This, was different though. To her it was only a weapon, but to him it was a shining brand. Steel! The young woman had steel in hand! He would not attack her openly, knowing full well that the steel would surely be his end or a serious injury should she land a solid strike upon the body beneath his meticulously constructed shell. He slid back into the water once again and thought. He would follow her and see. When he felt she was most vulnerable, he would strike. He was more curious now than he had been when he had first sensed her days before, but he could not risk his being simply to be fed on such a small morsel.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 10:53:26 pm
Her brief experience outside the farmhouse had her thinking about her lessons. Stam had gotten around to teaching her the basics of using the sword he had given her. Telling her again and again that a short sword was not for swinging. Ferret was bound and determined to make it work though, be it from stubborness or the possibility that she was a poor student. Stam believed it to be the prior, but in truth it was a little of both. On one occasion a mere month prior, she had tried a parry on the imposing man. He brought his own short sword in for a quick stab, she allowed the blade to slip past the outside of her sword. As the bards blade came mere inches from her side, Ferret had thrown her sword arm wide, knocking her tutors weapon away, reversed the movement of her hand, and made a brutal angular slash for Stam's waist. He had simply grimaced, snatched her wrist, and struck her on the side of her face with the flat of his sword, hard. When she attempted to recoil, he wrapped his arm around her neck and pulled her close. In such a position, she saw, she could not use her weapon effectively. Moreover, she found it difficult to breath. Her tutor had also tightened his grip on her wrist and pulled that arm high behind her head. "You are reckless. Such a maneuver is promising, but with such a weapon it is unacceptable for regular combat." he released her wrist and continued, "I had a friend once who was just as reckless. There are many differences between the two of you, the most important though was that he had no life to lose and so did not fear death." "I do not fear death!" She had managed to squeek, trying to wipe the blood welling up from the cut on her cheek while also slapping at the arm restricting her throat. Stam simply looked at her and said "Maybe, but you do have a life to lose. Such a thing is not to be thrown away, It doesn't last forever. Ah, but how would I know? I am not yet gone from this world." Releasing the throat lock on his pupil, He had looked like a man realizing a terrible truth that he had already faced many times before. He had the look of haggered despair. The lesson that day had ended early and after Stam had applied salve to the face of his young student, the first he had taught the ways of war in many years (though she did not know this), Stam Dalenson told her of what was happening in the world. "Perhaps," he broke out of the current topic of conversation with, "perhaps, perhaps... We trained duelists in a fighting style similar to the way you seem obsessed with using, perhaps if we weighted your blade..." Later that day, Stam removed the steel swords iron crossguard and wooden handle and replaced them with a slightly longer carved, double handed, bone grip with a heavy brass basket. The lessons of that day had been short, but informative. In the time since, she had adapted, and while she could not ever hope to match him she knew that Stam Dalenson looked on her improvement with satisfaction and not a little surprise.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 10:54:04 pm
The east gate was not as expected. Ruined, yes, but ferret had expected some kind of huge wooden door. What came into view, almost as if it had suddenly materialized there, was a thing akin to the gate of the cemetery at bright point only on a much larger scale. The disaster that had befallen the city of her forefathers had taken the gate out of alignment, and collapsed the stone arch above it. Time had placed a thick coating of rust and moss on the gates bars in a fashion that was rather pleasant. Stretching away on either side of the gate was the crumbling wall of Gulgatha, a simple construction of mortar and roughly hewn stone blocks. Ferret clambered over the pile of large stones. The gates bars were close enough together that no man could squeeze through, but from what she remembered of the notes she had been forced to throw away, she wouldn't need to. When the city had sunk, the refugees had been forced to cut several bars to escape. In short order, she found the opening. The fog was thinner within the city and the stench of the ocean was greater, it was easy to see that Gulgatha's under city had fared better than it's overcity. Red bricks and moldering beams lay in piles, spilling into the streets. In many places, Ferret could see the water was deeper. She guessed the street beneath had given way in spots. Veiwing the ruins gave her a terrible thought. "What if the chapel is flooded?" She had to hope that it was not, if it was, the quest would likely come to an end with her returning home empty handed. That hurdle would have to be dealt with when it came. For now, she would explore. The first safe, interesting, looking building she came to seemed to be some kind of luxeries shop. The verdigrised sign above the stores broken display window read, "Belmot's Aromatics." Ferret could see the dull gleam of brass finery still standing in the window where it had been left. Despite the state of building and the strong stink of salt, the shops own pungence cut through the open air as if a stiff breeze had swept through the store and carried it's product out into the street. The shop contained a Ratkind sultan sized trove of incense she learned. Bright Point bought a great deal of incense from the ratkind city of Algol-Mal to trade to merchants from Zantia. Her mother was a great user of incenses around the house, as was every house wife of Bright Point. She couldn't stand the stuff personally, but she scooped up several jars and bottles of various thick pastes and small wooden boxes or tubes of scented sticks. These she stashed in her makeshift bag. Ferret may not have liked the stuff much but they would make nice enough gifts. She had come here for a very specific purpose, but that didn't mean she couldn't pick through the ruins while she was at it. For the rest of the day, she walked the foggy flooded streets of Gulgatha parusing various shops, but didn't find much more worth helping herself to. Casually making her way around holes in the avenues. Occasionally, she would come to some blocked off section of streets and would bypass them taking shortcuts through or over the various homes and businesses. The image her exploration of Gulgatha painted of the people who lived in it before quickly filled in. The city still had it's dangers of course. As she ducked through an open window on the second floor of some inn or bar, a skeletonized body suddenly sprang to life and lunged for her. She had managed, barely, to draw her sword and smash it's outstretched left arm in the same movement. It still collided with her, sending them both sprawling upon a chair whose age weakened frame splintered beneath them. Her sword had spun away from her as she fell, coming to rest at the foot of another approaching skeleton, which recoiled from it, giving her the time to deal with the one atop her. It flailed and bit, but couldn't get a solid grip. Ferret managed to push herself up to her elbows and kicked at it, scattering it's ribcage. The aged skeleton chose that moment to give up and collapsed back into a pile of bone. The other had finally managed to get past the repulsive steel, only to be met with a vicious blow delivered at the end of a chair leg. It staggered, clutching it's newly cracked jaw, and then collapsed against the wall. Ferret found a hasty retreat from the inn through the same window she had entered when she discovered that the place was filled with more undead eager to protect the establishment they had likely died in. On another occasion she had been turned back from one path by a vaguely human shaped thing dressed in rags. It had come down out of an alley, whispering to her. She had drawn her sword and it had covered it's face but had not backed away. She took the time its moment of distraction had given her to make a quick getaway. The undead were not the only creatures which called Gulgatha home. Again and again she encountered small black creatures which hid themselves away in dark places and wore bones. Stam had described the imps of Gulgatha to her once, had even shown her one, so she knew they were not a threat except to her possessions. Ferret had also encountered many birds, and the city was alive in some places with the sound of frogs. Fish too were numerous, both large and small. More than once her stumbling about had scared up great schools of shining silver scaled fish. Indeed, there was as much life as their was unlife in the sunken city.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 10:54:33 pm
The demon had somehow lost her as she had approached the chapel. The little thing carried steel, which was dangerous enough, but as the demon stalked her through the streets of the ruined city, it found that his quarry had a distinct affinity and cautious curiousity for the city around her. She would often duck into one building for many minutes, sometimes as long as an hour. Other times, she simply reappeared up the avenue from the building the demon had seen her enter. Once, finding her path blocked, she found an access ladder in a back alley and used the rooftops to traverse a long stretch of hazardous lanes. The demon wasn't worried about her skill as a fighter though. It had seen her at work on a small group of feral undead that came across her coming out of a tumble down lamp wrights. He wasn't keen on being struck with a steel blade all the same, but believed that he could easily dispatch the young woman without her landing a single of her wide, clumsy slashes on his person. The trick now, was finding her. Once she had entered the city, his senses had failed him. It was a problem completely alien to him. He could always feel the life of everything within his lair, but now in the streets of the city it had ruled over, the demon could feel not a single step of her. It would lie in wait and see if she would turn up again.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 10:55:14 pm
Most of the buildings Ferret had wanted to explore had been in fairly poor shape and too dangerous to consider entering, the chapel of Gulgatha included. The old chapel was a massive structure, towering over the ruined factories that bordered its grounds. The chapel yard had been easily accessable, but the chapel itself was another problem entirely. The doors alone were massive, probably ornamental and never intended to give entry. It didn't take long to find the chapels smaller access doors set into the larger ones though, but Ferret found them to be blocked, stuck, or possibly locked from the inside. "Great." she had said aloud to no one in particular. The chapel had no ground level windows, not anymore anyway. Ferret could see where windows may have once been, but some long ago priest had decided to have them blocked up with bricks. The only other access she could see was the shattered stained glass window, an entry too high to even attempt. "If I had wings I could do it." she thought, "I'll need to find another way." It didn't get her down much though, she could see that the high water mark in the church yard was fairly low, and judging by the condition of the old place, the inside was probably in decent shape, dry even. The huge wooden gate had probably swelled when the flooding occured and sealed the chapel against serious water damage, and though the salty air had not been kind to any of the iron work she had seen within Gulgatha so far, it had certainly done little to diminish the strength of the great doors fittings. There was a moment, as she glanced about the yard, where she noticed that Gulgatha's well ordered streets had given way to more labyrinthine arrangement and the domiciles and small businesses had given way to warehouses, manufactories, and flats. She found it odd that a chapel should be found in such a part of the city. It was a long time before she moved on from her destination, and when she did, she did so feeling deeply disappointed.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 10:56:42 pm
One of the exceptions to her stymied exploration, was a stately old brick and wood faced building wrapping itself around what she believed to be one of the cities many circular garden cul de sacs. The other buildings, mostly small stores with living spaces above them by the looks, also seemed to be relatively in tact other than the broken glass which made their display windows look like jagged mouths screaming at the much larger building across the courtyard. The water was fairly shallow in the place, shallow enough that she could tell the large building was probably dry inside. The front door, an elegant carved oaken portal, took some pulling and prying to get open which was mostly due to corrosion in the hinges and severe warping of the wood and door frame. Once it was open enough for her to get though, Ferret squeezed herself into the front hall of a museum of some kind. The front of this old building had no windows at street level and no sign, at least not anymore, that should could see to identify it. In here though, she found a great deal of information. A short stone pedastel sat a few feet from the door, and bolted to its top was a brass plaque stating, in large simple letters "Welcome and enjoy to all those who wish to enlighten themselves as to the mysteries of the past and a warm welcome to those who would preserve it." Under this was engraved "Malory Maplesdottor - Director of the Historical College." Beyond the pedestal was a larger room, filled with broken display cases, old pedasels with more brass plaques, and a floor covered in broken glass. Light coming in through the windows high above showed Ferret that a great many of the displays and artifacts were either missing, or in some way damaged. She walked the aisles, stepping lightly among the broken glass, reading plaques and looking at what was still there to look at. The great skeleton of some large creature, a collection of pot shards, a slab of engraved stone whose runes seemed to swim before her eyes, a glass bead necklace, and even a ceramic hand still under glass. That last interested her greatly. The hand appeared to be very delicate and glazed in some kind of dark blue with red starbursts decorating it. The plaque on the case read, in small letters, "Hand of the Dancer - Piece of a Golem, recovered after the churches destruction of the original relic." Ferret shivered. There was something oddly dreadful about that small artifact, and so she moved on again. It didn't take long for Ferret to discover the main staircase, just off the main chamber, and another gallery on the second floor. Here and there, she would peek into a room in one of the many passages that was seperate from the main display rooms and was surprised to see a variaty of living quarters, meeting rooms, and offices. One pair of particularly decorative double doors led to an auditorium whose ceiling had begun to sag but had so far held under the weight of time and the abuses of nature. Moss has laid claim to the carpet in that room, while a tiny forest had begun to spring up through one corner of the stage. Sea water could not stop some of the plant life it seemed. In what appeared to be some kind of examination room back on the ground floor, she found something more interesting. The rooms tables had been pushed aside to make room for a large upright stele. It curved pleasingly, but otherwise was fairly amateurish in it's decoration. On the surface of the stelle was engraved an image of three large figures and many smaller figures. In the center was a man in simple, loose clothes. His face bore no detail save for an image which matched the sigil on her sword, wearing a wild headdress that looked like a mane of feathers, tufts of hair, hanging bone, and fur. Right of him was an imposing male figure in some kind of bird mask and wearing a feathered hat much like that worn by her tutor, and at his left was a ponytailed woman carrying a chisel, brush, and a deceptive grin. Below them was a rough image of a city and on either side of that city was an army of tall figures opposite a disorganized horde of skeletal beings and men. The two forces stared across the stelle at each other. Even the artists amateur hands had been able to express the open malice in the eyes of both sides. There were words on it, but she couldn't quiet make them out. She reached out to try and make sense of what she was seeing when someone spoke from behind her. "Excuse me, are you actually alive?"
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 10:57:20 pm
Her name, had been Lydia Balsam. Her title in the historical sociaty had been "journeyman historian." Being imperfect, Lydia had been around for a long time. She had spent her first couple decades of imperfection in her body, but as time had gone on it became increasingly clear that she wouldn't have it forever. She made up for her rapidly deteriorating appearance by wearing masks with hoods, and donning rather modest long sleeved clothes with gloves. One day, as she went through her regular routine of examining artifacts and regularly cursing her own existence, her body had simply collapsed, leaving her standing at her work table unable to manipulate her tools. The associate who had come to check her reports had found her that way, staring down at herself. She remembered that his first remark had been, rather tactlessly, "Well... at least you won't be so unpleasant to be around anymore." It had taken some time after that, but eventually she learned to manipulate things by will, a practice she never mastered, and to alter her own appearance which she also never quiet mastered. For her own feelings on the matter, she liked that she didn't need her spectacles anymore and she didn't have to sleep, drink, or eat. Back in those days, as a historian, it was a blessing. Sort of. Now that there was no one around though, it was a curse. A curse of loneliness and a meaningless existence. Gulgatha had become dangerous to her as well. The streets where people had gone about their day to day business as she looked on unseen, had filled with demons and imps, eager to drink in her vital essence. She had hidden herself away, looking out through windows only to veiw the devastation wrought upon the city. They said that Gulgatha had started it's existence as a necropolis, the evidence of her spectral eyes suggested that it had returned to that ancient state.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 10:58:43 pm
Ferret's first response was to be startled, her second was a brief moment of terror after she had spun about, scrabbling at her belt to try and draw her sword. She felt a great deal of panic, but could see that the woman, who would identify herself as "Lydia," was visibly excited. Ferret had finally managed to draw her sword, and though it's appearance was clearly of some discomfort to Lydia, it could not wipe the look of joy she bore. "Please, please," she said, turning her head from something ferret couldn't see, "put it away please, it pains me to look at it. I don't want to hurt you, It's been too long a time since I've spoken to anyone to want to harm you. I'm Lydia. Who are you? Where do you come from? Why are you here? Where are you going?" and a flood of other questions. Her sincerity was disarming, and Ferret found it difficult to be terrified of such earnestness. "I... Sorry, could you slow down a bit?" The situation was bizarre, never had she ever thought of the possibility of encountering someone reasonable, alive or dead, in the ruins of the city.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: Perigrin on August 29, 2016, 10:59:01 pm
Spoilers are hard to read on my phone, I will read it on the morrow.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:00:08 pm
"So that's that then." Lydia said, a bit awkwardly after she had shown Ferret around the museum. Or rather, what was left of it. The ghost had told Ferret all about the various exhibits around the museum, both those present and those absent. She had also told her about the day of graves and how the museum had been looted in all the chaos. In exchange, Ferret had told Lydia everything the ghost desired to hear and more. "So the church raided your college while everyone else was busy dealing with all the undead coming up through the streets?" Ferret asked. "Aya. Isaac tried so hard to protect the museum and the younger associates. We all did. They stole a lot of relics and killed some of our best and brightest. Some of our associates back then were of a less than savory sort, but they weren't murderers like the Ateshites. After that, Isaac decided that we should try to do a counter raid on the church." Lydia and ferret were sitting on a tipped statue of a man Lydia had claimed was of someone simply called "Dhog." The statue had been beheaded in the raid Lydia had described. "And that's when you died?" She asked. Lydia didn't respond, but Ferret could tell by the way she rubbed the back of her head that she was remembering the events vividly. The distraction caused Lydia a lapse in concentration and in that moment she almost completely lost coherent visible form, going briefly transparent. She caught it though. It was good, she thought, to have someone to be visible for after all this time. Transparency had plenty of perks, especially in a place as dangerous to one such as herself as it was dangerous to her new... Friend? Could she really call this young woman who had forced her way through the front doors of the historical college and, without knowing it, Lydias unlife a friend? Probably not yet, but again she thought it was good to have someone to talk to again. "So..." she said awkwardly, "What brings you to Gulgatha then?" Ferret stayed silent for a bit. It was a detail she hadn't let the ghost in on, and then, all at once, she said "I am here to reclaim a family heirloom, and to loot the ruins of Gulgatha." Lydia only nodded and replied "I imagined the looting part, a family heirloom though? Anything the college would know about?" Ferret considered briefly lying about it, but pushed the idea away. Ghost she may be, but Lydia had proved to be desperately friendly. "All I know about it is that it was some old pair of clay eye balls given to some distant ancestor by a very important person. I'd show you, but all my notes and letters were ruined out in the swamp." Lydia was nodding now, "Not a problem. Do you have your ancestors name? Such a simple gift was probably magical, and such gifts were usually given by one of the great houses. Maybe you have the name of your ancestors patron? or the house that patron belonged to?" Ferret was confused, "I have no idea what you mean. I just know that the balls were my families, and the church here in Gulgatha stole them after one of my long gone grandmothers died." "Alright..." Lydia sighed, "How about your name then, and don't tell me it's 'Ferret.' Even in this day and age, I doubt people are naming their children after slinky rodents. Your real name?" The prospect of revealing her name seemed daunting to Ferret. She had been told again and again by friends and family, "If your full name is known, someone might try to bring you back from the dead." Ferret was serious but the ghost sitting next to her, having first hand experiance of the secrets of life and death, just looked at her with a knowing smirk. "That drivel about being easier to summon after your dead is just not true. Not entirely anyway. Knowing someones name makes raising them easier, sure, but it isn't a requirement. Just give me your surname if it means that much to you." Ferret still looked nervous "If it makes you feel any better, my middle name is Leandra." "Painterly." Ferret said after a long moment of hesitation. It was hard to get over her upbringing, but if it meant finding what she came to get then maybe it would be worth it. "My name is Nora Painterly." Lydia stood up and made a show of dusting off her knees, "Now see? That wasn't so hard, now we really are friends." She winked as she said, "Plus, finding out about this item of yours should be pretty easy. Everybody knows about Scholar Damon Painterly. Elder historian Pater even wrote a treatise on him once. I'm assuming that's who this item was supposed to be passed down from as he was the only Painterly to ever receive a gift from a patron. This way please Ms. Painterly." Lydia bowed slightly and gestured much like she had throughout the tour. Ferret bristled at the use of her name, "Ferret, please." She said chastizingly. She hadn't expected the ghost to be so visibly dismayed at her irritation. It seemed wrong. They had gotten along so well up until then. "Listen," she said, "it's fine. Just 'Ferret' ok? Who was Damon Painterly?" Lydia gestured, "The archives are this way."
Alright, thanks perigrin. Actually, they are all short enough I could just remove the spoilers.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:06:09 pm
"Scholar Damon," started the woman before him. "I would like to give you a gift." Damon Painterly, a scholar of the house of scrolls, reigned in his interest. He knew, as did everyone who had associated with this woman, that she was prone to sudden swings of character. Some of those "characters" could be quiet cruel and childish. "The devil" most called her, while a handful of others refered to her as "The imp." Zakki Du Nicols, the Devil of Gulgatha and patron of the house of paints stood before Scholar Damon dressed, as usual, in her customary green cape, armed with both bow and magic "pin," though Damon could not see her. "Aye my lady?" He asked, turning his eyeless sockets up towards her voice, "For what service should I recieve such a gift?" His eyes had been put out by elven manhunters when his troupe of knowledge seekers and friends were ambushed outside Bha-Yahn. It had been a trip to help the fledgling city sort it's water shortages. Damon, a young man at the time, and his associates had directed the construction of deep wells. They had shared the knowledge of their construction and of where they should be dug with the people of Bha-Yahn. The manhunters target had been the city, little more than a large village at the time, but had come across Damons group first. The slaughter had attracted the attention of Bha-Yahns proud militia, who drove off the manhunters with specially made bodkins and spears. As they fled, the elves had set fire to the carts. Only Damon had survived the attack, but the elves had taken his sight and a good measure of his skin as grisly trophies. The Bha-Yahnese villagers had cared for him, mending his wounds, doing the best they could until he was ready to travel once again. "I don't need a reason to show my favour." said Zakki, "The house of scrolls has done a great deal for Gulgatha's culture. My own teachings in the art of golem craft would be forgotten if the house of scrolls did not exist. Why you though? You're peers have already recieved a great deal of your own patrons favor. You though, have not. It so happens that my gift to you is also a bit of an... experiment. Your own patron has sanctioned it." Damon nodded. The house of the scrolls did many experiments, it was their domain in Gulgatha. They aided their patron by collecting and preserving information. He had no qualms with being the subject for such. It interested him greatly what Du Nicols had in mind though. A spark of hope had ignited as he thought of the collaboration between their houses. It wasn't possible that 'it' had suddenly borne fruit? "Hold still." said the devil. Her hand gently took hold of his chin and something cold was placed where his left eye had once been until an elven skinning knife had cut it out. A moment later another of the round objects was placed into his other socket, still bearing the scars of elven cruelty. He heard a loud "click" as of someone snapping their fingers somewhere beside his head at eye level, and suddenly his world filled with light and the grinning face and dark hair of a wild eyed woman dressed in green.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:08:32 pm
Ferret finished reading the collection of papers Lydia had provided her, or rather, had shown her where to find. "Sorry. I'd get them for you, but I'm out practice." The eyes had stayed in the Painterly family for generations. At some point some ancestor had realized the eyes were useful even to someone who was not blind, and had them mounted in a pair of silver frames like a pair of goggles. It was all very interesting but in truth Ferret didn't care much about the history, just what happened to the items she sought. The last few pages gave just that information though. "It was Scholar Ophilia Painterly who last had possesion of the eyes at the end of a long line of inheritors. Ophilia died without heir but instead of passing the item on to a cousin or sibling, she opted instead to be buried with the eyes. Shortly after, her tomb was robbed. At the time it was believed that the much loved Scholars jealous family had done the deed and were driven into obscure poverty as a result. Today it is believed that the church of Atesh, being in the full throes of zealous inquisition, robbed the tomb to obtain the eyes and to disgrace one of Gulgatha's oldest families. This theory is backed up by the information that none of Ophilia's direct family were in Gulgatha at the time."
With this, Ferret's suspicions about where the heirloom was, and the suspicions of the old papers she had been forced to throw out, had been confirmed. Now all that needed to be done was to retrieve them. The chapels doors were sealed, but Lydia had mentioned an attempted raid on the church. "How did this Isaac guy plan to get through the chapel gate? I've been to the chapel, it was locked, or the doors were jammed." she asked. "I figured you'd ask," Lydia replied, rubbing her head again, "The doors were spiked from the inside to keep the rioters and undead out, or so I've heard and they never had a chance to remove the spikes. Those last hundred or so years were a bit chaotic and the church had gone into steep decline while the college closed down after the raid. Everyone thought there would be another change of leadership in the city, but it never happened. Isaac and his supporters planned on going through the undercity. The idea was to go through a hatch tucked behind the bakers quarter near the chapel. But that path goes through the southern reach. It's... not safe down there. Even if it's not flooded, you don't want to go down there." Ferret was determined though, "Why? If it's the only way into the chapel, then I need to go through the undercity. If it's flooded, well... I'll have to figure something else out." "You don't understand." said Lydia, making a show of stomping her foot and waving her hands about in a manner that reminded Ferret painfully of her mother when she was upset, "The undercity was never a safe place, but that part of it is very bad. There are... There are worse things than the undead down there." Clearly upset now, "Demons. Do people even remember demons?" Ferret nodded, she knew full well what a demon was. The most she had ever seen before coming to Gulgatha was a small imp her tutor had captured in a bottle, but he had told her many stories of demons. The Ire of flame banner, the doom of Cazelton road, and the Shade of Gulgatha. When she was planning this expedition, it had been that last she had worried about the most. She had passed within rifle shot of flamebanner, but Stam had informed her that the Ire, like most demons, never left it's lair once it picked one. He had even told her that the shade was harmless to true blooded Gulgathans, that it had been "bound" in service to the city. "There are still demons in Gulgatha, it's where they are born. Just one of a few such places. They come into existence as imps, and then they sit around feeding on whatever life they can find until they grow into demons. There are many of them in the undercity." Ferret wondered what was worse than a demon, but decided not to ask. "I need to go Lydia. If you are my friend, and I think I can say that you are, then I need you to help me." Lydia threw her arms up, 'Painterly she was' She thought. She would have been a senior researcher or an artifact hunter if the college were still open. "Fine," she said aloud, "then we need to get something from Isaacs office."
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:09:15 pm
The thing from Isaacs office turned out to be a map, or rather, a very old street plan. The overcity had been a mess of semi-organized houses and shops. According to the street plan Lydia had shown her, the undercity was much more organized. The whole thing looked rather like the inside of a tree with knots in it at regular intervals. Row after row of concentric circles, radiating outwards, breaking up only when they encountered some out of place object. One such object was the chapel of Gulgatha. Lydia managed to pull another rolled up map from the collection of rolled up papers and maps stored in a bin leaning against one wall. This she layed on the table and Ferret unrolled it. It was a more in depth, actual map but focused on a much smaller area. It detailed a path through the under city through various tunnels and rotundas beneath the streets. "So we just find this hatch here and this map will lead us right to the chapel undercroft?" Ferret asked, "what are these red X's?" she asked, pointing to one such X. "Walls in the undercity that had to be broken through. A lot of the old constructions that went on in the undercity were mostly walls for holding up the street. Arches would have been more effective, honestly, and a lot of the walls are redundant. You won't have to break through more than one I think. Isaac and his group managed to get pretty close to the chapel and their tools might still be down there." Ferret got the feeling that Lydia wouldn't be going, and so she asked, "You aren't coming with me? I might need your help down there, I don't know the way." "No. I won't go down there again. you have a map and I'll show you where the hatch is, but I won't go down there again." It was plain now that Lydia feared the undercity greater than death. She had already experienced death and it was that which gave Ferret pause, for if someone who was already dead showed certain terror at the prospect of visiting Gulgatha's undercity, what would lie in wait down there for the living?
NOTE: God, I wish wordpad had spellcheck
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:10:18 pm
"So this is it then?" Ferret said, more a comment than a question. The short back "yard" was filled to a depth of a few inches with stagnant, filthy water but the access hatch in one corner was just barely above the surface. Several bins and crates had been stacked around it, and over time the latter had given way to rot. In the diffused light of day, Lydia was harder to make out, but still visible enough. "After the societies little 'stunt,' the church forced the bakers out of business and installed a new hatch over this access. Fortunately, not all in the church were in favor of the way church officials went about things, and more fortunately, the society was in the business of hiring on reformed 'treasure hunters' and what we referred to as 'previously unemployed locksmiths.'" It took ferret a long moment to realize that what lydia was implying was that the historical society kept criminals on hand. "So long as they maintained a clean record and weren't too violent or greedy." Lydia finished, as if hearing Ferrets thoughts. "Anyway, we had the locks changed. The hatch will open with just about any combination. Try 'five, one, one, one, five.'" Ferret did as she said, despite their age, the simple brass mechanisms beneath the the numbered dials turned easily, and with little resistance. When the numbers were in place Lydia made a wide twisting motion with her hands, like she was turning a valve. Ferret grabbed the handles on either side of the hatch and sure enough, it lifted about an inch out of its frame, and then swung around horizontally to reveal the inky blackness below. The moment it was open, water from the yard began to trickle over the hatches rim giving Ferret a good measure of how far, by sound, the water in this part of he undercity was from the surface. "The walk way will probably be underwater in some places by as little as a few inches or as much as a few feet." Lydia said, leaning over the opening, "It'll be dry here though, but that will change once you start heading towards the chapel. You'll know you are getting close when you come across broken masonry." Ferret thought about what lay ahead. On the way through the overcity, Lydia had given Ferret a sparse, nervous tour. It was fortunate that Lydia had been so quiet and Ferret had chosen to keep her questions to herself. as they had rounded a turn onto one of Gulgatha's major boulevards, a huge serpentine form composed of old bone and metal had erupted from the water. At the end Ferret had guessed to be it's head, the thing seemed to have the largest skull she had ever seen. Ferret had seen a wolf skull once, but had never seen a wolf quite large enough to have given up a bone that big. 'Larger than the moose trophy from Zantia back at graysons inn.' She thought before Lydia had grabbed her, physically, and pulled her back around the corner. "Shh..." She had beckoned Ferret to come with her silently, and quickly. The serpent had not spotted or sensed them, it had simply been ambushing some large bird that had come down from the walls to find fish. "It's a good thing you and I are born Gulgathans, or that thing would have torn the doors off the college to get at me long ago and you wouldn't have made it far past whichever gate you came in through. It's a greater demon Ferret. We should vacate these streets as quickly as possible." Later, Ferret had asked about "born" Gulgathans, how was that possible when Ferret was only seeing the city for the first time. "Maybe you weren't born here, but your family is still revered, in a way. Bha-Yahnese men and women would have been stopped and turned back by Gulgatha's 'emergency' border guard, and if they made it past that, the demons here in the city would have swarmed over them. The hand of the necromancer is still on the great houses of Gulgatha, even if those houses don't hold the city anymore. Don't go thinking it protects you completely from demons though, they owe no allegiance to the old masters. Just that they can't 'feel' us." Ferret was thinking of that demon again as she gazed down into the blackness of the hatch. "Will there-" Lydia interrupted, "Almost certainly. Lesser ones, but still dangerous. Possibly greater demons as well. They look like they are made of bone, but don't let that fool you. They have soft black bodies. If you encounter one, draw your sword, and don't let them touch you." A flood of information suddenly came from Lydia, "Don't listen to anything down there. Especially pleading or calls for help. Stay in the light, and if your light doesn't penetrate into the darkness, then it's not natural darkness, stay out of it. Best to stay away from unknown lights too. If you get hit by a thrown object, try not to panic, and for your own sake if everything goes completely silent, run and don't look back." Lydia was holding herself and shaking violently, almost in a panic. Memories of her own experiences in the undercity ran through her consciousness in a stream, one after another, and Ferret could almost see them reflected by the blatant horror which had been burned into Lydias eyes. "Please, please don't go down there. We can find another way. Please?" She steeled herself against what she was to face. Even so, Ferret was terrified now. She only shook her head. "There is no other way." Lydia was suddenly gone. "I'm sorry." Ferret said to the empty yard. She hadn't known Lydia long, but now that the spirit had fled from her, from the darkness before her, Ferret had never felt more alone in the city of her forefathers than she did in that moment.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:11:40 pm
The undercity of Gulgatha. Once this dark and dangerous place was itself the overcity and the labyrinth beneath it was simply "the crypt." In those days, that which dwelled beneath had not risen up into the overcity. As Gulgatha's old avenues were covered over by brick and mortar, new buildings constructed atop the old, the darkness rose up out of the crypt to claim this new territory freshly hidden from the light. Nora "Ferret" Painterly, possibly the youngest living daughter of the house of scrolls, descended into Gulgatha's stygian undercity to complete a journey her forebears had either failed or not attempted at all; to navigate the damnation beneath and infiltrate the chapel of a malign faith. There was no ladder so ferret dropped down. To her surprise, the walkway wasn't quiet as far down as she thought and the water came up her feet only about half an inch. Not as "dry" as Lydia said it would be, but still. There was more water beneath her though, and the unnatural dark of Gulgatha's underground became obvious when she looked back towards the opening. It was as if she were looking up through thick clouds at the sun casting a sharp beam down on her, showing only that narrow shaft but no more. She spotted a lantern hanging just under the inner lip of the hatch which had been hidden from her sight by the unusual dark. The lantern was oil fed and had not suffered water damage. More over, it had a small mechanism on it's side that she could wind and when a spring inside had built up enough tension, it released and struck a spark which would light the lanterns wick. After a moment, she had it burning, and it lit the area admirably. The sudden change of ambiance around her became suddenly cold and malicious though. The sunlight had been no fault of hers, and so had not incited a reaction from whatever old things dwelled down here, but the lantern was an unnatural light brought into a realm where it did not belong. She pushed on along the walkway, pushing back the shadows only to have them close in close behind her as she went. In the distance she could hear the rushing of water and guessed that a significant amount of water was being drained off into some deeper place just as fast as it rushed in to replace what flowed away. As she moved she found sconces with torches and lanterns, she tried to light them to relieve a bit of the oppressive nature of the place, but to her horror she discovered that they snuffed out as soon as she got some distance from them. "No more of that then." She thought. It was no surprise to her when she discovered she was lost. She had followed the map, stopping at every intersection she came across to check it and make a mark on a wall, the ceiling, or a railing. This place had no respect for the map she carried though, and Twice she had come to an intersection only to find a mark she had left. Another problem was the whispering. Many days before, she had emerged from the cold desert and into the boreal woods beyond it. On that occasion she had suddenly found herself being followed by voices, the source of which she could not discern. The whispers heard here in the undercity seemed so much less malicious, but were somehow colder. Crueler even. Ferret stopped once again to check her map and upon withdrawing it from her bag, a small, squared, wooden tube clattered to the floor. As she picked it up, she realized it was one of the boxes of incense she had taken from the aromatics shop earlier in the day and remembered something her father had told her when asked about her mothers love of the reeking stuff. "Maybe you'll understand when you're older dear. It's bit of superstition really, but once upon a time, House wives all over this world of ours would burn incense to drive away evil spirits." Ferret had never seen an "evil spirit" and in her younger age she had assumed that the incense was working. As she had gotten older though, she cast away such childish things. Or she thought she had. She opened the box, the smell was not as strong as she thought it would have been and the sticks within were not as long or sticky as those her mother bought from the merchants that came to Bright Point every summer. They were short and dry. "Gulgathan incense." She thought, touching the tip to her lanterns flame. It took a moment to ignite and when it did, it simply smoldered and released it's smokes. Her mothers incenses had always burned with a small flame at their tip. This Gulgathan incense released a great deal of smoke as well as an inoffensive smell of burning wood. A little acrid maybe, but not terrible. The darkness that pressed around her seemed to draw itself away and the feeling of that she was being watched eased. The voices though, did not fade. Ferret noticed that something new had added itself to the menacing menagerie of the undercity; the sound of something following her and as Lydia had mentioned, objects thrown from dark passages. It was one of these that, as Ferret entered a relatively dry intersection, came hurtling out of the darkness to her right and smashed into her lantern. The lantern dropped from her hand, the glass exploding outwards at the impact of what looked like a brick. Larger than most of the stuff that had come flying at her. It was knocked from her hand in a shower of broken glass and sparks, leaving Ferret alone in the darkness of Gulgatha. She scrambled for the lantern and cut herself quiet badly. The sudden feeling of malice was pressing in on her, closer and closer it came, some unseen thing in that place moving to wring the life from her. After what seemed like an age, she found it. From the feel of it, it's reservoir was still in tact and the dial still turned easily. The voices in the dark had grown quieter, Ferrets incense still produced its smokes but it seemed to matter very little. The loud snap of the spark in her lantern cut off those voices as if it were a pair of shears used to snip off a troublesome vine. "damn..." Ferret mouthed when the lantern failed to light, feeling a sudden draft at her ankles as something moved about them. Even the sound of rushing water or the drip of the ocean above her head could not be heard now. All except her frantic attempts to get the lantern lit, the undercity had gone completely silent. Some of Lydia's last words to her before she descended into the depths repeated over and over in her head now. "If everything goes completely silent, for your own sake, run." When the lantern failed to light again, Ferret panicked. She drew her sword and lashed out, cutting a wide arc in the darkness. The blade made contact with a wall and the vibration of the impact sent a shock up her arm and her sword clattered to the floor. The clash seemed so loud in her ears, and over that ringing she heard another voice in her head, that of her tutor. "Wide strikes with a weapon like that will only get you in trouble girl, it's a swort sword, not a cleaver." She pawed the unseen floor for her sword, and another voice, this one not in her own head, but rather all around her. The voices of many. "Come dearest. Come. It brings light to us. We do not want it's lights. Come and share with us. Come and drink in what we share with it." The wick of the lantern suddenly flared to life as she once again attempted to spark a light, and Ferret immediately wished it hadn't.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:13:06 pm
Lydia walked the streets of Gulgatha, picking her way through them unhindered. It seemed as if the streets had gone quieter than usual. It was the first time she had come out of the college in some time. She hadn't told ferret, but until she had opened the front doors of the historical college, Lydia had been trapped there. The walls and doors were inscribed with well hidden injunctions against the undead. Hot runes that repulsed her being if she tried to cross them. They were older than she was, and made to keep imps out of the collection, she assumed. Perhaps they were older though? It wasn't until Isaacs experiment with imperfect resurrection had been carried out on Lydia that anyone even realized they were there. Lydia had been trapped sure enough, and now that Ferret had freed her Gulgatha was once again an open book to her. Again and again though her thoughts drifted back to Ferret and what she herself had experienced in the old tunnels under the streets. She thought about the old man again. Thought about the emaciated thing dressed in rags that had fallen on the old man and seemed to suck the very breath out of him. More so though, she remembered the elf. Lydia had been separated from the rest of her group when the undercity had suddenly gone silent and a tall humanoid abomination clad in ceramic armor had stepped out of the darkness. The clay shards that still clung to it's head showed that it had once worn a mask of some kind, but that mask had been smashed to bits revealing a pair of beady black eyes and a wide grinning mouth like a slashed throat filled with pointed teeth. Or glass. The thing beneath that clay shell seemed withered to the point of desiccation. "Some kind of demon." she thought. She was wrong. In most cases, even a greater demon would have been preferable to what she had encountered. "Hello lovely." it had rasped, it's lips twisting and curling as it articulated every syllable. "Come lovely, we need new skin. Why don't you give us a bit, just a little bit?" On that occasion she had been rescued by one of the locksmiths whom the college had hired on to access certain parts of the undercity. A rescue that had cost the man his life. That locksmith had been a man named Hans Labormen, and he knew a great deal about the undercity. He had dashed from the passage the thing had come from and shoved Lydia roughly to the ground, giving the elf a slash to the hip with his shining knife as he passed it. It's scream at the fairly minor wound had been unearthly. One would have thought it was being tortured. After a brief struggle where Hans had stabbed and slashed his way around the elves twisting grasping limbs and snapping jagged mouth, he stood triumphant over it and withdrew his tool from it's shattered chestpiece. "Aye, you're a fortunate lady. Not many get to meet an elf and escape. For me though, my fortune's run out." He had told her before lifting his shirt to show her what the elf had wrought upon him. She could see through the holes the elf's touch had rotted through it without his lifting of the garment though, his skin had turned yellowish, like a bruise, and was rapidly shifting to purple. Soon it would turn black, and after it would begin to spread and slough off. The elfs curse for the man who had struck it down. "The touch of an elf is the touch of death ma'am." He had told her. "I am a dead man, but it was an honor to serve the college instead of rotting away in a prison cell." Hans held out a little more than half an hour. Long enough to guide Lydia back to her group. The rapid change in him had horrified her more than the sight of the elf had. His last act before succumbing to the decay was to give Lydia the knife he had used to slay the blighted thing. "take it... steel... The undead... Hate it... Wave it in their direction... and they'll back off..." Later on she would realize his sacrifice had been in vain. Before the Ateshite ambush, she would experience a great deal more, but the memory of her encounter with the thing which even Gulgatha's undercity drew away from and what it had done to all it touched would haunt her well into death and after. Her lessons and her experience had taught her what was down there, perhaps even prepared her. Ferret did not have that luxary. "What have I done?" she said aloud to the empty cities fog choked streets. Lydia turned then, if she were to get to Ferret in time she would need to cut through the chapel itself. She then had a thought, what if the chapel had the same runes that the college had been protected with? Not the chapel then. The only option she could think of was the hatch she had led Ferret to in the first place. "Fine then." She said. As she did so, a nearby pile of rags shifted and an aged corpse stood and watched her. "You there," she called "Shove off, and steer clear of the chapel." For a moment, Lydia believed it hadn't understood but was reassured then when it suddenly turned away and moved off down an alley. She wasn't sure what had made her try to command the corpse. Something she must have learned long ago and forgot about. "Gulgathan undead." She thought, retracing her path back to bakers row and the darkness beneath.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:17:11 pm
Ferret ran. The thing had made a grab for her as she sat on the floor of the intersection but had only managed to slap at a bit of loose skirt. She had believed the thing would try to pull her in by the hem of her skirt, but the fabric had immidiatly turned to dust beneath it's touch. Her sword had been close enough to grab, and Ferret had rolled for it. The thing had lunged again and managed to grab, momentarily, the brass basket of her sword. The things grip only allowed her to quickly pivot the blade down into the monsters shoulder. It screamed and scrabbled away and Ferret saw that the basket was corroded beyond usefulness, falling away in flakes of green. She could even see where the blade had made contact with the thing. At first, she believed it to be blood but when it failed to wipe away she realized it was rust. Except... The cutting edge was strangely unmarred. No time to ponder the meaning of that oddity, she had to be careful not to trip, not to let her lantern drop again, not to stop. Except for the sound of her flight through the derelict sub terrain, all was silent and it was that which told her that her pursuer was still close. Again it's voices came to her in the dark. "Come back lovely, we've hunted it since they were little more than animals living among the trees. Come back slinky thing." It wasn't a demon, Ferret thought. She had seen a demon since being here and had them described to her. This thing was certainly not one of them. It's frame was large and lithe, it's flesh withered beneath the solid red shell it bore in shards. It looked like glazed clay. It seemed to be a mockery of the golems Lydia had described as she had shown her the hand in the case. It's face was hidden well behind a grotesque laughing mask. "Oh little rat. Come to us." It hissed, "It will never feel the grass or the breeze. We will take it's eyes and it's heart and all the skin we want. Come lovely." She was suddenly blinded by a sudden burst of evening daylight piercing through a collapsed section of street above as she broke out of the dark onto a walkway over looking some kind of rotunda. Her momentary lack of sight made her nearly miss the hand and it's long sharp fingers enter the periphery of her vision. She side stepped and fell, again her lantern hit the ground and went out. The sound of it bouncing off the walkway and splashing into the water below made Ferrets stomach sink. It was standing over her now. "We have it! Not a fine hunt to be sure, not like the old days, but it will do dearest."
Lydia had entered the undercity and found it more accommodating than she had believed. For one, the dark seemed to hide little from her attention. In life, she had been harried constantly by mocking voices and strange feelings of being watched. Now though the undercity seemed to welcome her, and she wondered briefly why she had been so afraid before. She followed the walkway as Ferret had and realized that she was being guided. In life the undercity had been a confusing shifting maze, even to the imperfect. To a ghost though... "That way dear." came a voice. "Follow the smokes." said another. The voices seems more organized than they should have been. "Of course," Lydia thought "like a foreigner visiting a distant land. I'm not the foreigner anymore though am I?" What did that last mean though? Follow the smokes? It didn't take long to figure out. At some point, Ferret had lit incense. Lydia couldn't smell it, but she could see it. The smoke had lingered down here and like the undercity itself, it seemed almost inviting to her. She felt drawn to it, like a moth to flame. It certainly seemed to glow and sparkle. A superstitious like Ferret? Probably lit the stuff thinking it would guide her in some way. Or perhaps drive off the darkness. Lydia came to a dry intersection and there found a spray of broken glass, a few drops of blood, and a dusting of verdigris. "We broke her light." came a voice, both jovial and full of remorse. "We put it out, and it came for her." Lydia shook her head, looking at the glass and asked "Who came? A demon?" A deeper voice, closer than the first, "The old one. The last. The hunter. The hollow." She shivered, remembering as a lighter voice chirped, "The cruel ones. The punished ones. The arrogant ones. The hollow." It couldn't be possible that there was still an elf in the undercity. In her fear of this place, she had convinced herself into believing that the last had been killed by a long gone savior. Gulgatha was a mysterious place though. Perhaps the flooding had driven it up from some deeper reach far below. Lydia would never know, for to venture in that direction lay only fear and loathing. The voices around Lydia began to clamor in a fearful, nearly religious fervor. "The hollow. The hollow. The hollow." Lydia picked back up the trail of smoke with the call of the voices ringing in her ears. After a time she realized that the chant had faded and what she heard now was all in her head. The undercity had gone silent.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:21:18 pm
Now was the time to fight as Stam had instructed. This thing attacked in wide devastating sweeps, but was too quick for one of Ferrets own clumsy chopping slashes. The thing had called her "slinky" and sure enough, she moved with fluidity about the rotunda platform. Not quiet agile enough to keep from losing a shoe though. Or a good amount of hair. As she had rounded the platform once again, she had stopped to try a faint on it, but it had been too close. Back in the tunnels as she fled, Ferret realized that the creature must have been keeping stride with her the whole time. As she made the quick jab of the faint, Ferret was forced to take a quick hop backwards instead. It had hoped to simply take her head off with a quick grab, but had only managed to knock the girls fur cap off and get a handful of auburn hair. The locks gave instantly with little pain on Ferrets part, the reek of rotting hair filled the air for a brief moment. She needed something to distract the thing so she could land at least one good hit. No one noticed Lydia come into view at the opposite side of the rotunda. "Nora!" Her shout cut the silence unpleasantly. "Good timing." Ferret thought as the creature turned it's head sharply in Lydias direction. Ferret leapt into it's midst and taking her sword in both hands she wound up and took a wide hard swing for it's right leg. The steel plowed through the clay shell and bit deep into the shriveled brown flesh beneath. It staggered and screamed loud enough enough to shake the rust from the platform. It hunched down to examine it's wound. Pushing the advantage of the creatures pain, Ferret cocked her sword arm and with what remained of her weapons basket she decked it hard in the side of that laughing mask. The basket and mask shattered and for a brief moment as it reeled and fell, ferret could see what looked like a round hole lined with needle like teeth in it's face. It caught itself on the railing and tried to pull itself back up, but the rail bowed and snapped sending it into the rushing depths below. She watched the water for a time and when she realized she could hear the rushing of the water and the whispering in the dark, she knew it was gone. "Did it touch you?" Lydia asked from her side. She was holding out Ferrets cap, which she took gladly. "Just a handful of hair. I thought you wouldn't come down here." Going over what she had been through in her head now, she thought to berate Lydia for putting her through this, but pushed the idea aside immediately. It wasn't Lydias fault she was afraid of this place. It wasn't Lydias fault she had decided to come down here. Ferret had put herself through this. "Oh, your hair?" Lydia grabbed for Ferrets hat and only managed to knock it off. Ferrets hair had gained several grey streaks, but the influence of the elfs touch didn't seem to be spreading any further than that. "you'll have to cut it a bit short to match up, but you should be fine." Lydia said, and then remembered what she had been told when she had survived her own encounter, "You're a fortunate lady. Not many get to meet an elf and escape." Ferret just looked at her hard for a moment and then back down into the water. "That was not an elf was it?" Lydia nodded, picking Ferrets hat up off the walkway again, "Once upon a time, it was. I met one myself before I died. Light another stick of that incense please." "can you even smell it?" Ferret asked, taking her cap and digging through her bag for the wooden box. "No," Lydia replied, "but it gives me a warm safe feeling. It would really help about now." Ferret withdrew another stick of incense and reached for her lantern only to remember that she didn't have it anymore. "No can do I guess." She said, putting the stick back, "My lantern went into the soup, and that was all I had for open flame. What are you doing down here?" She thought briefly about asking about the repelling effects of incense on spirits, but decided that if Lydia had managed to find her by following a trail of residual smoke, chances are it was just another false superstition. Lydia dodged the question. "What else have you got in there? You can't have brought incense with you, It wouldn't have survived wet when your stuff was ruined." Ferret rummaged through her bag and pulled out all the things she had taken from the ruins. Two boxes of coins taken from behind the counter of some business, a small bag of jewellery, and a collection of bottles and tubes from the incense shop. Lydia went to pick one of these up but only managed to knock it over. "Pick that up and remove the top." Ferret did as she said, feeling a bit embarrassed at the way Lydia had looked at her when she had withdrawn the coin boxes. The jewelery was fine apparently, but the taking of the coins seemed to have diminished her just a little bit in Lydias eyes. The brass cylinder she had assumed was just another finger sized tube of incense had a familiar mechanism and wick at a much smaller scale beneath it's cap. "clockwork candle." Lydia explained, "Fortune in spades it seems. Now let's see if we can get some of that incense going and I'll see if I can take you to the chapel."
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:24:06 pm
The undercity was still terrifying to Ferret but to her eyes, Lydia did not show the fear she had expressed as they had stood in the college or at the hatch into this dark place. "Nothing for me to worry about down here. Well... sort of. The incense might placate demons and drive off imps. A demon could be dangerous to both of us. Besides, it's nice." Lydia seemed relaxed. Even when they came into a large dark room and encountered something that looked like a boquet of skulls. "What does it bring eh? What does it bring? Hello girls. Hello. Hello." It had approached them at first, "Bah! What a stench they carry. Hello. Hello. Put it away, It offends us." Lydia had shaken her head, "No, we think not. Bugger off you. Go to some other hole where you'll find the air to your liking." After it had slunk off and they were sure it was gone, Lydia said "Lesser demon. I imagine it would have been more aggressive if we hadn't had the incense. Strange stuff. If I'm honest, it makes me feel nice. Incense was banned in the college, would ruin the books." After that, Ferret had begun to relax. In time, and in truth it seemed like ages, they at last came to a crumbling wall. "Looks like we won't be needing any tools after all. Just beyond this and a few more chambers, we can get out of this disgusting murk and up into the chapel undercroft. Hopefully, Ferret, we will find what you came for there."
The water was deep in the chambers between the broken wall and the spiral stair leading into the chapel undercroft. Lydia had gone on ahead to make sure everything was safe, and upon returning told her so. "I'm actually a bit excited. Very few, if any, collegiates have ever seen the inside of the undercroft. The older lower level is flooded, but it looks like the upper level is fine. Don't worry, I'm sure your eyes are in the upper level." Ferret navigated the flooded chambers carefully, sucking in oxygen from the narrow gap above the water. As it turned out, there were a great many holes in the street above which annoyed Ferret greatly. She could have bypassed all the trouble of the undercity had she known that these would connect more directly to the church. The nearly nonexistant light coming from the holes in the street above showed her that the day was just about done. To her surprise, she could see stars out against the deepening blue of the clear sky above. The clouds and fog had cleared off or at least thinned while she was beneath Gulgatha. It gave her hope. Hope and determination. She would get the eyes back, rest up somewhere safe, and leave the dead city the next day. She wondered what would become of Lydia though. She wasn't bound the the city, perhaps she would follow Ferret back to Bright Point. Then what? It was a question for later. For now Ferret had to focus on making her way from one hole to the next until finally, she reached a spiral staircase and Lydia waiting patiantly. She was worried that Lydia would have moved on without her, but she hadn't. "Come on out of there." She said, "You can dry yourself off on one of these banners. They've been surprisingly well preserved down here." It didn't take much doing to pull one down. Well preserved or not, the fabric tore easily from the hanging rod. It did an admirable job of drying, and after she relit the mechanical candle she took a better look at the banner. It was a vibrant red like Ferret had not seen in fabric. "It used to have a triangle on it." Lydia explained, noticing Ferrets interest. "They used to hang all over the outside of the chapel. They were always either very fresh and vibrant or covered in filth from the factories. Either way though, they really broke up the drab surroundings after the church knocked out and bricked up all the stained glass." They were in a small anti chamber filled with barrels and crates. Like the banner, they were also well preserved. The contents on the other hand were not. Even the smell of the fish that had been stored in the barrels was gone, leaving only the little piles of pin bones. The skulls, she assumed, had been swiped by Gulgatha's imp population. Her suspicion was well founded. The crates were likewise empty except for one which housed a group of imps, each of them indistinguishable from the mass except for the little fish skull which identified each individual as a single entity. They looked up at her warily as she moved the crates lid back into place. A heavy door, the miniature of there huge counterparts at street level, gave access to a long hallway along which were more doors on either side. The walls were rough in places but smooth in others. Lydia explained that the chapel had once belonged to the city itself as a nondenominational place of worship. It had been decorated with engravings and the words of peoples and faiths from all over the continent. When the Ateshites had seized the chapel though, they had begun removing such things from the chapel and the city as a whole. "The stelle in the study we met in was one such item. Found by a farmer in the foundation of his cellar while he was removing stones to expand it." The rooms contained what Lydia had said they would contain. Long ago, the church had disenterred the bodies that had lain in the undercroft and burned them. In their place, they interred the treasures of every culture on the continent and it's vast horde of wealth. Getting the doors open was as simple as using a set of keys that still hung on a hook at the other end of the hall. The first dozen or so rooms were packed with the churches treasures. A horde of valuables piled haphazardly from wall to wall. Ferret debated with Lydia on whether they should take some of it or not, and they agreed that while it was very nice and such wealth could be of great worth, they could not afford to carry it around. So with one last glance, Ferret closed the door on the churches ill gotten gains. The rest of the rooms were filled with another kind of treasure, and Ferret found that she was just as interested in them as her ghostly friend. Row upon row of weapons and armor comprising various makes and materials, some of which had simply been tossed as bundles into barrels. Paintings, relics, items that looked mundane but were likely the heirlooms of other families, and crate upon crate of regular household items. Lydia was a flood of information, spouting on and on "These swords were made by so and so" and "Look at this glass! Dwarven surely." Again and again they would come to some item and Lydia would exclaim that one thing or another had come from the college collection. One room was filled with shelves and shelves of scrolls, papers, and books. Lydia looked upon them much in the way that Ferret had looked at the chapels treasury. "Such knowledge..." she whispered, "They didn't burn everything it seems..." She had managed to take hold of a scroll tube and remove it's cap. Before she could get the papers out though, she seemed to lose focus and it dropped through her fingers and onto the table she had brought it to. With Ferrets help, she managed to withdraw what the tube contained and spread it out before her. "It's a series of letters. No. Funerary reports. Very old ones. I think the church just kept all the old documents in here and never bothered to look at them." Ferret pulled down a book. "This one looks like a ledger. I'm willing to bet you are right, but I also think they must have added to the collection with their own stuff. Look, this one here is some kind of tithing record." Among the more mundane items were more interesting texts. Ferret flipped through one unbound quire wrapped in brown cloth to find that it was a text on medicine. Another she found outlined where to find, and the uses for, various herbs in all manner of situations. Lydia attempted to pick up another scroll case but withdrew her hand from it with a hiss. "Ferret, get this one for me?" Ferret had attempted to take the tube down for her, but the moment her fingers touched the cold metal she was laid flat upon the cold stone floor with the muscles in her arm spasming and screaming in pain. "What the hell was that!?" she shouted, sitting up. "I'm sorry, I thought I was the only one who would feel it. Perhaps it's an injunction against the living?" They tried again with a pair of tongs from a crate in the next room over, but the effect was much the same if a little diminished. "Leave it alone then." Lydia said disappointedly. "Who knows what will happen if we keep messing with it." Ferret agreed and they went to the next room.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:27:44 pm
The room was different than the others. The items kept here were clearly cared for a great deal better than the others they had seen. For one, they appeared to be on display much like the items that had once festooned the cases at the historical society. "Here, Ferret, take this." Lydia was looking at a short silver rod no thicker than a finger with a small ball of unusually clear glass at it's tip. "Blow on it." Lydia said excitedly. Ferret did so and the sudden flash of light was startling after the darkness of the undercity. "Wonderful!" Lydia cried, "Just wonderful! Real magic! Clean magic!" The rod was some kind of magic light source, and judging from her reaction to it, Lydia had never seen such or had seen very little of it. It hurt Ferrets eyes, but she endeavored to get used to it. They used it to have a better look around. A ring here, a pair of gloves there, in another case they found a pair of carved sticks. In one case was a collection of beautiful knives and daggers. Lydia opened the case with a practiced movement. "How the hell did they get this?" She jabbed her finger at one knife in the case. "This was a gift to me, I must have dropped it when I was murdered and the church came by and took it as a trophy or something." Without a word, Ferret took the knife and tucked it into her bag. If it was important to Lydia, it was important to her. Lydia was staring hard into the case, her expression souring into a sort of anger. "Take everything." She said suddenly. "Take as much as you can from this room. None of this stuff belongs to the church. As far as I can tell, every item in this room is a trophy of some kind. What we saw before was just confiscated goods, but this? This was their real collection." While Ferret picked things up and placed them into her bag, Lydia began opening or smashing cases. It was the most physical activity Ferret had seen her capable of doing. She moved beyond Ferrets view where the smashing continued for a moment. Ferret realized that Lydia had gone silent. She had been about to call out that she couldn't fit anymore into her bag when Lydia had called her over. "Ferret, come here." It gave her a chill. Slowly, she moved in Lydias direction but her trepidation gave way when her friend came into view, a wide grin stretching across her face. Beyond her Ferret could see resting on a plinth what appeared to be a pair of goggles. Instead of lenses though, a pair of ceramic orbs of astounding perfection sat, set into silver rims like spectacles. Each ball was bone white with a single black dot at their center. The color was natural, she was sure of that. The glass like surface was a work of the glaze on them, and the "irises" were like a pair of bottomless holes which no light could pierce. She picked them up and they seemed to shift and move, though no movement took place. "By right of inheritance," She whispered, remembering the old words spoken by her father as he had laid claim to her grandfathers belongings after his death, "I lay claim. By right of blood do I back this claim." The odd shifting of the eyes stopped, as if to fix themselves on her. Again, no movement had taken place but she now felt as if she were being assessed. Several moments passed. Then, as if nothing was amiss, the tension lifted. Her right had been recognized. Or so she assumed. The eyes she placed in a pocket instead of her bag, buttoning the pocket down to be sure that if she lost her bag she would not at least lose what she had come for. "I have what I came for." Ferret said authoritatively, "We can come back for the rest later."
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:28:44 pm
It looked down from it's place high in the darkness of the chapels arches and rafters. It had not expected to ever see the one he had been stalking before in this place. There came a shout and she stumbled, dropping the light she carried. He watched as she emerged from the lower chambers onto the main floor and begin picking her way through the pews, struggling with some sparking thing. There was something else with her now. It seemed to show as a dull light that followed closely, no doubt some raw life without a body. It had been ages since it had seen one of those. It began it's descent to the chapel floor just as the cursed congregation began to rise from it's hiding among the chapels pilfered finery.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:30:11 pm
Ferret realized as she delivered a brutal chop to the back of a lunging corpses spine, that the incense tucked into the mechanical candle had burned up. Another husk mounted the pew to her right to make a dive for her as another in the shredded red habit of a priest stumbled into the aisle in front of her. She took a step back to avoid the diver, rolled over the pew to her left, and bolted for the altar. The half moon had appeared through the shattered window high above and cast a weak light on the shambling congregation, which was fine by Ferret. She had lost the light casting wand when the first of them attacked. "I wish there was more I could do." whispered Lydia. To her credit, she had kept Ferret from being stabbed in the back by that first undead they had encountered but it seemed that was about the extent of her abilities. Something that looked like a child came screaming from the darkness beyond Ferrets weak mechanical candle light and was promptly cut down. "There is." Ferret growled, hacking down another diving clergyman, "Find a way out. We can't go back the way we came. They closed in behind us. Just find the gate and get it open if you can." Lydia hesitated only for a moment, and then she was gone. Ferret growled again as she gave another screamer a solid kick. It tore a strip from her skirt as it fell back and in the moment it's fall gave her, she used the mechanical candle to light the real candles on the altar. The candles shed a bit of extra light, but once again she wished she hadn't pushed away the dark.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:30:54 pm
Lydia could hear the clash as several undead attempted the altar all at once, and once again Ferret turned them back with a broad cut from her steel sword. She had a hard time maneuvering the milling horde around her. She thought that they had spiked the doors against the college, but looking at them she thought perhaps something else had been going on in the city. If they had sealed the gates against the college, then why was the chapel filled with so many women and children? Not all of the bodies here were of clergy. The point was driven home as she came breifly face to face with the shambling corpse of an old woman. They had come to the chapel to avoid some fate, but had sealed themselves into one massive tomb instead. She and ferret had disturbed that tomb. It occurred to her then that the streets had been oddly devoid of unlife. She had seen a few small groups and individuals, and Ferret had told her of her own encounters, but even excluding refugees from the disaster there were not nearly enough undead out there. There came another much louder noise, like the toppling of a candlabra. "In fact," thought Lydia, "That's probably what it was." Ferret had probably tipped it to slow the encroaching dead. She could tell where she was going by the dim light shed by the moon, her own hightened night sight, and her distance from the shattered window. A few more tense seconds and she heard the sound of crunching glass. Undead trampling shards of stained glass window. She pushed, and in some cases passed, through them to the door. It had indeed been spiked shut. At the base of each of the small access doors was a deep recess, and in them sat a simple metal rod. She tried to withdraw one of them, but found that they were stuck fast and she just couldn't stay corporeal long enough to wrestle them from where they nested. It was then she remembered something. As she had turned back to rejoin Ferret, she had done something she had not given any thought to at the time. It didn't seem odd, but then again Lydia had been dead an awfully long time. Nothing seemed odd to her anymore where the undead were concerned. Back out on the street she had given an order, and the corpse she had given it too had obeyed. Ferret couldn't do that. Even demons couldn't do that. Demons and undead usually ignored each other. Lydia wasn't an ordinary undead either. She was imperfect. A ghost sure, but wasn't a ghost just an imperfect without a body? There was a kinship here, but where they were stupid with death, she had retained all of her faculties. "You," she barked to a stout looking corpse. she turned to another heavy looking one, "And you. Get this bar removed. Now." The corpses stared at her for a moment. There came another crash and a short yelp from the direction of the altar. The two bodies had turned back in that direction, but Lydia stopped them "No you bastards! Get these bars removed now. I order you!" As an afterthought she threw in "In the name of Gulgatha." They turned back to Lydia and when another sound came from the altar, they did not turn towards it. Instead, each grabbed one of the rods holding a door in place and began pulling on them. A few others even joined in the effort. Satisfied that their exit was secure, she turned back towards Ferret, only to come face to face with a familiar looking skull.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:32:34 pm
Ferret had indeed toppled one of the candlabra. The body she had tipped it onto flailed helplessly in her direction, but could move no further. The wall of withered faces had several gaps, perhaps wide enough to dash through. She made for one but had to make a hasty retreat as a decay crusted claw grabbed out at her from the loose crowd. She gave a sudden cry of surprise when she discovered one of them had moved up to the altar and had only alerted her to it's presence when it inadvertantly pushed a pewter bowl from it's top. She gave the thing a stab in the eye and was surprised as her blow sparked off a plate in it's skull. She turned quickly, slashing the leg out from under one who had tried it's luck, and using the momentum of the turn cleaved the altar climbers jaw from hinge to hinge. It fell back but that gave her an idea. She judged the hight of the altar. Knee high, perhaps a little higher than that. She was no athlete, but she was sure she could make it work. She had seen the Zantian circus performers perform similar maneuvers off of piles of fire wood. She backed up, there would be no fancy flourish to this, only the hope that she could clear the thickening horde around her. She ran, put her right foot on the altar, pushed off in a great leap, and hoped to the gods that she wouldn't land on her sword. For the moment she was airborne, she wondered why she hadn't thought to sheath it first. To her credit, the jump carried her beyond the thickest portion of those grasping hands and teeth. She didn't land on her sword either. Unfortunately, it didn't take her all the way out of the group though and as she landed on solid ground she felt a sudden sharp pain in her ankle. She collapsed and rolled, howling in pain. Ferret managed to get under one pew and then roll from that position to another. Her ankle was an agony. The undead had lost sight of her, but it would only take a moment for them to figure out where she had gone. She used that moment to sit up and inspect her injury, and lamented that she had left her light on the altar. The flesh was tender and it would surely begin to swell, but it was not broken. She had to move, had to get towards the front of the chapel and she wouldn't allow this to stop her. Not after she had gone through all the trouble and certainly not after she had actually obtained what she had come for. All she had to do was escape. The pew gave her something to lean on as she tested her footing. She could probably walk on it, but it would be a misery. Something grabbed for her in the dark but it seemed it's vision was just as bad as hers and it missed by inches. She clove the hand in half and pushed the shambler behind it to the floor. At the end of the pews Ferret rounded a pillar and it was then that she realized that the undead were not the only things hiding in the darkness of the chapel.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:33:10 pm
There were lights. Small multicolored lights floating in the darkness. By the dim light of the moon Ferret could see it. A huge serpentine form composed of bone, metal, and those dancing lights. Lydia was no where to be seen. Ferret wondered in split moment she had whether she had evaded this thing or if it had noticed her. The question was answered as it struck out like a serpent, smashing through the column as if it were little more than delicate glass and throwing Ferret aside like a paper doll. The balcony the pillar had supported collapsed and gave Ferret a moment to regain her footing as the greater demon tried to withdraw from the pile of rubble. She stumbled once and it saved her life as it pounced, soaring mere inches above her. She could see the entrance was clear now, but this thing would never allow her to reach it. Ferret stood again and held her sword before her, ready for it's next strike, and searched frantically for any sign of her friend. All she saw was a dim mist near the gate. A very dull white thing, sad in a way. It vaguely resembled human form, but there was very little substance to it. It was certainly her. Ferret knew very little of ghosts, but she guessed that they shouldn't appear so... drained. It angered her, and that anger she had been taught to take hold of. To temper, to forge into something useful, and to show her foe what she had wrought with it.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:33:36 pm
The demon did not hesitate at the brand she carried. Not this time. It struck again, and Ferret attempted to side step it and counter attack, but the skull was large and her blow simply glanced off, taking only a shaving of bone even as her body glanced off of the demon. She couldn't keep her balance with her twisted ankle and fell once again. The demon slid over and looked down at her before wrapping her in it's coils. It squeezed hard and a strange cold numbness overcame her. All the same, the pain was more than real as she felt something in her back give, making the pain in her ankle seem like little more than a minor irritation. She screamed in agony and as she blacked out, she felt the demons coils loosen.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:36:06 pm
She was only out for a few minutes. The demon worried that it had killed its prey too quickly. A very short caesura of beauteous music, and then nothing. It had gone limp. He watched it for many long minutes, lashing out at any undead that drew too near. By the time she had awoken, almost all of the walking corpses were scattered across the chapel floor. It was when she did awake, that it realized it had made a terrible mistake. In it's worry over whether or not she was dead, it had neglected to divest her of her weapon. More over, it had drawn very close to her. Her eyes shot open, she blinked, winced, and then with a quick movement she lashed out. The swing was weak in the extreme, but there was fury in that attack and the steel blade bit deep into the skull with a blessing the girl had never known. The candle engraving above it's hilt flashed a bright white while a black fire wreathed the length of the blade starting from the deer skull engraved on it's inverse and continued it's arc through the demon's skull. Bone splinters flew, black fire licked at the demons very being, and a sort of sucking sensation filled Ferrets senses. The sword had taken something from the demon and had given it to her. Her back seemed no longer ablaze with hot fury, and when the demon attempted to pull away from the girl with the accursed sword, it pulled her up with it. It seemed that the demon could do nothing to dislodge the blade, but Ferret could. She pulled it free effortlessly and struck again. What was left of the skull fell away along with a mass of black vapor. The black fire did not emerge again, but it didn't have to. It hadn't healed her but it had dulled the pain. The demon attempted to flee but Ferret struck again, this time taking a large slice of plate metal and leather. She stabbed and slashed at the demon, and it screamed it's agony and rage. It could not match that weapon whose makers had intended it for just this purpose. It couldn't see. It couldn't feel. The urge to escape had left it. With a final groan, the colored lights within it's form winked out, it's body dispersed, and the suit of scraps it had accumulated collapsed to the chapel floor. There was no time to dwell on what had just happened and what she had just accomplished. Ferret scanned the dark for the vaguely glowing vapor she had seen before. She spotted Lydia right away, she had moved to a sitting position against the door. "Are you alright?" Ferret asked as she approached, putting her hand to her back. Lydia slowly looked up in her direction, not quiet seeing her. Her lips moved, Ferret nearly missed what she said. It came like a voice caught on a distant breeze. "I'm... fine. Slipped ... grasp... will be..." She had to get quiet close to hear much of anything from her. From what she could gather the demon had been hiding, tucked away in the darkness above. It had noticed them and used the commotion to get close, then struck when they had separated. Lydia had been drained of a huge measure of her essence, but had somehow managed to slip away. "We have to get out of here Lydia. I think my back might be done for. My sword did... something. I can't feel a thing. I don't think I can carry you, but I'll do what I can." Lydia mumbled something, and when Ferret asked her to repeat herself and leaned closer the ghost grabbed her by the shoulder. There was a terrible cold sensation that ran from her shoulder and into her chest. Her back flared to life for a moment, but Lydia seemed to regain a bit of herself. "I'm sorry. I'll not take much." Ferret nearly recoiled, but realized what Lydia was doing. Of all the strange beliefs about the undead, none was less disputed than a spirits ability to steal the strength of the living. Her back ached and her ankle felt sore. Lydia had regained a bit of color. "I don't know... How long your boon will last Ferret." She said, pushing against the door to regain her footing. "I'm sorry about that." Ferret rubbed her back and also stood. "It's fine. Let's just find a place to rest. We're both hurt and we need time to recover."
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:38:17 pm
Two friends in a dead city. Walking shoulder to shoulder across a yard that once saw decades of cruelty and horror until the whole city sank as the sea attempted to swallow it whole. That sea had choked on Gulgatha though, unable to swallow something far larger than it appeared. Gulgatha, much like the sea, held mysteries in it's deepest depths that no man would likely see except in their final moments or in their darkest dreams. These two friends with their uncertain futures. I wish I could tell you that Ferret made a full recovery and that Lydia regained what had been sucked out of her by the demon. Such claims would be lies. Look at them again walking shoulder to shoulder across the moon lit yard, but this time see that which stalks them in the shadows. Watch it as it follows through the chapel gate after them. It is hard to imagine such a creature could remain hidden in such a place, but this is a dead city and the only sign of it's presence is the sound of silence. No demon this. Sly yes, sly from centuries of stalking creatures like those it followed through the greenlands of the central kingdom. What had been done to it had not been intended to diminish it's hunters instinct and it still remembered the joy and craft of the hunt, the relish of the pain it inflicted on the filthy animals building their villages and founding their kingdoms. How long had it stalked beneath the dead city? Long enough to whet it's appetite for a true hunt. The necromancer was gone, but his legacy still walked the night. It follows the two through every twist and turn of the city. Watches as they reach their destination, a stately old building, a place of learning in the long ago. The ghost, weakened to a point from which she will never return, slips through the gap in the door and then motions for the girl to follow. It has found it's moment. See as the old master plies his craft and teaches them why they fear the night.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:39:53 pm
Ferret had only just started to squeeze through the doors she had forced open only that morning what something grabbed her by the wrist of her right arm and wrenched her from the doorway. Her confusion gave way to terror as she recognized the tall porclain clad figure and it's needle filled hole of a face lifting her high into the air. "Ferret? what's-" Lydia had emerged and saw what was happening. What was about to happen. "It's ours!" came the many voices from that hole, "Such a quarry never gave us such trouble, but it's ours now!" Ferret felt the last whisps of demon essence being sucked away by this monster, and the strange sickening feeling of the flesh in her wrist softening. She reached for her sword with her left hand, but the draw was clumsy. Regardless the elf saw the move and slapped her hard, releasing his iron grip and sending her tumbling to the ground and her sword sailing into some dark pool nearby. Her bag split and the contents spilled out. Lydia screamed something, but Ferret didn't hear it. All her attention was focused on the elf stooping to pick something out of her collection of artifacts. It had taken a long curved dagger which seemed to fit it's hand wonderfully. She saw it examine the knife with what must have been recognition. Lydia screamed again and Ferret realized she was calling for help. A hopeless call to any that could hear. The elf stooped again and this time wrapped it's long, wicked fingers around her throat and raised her to eye level. Her breath burned, more over, it choked her. The monster holding her didn't need to strangle her, it just needed to hold her. The foul vapor of decay filled her lungs and stopped her breath. The elf held the knife before her eyes. She couldn't hear Lydia anymore, she couldn't hear anything anymore. The knife moved forward in a practiced movement carried out by hands whose alacrity had not been diminished by time and madness. Fortunately for Ferret, she saw and felt none of it. Fortunately for Ferret, she had passed out.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:42:01 pm
Someone carrying her. Someone, a woman, crying. Left, right, left, right. The steady rhythm of her porters movement. She tried to open her eyes, but she couldn't seem to do it. It didn't seem to make a difference. Lying still. Cold table. People talking in another room. "I've suspended her life for now. She won't live long unless something is done." "I know that. Can you do anything for her at all?" A long pause. "Possibly." "Possibly?" "Possibly." Unconciousness again for awhile, awoken by voices again. Closer. Stam? Was that her tutor speaking? To who? "No." said the voice that sounded like Stam. "I will not do that." The other voice took a long moment, "I can do nothing for her in this state. If you would save her, then you must bring it to me." There was a crash of glass, "Gods damn you!" Shouted the voice, putting no doubt in who it was. Stam Dalenson for sure. "No." said the other voice calmly, "No. You damned me. Fair though. Fair. I will save her, but you must do as I say. I can do nothing with tools as flimsy as this. Now go. The girl opened the chapel. You will find..."
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:44:23 pm
A dream. Here she was just 'Nora.' At home, no one called her Ferret. She was lying awake in her bed, listening to her father and her tutor discussing the goings on in the world. "The hollow legion has gathered and is on the move, hard to tell what's rallying them. For now, they seem content to harass the ratkind that venture too far towards the ruins of the central kingdom." Explained Stam, "To make matters worse, the Zantian military is in shambles after the recent civil war and the Iron lich has seized the fifth spire. Not that there was anyone to stop him." Nora could smell the smoke of her fathers pipe and the acrid smell of burning pine resin. She could imagine him staring deep into the fireplace, working out in his head the implication of what his old friend had told him. He would take a long draw from his pipe and then blow the smoke out in a long stream through his greying mustache. "What will happen do you think?" He asked. Stam responded immediately, "The hollow legion will stay where it is unless whatever is driving it decides it needs to guide it in this direction, the Zantian city states will divide up the country along pretty much the same border lines as before, and the Iron lich... The Iron lich will almost certainly turn his eye towards either towards Il-wooch, Sunken Gulgatha, or Bright Point. Any way it goes, it would be a disaster." It was the first time she had heard the name of the sunken city. She rolled it around in her head. "Gulgatha." She would ask Stam about it later. Even though she had never heard the name before, it had grabbed her. The name alone fascinated her, called to her. "Gulgatha." Her father was speaking again. "I need to go to Gulgatha then." Stam raised his voice, "Out of the question. You'll do little more than make your wife a widow and deprive your daughter of her father." Her father had probably shaken his head. She heard him start to explain that he had his grandfathers things, many notes. She would have heard him try to reason that if their heirloom wasn't reclaimed, it might never be. Would have heard Stams argument against it, against even bothering to stir up that place, but the dream had begun to grow hazy and distant. Her father had finally relented to staying away from that place. "Gulgatha." Nora thought, the name ringing in her mind.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:45:12 pm
"She will never speak again. Breathing will be hard. At first." said the unknown voice, louder now. More resonant. "Her right arm can be saved above the upper arm, but the hand... If you hadn't got her here when you did, even a resurrection would do nothing for her. She has slipped three disks in her back, and her eyesight is obviously gone. How is the imperfect?" The voice of her tutor came from somewhere beyond that unknown voice, "She is fading. Slowly, but still. I need a bit more time to work this out. Maybe we can give her..."
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:45:45 pm
"Out of the question." said the unfamiliar voice, clearly dismayed. "I am against it, it is out of the question." "Really?" said her tutor, "Really? You were fine with genocide but not this? I agree that it is entirely distasteful, but she has volunteered. You can't flood Nora's body with enough magic to power it without killing her. What do you think is better for this spirit? Slowly fading into oblivion, or..."
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:48:11 pm
Colors. So many colors. She couldn't move, but she could see. So many shapes and colors. "I've withdrawn the soul, siphoning it off into the vessel. Good, should this fail her soul will at least survive." So many colors. There were three "things" in particular that caught her attention though. "Can she see us?" "Possibly. From my own experience though, she probably won't be able to make out much in the way of detail." The first of these things seemed oddly familiar, but off somehow. Unlike the colors around it, there was nothing vibrant about it. They looked like... dying. She turned her attention to the others. The second was a large vibrant rainbow of color exploding outwards from it's golden core. Orange, green, blue, red, yellow. So many colors, it was dazzling. Where the second was beautiful and attractive though, the third seemed a terrible inkiness. Almost no color at all. Just black, black, and black. Yet... Somewhere hidden at it's center was a small hint of some beauteous spark among that cancerous void. It would be hidden from view, consumed, by the swirling mass only to emerge a moment later just as strong before being hidden again. "In all likely hood, she will only see..."
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:49:01 pm
The colors faded and all was dark for a time more, and then suddenly, they were back. "Good, the tab is in place, as are the rods and stints. The... power source is in place. I think we can put her back now." "She braved the depths for these." said the familiar voice of Stam. "It is strange coincidence in no positive way that she will now use them as her ancestors did. They don't... go in... before you put her back?" "They don't have to, but if I put them in now they might disrupt the siphon. Set them aside a moment and help me with..."
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:50:45 pm
Dreams again. He was leaving. Her father. He had decided to take a trade cog to Zantia to try and secure a place for them there. "It's alright dear." he said, pushing her hair back out of her eyes. "You're a grown woman now, you can take care of things as well as I. You've got Stams gift, listen to him. He is a harsh taskmaster, but he will teach you well if you listen. Make me proud." He turned away then. A terrible feeling came to Nora, "Father I..." He had turned back to her and lifted his eyebrow as if to ask what the delay was about. "I... Nothing. I love you. Have a safe trip." "I love you too." he replied. What happened later that year would bring her back to that night she had lain awake thinking of the far away sunken city. The cog had made it safely to the Zantian coast, but the civil war had suddenly re-erupted and her father was loaded onto a refugee ship. Stam claimed to have witnessed the bombarding of many ships by Sceasian cannon that day, but as far as he knew, her fathers ship had not been one of them. The refugee ships were not equipped with proper navigation equipment though and with the guide ship sunk, it most certainly had been lost at sea. She had read many of her great grandfathers notes about the wondrous heirloom that granted great sight. Many of the stories were embellished heavily, but still, Nora had dreamed of getting her hands on them. With them she would search for her father, and find him wherever he had turned up.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:51:54 pm
"...until she is well enough to travel on her own. As for you though, you are to leave Gulgatha as soon as she can travel." An argument. "I'll sing in the court of the elven kings if you think I am going to leave you here in possession of-" Cut off with a shout "MY FREEDOM!" There was an aggressive triumph in that voice, "Aye, you were the bard, and still are, but for the time being you are no longer welcome here. I have my freedom! I have my city! Above all, I have had time. Time to think, and long did I think. Who else could it have been that disassembled the automaton and sealed it against me? Who else but the man who built it?" The unfamiliar voice calmed suddenly, "You are my friend, but your betrayal gives me pause. I will take my freedom. I will think on what you have done a bit longer. Surely, I will find it in my withered heart to forgive, but I cannot forget. Perhaps you will be called back. I think..."
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:53:29 pm
Ferret awoke with a start. She coughed fitfully. There was an odd metalic quality to that sound. It sounded like her voice, sort of, but as if she was coughing through a fruit can. The ceiling above her looked familiar. A thatched roof. Ferret blinked. She was back in the farm house she had spent several nights in before entering the city. She went to sit up but felt the her back protest and laid back. It reminded her of the fight she had with the demon, which reminded her of Lydia. "Lydia?" she said looking around again. That odd tinniness to her voice was bizarre. She looked around as best she could but didn't see Lydia. Why was everything so vivid? Every detail seemed so clear. She could see each distinct splinter of the chair across the room, could even pick out the movement of a beetle as it crawled into a tiny hole beneath the chair. "Lydia?" she called again, becoming accustomed to the sound of her voice. Her throat was sore, sore and dry. When she rubbed it, she encountered something hard. It felt like a metal strip tracing the contour of the underside of her chin and ending at her throat where her voice box was. It didn't hurt, just unusual. There were stitches in her back too. Tried to sit up again and managed it. She spotted a bag near the foot of the bed and as she reached for it, received the shock of her life. The hand she reached with was not hers. She looked at it wide eyed. Ferret had seen a similar hand before, in the historical colleges museum. In fact, if she was not mistaken, it was the same hand she had seen under glass. Blue glaze with red sparks and all. The fingers moved as if they were hers. She barely needed to think about it and they did exactly what they should have done if they were her own fingers. It had been modified of course. Unwrapping the bandages at the base of the hand showed the it had been capped in silver. She couldn't tell how it was attached, but it was clear that it was not coming off any time soon so she wrapped it back up. Again and again she found herself unable to look away from her own disfigurement. What had happened? The elf! Ferret panicked for a very brief moment, what had happened to the elf? Had it done this? She thought not. There had been nothing but malice in that creature. It would not rip off her hand just to replace it with this... thing. Maybe Lydias calls for help were answered? Maybe. She reached again for the bag, trying not to stare, and pulled it over. It held food, water, several small jars, a few personal effects, Lydias knife, and a pile of notes. The first of these was scrawled in a nearly unintelligible mess. Most, if not all, lacked any kind of greeting. No greeting, no signature, just sheets of old paper with some writing on them. From what she could gather though, the first she could read said this;
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:55:00 pm
You have suffered serious, near fatal, injury. It is due to the care and expediency with which our mutual 'friend' brought you to me that your life was saved. Unfortunately, the marks of your injuries are ones that will never fade. It can be very difficult getting used to a prosthetic. Fortunately, yours is particularly fine and we managed to attach and integrate it with some ease. Take your time and get used to it. Try tossing something from one hand to the other, touching your thumb to each finger in sequence, or simply experimenting with gestures. A final warning, DO NOT ALLOW PLATINUM TO COME INTO CONTACT WITH YOUR PROSTHETIC. The properties of platinum will damage your prosthetic in a way that cannot easily be repaired.
The rest of the note was nonsense. Even that which wasn't nonsense seemed absurd. She sifted through the others, looking more carefully, and found that a majority of the terribly written pages were of much the same ramblings.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:56:16 pm
Among the papers though, she found something much easier to read. More a letter than a note, and in hand writing she recognized.
Nora Words cannot express how I feel about what you have done, what you have accomplished, and what has become of you. As I write this, I glance to the bed where I have left you to rest and wonder if what I have done is right. Saving you, of course that is right. Paying the price I did to do it though? Even that price may prove to be too steep. Darkness approaches Nora and I know not what it will bring, but from experience I know it will bring no good with it. You have a path ahead of you and I suspect it does not lead back to Bright Point. Not directly in any case. I'm sorry I can't be here when you wake, but I have business to attend to. Try your best to read through the notes in your bag. The handwriting is awful I know, but 'he' can't do much better than that. Try not to walk much for a few days either. As I said, read those notes. Our paths will cross again, perhaps I will teach you again someday. Stam Dalenson
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 29, 2016, 11:57:01 pm
She rubbed her head and read the letter again. The dreams had been real. Her adventure had been real. What had happened to her hand was real. She rubbed the sleep from her eyes and what she felt there was not what she expected. She stood with a gasp, her back complained horribly, but she had to find a mirror. She remembered seeing a mirror in the farm house somewhere. Where? There, just where she left it on the top shelf in the corner. She took it to the table and sat down. She could see the object against her throat, it looked like a metal strip and sure enough it terminated at her voice box. The other end curled up over her chin. and the whole thing had been covered over in a layer of some kind of paste. Her eyes though. It was the second big shock. They moved as they should, but they didn't express as they should. Ferret's bright brown eyes were gone, and in their place was the familiar bottomless pits of the irises painted onto that old family relic. She dumped out the contents of the bag left for her just to be sure, even checking her pockets, and returned to the mirror. What had happened to her eyes? The last she remembered was the elf holding her up. She could remember choking on foul air. Vaguely, she remembered it holding something else up where she could see it. A long curved blade like the one described by the first of her line to bear the eyes.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 30, 2016, 12:01:05 am
Many hours later, she was looking in the mirror again, prodding at her 'new' eyes, examining the way her skin seemed to have been stretched, and looking at the expanded strip of grey hair. She had taken the time to look through the notes a bit more, and what she had gleaned from the horrendous scrawl was this; She had been ambushed by an elf. The writer probably didn't know that it hadn't been her first encounter with that same elf. After she had passed out, the elf had removed her eyes. The notes explained that this was customary among it's kind, they were hunters of humans in a time long past. They went on with how her tutor, who had figured out where she had gone and came to Gulgatha to retrieve her, arrived just in time to stop the elf before it could do any more harm. Stam had experience dealing with so called "hollow" elves and the fight was quick. The notes went on to explain that her friend, Lydia, could not be saved. With no body to return to, she couldn't keep hold of her being. Instead of allowing her to fade into nothingness, Lydia volunteered to serve as the power source for Ferrets prosthetics, the 'sounding tab' in her chin and her new hand. "A noble sacrifice, but one your tutor and I took with a great deal of hesitation." Claimed her benefactor in his or her nearly illegible handwriting. Ferret was permitted to reenter Gulgatha, if she so desired, but would not be allowed to enter the chapel or undercity. "I've also taken the liberty of divesting you of several items that were found in your possession. Looters rights don't apply here." All the relics she had picked up in the chapel were gone, but it appeared she had been allowed to keep the incenses and Lydias knife. One of the prior she would later light, and think on what she had been through. Mostly though, her thoughts would return to Lydia Balsam. The friend whom she had known so briefly before a demons kiss had doomed them to separation.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 30, 2016, 12:04:10 am
Time passed, for three weeks she lay in bed or spent time picking through incomprehensible writing. She had spent the first few days of her recovery in shock, weeping for the fundemental hurt she had suffered and for the loss of her friend. It was weeping, that brought on more weeping though. The nature of the eyes was quick to show itself, and they proved more expressive than she believed. She hadn't noticed at first as the tears dampened her face, but she had noticed right away when the smoke poured from the edges of there exposed surface. She had stared, sobbing, into the mirror and watched as black smoke drifted from them. Later she found that any high emotion appeared as smoke from them. She hated it and wondered if it had been some trick, some joke. Against her? No. Against Damon Painterly? Probably not even a trick at all really. The old record claimed the eyes were an "experiment." The smoke was probably the reason Damon got the only pair. What purpose such a property would have other than making it impossible to hide ones emotions or intent was not clear, if it was intentional. She couldn't see the smokes anyway, and she rapidly grew accustomed to the new eyes. For one, they were sharper than her real eyes had been. More importantly though, she didn't have to notice them every day. Her right hand though, she did. A lot of her time was spent looking at it and toying with it. One thing she had taken to doing was reaching into the hearth and pulling out coals with it. She would do this until the hand itself grew too hot and the heat could be felt in what remained of her arm. Later, she had experimented further. It was no stronger than her old hand had been, but Ferret found that prying something from it was next to impossible once she locked her grip. She could feel the tendons in her upper arm flexing when she squeezed down with it. More over, it was dextrous. While attempting to sew up damage caused by the elf to her clothing, she discovered that with this new appendage she could accomplish a quicker, more appealing result. The stitches she made were nearly indistinguishable from the clothing around them. The skin of her arm had rapidly regained feeling and apperance to the point where the only indication that the hand was not original, other than the appendage itself, was the silver cap at it's end. The withered appearance of her face slowly reversed itself and color refilled it. The entropy of the elf was reversing, except for the length of grey her hair had picked up in the undercity. When the paste over her sounding tab had fallen away on it's own, she found that her skin had swelled flush with it, much like with her arm and hand. It simply looked as if she had painted some kind of metallic stripe on her chin and throat, except that the stripe was quite rigid and made her voice sound vaguely metallic. She noticed a long thin line running parallel to the left edge of the tab, but running further down her neck and ending just above her chest and realized it was a scar. The blade used to make it must have been incredibly fine to have made such a minimal mark. Whats more, the skill in whatever had been worked on beneath that scar was clearly expert. She had not seen it on her first inspection. If it had been stitched she would have, but it hadn't been. Over time, she managed to find several more scars and through the various notes discovered that a great deal of decay had been excised. She was disturbed to find that, according to the notes, she was now short several ribs and a few "nonessential" organs. Some had been removed because they had been subject to entropic forces, but for the most part they seemed to have been removed for reasons that were not explained. The more she examined herself, the more she found missing or changed. After the first day of the second week, she realized many of her back teeth had been replaced. The day after that when she realized her face was filling back out, she found a pair of pins in the hinge of her jaw as she poked at it. Her skull, she determined, had had a great deal of work put into "restoring" it. Why not though? If the elfs touch had been as bad as it was made out to be, she was surprised that more hadn't been done. Only that whoever had worked on her had left very little visible evidence of his efforts and that she hadn't felt any lasting pain regarding any of it. Maybe it had to do with the numbness of slowly recovering nerves? It didn't matter. Instead of subjecting herself to a headache struggling with the notes, she burned them. Ferret wouldn't need them. At least she didn't think so. The next day she prepared to leave. Her sword was not in the farmhouse. It had never occurred to her that she no longer had it. It was hard to believe her tutor would allow it to be taken from her, it must have been lost. She had it when she had left the chapel with Lydia. That meant it would be in the college court yard. Some pool in the courtyard, she remembered. She had lost hold of it when the elf had slapped her. She would have to go back for it.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 30, 2016, 12:06:43 am
It was still quiet in Gulgatha, except for the rain which had moved back in while she rested. It was calmer. She encountered a small group of undead doing something unusual. They were ignoring her in favor of clearing rubble from the street. One brick at a time they went about this business. Ferret walked around the slowly shrinking work site. She would come across more of them carrying handfuls of broken glass, but after that, she encountered no more. It didn't take long to reach the college. There was a grizzly sight waiting for her there. Someone had taken the time to erect a timber in the cul de sac long ago, and from this timber hung by it's feet was a husk of a creature. Ferret realized it was the elf divested of it's armor. The body was a miserable sight. Without the ceramic plates which had covered it, it seemed little more than a huge piece of dried meat. The wounds that had been inflicted on it since she had last seen it showed that there were no bones within it's body. It was still breathing. The notes had either lied, or someone relating the defeat of the elf had. It's arms were wrapped around itself and the timber, and through it's hands and chest Ferret found her sword. If the elf still had the strength to break the sword, it surely could have for the blade was pitted through and through with rust except for that thin length of shining metal running up it's blade. She thought about the armor it once wore over it's punished body, and an idea came to her. She laid her new hand upon that husk and waited. "Kill us." whispered the elf with one voice. "No." Ferret replied, looking down into it's mangled face. It had caused her harm, nearly killed her. It had taken her hand, her sight, and her voice. Her sight and voice had been returned, but her hand? She withdrew it, seeing that either the elf no longer exerted it's influence, or the hand was immune to it. It wasn't hers. It would be though, in time. She thought that some day, using it would become effortless. She would be able to perform any task without watching it. For the time being though Ferret thought that there was no punishment greater than allowing this elf to exist in it's current state for taking her hand. And her sword. It would snap if she tried to withdraw it, she could see that. No demons bane sword to fill the empty place at her belt. She would find another. She moved past the pitiful sight before her, and took the steps leading to the still ajar doors of the historical college.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 30, 2016, 12:09:22 am
If Gulgatha had been quiet, it was even quieter within the foyer of the college. Ferret moved past the plinth and into the museum floor. Made her way up one row of empty or shattered cases and down the next until she reached a specific door. Inside the small dim room beyond it, Ferret rediscovered the stelle she had previously given only a cursory inspection before being surprised by a lonely ghostly woman. Her own age, if she had been alive. This had been her examination room. Dead or alive, this was where Lydia had performed her duties to the college day after day. She was gone now. Wasn't that what the notes had claimed? Gone. Again, she found herself staring at the blue glazed clay hand. This time though, she thought about it. "Volunteered to serve as the power source." Lydia gave up what was left of her existence to power the appendage. Perhaps she wasn't gone though. Perhaps Lydia was still with her. One of her fathers old sayings came to her. "Remember the dead always. In that way, they will live on forever." She realized she was crying again, and wondered what Lydia would think of the smoke no doubt drifting from her eyes. The thought only made her cry harder. Awhile later, she wiped her eyes and looked to the stelle. It was still the same piece of crudely worked stone as before. Bearing the images of men and elves and undead at conflict beneath the gaze of the Lords of Gulgatha. She was sure that's who they were now. The city had filled her with wonder at first. Now though, she could taste the bitter salt of the air which filled it and the foul rot of decay permeating the fog. She turned to leave this office and something caught her eye. A pair of spectacles resting on one of the rooms trio of tables. Such a small delicate item, but familiar. She had seen their facsimile resting upon Lydia's ghostly nose. She took them and dusted them off. Ferret would never need spectacles, but she decided she needed these. Carefully, she folded them away into her bag.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 30, 2016, 12:11:06 am
From high up on a balcony of the Tower of Gulgatha, unseen eyes would look down into the dead city. They would follow the path the power behind those invisible eyes sensed Ferret was taking through the alleyways and avenues. He couldn't see her, but he could guess what she was doing. He knew she had not killed the elf. Another bet he had lost, but who would collect on that bet? Didn't matter. Killing the elf would have been a mercy. "Aye, but at whose hands should that mercy have come?" Shame again. He would go down after the girl was out of Gulgatha and finish the elf off himself. For now though there were other promises to keep and trouble on the horizon. Another responsibility he had to deal with. That one, he determined, would be met head on. It would give him a chance to stretch his body out after it had lain dormant for so long.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 30, 2016, 12:11:19 am
What of Ferret though? She has a journey of her own to make. She would one day return to bright point, but whether she ever found her father after her first adventure is a story for another time. For now, we will close the book on Nora "Ferret" painterly of the house of scrolls and may some day reopen it. For now though, this part of her story is over.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: Perigrin on August 30, 2016, 12:36:17 am
Jebus that is long, I will read on it for a while though.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: ApatheticExcuse on August 30, 2016, 05:51:09 pm
I'll happily poke through it and try to get legit criticism, but dude, you have to chop that into paragraphs and re-format it. It turns into a blur on my crappy work monitor.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 30, 2016, 08:02:28 pm
I'll happily poke through it and try to get legit criticism, but dude, you have to chop that into paragraphs and re-format it. It turns into a blur on my crappy work monitor.
Thanks. I'll have to figure something out for the reformat because each post is a single paragraph already. I think their are only one or two, maybe three or four, posts that are more than one.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: ApatheticExcuse on August 30, 2016, 08:11:36 pm
Having poked through a few of them already, I'd suggest just putting a space in between people talking, or between your characters having different thoughts. Fairly standard writing convention, and would make my low-res eyes have an easier time. Also keeps the flow together, since I'm guessing that's what you're going for with pre-seperated paragraphs.
I personally like seperate lines for speech (which you might have noticed if you ever saw any of my crap on the cata forums), so it would look like
But that's the way I like to write, not necessarily the way I like to/have to read. Fairly sure it's bad technical form, too. It just makes formatting for my sorts of stories simpler in my head when I'm writting them.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: ApatheticExcuse on August 30, 2016, 09:49:03 pm
How in depth of a review do you want? Paragraph by paragraph, or just an overall thing?
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 30, 2016, 10:28:03 pm
Just overall.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: Perigrin on August 31, 2016, 01:12:13 am
I didn't have time to give this a read today, homework out the ass, I will try to get you a review thingy once I finish it.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 31, 2016, 05:24:43 am
I didn't have time to give this a read today, homework out the ass, I will try to get you a review thingy once I finish it.
Take your time take your time.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: ApatheticExcuse on August 31, 2016, 06:19:16 pm
Ok, so, I will do a little more in depth review of the story when I get home - I've given it a quick skim at work, but have only truely read through the first few posts this morning and made notes I don't have access to while I'm here. There is however, one sort of big issue that pops up immediately and can be fixed easily.
"After a quick glance at the map and replacing it, she looked through the notes. They had been written by her father, her great grandfather, and another traveler to this region."
"Her father had finally relented to staying away from that place"
"He had decided to take a trade cog to Zantia to try and secure a place for them there."
"She would one day return to bright point, but whether she ever found her father after her first adventure is a story for another time."
Ok, so, she has notes, made by her father, who's not been to Gulgatha, about Gulgatha. If he didn't go, how did he make notes? It's possible that he heard about it from HIS grandfather, but then why have a generational gap? Gulgatha sunk during his grandfather's lifetime, not his father's, so it seems unlikely he would have had much to contribute owing simply to them being secondhand stories, especially when the other two authors have firsthand experience.
Similarly, if he did have notes from being there, but has gone missing due to being put on a refugee ship, and has yet to be discovered, how did she end up with the notes?
I'd yank the mention of him from the notes for clarity sake.
As I say, more indepth review to follow later. Just a heads up, I'm going for constructive criticism, not just complements, and am going to pick this apart a bit. It's a good story with a pretty unique theme relative to most fantasy, don't get me wrong. But someone else from here who had me give them feedback on a story once said that most of the people here are too nice about things because everyone here is friends, and that having someone come in and tell them all the problems rather than just the good was very helpful. Hopefully you find the same.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on August 31, 2016, 06:39:02 pm
Thanks, plot holes like that are what I most want spotted. I've made the corrections in the main document.
Similarly, if he did have notes from being there, but has gone missing due to being put on a refugee ship, and has yet to be discovered, how did she end up with the notes?
Imagine a trunk or something like that kept in the attic or the basement. You go through things like that for one reason or another and find documents or letters that would give insight into the owners life before they left/died/disappeared. In this case, she found documents her father had inherited when his father died.
A bit of background on the writing, I was putting together a collection of lore for a game some friends wanted to make, based on scraps of short stories I'd written before. While I was doing that, I suddenly had a beginning, a middle, and an end to a story. I went ahead to write it when my friends decided they would rather work on commissions or get real jobs and this is the result.
edit: I'm thinking of axing the explanation stuff near the end.
As I say, more in depth review to follow later. Just a heads up, I'm going for constructive criticism, not just complements, and am going to pick this apart a bit. It's a good story with a pretty unique theme relative to most fantasy, don't get me wrong. But someone else from here who had me give them feedback on a story once said that most of the people here are too nice about things because everyone here is friends, and that having someone come in and tell them all the problems rather than just the good was very helpful. Hopefully you find the same.
That's fine fine. That's what's needed.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: ApatheticExcuse on September 01, 2016, 01:20:22 am
Ok, so, I'd started doing a paragraph by paragraph thing, but there's too many to really do that to. I think I can express the couple big things I don't like using the first three paragraphs and the examples I cooked up there. I'm gonna re-read a bit, but I had a dumb busy day at work, and kids running around screaming since I got home (until about ten minutes ago), as well as trying to get the RP threads updated with my character and get a little bit of DF play in so that I don't ironically kill the fort. I don't have the focus to put on re-reading that the story likely deserves, and honestly, that formatting just kills me, so a good skim reading is all you get right this second.
Formatting is a big thing to me, personally. If you'd like, I'll go through and re-format everything as I read it. If you like it, you can run with it. If you don't, then you can leave it.
As a bit of a preface to this, I don't honestly read alot of fantasy - quite a bit of it is rehashing the same few stories over and over again. One thing I really like about what you've got going on here is that you aren't doing that. There's some tropes that are just unavoidable in any writing, so that happens once and a while, but I think you've done a good job of keeping things pretty unique. So yeah, I do like that. One other thing to mention is that alot of what I'm going to talk about here is stuff I do too. If you've read my shit on Cata (likely the only public writing I've ever done), you'll see that I hypocritically make the same mistakes I'm talking about pretty often. This is how I know they're mistakes, so please ignore the hypocrisy.
Ok, so
1. PLOT
- In terms of the plot itself - it's good, but it needs to be longer to get a little more in depth as to why what's happening is happening, or needs a prequel/sequel in my mind. You saying this started as a lore thing makes alot of sense. It seems like there is some well thought out background in it that isn't touched on in the story itself. The ending is where this suffers the worst - it's honestly not tremendous relative to the rest. It does set up decently for a sequel reasonably well, as does the rest of the story, and I personally would be interested in reading more if you want to write another one. We'll get to the other issue with the ending in a minute.
- Besides the little plothole I pointed out above, there's a few more things that kinda bug me, the other big one being the elf. She doesn't kill the elf. Is it because she's vengeful, even though the rest of the story sets her up as a curious, kind being? Or is it because she's merciful, even though it's stated right in there that killing him would have been a mercy? Something about that doesn't jive well.
- Lydia's story also could use either more or less detail. More being ideal, since you're most of the way there. It's vague about quite a few things - if this is supposed to be mostly about Norma/Ferret, then that works fine, but if you were going for multiple main characters (which seems important, given that Lydia is kind of a part of Ferret now), there either needs to be more detail in this story, or a prequel-sequel (kinda like starwars has) that tells her tale a bit more. Right now, you're in between having her story in there and not having it in there, which doesn't feel right to me. This doesn't apply to the fellow in the tower - he's obviously supposed to be vague, or to Stam, who seems to obviously be an important secondary character.
- There is maybe more to talk about here, but I need to reread everything before I get into that. The basic plot is interesting and sound, as I've said.
2. WRITING
Ok, so. A few things to say about this.
- The first time I read the two opening paragraphs, I was fairly impressed by the way the style changed. You go from narrative-esque styling to an almost train of thought type writing when the demon's section comes up. This, when executed well, is a very powerful story telling device, and I thought "hey, that was well done". Now, in the shift back to the third paragraph, you seemed to have some trouble going back to the narrative style writing. Knowing now that you wrote this as separate RP lore bits and tied it all together, this now makes alot of sense. You spend the rest of the story shifting styles, and it seems like going back to narrative from train of thought is much harder for you than vise-versa.
Neither style is bad, but if you decide you want to make a conscious effort to separate them, I'd suggest spending an evening revising the demon's parts, then a separate evening or at least taking a break before revising the other parts. One place where having both together does work well is during the fight scenes. The choppy style of train of thought blended with the more flow-y narrative makes for a good "action" type writing. In most other places, it's functional enough but not "great".
I think the problem I have with the blend elsewhere is that it gives a sense of urgency or action to parts where you don't seem to want it. I suspect that the narrative style is maybe a bit tougher for you to get back into simply because the train of thought is more your "natural" style, which is why I suggest the above. Getting into a specific mindset before writing those parts will maybe help that.
You do also shift from the choppy line of thought to the narrative in a couple places that it feels like it shouldn't happen - mostly in regards to the demon's section.
The third style you have happening here, the flashback/dreams are pretty good, but there's an issue I'll touch on in the next section there unrelated to all this.
The fourth style going on is junk. Your narrative style is good on it's own. Your train of thought style seems good and natural to you. Your dream sequences are good. The random ass dude who breaks into the story once or twice and also ends it is just awful, to be frank. It doesn't fit with the rest of the story. So, we're following this girl through her adventures, and her memories, and we're also following the beast as it moves through the city, when suddenly this guy comes from absolutely nowhere and says "HEY, SO THIS IS A BOOK I'M READING TO YOU. LOOK AT THE CHARACTERS. NOW IT'S DONE". That might sound a little harsh, but it's honestly the thought I had at those parts. I can see why you did it in the middle of the story - the main character is passed out, and you need to describe things somehow, but it just doesn't fit at the end at all, which I'm pretty sure you know.
There's a few ways to fix this. I'm lazy, so I'd just cut the bits out that have the narrator talking directly to the reader, BUT, and it's a big but (what with capitals and everything), there's no reason you couldn't make it more obvious that the narrator is telling the story to someone, say to his kids (or her kids) around the fireplace, or from the Great Tome of Gulgatha. Honestly, the whole story does have that campfire tale vibe to it, and I think you could pull it off pretty well. It also has a bit of an RP vibe to it, which is an effect of swapping styles inconsistently here and there, and makes sense given it's origins. I'd suggest not fixing it all to align with that vibe - there's nothing wrong with it, but you're obviously capable of more interesting and difficult writing.
- Wording. Stories get written. Good stories will get re-written. Great stories get re-written multiple times until everything is perfect. This is not easy shit - that's why my stories never really feel done. There's more than a few times in this that it's obvious what you want to convey, but you seem to have been unable to figure out how you wanted to do it. Here's a big example from the first paragraph:
"They had been written by her father, her great grandfather, and another traveler to this region. A deceptively young appearing man by the name of Stam Dalenson. A friend to Ferrets family and tutor to a great many of Bright Points young people. The sword at her hip had been a gift to her on her 16th birthday. "
There is a very awkward bit of phrasing there. I'd re-write it as
"They had been written by her father, her great grandfather, and another traveler to this region (here either ; or - depending on if you want to be "literary correct" or use a - like I do often) a man of deceptively and perpetually youthful appearance by the name of Stam Dalenson. A friend to Ferret's family, and a tutor to a great many of Bright Point's young people, the sword at her hip had been a gift from him on her 16th birthday."
While the exact wording is just how I like to write stuff, the idea I'm getting at is that "deceptively young appearing" does not role off the tongue easily. After I write something, I'll usually read it back to myself outloud. I'm terrible for awkward phrasing (insert archer joke), and that helps me catch things like this.
There's also a time or two where the punctuation creates a similar issue. This is a good example:
"She put the notes away and looked back down towards the sunken city and noted that the light in the tower had gone out and that the morning sun, just cresting the hills in the west, had burned off a bit of the fog."
I'm personally terrible for run on sentences (which people need to be less anal about in writing), but I find they flow better when you break them up, like:
"She put the notes away, and looked back down towards the sunken city, noting that the light in the tower had gone out, and that the morning sun, just cresting the hills in the west, had burned off the fog."
Cutting one "and" and putting more commas in reads nicer to me, personally.
There's about a sentence per paragraph like this - nothing serious, just something to fix up during editing. 3. FORMATTING
So, because like me, you're stuck with wordpad that has no spell check, I know there isn't much point mentioning spelling or punctuation. That shit will get fixed up later and you know it's there.
- I've mentioned formatting above. I stick to that. It's tough to read right now because the paragraphs are true paragraphs. I've suggested a fix up there too.
- So, the other thing I'll mention is paradigm shifts. This is what I was talking about with the dream sequences before, and also applies to Lydia's sections, the demon's sections, etc.
The shifts as they exist, even when well marked by your change in style, are a bit abrupt. This isn't a bad thing per-se, but if I was reading this in a book, or all as one post on a professional author's blog, I'd usually expect that they'd be denoted somehow. Three common ways of doing this would be to
1. Use different fonts.
2. Use <hr> (or the BBC/SM equivalent, which uses [ instead of <)
3. Use italics.
Different fonts is the worst in my opinion. Changes fonts or colors works good in an RP because it makes different speakers obvious. It's TOO jarring in a story IMO, since you don't want to break the flow. HRs work reasonably well, but most people seem to like italics. I'd suggest a combination - a line when she's passed out, italics when the beast is thinking, etc.
Alright, so, I think that covers the thoughts I can assemble at the moment. I do rather like the story itself, as well as your ideas, so please don't be discouraged by what I've said here. Keep writing and re-writing, and I'll happily keep reading and re-reading. I would also really like to see a sequel to this.
As a heads up, I edit all of my forum posts incessantly, often after they've been read by anyone who's going to read them, so I'll likely re-edit this shortly to change some stuff around. Might be worth keeping an eye on.
Title: Re: Brightpoint (working name)
Post by: saltmummy626 on September 02, 2016, 12:11:49 am
As a heads up, I edit all of my forum posts incessantly, often after they've been read by anyone who's going to read them, so I'll likely re-edit this shortly to change some stuff around. Might be worth keeping an eye on.
Maybe mark new stuff with a colored dash or something like that? Thanks again. As I said on steam, it's good information. Exactly what I wanted. I've been thinking about how and what to rewrite/remove all day. I'll bring the second draft here when it's finished. If anybody else has feedback they would like to give, do so. the more the merrier.