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The Pen is Mightier than the Sword

Old writing for a new application.


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Wordcount: 1,302

Genre: Fantasy

Setting: A small group of island, the Triceran Isles, in a world of my own creation (as of yet still unnamed)

 

Blasts shook the beleaguered tower, causing more dust to fall from the cracked ceiling and walls, but nothing else fell. Any hangings had long since fallen from their places and lay ruined on the floor amidst the debris. A lone man stood at the edge of the wide balcony overlooking the once lush fields beneath him. Ceran held a regal hand out, sending another blinding flash of lighting streaming down into the battling hordes, eliciting shrieks of fear and cries of pain from both friend and foe, but he was deaf to these sounds.

 

An intricately carved staff with a sinuously curved marble fish for a pommel seemed to be his only means of staying upright as he leaned heavily against the support, the small amount of magic he had just used sapping more of his energy. He dropped his hand to his side and almost fell, but managed to stay upright as his glazed eyes took in the hopeless struggle his people were facing. The Triceran Isles were being overrun.

 

The simple people he led had no clue who these people were, or why they had come, but Ceran knew. He knew too well why they had come. He lifted his hand once again to trace a trembling finger along the fish’s ruby eyes. They flared once at his touch, a dull, burning glow that quickly faded. He sighed. The staff could only give as much power as he had within himself. The rubies were the key. He heard a shout of victory and jerked his head towards a sudden rush of enemy soldiers where they had broken through the Triceran lines and were rushing through to the tattered walls. He raised his hand again, sending a flaming boulder from the demolished section of wall screaming into the midst of the triumphant soldiers.

 

They crumpled, retreating back once again with half the rush’s numbers gone. One knee buckled out from under the great wizard, forcing him to grab the staff with both hands to keep from crashing to the floor. He pulled himself upright and wiped a trickle of blood from his upper lip. He would have cursed the power of the staff for being able to drain more life from him than he was able to spare, but his spirit had long since withered.

 

His hopes were gone, but he still fought on from a sense of duty to his people. He’d led them to these islands, hoping to escape the treachery and power-hungry politics of the mainland, wiping their memories of all but the bare facts so they would be able to lead happier lives. Now death and destruction had once again found the refugees, despite the promises of the countries’ leaders.

 

The door burst open from behind him, the metals melting away from the blast to become high-speed fragments that littered the room even more. Ceran didn’t turn around. He had already known he would come. This man… this monster, had come to steal the only hope the people of the Isles still had of a peaceful and sheltered life.

 

The room behind him was silent, even the soft sounds of falling dust and pebbles had ceased. Ceran wondered briefly if the blast had deafened him, though he had not been hit by any of the shrapnel. He was disabused of this idea when he heard the sharp clack of the man’s boots treading slowly across the tiles.

 

“Ceran. It’s over. Relinquish the artifact.” Ceran still didn’t turn around or respond. He stepped closer to the edge of the balcony, mildly fascinated to find there was still a family of birds cowering in a nest by the eaves. “Ceran! Give it up! Your army has fallen. The walls are destroyed. Your powers are nearly spent. Do not force this bloodshed to continue any longer!”

 

The once mighty wizard knelt down beside the bird’s nest, smiling sadly when he saw the mother was a charred husk, protecting the one remaining chick. He picked up the chick, pleased to see it was ready for flight, its feathers fully grown in. He leaned his lips close to the little bird’s head, whispering to it of the joy of flight, of the secret to strong wings and steady lift.

 

“Ceran! Listen to me, you old wizard! You’re through!” He ignored the man, but knew his time was almost come… just a few more moments was all he had to preserve what he could of the mess humanity was trying to make of itself. He reached into his robes, pulling out a small dagger-shaped pendant and slipped it loose from the knots holding it to his honor badge rope. The other badges were merely trinkets, most having no magical power in themselves.

 

He tied the pendant around the little bird’s leg firmly, being careful not to hurt the small creature. “What are you doing, old man?” Ceran tucked the bird against his chest and pulled himself to his feet again with the use of the staff and stepped to the brink of the balcony, his flowing robes twisting in the updraft. He held the bird to eye level and breathed deeply, letting it out in a sigh.

 

A bluish mass of soul strings whispered from his lips to the bird, entering through its large eyes. All sound truly did stop then, for Ceran, as he transferred his soul to the frail beast cupped gently in his old hand. He vaguely realized the man behind him had discovered his intentions and was pounding across the room towards him, trying to stop his escape. Time stood still.

 

The man’s boots were raised in a frantic run, trying to interrupt the ancient magic. Dust sparkled in the dying light where it was frozen in midair. A mother clutched her baby, being just out of reach of a wild sword swing from an enemy soldier, her hair left floating in the thick, smoke-filled air as though caught in a cloudy diamond for eternity.

 

The bird looked around this time-paused world with its new eyes and understanding of things, and spread its fresh wings. It hopped around to face the open air, uttering one sweet fledgling cheep before jumping out into the current of the updraft. Its feathers ruffled in the breeze as it dodged a suspended ember from a burning cottage below it, and lifted its legs, clutching its precious burden in its claws before pushing its way up with the first downstroke of its wings.

 

Time, like a rushing torrent seeking to make up for the pause, sped up to the present. A sonic blast resonated through all surrounding the tower, stunning the soldiers into a stupor, the peasants into shocked cowering. The only one who seemed unaffected was the man Ceran had just escaped. He quickly shook off the blast just in time to see the lifeless form of the old wizard fall from the precipice. The staff clutched tightly in his hand fell with him to the broken flagstones hundreds of feet below, the marble shattering to release the twin rubies, which were quickly swept up and away by running people, eager to grab anything that would help them in whatever life they managed to find after this crisis.

 

The man cursed, all interest in the old man’s body gone as he peered into the setting sun for the small body that housed the wizard’s soul and knowledge. He was certain Ceran had also given the bird the talisman. The rubies from the staff had been his secondary concern, but the true loss was in that talisman. He spun on his heel, his ebony hair reflecting the last rays of the sun as he strode through the debris to the door and down the tower steps to gather his troops and return home, empty-handed.

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I don't have much time to comment right now, but the impression I got from this was telling, telling, telling. It's like your focus in the telling is not on the action, what moves the plot along, but on what's happening, if that makes sense. For example:

He heard a shout of victory and jerked his head towards a sudden rush of enemy soldiers where they had broken through the Triceran lines and were rushing through to the tattered walls. He raised his hand again, sending a flaming boulder from the demolished section of wall screaming into the midst of the triumphant soldiers.

Instead of making the narrative more active by showing the action first, and then Ceran's reaction to it, this reads more slowly because of the order in which you tell things. Also, you switched the attention to quickly from something minute - the rubies - to something large scale and happening elsewhere - what's happening on the battlefield. A new paragraph was needed there, and some more description of what the setting would have been very helpful; I had little clue as to the setting of this.

 

Sorry if that sounds harsh. ;) Like I said I don't have much time so I'm probably being brusque. This story has definate potential. Is it the opening of a story or some other part?

 

Elvina :fairy:

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I don't have much time to comment right now, but the impression I got from this was telling, telling, telling. It's like your focus in the telling is not on the action, what moves the plot along, but on what's happening, if that makes sense. For example:

He heard a shout of victory and jerked his head towards a sudden rush of enemy soldiers where they had broken through the Triceran lines and were rushing through to the tattered walls. He raised his hand again, sending a flaming boulder from the demolished section of wall screaming into the midst of the triumphant soldiers.

Instead of making the narrative more active by showing the action first, and then Ceran's reaction to it, this reads more slowly because of the order in which you tell things. Also, you switched the attention to quickly from something minute - the rubies - to something large scale and happening elsewhere - what's happening on the battlefield. A new paragraph was needed there, and some more description of what the setting would have been very helpful; I had little clue as to the setting of this.

 

Sorry if that sounds harsh. ;) Like I said I don't have much time so I'm probably being brusque. This story has definate potential. Is it the opening of a story or some other part?

 

Elvina :fairy:

 

:) S'ok. And actually, this is the prologue to my NaNoWriMo novel. Already at 55,000+ words on it. The focus ISN'T on the action at all. That's all in the background. The focus is to introduce the main players in the story for later on (as a prologue should): the Rubies (yes, the rubies are a major player considering the name of the book is Blood Rubies), the dark man that tries to stop Ceran, and even Ceran himself isn't really a major player in the book. The only thing that is taken from this prologue in their capacity is the man (later identified as a demonic flunky) and the rubies...well, one of the rubies, anyway. Thanks for the feedback about the paragraph, though. :)

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Brilyana drummed her fingers restlessly against the armrest of her applicant easychair, sighing to herself and wondering what was taking the Pen’s resident Recruiter such a long time to arrive. She glanced over to the Rolodex Office clock and frowned at the hour, then went back to counting the number of thrice-crumpled balls of paperwork hidden amidst the Office’s messy stacks. She paused in her counting before reaching the Almost Dragonic Brand Ogre Spitballs™, turning towards a creaking sound coming from the Office window. Brilyana raised a brow as a crimson wing struggled to shove its way through the window’s open crack.

 

“Ssssorry I’m late.” Wyvern’s voice echoed from outside the window as the wing continued to scrunch its way into the Office. “I had a bit of a hold up with these magic card goblin gamblers, major annoya-aaAAAAAARRRGGGHHHH!”

 

Brilyana’s eyes widened and she rushed towards the window, but not in time to save Wyvern’s wing from slipping back out of the crack with a speed that could only mean “painful landing.” She winced and shut her eyes at the combined sounds of tree branches snapping, garbage cans toppling, and high-pitched squealing. Once the noise had passed, Brilyana glanced out the window to the mangled sight of Wyvern head-first in a trashcan, like an almost dragonic repeat of the monstrous man’s fall in her own tale of the Triceran Isles.

 

“Errr…” Brilyana paused and waited a long moment before raising a hand to her mouth. “Are you alright down there?”

 

Wyvern’s tail twitched in its position hanging over the edge of the trashcan, and the garbage promptly grew a set of horns as he reemerged carrying what appeared to be two half-eaten bags of curly onion cheesedoodles. Brilyana opened the window wider as Wyvern began ascending the wall, and stepped back as the overgrown lizard managed to shove himself into the office. Wyvern coughed a few ashes, wiped a some stale pieces of gingerbread from his scales, then extended a claw to Brilyana.

 

“My apologiessss, thanks for waiting. Here, I got ya this snack to munch on while I look over yer application.” Wyvern shoved one of the stinky bags of curly onion cheese doodles into Brilyana’s hands, then snatched her story from his desktop and began reading it intently.

 

"Verrrry innnteressssting," Wyvern nodded and grinned. "You should check with our many resident shapeshifters about this bird guy, perhapsss Patham has met him at some point in an earlier bird life. I'd be interested in discussing the net value of thossse rubies with ya at some point as well..."

 

Wyvern reached for his acceptance stamp, only to pause and frown as he noticed the date and context of the application story.

 

"Awwww drat... I'm afraid I can't accept it at the moment, cus it's not an application specifically written with the intention of joining the Pen." Wyvern grumbled to himself, then handed the story back to Brilyana. "Sorry. By the way, are you gonna eat that half a bag of curly onion cheesedoodles?"

 

OOC: A nice prologue to your story, Brilyana. :-) Unfortunately, an application to the Mighty Pen must be a new work written specifically with the intention of joining the Pen. You mentioned that you don't have time to write anything new yet, so my suggestion would be to just share your works on the public boards until you do have time and feel like applying. :-) Pretty much all of our writing feedback and collaborative stuff takes place on the public boards around here anyway, so I hope you find it a welcoming community even before you write a new application. :-) Sorry for the inconvenience, I look forward to reading a new work from you in this Office at some point.

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