So, I decided to conjure something up for the writing contest Blizzard is organizing. Having written about half of the story so far, I decided I'd post the first quarter here in case someone wants to read it and comment whether the story is even worth continuing.
Feel free to criticize and point out any grammatical errors you can see.
The Dark Initiation -Don G (First quarter of the story)
The mist had persisted for three days now. Ever since one farmer's daughter had gone missing when the fog covered the entire valley the townsfolk had locked their doors firmly, avoiding strolling amidst the haze as much as they possibly could. Normally a lively rural town, the small farming village of Eldsburg had turned into what seemed a desolate ghost town by glance.
Accompanied by a gathering of ominous dark clouds, the mist had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. No breeze had blown for days, which had been considered unnatural by the inhabitants, considering the windy nature of the valley the village was located due East from the Gulf of Westmarch. The villagers spoke about the mist in quiet, hushed tones, calling it a clear sign of evil.
Lorrick Vinson, the eldest son of farmer Vinson, dismissed such hogwash as old housewives' tales, but he still felt a slight uneasy sensation when outside. He didn't put much weight on the rumors that demons had taken the farmer's daughter, Loranna Oakley. There had been no confirmed sightings of evil during Lorrick's lifetime. Many of the younger folk, Lorrick included, didn't even believe that demons had ever truly existed.
Lorrick thought that an equally vicious but a less diabolical fate had befallen Loranna. There had been several sightings of bandits in the nearby villages, asking for ransom from some farmers and robbing and pillaging the more unfortunate ones. At least one family of farmers had been found dead in their burned farmhouse looted of all things valuable. Something had brought the northern bandits normally dwelling in the Sharval Wilds south.
Despite the fog, Lorrick didn't hesitate to go searching for a missing cow of theirs. The cows didn't usually leave the farmyard, but Lorrick didn't put much weight on it. The mist must get on the animals' nerves as well, he thought. His father and two younger brothers had each gone their separate ways in order to locate the lost bovine before some beast found it first.
There was a forest next to the Vinson family farmhouse. Lorrick had agreed to go searching there. The forest, in which Lorrick had played since a kid, looked alien in the foggy late afternoon as he entered it and begun following a path leading inwards.
The fog was consuming most of the scarce light present, and the little light there was from the distant sun was colored dark blue by the mist. The lush forest, normally vibrant with life seemed oddly hostile. The only sound that could be heard was a crow croaking somewhere in the distance.
The sound came muffled and it was as if the mist was a conscient being strangling the sound demanding for silence. Lorrick became increasingly riddled with unease. The crow's croak sounded hasty. It was as if something had shaken the bird.
"The mist must be thick", said Lorrick quietly to himself, "it probably came from the sea and the lack of a breeze is keeping it here", sounding ever so less convincing.
When Lorrick was crawling under a fallen tree obstructing the pathway, the croaking ended abruptly with one last loud cry. Lorrick felt slightly relieved. It was probably just the exceptionally thick mist unnerving the bird which had finally flown away.
A distance from the log Lorrick found the crow. Or its earthly remains scattered. A hungry animal had probably been lured to it by its loud croaking. Kneeling over the still warm carcass, Lorrick couldn't recognize which animal had caused the bite marks, but it was obvious the bird had met a violent death. So was the normal course of nature, and Lorrick thought nothing of it.
He continued along the path, but soon he saw a figure of a man, a couple dozen paces further down the road. Because of the fog, Lorrick couldn't identify the man. Probably his younger brother who was supposed to look at the other end of the forest.
"Hey! Who goes there? Is it you Vince?", yelled Lorrick.
The character didn't reply, but it seemed to notice Lorrick. It slowly started to limp towards. The man's advance seemed strenuous. His left leg bent under his weight each time he took a step. Lorrick saw that the man was clearly injured.
"Are you alright?", yelled Lorrick, and rushed towards the slightly crouched figure.
A few steps later Lorrick stopped dead on his tracks. He saw the face of the man, who was no longer a man. Cold, milky eyes stared without seeing at Lorrick as the rotten figure slowly advanced. Its mouth gaping open, the figure made a constant barely distinguishable moan. Only now Lorrick noticed the slightly right-bent neck of the figure. Shortly after Lorrick recognized the man to be the late farmer Hillson, who died falling from a ladder some moons ago.
Lorrick screamed at the top of his lungs and tried to turn, but he was paralyzed by fear. The figure was but a hand's reach away now. The odor of death was looming in the air. The living dead man was seemingly annoyed by the scream and reached for Lorrick, who then finally turned and ran away as fast as he could.
Looking back at the figure following him, he didn't see another figure standing on the pathway in the front of him. He smashed against the undead, its notably brittle bones making cracking sounds in the crash. This cadaver was much older and unidentifiable.
The undead seemed unmoved by several of its bones shattering, and it grabbed Lorrick with an unnatural strength using only its other arm. Lorrick tried to free itself from the unholy embrace, failing to match the creatures tenacity.
Lorrick screamed and cried as the creature lunged for his jugular. His thoughts tried to quickly reach a prayer the Zakarum priests had taught him when he was a child, but he couldn't remember it.
Three hooded figures seemed to appear out of thin air as they emerged behind the trees and begun to approach the now lifeless body. Their cloaks inscribed with horrific runes, only one of them seemed slightly nerved while approaching the recently deceased man.
The nerved one laid back his hood, revealing a face of a young man in his mid twenties framed by a bush of brown hair with signs of considerably early aging. His once innocent face seemed as if it had been eroded by witnessing a cavalcade of unspeakable atrocities. He kneeled over the body of the young man.
The kneeled man, once known as Jeryll Kingsley, now referred to by his brothers-in-faith as Initiate Ceviz recognized the cadaver. He had known the young man in his earlier life. Before leaving the town of Eldsburg to seek out adventure almost a decade ago, he remembered the now young man ensconced as a child in his mothers skirt.
"He was barely a man", whispered Ceviz with a slightly shaking voice directing his words to no-one but himself.
The living dead man resembling a mummy that killed the young farmer stood in silent obedience next to the remains. The creature crouched its back nearly twofold, spine clearly snapped in two by the impact.
One of the other hooded figures lowered her cowl, revealing a raven black hair and a face once of considerable beauty, now horribly mutilated by deep knife scars. On her forehead was a recent and deep burn mark depicting a Demonic word.
Ceviz did not know what the Demonic word was, for he read no Demonic as only few mortal men did. He knew it was the true name of the master the cult he was a part of served obediently and unquestionably and the symbol was part of the final rite of initiation.
"What was he if not a mere proponent of old?", asked the woman zealously, known as sister Xiz. "Fortunate he was, for he died unaware of the fate he and his ilk are foreordained with. His death was swift, most of his kind will not be so fortunate".
"Of course, forgive my faltering faith, sister".
The woman paid no attention to Ceviz' reply and directed her attention at the broken revenant instead and said, "these old carcasses are useless. Their crumbling bones can be broken by gentle summer breeze, let alone the brute force they should match". Grabbing and shaking the dislocated left arm of the revenant, she cried "When shall we have fresher cadavers?"
"Patience, sister", said the third hooded man with a rasping voice, "for an abundance of death is about. You shall have your pick in servants once our master initiates his plan".
"The incompetent ones are wasting away all the ones we secure, to no avail"
"Our master has tasked us with aiding his army to invade this realm", replied brother Begur.
The cult had extended its grasp all over Sanctuary. Even small, lulled rural farming villages had their own thriving cult cells. Robbing graveyards and conducting vile experiments, murdering mostly lone drunkards and too curious locals getting too close to seeing what the cults plans were.
Ceviz had visited the cult's main dwellings only once during his initiation. Located in the distant southern town of New Tristram, the monstrosities that took place in there had scarred his soul permanently, leaving his sanity hanging from a lone thread. The cult dabbled in dark arts of necromancy, among other things. He had seen countless sewn-together body parts there. In the cells were numerous still living victims slowly butchered in countless ways. Ever-present were the veiling screams.
Ceviz still had his doubts, but he knew it was too late for them. The cult demanded unquestionable faith in its plans. Only the slightest hesitation separated the former butchers from the butchered.
No uninitiated knew exactly the force behind the cult. The nature of the gifts their master gave them made it clear a powerful demon must be the culprit behind the scheme. Which demon, Ceviz did not know, and dared not to ask his initiated comrades. For if the demon wanted to act in secrecy, Ceviz did best not trying to expose his master-to-be.
All he knew the lesser demons summoned by the cultists he had encountered barely dared to glance at the signs branded in the forehead of his brothers and sisters. The only force demons feared were their masters.
The elderly brother Begur made a gesture with his hand and the first, more unbroken, living dead that had stood idly in the near distance approached and picked up the cadaver of the now dead man.
A Vizerej in his first life, Begur had been initiated long before Xiz. Even before the cult had spread into these parts of Khanduras. His face horribly deformed; missing a nose and his both ears, he was the mentor of the two other cultists. His actions nor guise bore no semblance of humanity, for he had been reborn under the dark master.
"Onwards", said Begur gesturing at his two living companions to follow, "we have another cadaver to deliver".
No breeze had blown for days, which had been considered unnatural by the inhabitants, considering the windy nature of the valley the village was located due East from the Gulf of Westmarch.
I suggest breaking down or rewriting this sentence as it appears relatively confusing.
He didn't put much weight on the rumors...
First time
...but Lorrick didn't put much weight on it.
Second time. I am sure you know what to do.
The fog was consuming most of the scarce light present, and the little light there was from the distant sun was colored dark blue by the mist.
Twice 'light' in the same sentence.
You could try something like- 'The fog was consuming most of the scarce light present, and the feeble rays of the distant sun that still reached them were colored dark blue by the mist.'
A distance from the log Lorrick found the crow. Or its earthly remains scattered. A hungry animal had probably been lured to it by its loud croaking. Kneeling over the still warm carcass, Lorrick couldn't recognize which animal had caused the bite marks, but it was obvious the bird had met a violent death. So was the normal course of nature, and Lorrick thought nothing of it.
Lorrick was obviously nervous and might have intentionally pushed away the thoughts of why the 'hungry' animal did not eat the bird or at least take it away, however it would be good if you included a note on it. Or simpler- Make the boy take notice of that.
He saw the face of the man, who was no longer a man. Cold, milky eyes stared without seeing at Lorrick as the rotten figure slowly advanced. Its mouth gaping open, the figure made a constant barely distinguishable moan.
Constant is the not the word you are looking for here.
Three hooded figures seemed to appear out of thin air as they emerged behind the trees and begun to approach the now lifeless body.
'Began' rather.
Ok that's all I noticed after a quick read and I have stopped right at the last suggestion. Will read the rest later on.
In any case, 'Lorrick' appears one too many times. Try for substitutes and more variations- 'boy', 'young man', 'villager'.
The story flows well. Good pace. Hope that helps.
PS- I forgot to tell you- I am going to win the contest. No hard feelings ok?
Thanks, I've edited the first quarter a number of times, missed those repeated expressions and the typo on began.
Now that you pointed out, constant might not be the best word, because it has multiple different meanings. The meaning I used in it was "regularly recurrent" or rephrased; "invariable in occurrence". But is that the meaning that comes first into mind in the association it is in?
I'll think about the bird.
PS: You can win the runner-up prizes, yeah! :happy:
The nerved one laid back his hood, revealing a face of a young man in his mid twenties framed by a bush of brown hair with signs of considerably early aging. His once innocent face seemed as if it had been eroded by witnessing a cavalcade of unspeakable atrocities. He kneeled over the body of the young man.
The kneeled man, once known as Jeryll Kingsley, now referred to by his brothers-in-faith as Initiate Ceviz recognized the cadaver. He had known the young man in his earlier life. Before leaving the town of Eldsburg to seek out adventure almost a decade ago, he remembered the now young man ensconced as a child in his mothers skirt.
"He was barely a man", whispered Ceviz with a slightly shaking voice directing his words to no-one but himself.
The living dead man resembling a mummy that killed the young farmer stood in silent obedience next to the remains. The creature crouched its back nearly twofold, spine clearly snapped in two by the impact.
Check out the highlighted and underlined parts. Try for more variation- it will greatly enhance the quality of your work.
Also the word 'nerved' leaves me in doubt.
One of the other hooded figures lowered her cowl, revealing a raven black hair and a face once of considerable beauty, now horribly mutilated by deep knife scars.
'knife' is unnecessary and adds nothing here. Let the mystery remain.(Only a suggestion)
"What was he if not a mere proponent of old?"
I do not quite understand the meaning and context of 'proponent' here.
The woman paid no attention to Ceviz' reply and directed her attention at the broken revenant instead and said, "these old carcasses are useless. Their crumbling bones can be broken by gentle summer breeze, let alone the brute force they should match". Grabbing and shaking the dislocated left arm of the revenant, she cried "When shall we have fresher cadavers?"
From the little we have seen of the character, the words (underlined) seem strange coming from her. I am mostly expecting more contempt. Something like- 'broken by the merest breeze' will actually convey this better. Of course it's your character so you know her best.
The cult had extended its grasp all over Sanctuary. Even small, lulled rural farming villages had their own thriving cult cells. Robbing graveyards and conducting vile experiments, murdering mostly lone drunkards and too curious locals getting too close to seeing what the cults plans were.
The second sentence is confusing. Either you missed something there or you wanted to link it to the first sentence.
'Too close' and 'too curious'- see if you can avoid 'too' twice and so close.
Oh also about the 'constant' part. I have looked at the sentence again. It's not the only thing that has been bothering me.
If I break down the sentence into its simplest form, it will go-
The figure made a moan.
'A moan coming from...' would sound nicer.
Still, very interesting story. It would seem we are right in the middle of something big about to happen.
Overall I would say repetitions are your worst enemy. See if you can avoid those and you should do great. Good luck mate. :thumbsup:
The mist had persisted for three days now. Ever since one farmer's daughter had gone missing when the fog covered the entire valley the townsfolk had locked their doors firmly, avoiding strolling amidst the haze as much as they possibly could. Normally a lively rural town, the small farming village of Eldsburg had turned into what seemed a desolate ghost town by glance.
Something feels slightly off about your tenses here. For example, where you say, "had locked their doors firmly" I might have said "began locking their doors firmly". Also I would not have used the word firmly but either tightly or securely. That's just a minor thing though.
Accompanied by a gathering of ominous dark clouds, the mist had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. No breeze had blown for days, which had been considered unnatural by the inhabitants, considering the windy nature of the valley the village was located due East from the Gulf of Westmarch. The villagers spoke about the mist in quiet, hushed tones, calling it a clear sign of evil.This whole paragraph here actually could probably belong to the first where you are creating a backdrop. Possibly before you even mention the missing farmer's daughter.
Lorrick Vinson, the eldest son of farmer Vinson, dismissed such hogwash as old housewives' tales, but he still felt a slight uneasy sensation when outside. He didn't put much weight on the rumors that demons had taken the farmer's daughter
So which parts are exactly hogwash according to Vinson? Does he not agree that there being no wind seems unnatural? Or just that a demon might have taken the girl? If he does believe the lack of wind to normal, you may wish to say a thing such as, "..but Vinson was positive the wind had died down at times, even in this valley..."
There had been no confirmed sightings of evil during Lorrick's lifetime. Many of the younger folk, Lorrick included, didn't even believe that demons had ever truly existed.
This actually seems plausible in areas of the west. A lot of the biggest events in Sanctuary clearly seem to occur up north or to the east with the exception Tristram.
Lorrick thought that an equally vicious but a less diabolical fate had befallen Loranna. There had been several sightings of bandits in the nearby villages, asking for ransom from some farmers and robbing and pillaging the more unfortunate ones. At least one family of farmers had been found dead in their burned farmhouse looted of all things valuable. Something had brought the northern bandits normally dwelling in the Sharval Wilds south.
This I like. It seems good even in the Diablo universe that if someone goes missing, we can assume most of the time it's other humans behind it. Cause we don't want demons in this world to be as common and unremarkable as dogs on the street.
Despite the fog, Lorrick didn't hesitate to go searching for a missing cow of theirs. The cows didn't usually leave the farmyard, but Lorrick didn't put much weight on it. The mist must get on the animals' nerves as well, he thought. His father and two younger brothers had each gone their separate ways in order to locate the lost bovine before some beast found it first.
It seems more likely that the mist might have just made the cow get lost, especially if a gate or something was left open. Cows really are too stupid to be annoyed by things such as fog.
There was a forest next to the Vinson family farmhouse. Lorrick had agreed to go searching there. The forest, in which Lorrick had played since a kid, looked alien in the foggy late afternoon as he entered it and begun following a path leading inwards.
The fog was consuming most of the scarce light present, and the little light there was from the distant sun was colored dark blue by the mist. The lush forest, normally vibrant with life seemed oddly hostile. The only sound that could be heard was a crow croaking somewhere in the distance.
I think you have something to really work with here. But you should make a few more attempts at revising your description of this place and Lorrick's perception of it. Also when you say, "There was a forest..." It sounds a little too formal, don't you think? Maybe in this case we should take for granted the knowledge that the forest is just simply there and refer to it almost as if the reader already knew of it. For example, "The wall of the forest stood just south of the...." Or something to be like, oh yeah, we all know of the forest. Ya know what I mean?
The sound came muffled and it was as if the mist was a conscient being strangling the sound demanding for silence. Lorrick became increasingly riddled with unease. The crow's croak sounded hasty. It was as if something had shaken the bird.
"The mist must be thick", said Lorrick quietly to himself, "it probably came from the sea and the lack of a breeze is keeping it here", sounding ever so less convincing.
The inner dialogue here sounds strange being in past tense. Or at least, you're kind of talking in present tense, but sometimes when people are thinking or talking to themselves, they are not sounding so formal and proper with themselves. We have more bursts of thought or think in sentence fragments. However you look at it, you may wish to play with this dialogue a bit more.
When Lorrick was crawling under a fallen tree obstructing the pathway, the croaking ended abruptly with one last loud cry. Lorrick felt slightly relieved. It was probably just the exceptionally thick mist unnerving the bird which had finally flown away.
This sounds unnecessarily passive in voice. Use a more active voice in your storytelling. For example, "Lorrick crawled under a fallen tree obstructing the pathway. The croaking abruptly ended iwth a last cry." This really is just a stylistic suggestion. Passive voice can be very effective in stories such as yours, but you don't want to go to far with it or the reader, or at least me anyway, gets really bored and desires more shrift descriptions. Even if it's just a bit more.
A distance from the log Lorrick found the crow. Or its earthly remains scattered. A hungry animal had probably been lured to it by its loud croaking. Kneeling over the still warm carcass, Lorrick couldn't recognize which animal had caused the bite marks, but it was obvious the bird had met a violent death. So was the normal course of nature, and Lorrick thought nothing of it.
So did the bird die and then it was eaten? Or did something actually hunt down a crow? Or are we just supposed to keep wondering at this point?
He continued along the path, but soon he saw a figure of a man, a couple dozen paces further down the road. Because of the fog, Lorrick couldn't identify the man. Probably his younger brother who was supposed to look at the other end of the forest.
"Hey! Who goes there? Is it you Vince?", yelled Lorrick.
I think this is a good opportunity to score some points with the judges. Maybe I'm overestimating this part of the story, but I bet you could come up with a cool description of how the man finally comes into Lorrick's view. Does he seemingly materialize in the fog? Does he see a figure of something, but not so discernibly a man? Get more creative in your descriptions of critical moments like these.
The character didn't reply, but it seemed to notice Lorrick. It slowly started to limp towards. The man's advance seemed strenuous. His left leg bent under his weight each time he took a step. Lorrick saw that the man was clearly injured.
"Are you alright?", yelled Lorrick, and rushed towards the slightly crouched figure.
Well done. The image of this man limping toward Lorrick and not saying anything seemed rather vivid and kind of scary too.
A few steps later Lorrick stopped dead on his tracks. He saw the face of the man, who was no longer a man. Cold, milky eyes stared without seeing at Lorrick as the rotten figure slowly advanced. Its mouth gaping open, the figure made a constant barely distinguishable moan. Only now Lorrick noticed the slightly right-bent neck of the figure. Shortly after Lorrick recognized the man to be the late farmer Hillson, who died falling from a ladder some moons ago.
Awesome! Can never go wrong with zombies. Also, was Hillson confirmed dead or did he just go missing once?
The figure was but a hand's reach away now. The odor of death was looming in the air. The living dead man was seemingly annoyed by the scream and reached for Lorrick, who then finally turned and ran away as fast as he could.
I think it'd be more wry of you to refer to the living dead man as just Hillson again. Imagine, "Hillson's face contorted out of seeming annoyance at Lorrick's outburst..."
Looking back at the figure following him, he didn't see another figure standing on the pathway in the front of him. He smashed against the undead, its notably brittle bones making cracking sounds in the crash. This cadaver was much older and unidentifiable.
The undead seemed unmoved by several of its bones shattering, and it grabbed Lorrick with an unnatural strength using only its other arm. Lorrick tried to free itself from the unholy embrace, failing to match the creatures tenacity.
Good descriptions and pacing here. These changes in momentum in stories can be very difficult to pull off.
Lorrick screamed and cried as the creature lunged for his jugular. His thoughts tried to quickly reach a prayer the Zakarum priests had taught him when he was a child, but he couldn't remember it.
Three hooded figures seemed to appear out of thin air as they emerged behind the trees and begun to approach the now lifeless body. Their cloaks inscribed with horrific runes, only one of them seemed slightly nerved while approaching the recently deceased man.
Oh man, he died? Also, even though the hooded figures appear suddenly out of thin air, you still may wish to work it into the story more slowly if possible. For example, "As Lorrick's body lay dead in the forest, the air around him became became something something with a faint smell of ozone while suddenly three hooded figures materialized into something something...."
The nerved one laid back his hood, revealing a face of a young man in his mid twenties framed by a bush of brown hair with signs of considerably early aging. His once innocent face seemed as if it had been eroded by witnessing a cavalcade of unspeakable atrocities. He kneeled over the body of the young man.
Be careful here. Right now all I can think of is what happened to those two zombies. Have they been dispatched? Are they just standing there? Did they get bored and walk away?
The kneeled man, once known as Jeryll Kingsley, now referred to by his brothers-in-faith as Initiate Ceviz recognized the cadaver. He had known the young man in his earlier life. Before leaving the town of Eldsburg to seek out adventure almost a decade ago, he remembered the now young man ensconced as a child in his mothers skirt.
If "cadaver" is referring to the body of Lorrick, I would not use that description. Cadaver is more of a body long dead. It would not be an accurate description of someone who just died.
The living dead man resembling a mummy that killed the young farmer stood in silent obedience next to the remains. The creature crouched its back nearly twofold, spine clearly snapped in two by the impact.
Fair enough. So here are the zombies again. But it would be more poingnant to know what they are doing the moment the hooded figures come into play. Do they just stop immediately upon their arrival? Knowing this would be an interesting way of the reader identifying the hooded figures as good or evil.
One of the other hooded figures lowered her cowl, revealing a raven black hair and a face once of considerable beauty, now horribly mutilated by deep knife scars. On her forehead was a recent and deep burn mark depicting a Demonic word.
I'm not exactly sure when the description of hair being raven black became cliche, but trust me, it is.
Ceviz did not know what the Demonic word was, for he read no Demonic as only few mortal men did. He knew it was the true name of the master the cult he was a part of served obediently and unquestionably and the symbol was part of the final rite of initiation.
You may wish to stretch the lore here a bit and either come up for another word for Demonic as being called Demonic or referring to it as the unknown or unspeakable language. Cause I doubt a Demon would think of it as speaking Demonic. Does that make sense?
"What was he if not a mere proponent of old?", asked the woman zealously, known as sister Xiz. "Fortunate he was, for he died unaware of the fate he and his ilk are foreordained with. His death was swift, most of his kind will not be so fortunate".
"Of course, forgive my faltering faith, sister".
The woman paid no attention to Ceviz' reply and directed her attention at the broken revenant instead and said, "these old carcasses are useless. Their crumbling bones can be broken by gentle summer breeze, let alone the brute force they should match". Grabbing and shaking the dislocated left arm of the revenant, she cried "When shall we have fresher cadavers?"
This woman is annoying. And you can write her to be annoying, but maybe the other ones should be annoyed with her a bit too, albeit they do seem to revere her or respect her authority or something.
"Patience, sister", said the third hooded man with a rasping voice, "for an abundance of death is about. You shall have your pick in servants once our master initiates his plan".
"The incompetent ones are wasting away all the ones we secure, to no avail"
"Our master has tasked us with aiding his army to invade this realm", replied brother Begur.
The cult had extended its grasp all over Sanctuary. Even small, lulled rural farming villages had their own thriving cult cells. Robbing graveyards and conducting vile experiments, murdering mostly lone drunkards and too curious locals getting too close to seeing what the cults plans were.
Hmm, is this cult the same as the dark cultists revealed in Diablo 3 so far? My story is also referring to them somewhat. I worry lately that a lot of stories will be writing about the cultists and the judges will get bored of my story when I begin talking about them.
Ceviz had visited the cult's main dwellings only once during his initiation. Located in the distant southern town of New Tristram, the monstrosities that took place in there had scarred his soul permanently, leaving his sanity hanging from a lone thread. The cult dabbled in dark arts of necromancy, among other things. He had seen countless sewn-together body parts there. In the cells were numerous still living victims slowly butchered in countless ways. Ever-present were the veiling screams.
Think of how you yourself remember events. Sometimes our mind kind of dances around images and patches them all together in a shabby memory. All I'm saying is you can afford to get even more crafty with your writing here. When someone looks back on horrible things as you've described them, make them really feel like a memory.
Ceviz still had his doubts, but he knew it was too late for them. The cult demanded unquestionable faith in its plans. Only the slightest hesitation separated the former butchers from the butchered.
No uninitiated knew exactly the force behind the cult. The nature of the gifts their master gave them made it clear a powerful demon must be the culprit behind the scheme. Which demon, Ceviz did not know, and dared not to ask his initiated comrades. For if the demon wanted to act in secrecy, Ceviz did best not trying to expose his master-to-be.
All he knew the lesser demons summoned by the cultists he had encountered barely dared to glance at the signs branded in the forehead of his brothers and sisters. The only force demons feared were their masters.
The elderly brother Begur made a gesture with his hand and the first, more unbroken, living dead that had stood idly in the near distance approached and picked up the cadaver of the now dead man.
A Vizerej in his first life, Begur had been initiated long before Xiz. Even before the cult had spread into these parts of Khanduras. His face horribly deformed; missing a nose and his both ears, he was the mentor of the two other cultists. His actions nor guise bore no semblance of humanity, for he had been reborn under the dark master.
"Onwards", said Begur gesturing at his two living companions to follow, "we have another cadaver to deliver".
Pretty interesting so far. I think there are times when you can afford to go into more details or at least pace things just a bit more slowly to establish more of a mood. You kind of do it more in the beginning of your story but then once all the action happens it just becomes mostly dialogue with minimal descriptions. Anyway, I hope this feedback helps you in your next draft. Good luck.
The mist had persisted for three days now. Ever since one farmer's daughter had gone missing when the fog covered the entire valley the townsfolk had locked their doors firmly, avoiding strolling amidst the haze as much as they possibly could. Normally a lively rural town, the small farming village of Eldsburg had turned into what seemed a desolate ghost town by glance.
Something feels slightly off about your tenses here. For example, where you say, "had locked their doors firmly" I might have said "began locking their doors firmly". Also I would not have used the word firmly but either tightly or securely. That's just a minor thing though.
Accompanied by a gathering of ominous dark clouds, the mist had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. No breeze had blown for days, which had been considered unnatural by the inhabitants, considering the windy nature of the valley the village was located due East from the Gulf of Westmarch. The villagers spoke about the mist in quiet, hushed tones, calling it a clear sign of evil.
This whole paragraph here actually could probably belong to the first where you are creating a backdrop. Possibly before you even mention the missing farmer's daughter.
Lorrick Vinson, the eldest son of farmer Vinson, dismissed such hogwash as old housewives' tales, but he still felt a slight uneasy sensation when outside. He didn't put much weight on the rumors that demons had taken the farmer's daughter
So which parts are exactly hogwash according to Vinson? Does he not agree that there being no wind seems unnatural? Or just that a demon might have taken the girl? If he does believe the lack of wind to normal, you may wish to say a thing such as, "..but Vinson was positive the wind had died down at times, even in this valley..."
There had been no confirmed sightings of evil during Lorrick's lifetime. Many of the younger folk, Lorrick included, didn't even believe that demons had ever truly existed.
This actually seems plausible in areas of the west. A lot of the biggest events in Sanctuary clearly seem to occur up north or to the east with the exception Tristram.
Lorrick thought that an equally vicious but a less diabolical fate had befallen Loranna. There had been several sightings of bandits in the nearby villages, asking for ransom from some farmers and robbing and pillaging the more unfortunate ones. At least one family of farmers had been found dead in their burned farmhouse looted of all things valuable. Something had brought the northern bandits normally dwelling in the Sharval Wilds south.
This I like. It seems good even in the Diablo universe that if someone goes missing, we can assume most of the time it's other humans behind it. Cause we don't want demons in this world to be as common and unremarkable as dogs on the street.
Despite the fog, Lorrick didn't hesitate to go searching for a missing cow of theirs. The cows didn't usually leave the farmyard, but Lorrick didn't put much weight on it. The mist must get on the animals' nerves as well, he thought. His father and two younger brothers had each gone their separate ways in order to locate the lost bovine before some beast found it first.
It seems more likely that the mist might have just made the cow get lost, especially if a gate or something was left open. Cows really are too stupid to be annoyed by things such as fog.
There was a forest next to the Vinson family farmhouse. Lorrick had agreed to go searching there. The forest, in which Lorrick had played since a kid, looked alien in the foggy late afternoon as he entered it and begun following a path leading inwards.
The fog was consuming most of the scarce light present, and the little light there was from the distant sun was colored dark blue by the mist. The lush forest, normally vibrant with life seemed oddly hostile. The only sound that could be heard was a crow croaking somewhere in the distance.
I think you have something to really work with here. But you should make a few more attempts at revising your description of this place and Lorrick's perception of it. Also when you say, "There was a forest..." It sounds a little too formal, don't you think? Maybe in this case we should take for granted the knowledge that the forest is just simply there and refer to it almost as if the reader already knew of it. For example, "The wall of the forest stood just south of the...." Or something to be like, oh yeah, we all know of the forest. Ya know what I mean?
The sound came muffled and it was as if the mist was a conscient being strangling the sound demanding for silence. Lorrick became increasingly riddled with unease. The crow's croak sounded hasty. It was as if something had shaken the bird.
"The mist must be thick", said Lorrick quietly to himself, "it probably came from the sea and the lack of a breeze is keeping it here", sounding ever so less convincing.
The inner dialogue here sounds strange being in past tense. Or at least, you're kind of talking in present tense, but sometimes when people are thinking or talking to themselves, they are not sounding so formal and proper with themselves. We have more bursts of thought or think in sentence fragments. However you look at it, you may wish to play with this dialogue a bit more.
When Lorrick was crawling under a fallen tree obstructing the pathway, the croaking ended abruptly with one last loud cry. Lorrick felt slightly relieved. It was probably just the exceptionally thick mist unnerving the bird which had finally flown away.
This sounds unnecessarily passive in voice. Use a more active voice in your storytelling. For example, "Lorrick crawled under a fallen tree obstructing the pathway. The croaking abruptly ended iwth a last cry." This really is just a stylistic suggestion. Passive voice can be very effective in stories such as yours, but you don't want to go to far with it or the reader, or at least me anyway, gets really bored and desires more shrift descriptions. Even if it's just a bit more.
A distance from the log Lorrick found the crow. Or its earthly remains scattered. A hungry animal had probably been lured to it by its loud croaking. Kneeling over the still warm carcass, Lorrick couldn't recognize which animal had caused the bite marks, but it was obvious the bird had met a violent death. So was the normal course of nature, and Lorrick thought nothing of it.
So did the bird die and then it was eaten? Or did something actually hunt down a crow? Or are we just supposed to keep wondering at this point?
He continued along the path, but soon he saw a figure of a man, a couple dozen paces further down the road. Because of the fog, Lorrick couldn't identify the man. Probably his younger brother who was supposed to look at the other end of the forest.
"Hey! Who goes there? Is it you Vince?", yelled Lorrick.
I think this is a good opportunity to score some points with the judges. Maybe I'm overestimating this part of the story, but I bet you could come up with a cool description of how the man finally comes into Lorrick's view. Does he seemingly materialize in the fog? Does he see a figure of something, but not so discernibly a man? Get more creative in your descriptions of critical moments like these.
The character didn't reply, but it seemed to notice Lorrick. It slowly started to limp towards. The man's advance seemed strenuous. His left leg bent under his weight each time he took a step. Lorrick saw that the man was clearly injured.
"Are you alright?", yelled Lorrick, and rushed towards the slightly crouched figure.
Well done. The image of this man limping toward Lorrick and not saying anything seemed rather vivid and kind of scary too.
A few steps later Lorrick stopped dead on his tracks. He saw the face of the man, who was no longer a man. Cold, milky eyes stared without seeing at Lorrick as the rotten figure slowly advanced. Its mouth gaping open, the figure made a constant barely distinguishable moan. Only now Lorrick noticed the slightly right-bent neck of the figure. Shortly after Lorrick recognized the man to be the late farmer Hillson, who died falling from a ladder some moons ago.
Awesome! Can never go wrong with zombies. Also, was Hillson confirmed dead or did he just go missing once?
The figure was but a hand's reach away now. The odor of death was looming in the air. The living dead man was seemingly annoyed by the scream and reached for Lorrick, who then finally turned and ran away as fast as he could.
I think it'd be more wry of you to refer to the living dead man as just Hillson again. Imagine, "Hillson's face contorted out of seeming annoyance at Lorrick's outburst..."
Looking back at the figure following him, he didn't see another figure standing on the pathway in the front of him. He smashed against the undead, its notably brittle bones making cracking sounds in the crash. This cadaver was much older and unidentifiable.
The undead seemed unmoved by several of its bones shattering, and it grabbed Lorrick with an unnatural strength using only its other arm. Lorrick tried to free itself from the unholy embrace, failing to match the creatures tenacity.
Good descriptions and pacing here. These changes in momentum in stories can be very difficult to pull off.
Lorrick screamed and cried as the creature lunged for his jugular. His thoughts tried to quickly reach a prayer the Zakarum priests had taught him when he was a child, but he couldn't remember it.
Three hooded figures seemed to appear out of thin air as they emerged behind the trees and begun to approach the now lifeless body. Their cloaks inscribed with horrific runes, only one of them seemed slightly nerved while approaching the recently deceased man.
Oh man, he died? Also, even though the hooded figures appear suddenly out of thin air, you still may wish to work it into the story more slowly if possible. For example, "As Lorrick's body lay dead in the forest, the air around him became became something something with a faint smell of ozone while suddenly three hooded figures materialized into something something...."
The nerved one laid back his hood, revealing a face of a young man in his mid twenties framed by a bush of brown hair with signs of considerably early aging. His once innocent face seemed as if it had been eroded by witnessing a cavalcade of unspeakable atrocities. He kneeled over the body of the young man.
Be careful here. Right now all I can think of is what happened to those two zombies. Have they been dispatched? Are they just standing there? Did they get bored and walk away?
The kneeled man, once known as Jeryll Kingsley, now referred to by his brothers-in-faith as Initiate Ceviz recognized the cadaver. He had known the young man in his earlier life. Before leaving the town of Eldsburg to seek out adventure almost a decade ago, he remembered the now young man ensconced as a child in his mothers skirt.
If "cadaver" is referring to the body of Lorrick, I would not use that description. Cadaver is more of a body long dead. It would not be an accurate description of someone who just died.
The living dead man resembling a mummy that killed the young farmer stood in silent obedience next to the remains. The creature crouched its back nearly twofold, spine clearly snapped in two by the impact.
Fair enough. So here are the zombies again. But it would be more poingnant to know what they are doing the moment the hooded figures come into play. Do they just stop immediately upon their arrival? Knowing this would be an interesting way of the reader identifying the hooded figures as good or evil.
One of the other hooded figures lowered her cowl, revealing a raven black hair and a face once of considerable beauty, now horribly mutilated by deep knife scars. On her forehead was a recent and deep burn mark depicting a Demonic word.
I'm not exactly sure when the description of hair being raven black became cliche, but trust me, it is.
Ceviz did not know what the Demonic word was, for he read no Demonic as only few mortal men did. He knew it was the true name of the master the cult he was a part of served obediently and unquestionably and the symbol was part of the final rite of initiation.
You may wish to stretch the lore here a bit and either come up for another word for Demonic as being called Demonic or referring to it as the unknown or unspeakable language. Cause I doubt a Demon would think of it as speaking Demonic. Does that make sense?
"What was he if not a mere proponent of old?", asked the woman zealously, known as sister Xiz. "Fortunate he was, for he died unaware of the fate he and his ilk are foreordained with. His death was swift, most of his kind will not be so fortunate".
"Of course, forgive my faltering faith, sister".
The woman paid no attention to Ceviz' reply and directed her attention at the broken revenant instead and said, "these old carcasses are useless. Their crumbling bones can be broken by gentle summer breeze, let alone the brute force they should match". Grabbing and shaking the dislocated left arm of the revenant, she cried "When shall we have fresher cadavers?"
This woman is annoying. And you can write her to be annoying, but maybe the other ones should be annoyed with her a bit too, albeit they do seem to revere her or respect her authority or something.
"Patience, sister", said the third hooded man with a rasping voice, "for an abundance of death is about. You shall have your pick in servants once our master initiates his plan".
"The incompetent ones are wasting away all the ones we secure, to no avail"
"Our master has tasked us with aiding his army to invade this realm", replied brother Begur.
The cult had extended its grasp all over Sanctuary. Even small, lulled rural farming villages had their own thriving cult cells. Robbing graveyards and conducting vile experiments, murdering mostly lone drunkards and too curious locals getting too close to seeing what the cults plans were.
Hmm, is this cult the same as the dark cultists revealed in Diablo 3 so far? My story is also referring to them somewhat. I worry lately that a lot of stories will be writing about the cultists and the judges will get bored of my story when I begin talking about them.
Ceviz had visited the cult's main dwellings only once during his initiation. Located in the distant southern town of New Tristram, the monstrosities that took place in there had scarred his soul permanently, leaving his sanity hanging from a lone thread. The cult dabbled in dark arts of necromancy, among other things. He had seen countless sewn-together body parts there. In the cells were numerous still living victims slowly butchered in countless ways. Ever-present were the veiling screams.
Think of how you yourself remember events. Sometimes our mind kind of dances around images and patches them all together in a shabby memory. All I'm saying is you can afford to get even more crafty with your writing here. When someone looks back on horrible things as you've described them, make them really feel like a memory.
Ceviz still had his doubts, but he knew it was too late for them. The cult demanded unquestionable faith in its plans. Only the slightest hesitation separated the former butchers from the butchered.
No uninitiated knew exactly the force behind the cult. The nature of the gifts their master gave them made it clear a powerful demon must be the culprit behind the scheme. Which demon, Ceviz did not know, and dared not to ask his initiated comrades. For if the demon wanted to act in secrecy, Ceviz did best not trying to expose his master-to-be.
All he knew the lesser demons summoned by the cultists he had encountered barely dared to glance at the signs branded in the forehead of his brothers and sisters. The only force demons feared were their masters.
The elderly brother Begur made a gesture with his hand and the first, more unbroken, living dead that had stood idly in the near distance approached and picked up the cadaver of the now dead man.
A Vizerej in his first life, Begur had been initiated long before Xiz. Even before the cult had spread into these parts of Khanduras. His face horribly deformed; missing a nose and his both ears, he was the mentor of the two other cultists. His actions nor guise bore no semblance of humanity, for he had been reborn under the dark master.
"Onwards", said Begur gesturing at his two living companions to follow, "we have another cadaver to deliver".
Pretty interesting so far. I think there are times when you can afford to go into more details or at least pace things just a bit more slowly to establish more of a mood. You kind of do it more in the beginning of your story but then once all the action happens it just becomes mostly dialogue with minimal descriptions. Anyway, I hope this feedback helps you in your next draft. Good luck.
Awesome and constructive feedback and criticism Siaynoq. English isn't my native tongue so while I read a lot in it sometimes a good set of feedback from someone native does wonders.
While I could try to explain some of my references (like I tried to use "cadaver" to refer to the murderous zombies and not the just died farmer's son; I didn't want to use the word zombie for stylistic reasons, probably something like "reanimated cadaver" should do better), I'll just take it as something I should rephrase better to avoid confusion.
Few minor comments (mainly on lore), just for the heck of saying them:
The story is set a mere months before the events of D3, thus the "no confirmed sightings of evil during Lorrick's lifetime", making Lorrick to be about 19.
I interpreted the cultists not to be actual demons, but a demon-worshiping cult of humans that have forsaken their humanity for a chance of salvation from the (what at least they believe to be) upcoming destruction of Sanctuary from the demon masters they serve. Thus I used the almost-human Ceviz referring to the tongue the demons speak as "demonic".
I'm just awestruck by your reply, and when I get home from London I'll be sure to write a new draft keeping your (and Nekrodrac's) advice in mind.
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Feel free to criticize and point out any grammatical errors you can see.
-Don G
(First quarter of the story)
The mist had persisted for three days now. Ever since one farmer's daughter had gone missing when the fog covered the entire valley the townsfolk had locked their doors firmly, avoiding strolling amidst the haze as much as they possibly could. Normally a lively rural town, the small farming village of Eldsburg had turned into what seemed a desolate ghost town by glance.
Accompanied by a gathering of ominous dark clouds, the mist had appeared seemingly out of nowhere. No breeze had blown for days, which had been considered unnatural by the inhabitants, considering the windy nature of the valley the village was located due East from the Gulf of Westmarch. The villagers spoke about the mist in quiet, hushed tones, calling it a clear sign of evil.
Lorrick Vinson, the eldest son of farmer Vinson, dismissed such hogwash as old housewives' tales, but he still felt a slight uneasy sensation when outside. He didn't put much weight on the rumors that demons had taken the farmer's daughter, Loranna Oakley. There had been no confirmed sightings of evil during Lorrick's lifetime. Many of the younger folk, Lorrick included, didn't even believe that demons had ever truly existed.
Lorrick thought that an equally vicious but a less diabolical fate had befallen Loranna. There had been several sightings of bandits in the nearby villages, asking for ransom from some farmers and robbing and pillaging the more unfortunate ones. At least one family of farmers had been found dead in their burned farmhouse looted of all things valuable. Something had brought the northern bandits normally dwelling in the Sharval Wilds south.
Despite the fog, Lorrick didn't hesitate to go searching for a missing cow of theirs. The cows didn't usually leave the farmyard, but Lorrick didn't put much weight on it. The mist must get on the animals' nerves as well, he thought. His father and two younger brothers had each gone their separate ways in order to locate the lost bovine before some beast found it first.
There was a forest next to the Vinson family farmhouse. Lorrick had agreed to go searching there. The forest, in which Lorrick had played since a kid, looked alien in the foggy late afternoon as he entered it and begun following a path leading inwards.
The fog was consuming most of the scarce light present, and the little light there was from the distant sun was colored dark blue by the mist. The lush forest, normally vibrant with life seemed oddly hostile. The only sound that could be heard was a crow croaking somewhere in the distance.
The sound came muffled and it was as if the mist was a conscient being strangling the sound demanding for silence. Lorrick became increasingly riddled with unease. The crow's croak sounded hasty. It was as if something had shaken the bird.
"The mist must be thick", said Lorrick quietly to himself, "it probably came from the sea and the lack of a breeze is keeping it here", sounding ever so less convincing.
When Lorrick was crawling under a fallen tree obstructing the pathway, the croaking ended abruptly with one last loud cry. Lorrick felt slightly relieved. It was probably just the exceptionally thick mist unnerving the bird which had finally flown away.
A distance from the log Lorrick found the crow. Or its earthly remains scattered. A hungry animal had probably been lured to it by its loud croaking. Kneeling over the still warm carcass, Lorrick couldn't recognize which animal had caused the bite marks, but it was obvious the bird had met a violent death. So was the normal course of nature, and Lorrick thought nothing of it.
He continued along the path, but soon he saw a figure of a man, a couple dozen paces further down the road. Because of the fog, Lorrick couldn't identify the man. Probably his younger brother who was supposed to look at the other end of the forest.
"Hey! Who goes there? Is it you Vince?", yelled Lorrick.
The character didn't reply, but it seemed to notice Lorrick. It slowly started to limp towards. The man's advance seemed strenuous. His left leg bent under his weight each time he took a step. Lorrick saw that the man was clearly injured.
"Are you alright?", yelled Lorrick, and rushed towards the slightly crouched figure.
A few steps later Lorrick stopped dead on his tracks. He saw the face of the man, who was no longer a man. Cold, milky eyes stared without seeing at Lorrick as the rotten figure slowly advanced. Its mouth gaping open, the figure made a constant barely distinguishable moan. Only now Lorrick noticed the slightly right-bent neck of the figure. Shortly after Lorrick recognized the man to be the late farmer Hillson, who died falling from a ladder some moons ago.
Lorrick screamed at the top of his lungs and tried to turn, but he was paralyzed by fear. The figure was but a hand's reach away now. The odor of death was looming in the air. The living dead man was seemingly annoyed by the scream and reached for Lorrick, who then finally turned and ran away as fast as he could.
Looking back at the figure following him, he didn't see another figure standing on the pathway in the front of him. He smashed against the undead, its notably brittle bones making cracking sounds in the crash. This cadaver was much older and unidentifiable.
The undead seemed unmoved by several of its bones shattering, and it grabbed Lorrick with an unnatural strength using only its other arm. Lorrick tried to free itself from the unholy embrace, failing to match the creatures tenacity.
Lorrick screamed and cried as the creature lunged for his jugular. His thoughts tried to quickly reach a prayer the Zakarum priests had taught him when he was a child, but he couldn't remember it.
Three hooded figures seemed to appear out of thin air as they emerged behind the trees and begun to approach the now lifeless body. Their cloaks inscribed with horrific runes, only one of them seemed slightly nerved while approaching the recently deceased man.
The nerved one laid back his hood, revealing a face of a young man in his mid twenties framed by a bush of brown hair with signs of considerably early aging. His once innocent face seemed as if it had been eroded by witnessing a cavalcade of unspeakable atrocities. He kneeled over the body of the young man.
The kneeled man, once known as Jeryll Kingsley, now referred to by his brothers-in-faith as Initiate Ceviz recognized the cadaver. He had known the young man in his earlier life. Before leaving the town of Eldsburg to seek out adventure almost a decade ago, he remembered the now young man ensconced as a child in his mothers skirt.
"He was barely a man", whispered Ceviz with a slightly shaking voice directing his words to no-one but himself.
The living dead man resembling a mummy that killed the young farmer stood in silent obedience next to the remains. The creature crouched its back nearly twofold, spine clearly snapped in two by the impact.
One of the other hooded figures lowered her cowl, revealing a raven black hair and a face once of considerable beauty, now horribly mutilated by deep knife scars. On her forehead was a recent and deep burn mark depicting a Demonic word.
Ceviz did not know what the Demonic word was, for he read no Demonic as only few mortal men did. He knew it was the true name of the master the cult he was a part of served obediently and unquestionably and the symbol was part of the final rite of initiation.
"What was he if not a mere proponent of old?", asked the woman zealously, known as sister Xiz. "Fortunate he was, for he died unaware of the fate he and his ilk are foreordained with. His death was swift, most of his kind will not be so fortunate".
"Of course, forgive my faltering faith, sister".
The woman paid no attention to Ceviz' reply and directed her attention at the broken revenant instead and said, "these old carcasses are useless. Their crumbling bones can be broken by gentle summer breeze, let alone the brute force they should match". Grabbing and shaking the dislocated left arm of the revenant, she cried "When shall we have fresher cadavers?"
"Patience, sister", said the third hooded man with a rasping voice, "for an abundance of death is about. You shall have your pick in servants once our master initiates his plan".
"The incompetent ones are wasting away all the ones we secure, to no avail"
"Our master has tasked us with aiding his army to invade this realm", replied brother Begur.
The cult had extended its grasp all over Sanctuary. Even small, lulled rural farming villages had their own thriving cult cells. Robbing graveyards and conducting vile experiments, murdering mostly lone drunkards and too curious locals getting too close to seeing what the cults plans were.
Ceviz had visited the cult's main dwellings only once during his initiation. Located in the distant southern town of New Tristram, the monstrosities that took place in there had scarred his soul permanently, leaving his sanity hanging from a lone thread. The cult dabbled in dark arts of necromancy, among other things. He had seen countless sewn-together body parts there. In the cells were numerous still living victims slowly butchered in countless ways. Ever-present were the veiling screams.
Ceviz still had his doubts, but he knew it was too late for them. The cult demanded unquestionable faith in its plans. Only the slightest hesitation separated the former butchers from the butchered.
No uninitiated knew exactly the force behind the cult. The nature of the gifts their master gave them made it clear a powerful demon must be the culprit behind the scheme. Which demon, Ceviz did not know, and dared not to ask his initiated comrades. For if the demon wanted to act in secrecy, Ceviz did best not trying to expose his master-to-be.
All he knew the lesser demons summoned by the cultists he had encountered barely dared to glance at the signs branded in the forehead of his brothers and sisters. The only force demons feared were their masters.
The elderly brother Begur made a gesture with his hand and the first, more unbroken, living dead that had stood idly in the near distance approached and picked up the cadaver of the now dead man.
A Vizerej in his first life, Begur had been initiated long before Xiz. Even before the cult had spread into these parts of Khanduras. His face horribly deformed; missing a nose and his both ears, he was the mentor of the two other cultists. His actions nor guise bore no semblance of humanity, for he had been reborn under the dark master.
"Onwards", said Begur gesturing at his two living companions to follow, "we have another cadaver to deliver".
-----
Thoughts?
First time
Second time. I am sure you know what to do.
Twice 'light' in the same sentence.
You could try something like- 'The fog was consuming most of the scarce light present, and the feeble rays of the distant sun that still reached them were colored dark blue by the mist.'
Lorrick was obviously nervous and might have intentionally pushed away the thoughts of why the 'hungry' animal did not eat the bird or at least take it away, however it would be good if you included a note on it. Or simpler- Make the boy take notice of that.
Constant is the not the word you are looking for here.
'Began' rather.
Ok that's all I noticed after a quick read and I have stopped right at the last suggestion. Will read the rest later on.
In any case, 'Lorrick' appears one too many times. Try for substitutes and more variations- 'boy', 'young man', 'villager'.
The story flows well. Good pace. Hope that helps.
PS- I forgot to tell you- I am going to win the contest. No hard feelings ok?
Now that you pointed out, constant might not be the best word, because it has multiple different meanings. The meaning I used in it was "regularly recurrent" or rephrased; "invariable in occurrence". But is that the meaning that comes first into mind in the association it is in?
I'll think about the bird.
PS: You can win the runner-up prizes, yeah! :happy:
Also the word 'nerved' leaves me in doubt.
'knife' is unnecessary and adds nothing here. Let the mystery remain.(Only a suggestion)
I do not quite understand the meaning and context of 'proponent' here.
From the little we have seen of the character, the words (underlined) seem strange coming from her. I am mostly expecting more contempt. Something like- 'broken by the merest breeze' will actually convey this better. Of course it's your character so you know her best.
The second sentence is confusing. Either you missed something there or you wanted to link it to the first sentence.
'Too close' and 'too curious'- see if you can avoid 'too' twice and so close.
Oh also about the 'constant' part. I have looked at the sentence again. It's not the only thing that has been bothering me.
If I break down the sentence into its simplest form, it will go-
The figure made a moan.
'A moan coming from...' would sound nicer.
Still, very interesting story. It would seem we are right in the middle of something big about to happen.
Overall I would say repetitions are your worst enemy. See if you can avoid those and you should do great. Good luck mate. :thumbsup:
Siaynoq's Playthroughs
This whole paragraph here actually could probably belong to the first where you are creating a backdrop. Possibly before you even mention the missing farmer's daughter.
So which parts are exactly hogwash according to Vinson? Does he not agree that there being no wind seems unnatural? Or just that a demon might have taken the girl? If he does believe the lack of wind to normal, you may wish to say a thing such as, "..but Vinson was positive the wind had died down at times, even in this valley..."
This actually seems plausible in areas of the west. A lot of the biggest events in Sanctuary clearly seem to occur up north or to the east with the exception Tristram.
This I like. It seems good even in the Diablo universe that if someone goes missing, we can assume most of the time it's other humans behind it. Cause we don't want demons in this world to be as common and unremarkable as dogs on the street.
It seems more likely that the mist might have just made the cow get lost, especially if a gate or something was left open. Cows really are too stupid to be annoyed by things such as fog.
I think you have something to really work with here. But you should make a few more attempts at revising your description of this place and Lorrick's perception of it. Also when you say, "There was a forest..." It sounds a little too formal, don't you think? Maybe in this case we should take for granted the knowledge that the forest is just simply there and refer to it almost as if the reader already knew of it. For example, "The wall of the forest stood just south of the...." Or something to be like, oh yeah, we all know of the forest. Ya know what I mean?
The inner dialogue here sounds strange being in past tense. Or at least, you're kind of talking in present tense, but sometimes when people are thinking or talking to themselves, they are not sounding so formal and proper with themselves. We have more bursts of thought or think in sentence fragments. However you look at it, you may wish to play with this dialogue a bit more.
This sounds unnecessarily passive in voice. Use a more active voice in your storytelling. For example, "Lorrick crawled under a fallen tree obstructing the pathway. The croaking abruptly ended iwth a last cry." This really is just a stylistic suggestion. Passive voice can be very effective in stories such as yours, but you don't want to go to far with it or the reader, or at least me anyway, gets really bored and desires more shrift descriptions. Even if it's just a bit more.
So did the bird die and then it was eaten? Or did something actually hunt down a crow? Or are we just supposed to keep wondering at this point?
I think this is a good opportunity to score some points with the judges. Maybe I'm overestimating this part of the story, but I bet you could come up with a cool description of how the man finally comes into Lorrick's view. Does he seemingly materialize in the fog? Does he see a figure of something, but not so discernibly a man? Get more creative in your descriptions of critical moments like these.
Well done. The image of this man limping toward Lorrick and not saying anything seemed rather vivid and kind of scary too.
Awesome! Can never go wrong with zombies. Also, was Hillson confirmed dead or did he just go missing once?
I personally like to think that if someone is paralyzed by fear that they cannot even scream.
I think it'd be more wry of you to refer to the living dead man as just Hillson again. Imagine, "Hillson's face contorted out of seeming annoyance at Lorrick's outburst..."
Good descriptions and pacing here. These changes in momentum in stories can be very difficult to pull off.
Oh man, he died? Also, even though the hooded figures appear suddenly out of thin air, you still may wish to work it into the story more slowly if possible. For example, "As Lorrick's body lay dead in the forest, the air around him became became something something with a faint smell of ozone while suddenly three hooded figures materialized into something something...."
Be careful here. Right now all I can think of is what happened to those two zombies. Have they been dispatched? Are they just standing there? Did they get bored and walk away?
If "cadaver" is referring to the body of Lorrick, I would not use that description. Cadaver is more of a body long dead. It would not be an accurate description of someone who just died.
Fair enough. So here are the zombies again. But it would be more poingnant to know what they are doing the moment the hooded figures come into play. Do they just stop immediately upon their arrival? Knowing this would be an interesting way of the reader identifying the hooded figures as good or evil.
I'm not exactly sure when the description of hair being raven black became cliche, but trust me, it is.
You may wish to stretch the lore here a bit and either come up for another word for Demonic as being called Demonic or referring to it as the unknown or unspeakable language. Cause I doubt a Demon would think of it as speaking Demonic. Does that make sense?
This woman is annoying. And you can write her to be annoying, but maybe the other ones should be annoyed with her a bit too, albeit they do seem to revere her or respect her authority or something.
Hmm, is this cult the same as the dark cultists revealed in Diablo 3 so far? My story is also referring to them somewhat. I worry lately that a lot of stories will be writing about the cultists and the judges will get bored of my story when I begin talking about them.
Think of how you yourself remember events. Sometimes our mind kind of dances around images and patches them all together in a shabby memory. All I'm saying is you can afford to get even more crafty with your writing here. When someone looks back on horrible things as you've described them, make them really feel like a memory.
Pretty interesting so far. I think there are times when you can afford to go into more details or at least pace things just a bit more slowly to establish more of a mood. You kind of do it more in the beginning of your story but then once all the action happens it just becomes mostly dialogue with minimal descriptions. Anyway, I hope this feedback helps you in your next draft. Good luck.
Siaynoq's Playthroughs
While I could try to explain some of my references (like I tried to use "cadaver" to refer to the murderous zombies and not the just died farmer's son; I didn't want to use the word zombie for stylistic reasons, probably something like "reanimated cadaver" should do better), I'll just take it as something I should rephrase better to avoid confusion.
Few minor comments (mainly on lore), just for the heck of saying them:
The story is set a mere months before the events of D3, thus the "no confirmed sightings of evil during Lorrick's lifetime", making Lorrick to be about 19.
I interpreted the cultists not to be actual demons, but a demon-worshiping cult of humans that have forsaken their humanity for a chance of salvation from the (what at least they believe to be) upcoming destruction of Sanctuary from the demon masters they serve. Thus I used the almost-human Ceviz referring to the tongue the demons speak as "demonic".
I'm just awestruck by your reply, and when I get home from London I'll be sure to write a new draft keeping your (and Nekrodrac's) advice in mind.