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General writing discussion.
Comments
It being the character
Alistair looked at the caravan ahead of him. There were two wagons; one for prisoners and one for supplies. He belonged to the former, regrettably, although his fate was not a prison cell, nor a noose. A few personal belongings of his were packed away in a chest, which was then piled into the supply wagon. It was something of a morbid courtesy; even the worst man had the right to wield his favourite sword at the hour of his death, at least in this line of work. He was to fight on behalf of the Order. It was not the only order, certainly not a knightly one, but the only one that warranted no extra title. It was simply the Order; a prison, a military branch and a death sentence.
My only issue is the term "Reborn", which makes me think of Jedi Outcast. <_< It is, however, the thematic link to the Renaissance, so I can't fault it.
Although it might seem obvious coming from someone with an interest in history, I do very much like the historian angle.
^Heh, you would. And I dunno why I thought I needed to tell you what "Renaissance" meant, given your interest in history.
I usually don't go for that kind of story--but politcal intruige can always be interesting.
The part in ARMEGEDDON.EXE where Vanið explains the Wir/Terra/The Borderlands is gonna have to be an infodump.
I managed to ease it a little more by having Nick constantly ask questions, but still. I am like incapable of not doing infodumps--partially because I seem to be one of the few people who likes them.
How about having the thief come in and steal the book during the middle of it? Then Nick and Vanidh would be chasing after him. She could still be explaining while they're chasing him, adding some action to the infodump.
*: This is an accepted alternate spelling of her name
I would love to have it animated one day, though.
This is the intro to ARMEGEDDON.EXE:
----Most people fear heights.
I adore them.
It all started one day when I was six. Me and my mom were cleaning the attic of our house, and I got the dumbass idea to go onto the roof, ignoring my mom’s pleas not to.
The thing was? I wasn’t scared. There was something empowering about being on that roof, something amazing about no longer being bound to the earth. I couldn’t fly, but I sure could jump. I could climb. Just as long as I didn’t touch the ground.
I don’t remember much beyond that. My mom said I started free-running on the rooftops of our neighborhood houses. I ran along clotheslines, rooftops, and fences, making sure I never hit the ground. I wasn’t just some dumb 6-year-old with no real purpose, either. I was determined to make sure I never hit the ground. I wasn’t just running around because I felt like being a immature idiot.
But, I slipped off of a three-story house and fell into the concrete below. I broke two arms, two legs, and busted my skull wide open. I just woke up in the hospital a few days later. Somehow, I recovered fully in a month. It was unprecedented—surviving that fall alone was impressive. Recovering in a month? That wasn’t normal at all.
But I’m not exactly normal. More on that later, though.
From then on, I fell in love with parkour and free-running. I practiced it wherever I could go. One the way to school. On the weekends. During vacations. My goal—never be blocked by obstacles. I could run on fences, scale building walls with ease, and tackle any rooftop.
It always got me in trouble. In the 7th grade, I was sent to the principal’s office for running across the locker tops. In the 9th, I was nearly expelled for running around the edge of my school’s rooftop. While in college, I was arrested for scaling the wall of a 5-story building. That last one got me in the newspaper—“19-Year-Old Free-Runner Scales Thompson Library”.
That just made me an urban legend. Soon, people were talking about me. They’d say that saw me running in the night, like a shadow, only appearing for a few seconds before disappearing. I eluded the cops. They never found me, no matter how hard they tried. And the legend grew. Eventually, I got a nickname—“Nox”, latin for “Night”. I was called that because I was as elusive as the night.
But I was also as surrounding at the night. You know how the night surrounds everything? You can’t escape it. I was like that. I could be anywhere. Normal people were bound by the ground, destined to take such clumsy contraptions as stairs and elevators to get higher. I was merely bound by my abilities. I could hide anywhere, be anywhere. No one could catch me.
I was no longer Nick Carbine. I was Nox Carbine.
---
How's this for an intro?