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Rise Of The Black Queen - Chpt 0-1



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Thu Nov 03, 2011 7:27 pm
MrSherrington says...



Hello YWS, I hope you enjoy.

Note: Please be aware that some of the characters may not speak in standard english, as many of the factions and peoples in Ingand have evolved Creoles (Corrupted Languages) of their own, if you struggle reading them trying reading them aloud.

Rise Of The Black Queen
Prologue

I’ve yet to discover if I have ever really been in control of my own life, such things (I have been told) are not for women to dwell on. The idea of a pre-determined course for my days above ground is both comforting and simultaneously, terrifying. The idea of being unable to block your destiny, having it pull at your body with nothing but a cold desire to finish what has been foretold, the ultimate injustice. A world in which such things are planned is not reassuring, with so many lives now held above the cliffs of ruin by my words and deeds alone.

However if I was to guess on that tumultuous succession of days, the nature of Fate, I would hope that she was shackled by Chance, unable to change the rules of the game even if she tried.

Such sombre thoughts are not unknown in my character for those who may truly know me (There are few) and I hope you may forgive them and indulge them, for sake of proper narration. If we are to truly retell the story of my life, one that is most certainly still being written, we must start where I can begin a reliable account. If there was any indication of my so-called “greatness”, the endless lists of poetic fantasy that have been lavished on me; I had missed it quite completely.

I would love to recount my days as a young child in full, but this is beyond me. The memories of that time before are distant and hazy, the happiest days of my life denied from me by that storm and all that it brought. The ocean is my most vivid of all these mirages of thought, infinite in its reach, unassailable and invincible.

The ocean is often thought to bear all the emotions of people, paving the way for many of the tribes of the land to worship it. Bearing their woes and pains to its stormy grey expanse, the roaring tides its words and the crashing waves its stern reply. I may have been one of these peoples, a pleasing image, my childish form wrapped in their deep blue cloths, the shells in my hair clattering as I ran from the waves.

I remember a woman who I hope I called “Mad-ha”, a blurring mass without definition of form. A ghost from my past, the comforting spectre of home that smelt of lavender and was warm to the touch. She inhabits my dreams, the heavy and weary world that comes with the dark-fall, only to have her slip away as I wake; to bear the leaden heart in my ribcage another day. I may have had a brother, a tall and sinewy near-man who may well have tended to the Sea-Gods, or maybe even a simple farmer; to know either or none would be a joy to me.

Many of my suitors (Of which there have been infuriating amounts) have had to have their frames thrown at the holes my father figures left behind, the hardiest soldiers and the most learned men of our age have always seemed to falter in the light of my memories of the man I called “Father”. More of this I cannot say, but I now draw from his numerous diaries the more intimate account. Many have speculated, wondered, praised and reviled in my father’s legend (Though he strongly denied possessing any powers other than experience and common sense) But it cannot be refuted that his diaries and journals paint the most vivid and brutal picture of our island’s darkest days.

- Reth Harrows, as dictated to by Her Majesty.






Chapter One

“Many have speculated on the collection of tales and songs in our fair land (His Grace Be Praised) that tell of “The Wanderer” a foolish and altogether infantile expression of the lower class’s rage at their own incompetence. The songs depict a man of great age who has mastered the ways of the Old World, who with effortless skill can improve the lives of the ingrate poor around him. Sowing seeds that harvest every year, toppling Purebloods from their rightful chairs of office and other such fantastic suggestions.”
- Marteen Foot, “Songs and Tales of Ingand”

“The Wanderer’s a’lurkin,
The Wanderer’s Abaat.
Watch his white hair whistle by,
His ’ood as blue as sky.
Ee’ll cut them with his surd,
Until ee’s ‘ad ‘is fill.
‘Is eyes as sharp as razors,
His tung is sharpah still!”

- Unknown, From Lower Regions, Most likely Cornall.

I watched the cliffs finally give way, the splintered peaks shatter like glass, the earth roar as an entire world was obliterated. The child lay shivering in my aching arms, the rain lashing at our faces; the wind relentless. The skies crackling with spouts of blue, rumbling thunder boomed and seemed to shake the trees from their roots and the teeth from my skull. I felt the tiny bundle shake, her wails punctuated my racking sobs and cries.

Our clothes were soaked and hung heavy upon us like mail, and my white beard matted and filthy. I felt the winds pushing me towards the sea; a great spectral hand forcing my bleeding feet. The climb from the beach had cut my boots to tatters and most probably lay in bloodied rags along the path of jagged rock that I had climbed mere minutes ago.

Alone atop the hill watching the wrath of the unstoppable sea, devouring the walls of rock, clawing and scraping the buildings down with it. Homes, churches, people were lost in the falling cascade of rock, wood and mortar, ground to dust. I wanted to cry, I wanted to feel as I had felt the first time I had watched the very same sky and very same sea destroy my home. To weep uncontrollably at the devastation, but as I looked upon the face of true chaos again, I laughed. A bitter and caustic chuckle that made my heart ache and eyes water, the irony of once again watching our struggles disintegrated was overpowering.

Falling to my knees, the rocks cutting into my flesh again, I howled and cackled like a madman. The tears rolled down into my mouth, salting my visage of an old anguish relived. The little girl that I had managed to save stared up at me through a sodden veil of black hair. Her reddened eyes blinked through the tears, flashing the green that lay amongst them, I felt the world slow. Staring at that poor child, the weight of my old bones seemed heavier than ever, the sting of my bleeding feet and knees gathered strength.

“How can I save you?” I croaked, the wind howling; suffocating my words in their din.

“I can’t even look after myself…Old fool” I felt the acid tongue of my grin lick at me, to feel the absurdity of it all,

’The blind leading the blind’

She seemed to not understand, or to not be able to surmount her grief to even think, she was clutching a necklace in her hand. A chain of copper wire, holding a clutch of seashells, and a plume of tattered feathers; black as pitch. It rattled as was buffeted in the raging wind, they were the feathers of a crow. She looked me in the eyes, and her mouth started to shake, after a while the words came shuddering out.
“I want to go home” she sobbed, I felt the sorrow, the desperate plea of a rain-soaked child, longing for a refuge; one I could not provide.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” I muttered and thought of some way, some way to tell her, that she could never go home. The words passed from my lips like dust, destroyed instantly by the wind, a hollow apology from an old fool to bandage the cruellest wound. I cradled her in my arms as the storm raged atop the craggy hill, feeling the soles of my feet weep blood and my body shudder with cold, waiting for justice to be done knowing full well it would never come.

It is clear that I lapsed in and out of conciousness for a number of hours, I must confess journal that I recall little.

I awoke to the sounds of gulls, their prattling caws grating at my thumping skull. The sun had decided to show its face, the glare filling my eyes as I blinked and gawped like a freshly landed fish. I rolled on my side and felt the heaving cough rack through my ribs, a dusty and hacking expulsion of air that left me grimacing in pain.

The child had risen and was watching the sea, calmer now, glitter in the morning sun. She looked almost serene, her blue robe fluttering gently, the necklace clattering around her neck. The dirt had encased itself around her, the nicks and bruises that bore the proof of our narrow escape, had only started to heal.

I tried to push up on my hands but the muscles protested, leaving me to groan and thump back onto the grass. I had managed to nestle into the shadow of the hill during the early hours of the morning, whilst the child was asleep, cursing the wind and rain as well as my bloodied feet. The rolling hills and cliffs of the coast were laid bare, the wind-bent scrubs rustling softly.

The child turned and watched my display of exhaustion, she could not be a day over nine. Her face was gently tanned, elfin with her ears sticking out ever so slightly, the green eyes still circled with sore red skin. She looked inquisitive, her head cocked, trying to comprehend the battered and white-haired man coughing his guts into the sod. I tried to smile but felt the cough rise again, it was several minutes before it subsided. She thumbed her necklace nervously, never raising her head she muttered.

“Cliff’s gone” came the words, heavy and thick. I propped myself up on a rock, feeling the numbness in my side turn to needles.

“Yes” I murmured. It was a long time before either of us spoke. The wind rustled the scrubs and I watched the clouds roll, I ground my brains to find a way to tell her. The storm had been brewing before I had arrived, the villagers had gathered in the church and implored me to help appease the sea. They had all the food they had, in barrels, ready to be cast into the waves; an entire harvest. I wanted to tell them what fools they were, to run, to hide. But I knew that such heresy would have bought me in the scant and freezing wooden halls. Clamouring and praying in their blue cloth, throwing the grain into the howling gales, crying as their offerings were ignored, it would have been funny if it wasn’t so tragic, so commonplace.

“The churck…I can see it nomore” she mumbled as she watched the sea, gazing at the pile of rock that was being pummelled by the waves. I saw the tears well up again, the lead curtain was beginning to fall, the slow and steady beat of comprehension.

“My 'ouse is gone…”

She started to weep, the quiet and subdued sobs gently rocked her back. I mustered my strength and crawled on my knees to her, biting my lip as the gravel dug deeper into my cuts. I placed a weathered hand on her shoulder and she recoiled, spinning wildly she turned and wailed.

“You didn’t 'elp!” she exploded, her face frozen in a wild and untamed anger.

“They said you woulda 'elp us, use your power to stop ah storm” she spat as she shuddered with rage. I saw the burning rage in her eyes, the utter and unassailable conviction, the blame. Her short black hair was being tossed wildly by the wind, making her visage all the more fierce. I began to explain in a calm tone, hoping to stop her doing anything drastic, I was in no state to chase her, and in the woods beyond she would not last long.

“I need you to listen” I put out my hand, as if to steady her. She blazed with rage but let it grasp her.

“I am not what they say I am” I said in the most clear tone I could muster, through the burning pain in my knees and feet.

“They may have told you silly things about old men with white hair, that they can perform miracles” She started to slow her breathing.

“I am not that man, that man does not exist” I hammered it home, watching to see if my plea had landed safely. She began to speak, her rage subsiding, the heat leaving her gaze.

“They said…You were daht man fromma songs” She said, I felt the disappointment in her voice, the despair.

“No, but I did manage to do one thing, I got you out” I smiled my crooked smile, that fact did give me comfort, my warm and burning truth; I’d saved one. She did not smile, her face was as solid as the cliffs, but she looked me in the eye; the flash of green.

“What do we gon do now?" she mumbled. I took in a sharp breath and started to search for a suitable stick.

"We walk"
  





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Fri Nov 04, 2011 9:56 pm
SkyeDreamer says...



This was a really good start to the novel. There are lots of parts I could pick out that I liked a lot, but that list could go on for a while... I'd like to point out the very first paragraph, though; it drew me in easily. It could be a little vague, but it was obviously intentional, and it added an element to the story that makes me want to read more. I will say, the one thing that I didn't like was the speaking. I understand that it was supposed to be a corrupted language, but it was sort of just English with a few letters changed. I'm not saying that it's a bad thing, if that's what you want it to be, but it was distracting to me. Also:
It is clear that I lapsed in and out of conciousness for a number of hours, I must confess journal that I recall little.
I think that should be, "It is clear that I lapsed in and out of consciousness for a number of hours; I must confess, journal, that I recall little."
Great work with this; it seems like it could be kinda exciting! Never stop writing :)
~Please review me~
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Fri Nov 04, 2011 10:01 pm
MrSherrington says...



Thankyou very much for your time, to read it and all.

Maybe the style of speaking is distracting, I might rectify this later. I'm glad that the list of things you liked was long! And I hope that it was enticing. You think that this is worth going on with, do you care about the characters?
  





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Mon Nov 07, 2011 2:40 pm
Rascalover says...



Hello,
Thanks for requesting a review. i don't really review science-fiction, so I might just give this a quick glance. When you request a review make sure to check the forums first post that list what the reviewer is willing to review. :D That way you'll get a better review than just this glance over.

I’ve yet to discover if I have ever really been in control of my own life, such things (I have been told) are not for women to dwell on.

The parenthesis should be commas.

The idea of a pre-determined course for my days above ground is both comforting and simultaneously, terrifying.

There should be a comma after and.

The idea of being unable to block your destiny, having it pull at your body with nothing but a cold desire to finish what has been foretold, the ultimate injustice.

This is not a complete sentence because there's no subject. You could rewrite it or combine it with the sentence before by replacing it's period with a comma and lower casing the t in the. Also, don't start this sentence with the idea if you rewrite it because the sentence before this starts with that same phrase.

However if I was to guess on that tumultuous succession of days, the nature of Fate, I would hope that she was shackled by Chance, unable to change the rules of the game even if she tried

There should be a comma after however.

Such sombre thoughts are not unknown in my character for those who may truly know me (There are few) and I hope you may forgive them and indulge them, for sake of proper narration.

The parenthesis should be commas and lower case the t in there.

I remember a woman who I hope I called “Mad-ha”, a blurring mass without definition of form.

Explain what Mad-ha means.

A ghost from my past, the comforting spectre of home that smelt of lavender and was warm to the touch.

This is not a complete sentence. Rewrite it or combine it with the sentence above it.

She inhabits my dreams, the heavy and weary world that comes with the dark-fall, only to have her slip away as I wake; to bear the leaden heart in my ribcage another day.

The semi-colon after wake should be a comma because to bear the leaden heart in my ribcage another day is not a complete sentence.

Many of my suitors (Of which there have been infuriating amounts) have had to have their frames thrown at the holes my father figures left behind, the hardiest soldiers and the most learned men of our age have always seemed to falter in the light of my memories of the man I called “Father”.

The comma after behind should be a semi-colon. The parenthesis should be commas, and the o in of should be lowercase.

Many have speculated, wondered, praised and reviled in my father’s legend (Though he strongly denied possessing any powers other than experience and common sense)

The parenthesis should be commas.

But it cannot be refuted that his diaries and journals paint the most vivid and brutal picture of our island’s darkest days.

Never start a sentence with a conjunction, for, and, nor, but, or, yet,so. In this case you can just remove it.

“Many have speculated on the collection of tales and songs in our fair land (His Grace Be Praised) that tell of “The Wanderer” a foolish and altogether infantile expression of the lower class’s rage at their own incompetence.

The parenthesis should be commas.

The songs depict a man of great age who has mastered the ways of the Old World, who with effortless skill can improve the lives of the ingrate poor around him.

There should be a comma after skill.

The child lay shivering in my aching arms, the rain lashing at our faces; the wind relentless.

this isn't even a complete sentence because there isn't a verb in any of it's parts. it needs to be written with a verb.

I felt the tiny bundle shake, her wails punctuated my racking sobs and cries.

I absolutely love this sentence. Beautifully written. :D

I felt the winds pushing me towards the sea; a great spectral hand forcing my bleeding feet.

The semi-colon should be a comma because the second phrase isn't a complete sentence; it doesn't have a subject.

I wanted to cry, I wanted to feel as I had felt the first time I had watched the very same sky and very same sea destroy my home.

The comma after cry should be a semi-colon because these are two complete sentences.

She seemed to not understand, or to not be able to surmount her grief to even think, she was clutching a necklace in her hand.

The comma after think should be a semi-colon.

A chain of copper wire, holding a clutch of seashells, and a plume of tattered feathers; black as pitch.

This is not a complete sentence because there is no verb; it should be rewritten.

It rattled as was buffeted in the raging wind, they were the feathers of a crow.

the comma after wind should be a semi-colon.
Semi-colons combine two complete sentences, and commas have many different functions but combining two complete sentences is not it.
Ex: I love my dog; his name is Rocky.
Ex: I love my dog, the warrior of my house.

The wind rustled the scrubs and I watched the clouds roll, I ground my brains to find a way to tell her.

There should be a comma after scrubs, and there should be a semi-colon instead of a comma after roll.

Overall this was amusing. Good job! If you have any questions or need another review feel free to ask.

Have a great day,
Tiffany
There is nothing to writing; all you do is sit down at a typewriter and open a vein~ Red Smith

Who needs a review? :) http://www.youngwriterssociety.com/topic38078.html
  





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Tue Nov 08, 2011 8:31 pm
crescent says...



Hi. First off, I'd suggest you consider your audience. Are you writing for adults or teens/young adults? This will shape the way you write things. If you're targeting young adults, you might want to consider toning down the formality.

Your actual chapter 1 (not including the the prologue and quote) is actually quite exciting. You have this white haired man who rescued a small elfish child and possibly some sort of war going on. Like Rascalover, the words you chose caught my attention immediately. Unfortunately, I, like many of the other human beings on this planet today have a short attention span. I was really bored by the time I got to what was actually chapter 1. Also, your note was somewhat of a turnoff for me. It made me not want to read your work. I would suggest either deleting it or placing it in a spoiler thing.

I didn't really enjoy reading the prologue. Some people actually don't even believe in the use of prologues. I feel that if your prologue isn't actually an essential part of your novel, you might want to consider deleting it. I feel distant when I'm reading it as it reads like a classic, and that's not in a good way. I suppose it really, again, depends on your audience. The older folk might not have an issue with it, but as a younger person, I personally could not follow. Here's a link someone gave me a while back in regards to prologues: http://universityoffantasy.blogspot.com ... -rant.html

On a grammatical standpoint, you have some issues with commas in regards to dialogue. When a character says something, there should be a comma right before the second ". E.g. "I like apples," said Sarah. Note the comma. You have some missing in your prose.

I don't usually read this kind of Sci-Fi, so you might want to take that into consideration when reading my review. Anyways, Happy writing!

-Crescent
Please take care to use good grammar when making a post!

"grammer" 1519 matches on YWS *twitches*

Rydia is the ruler of the world. :(
  





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Tue Nov 08, 2011 8:39 pm
MrSherrington says...



All good points, thanks for the look. Glad you enjoyed the parts I worked hardest on, will look into all those things and hope you'll read some more in the future!
  





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Sat Nov 12, 2011 2:06 pm
Rydia says...



Hi there! Sorry this has taken me so long to get to but here I am, ready to review :D

Specifics

1. Really good opening. It sets the scene beautifully. We know the narrator is female, we know she's living in circumstances where women are suppressed and we get the theme of control introduced. Very nice.

2. Your second paragraph is weaker. It's too wordy in that first line which makes it hard to follow and you're jumping around a bit too much. Destiny, Fate, Chance. These are all big themes to work with and big concepts for a reader to get their head around so try not to throw them at us all at once.

3. By paragraph three you're getting rambly. The reader wants the story already, not all this telling and setting up and information giving. It's nice but there's little expansion of character going on and it doesn't really serve a purpose.

4. The image of her as a child is a strong one and you start to pick up pace again there. You have the ocean as the back-drop and start adding some culture and family background so that part's working better. It's still a bit lacking in hints of conflict but it's getting there at least.

5. Good opening to chapter one. I'm starting to wonder if you actually need the prologue at all, I'm not sure that it adds to the story enough, if you're not going to be using her as your MC.

6. Either start with the song, have it before the chapter actually begins, or leave it until later. It's too early to be breaking your prose up with lyrics already, before we have the setting or characters or anything to work off.

7. Some strong descriptions going on here. Good dialogue too. I'm thinking definitely scratch that pologue or re-vamp it at least to capture some of the same sense of setting and character as you have here.

Overall thoughts

When you finally got around to introducing the old man and the girl, I loved them. I think you've done a great job at giving the girl a distinctive voice for her dialogue and I love the old man with his common sense facing off against the silly superstitions of the other characters.

I haven't really much criticism for the second part at all, other than that you're maybe the tiniest bit too lengthy with your descriptions in places, but generally I thought it built some good atmosphere and it has a lot of potential for reader interest. It's too early for me to say much else but I really would advise you to throw that prologue on the fire.

I should get around to the next part in a couple of days,

Heather xxx
Writing Gooder

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The light shines brightest in the darkest places.
  








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