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The Lychan Chronicles



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Gender: Male
Points: 890
Reviews: 1
Sun Jan 20, 2008 12:36 am
Lychan_Dishitsku says...



The sky is gray, and the smell of death is hovering in the air. A great figure is standing over a cliff looking down at the ruins of a once beautiful city. Another strides next to him, paws forcefully pressing on the green grass, as it makes its way to the side of the other. The ruins can be seen as the two begin to talk. We see them again, only the figures look strangely human.

Barbon: The battle is over Dishitsku. We are victorious.

Dishitsku: what shall we do with this city? And the beings living here.

Barbon: we shall rebuild my young soldier. We shall use these beings to plant, and grow crops for us. Build this city to a place resembling lycinia, as all the others.

Dishitsku: you seem restless my king, shall we retire to our steeds, and make our way to Regine?

Barbon: I guess we shall Dishitsku. But first tell the others to make the city ready for the transfer of goods to our homeland.

Barbon makes his way to his tall black steed, and begins to ride into the woods surrounding the large city. Dishitsku begins to transform into the great shape that was seen before. His eyes can be seen changing into a coarse black as the reflection of the king can be seen riding off. He sneers, and runs quickly on all four legs to the city below. His black fur shining in the fading light. In the city many men can be seen being forced to carry goods by tall vicious forms killing those that apposed them. The great four legged creature stops at the entrance to the city. He looks on as the others force the men to work, and screams can be heard as women and children are being herded like cattle to large wooden cages being drawn by giant ox-like creatures called Throes. Dishitsku approaches a group walking past in his human form. A man falls at his feet, and grabs his long black coat. it is cold outside, the breath can be seen emitting from the mouths of all the men and Lychans as a silence falls over the great city. No ne is supposed to touch the great general, the only natural born Lychan in thousands of years. Dishitsku looks down at the man, he is towering over him in height. The man small, and weak begins to cry and beg for his release from the torment. Another soldier begins to approach, but is stopped by the general. Dishitsku looks down at the small being.

Dishitsku: do you wish for a release? What torment can a small being such as yourself be experiencing? We let your kind live, flourish, and all we want in the end is your land, and for you to work, labor for us to bring us what we need. We take no more than what is needed. But you hesitate, you fight, and try to keep us off our land. What sense is this?

Man: my family, please let my family go.

Dishitsku: and what of my family? What of every mans family here? Are you so selfish that you care only for your family, and no others?

The great general transforms into a great form, only different this time. He stand on two thick muscled legs. He grabs the man from the ground, and picks up into the air to be parallel to his great form. His face long, and stout. His great teeth can be seen as he is breathing out a mist of fog after each breath.

Dishitsku: What makes you worthy?

Man: My loyalty

Dishitsku (harshly interrupting): what loyalty? As I understand you were one of the futile many trying to defend this place. A city you call your own.

The man begins to breath heavily as his weight is starting to exhaust him, as he is hanging in the air. Dishitskus’ great clawed hang is grasping him by the throat. The man begins to breath heavier, as the generals eyes begin to change into a ice blue color. The reflection of the man can be seen in the slabs of cold ice. The man begins to choke to death and the clawed hand grasps tighter around his throat.

Dishitsku: You are not worthy for pity, you try to fend for yourself and defend only your family and no others. And with that, you are not worthy to live.

At that the great hand snaps the mans neck like a toothpick, and throws him to the ground. The mans family gather around him in tears, his mate begins to weep at the sight of his body. The figure shrinks some to the form of a human once again. He looks at the young woman on the ground, as the mud covers her soft brown hair. Her head on the muddy ground as she weeps at the sight of her dead mate.

Dishitsku: What is your name human?

The young woman looks to him in fear, she speaks softly to him as if she loved him like she loved her mate.

Woman: Anna

With that Dishitskus eyes turn a soft blue, as if his mood has changed from ruthless to soft. He turns and tells the generals to let the woman go, and to finish the herding. He leaves the gates to a great white unicorn and gets onto its back. Its horn not what would be imagined, a solid mass of hardened bone protruding out of its great head, coming to a rough sharp point. He hits it on the side with his medieval looking spurs. The great beast begins to run through the forest toward his home in Genysys. All goes black, then, a sound of burning wood can be heard. The screams, the screams of a young child begging for another chance. Then a voice can be hard, the voice of the young woman he let free, a name. Anna, Annabelle. Then fire. Dishitskus awakes in sweat, he rises from his bed, and walks to the great view of Genysys. Standing nude in the wind, he takes a deep breath and gazes at the beautiful blue moon over his city. His eyes match the color of the moon as he looks on at the large city before him. He then walks from the view, and dons his great black coat and makes his way outside of his great home. He walks into another small wooden structure, he lights an incense and begins to inhale the intoxicating smoke coming from the burning material. A woman walks into the small room, and sits in front of him. Her eyes red as blood, and innocent. A virgin, it is custom for the women in the Lychan species to give themselves to the one they see as powerful. Dishitsku sits staring into space, as the female begins to uncover her beautiful body. Lychan women are raised to be thin, and be powerful with their art of temptation. Though the great general still stares off into space. As she dances in front of him, he can only think of one thing. The one that he couldn’t save. Annabelle.

Temptress: Dishitsku, my general, you look troubled

Dishitsku: am I powerful?

Temptress: Yes my lord, you are very powerful.

Dishitsku: Am I merciful?

Temptress: Yes my general

Dishitsku: Am I worthy?

Temptress: Yes my general, you are even more worthy than of any other.

Dishitsku: Than why couldn’t I save the one I never intended to die?

Temptress: My general, relax, I shall cure any amount of stress, and uncertainty.

His eye can be seen, full of regret, and sorrow.

Fade Out

Fade In: The Great Hall of the Kings

Barbon is seen sitting at his great table, eating meat hunted by the slaves. Dishitsku approaches him, and takes a seat at the table next to the king. A plate is put in front of him by a slave. Suddenly the general grabs the man by the arm and drags him off of his feet, lifting him into the air.

Dishitsku: Am I not merciful?!

Barbon: My general, what is troubling you?

Dishitsku: The frail memories of my past my king (drops them man to the floor)

The man runs out of the room quickly. Dishitsku sits back down and looks into the mirror facing him.

Barbon: Your past is your past, when we found you, we had no idea of your importance my general. You are the only natural born Lychan alive. You shall live forever, and when I die, my reign will belong to you. That is what your name means, you know? Dishitsku.

Dishitsku: Where did my name come from?

Barbon: You asked me that many years ago, when we discovered you in that small piece of land.

Change scene
Small town in ruins

The Lychans can be seen herding the being into their groups to be transferred to where they are needed. There is one that puts up a large fight to get to a house on fire. A great figure is approaching from the smoke. Another approaches it, and explains that are having great difficulty capturing this youg being. The great figure puts his hand up to silence the other. He approaches turning into a human form of a semi-old man with a black beard, and a thick mustache. He leans down and speaks to the teenage boy.

Barbon: My boy, why are you trying so hard to get to the fire? You will be burned.

Teenage boy (yelling): I will kill all of you, I must save her!

Barbon: Kill? Us. But you are but just a boy.

Barbon grabs him by the colar, and hand him to another soldier. The boy watches the small hut explode into flames consuming everything inside. The beast takes him to a small room, and places him down, then allows a hunter to enter the room. An uncontrollable beast of the Lychans, unable to become a human form, and always killing to feed its blood lust. But this is different, the soldier outside notcies that there is no sounds of terror, no screams or growls. He turns to see the beast bowing at the knees of the frightened boy. He rushes to get the king, and brings him back.

Soldier: My king, we have found a natural born Lychan.

Barbon: it cannot be, there are no natural Lychans left.

They approach the smal boy, and watch the hunter bow at his knees.

Barbon: Boy, stand

The young boy gets to his feet, and the hunter continues to bow. The king looks on in disbelief.

Scene Change
The great hall of kings

Barbon: You were called Dishitsku, descending from the name of the first and only other natural born Lychan, Dyshyisku. You name means “The Great King of the Lychans”.

Dishitsku: I shall be a great king, my king.

Barbon: Yes you shall my general.
  





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365 Reviews



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Points: 22
Reviews: 365
Mon Jan 28, 2008 8:37 pm
Fishr says...



Perhaps a mod can move this. It's not Historical Fiction if it regards werewolves. Either Fantasy or Scripts is a better place. ;)

Plus, the rules to the site mention a 2:1 ration when posting work so it's fair for everyone. ;) I see you have only one review. Editing other's work is fun - try it.

And welcome. I'll get a mod to move this elsewhere.
The sadness drains through me rather than skating over my skin. It travels through every cell to reach the ground. I filter it yet strangely enough, I keep what was pure and it is the dirt that leaves.
  





User avatar
365 Reviews



Gender: None specified
Points: 22
Reviews: 365
Mon Jan 28, 2008 9:04 pm
Fishr says...



The sky is gray, and the smell of death is hovering in the air.
Eh, this is a common metaphor, and frankly it’s one of the most overused clichés of all time. Besides, death doesn’t hover. When have you ever seen dead bodies levitate? I suggest yanking the bolded part entirely.

Perhaps something along the lines of, The sky was gray and bodies were strewn about in no particular spot in the ground.

Cliches are good when used properly but this one is unoriginal because of the over-usage. Plus, the first sentence is hardly riveting material, which is not good. It’s a writer’s one chance to suck in their reader, hook, line and sinker.

A great figure is standing over a cliff looking down at the ruins of a once beautiful city.
How was the city beautiful? Don’t tell but show us.

We see them again, only the figures look strangely human.
This sounds weird. Hard to tell which point of view you’re trying to achieve with this sentence. The “We” throws the sentence off balance because as the reader I barely see anything. All I know is there is ruins and dead bodies. Description, please, and cut the “We see them again,” and put something along the lines of, The wolves walk, and their facial features look strangely human. Stick to the Third Person POV, and not change it.

Secondly, there are a lot of grammar issues. If you look at the bottom, there is a spell checker to correct your errors. Handy, no? There are many words not capitalized that need to be in the beginning of a sentence. I’m not going to point them out because frankly they’re quite obvious. However, if you’ve gone through, and would like a second opinion, then I’ll be happy to help. ;) But I’ll know when the piece has been edited or not because it’ll say so under your script. ;) Evil, yes.

Werewolves are one of my favorites, so when I return, I’d very interested to see how you’ve them portrayed.

Cheers!

EDIT:

Read halfway through before I was... well bored.

A few suggestion on improving this. No writer wants to scare off their reader.

*Now I for those who know me well, I tend to use "shall" quite a bit in my novel that surrounds the 18th Century. However, not every character uses the same word repeatedly in ever sentence in their speech. If you read the beginning aloud to the end, you should see a the repetition. It's very distracting. Plus everyone sounds the same.

*Which brings me to my next point. If everyone sounds the same, this is not good either. It means your dialogue is flat, uneventful, and not natural speech. To prevent this, go into a mall, with a notebook and pencil. Just watch people. That simple. While watching, pay attention to details. How a person dresses, hair styles, speech, etc., and record anything that is of interest. By doing this activity, a writer will be equipped in writing realistic and intriguing speech as well as describing facial features, clothing, piercings, etc. It's amazing. Try and see where you end up.

*Eh, From what I've read, there is little character development done. I don't know these characters, nor am I attached to them. There is a user group on YWS that dedicates itself to Character Development, and likewise, another that focuses on Dialogue. Snoink is the mod for Char Development and Writersdomain of the Nuances of Dialogue. Both are exceptionally skilled with their craft and are very nice people. You'll have fun, I promise!

Best of luck! When you start hearing your characters speak to you night and day (mine chase me around the streets of Boston with a noose), then you're starting to walk on the right path. It means they are becoming alive.
The sadness drains through me rather than skating over my skin. It travels through every cell to reach the ground. I filter it yet strangely enough, I keep what was pure and it is the dirt that leaves.
  








Few things are harder to put up with than the annoyance of a good example.
— Mark Twain