Yeah so it took me few days to get to it. I was attacked by a pack of
vicious dogs and had to sick my Botswanian Attack Wombats on them to get
to my computer.
Damaris Rhys found it all rather ludicrous; staring up at the sky,
nestled within the sweet-smelling grass. It no longer mattered how many times
the pollution was cleared. The land was already dying. She could feel it
under her skin, along her spine. They had finally done it.
Wahoo! I killed the earth, I killed the earth.
She sighed
wearily, turning her head, and closing her azure colored eyes.
Nix 'colored'
It made her
feel rather guilty -- she had contributed to it, and now she was leaving, to
the let the earth fend for itself.
I think one dash would be sufficient in places you use two. Don't think
it really matters though.
"It's a stupid thought. There was never anything I could've done..."
she trailed off, listening to the soft murmurings of the wind. Her mouth
twisted into a rueful smile. "I suppose... there was always something. I was
just so caught up in my own life..."
/Damaris, you're quite the little pessimist. You don't get that from
your father./
Listen well dear readers. She used context to tell us this was a
rememberance, not a prompt.
She rolled over onto her stomach, wry amusement taking over her
features. "I don't get it from my mother either, Aunt Ryo." She rested her
chin on her upright arm, thinking of the other woman's words.
I got it from my dog.
She had never had a particularly hard life -- not compared to the
toils of the country's working class. Damaris' childhood had been filled with
visions of candies, fairies, and toys of all shape and size.
I assume she actually got them as well as just fantasized.
It had been
spent with both parents -- her sweetly youthful, and refined mother, Calista,
and her rather brassy and outrageous father, Feoras. After that, of course,
it had been different... Damaris had been exposed to the world -- the good,
the bad, and the ugly. She found solace in the fact that she would one day
become a better person... whatever that meant.
I'd switch this ellipse with a comma
Her five years at the Academy
of Higher Arts in southern Indiga had been the first step. She wasn't certain
if their had ever been a second.
You used four dashes in this paragraph. You should space them out.
Absentmindedly, Damaris twisted blades of grass around her fingers.
Her cinnamon hair blew across her line of vision, as the wind picked up. She
remembered there had always been a breeze in Hesperos. It had come in from
the ocean, and had cooled her every night, standing on her dormitory balcony.
...the ocean and had cooled...night as she was standing...
It was a welcome relief from the scorching, and occasionally muggy days spent
at the academy.
Either nix the first comma or add one after muggy
It was near the end of the five years that she had decided to become
a Sphere Fighter. It wasn't an arbitrary decision -- she had spent many a
night contemplating it. But she knew that there was nothing else out there
for her... not for a blue-eyed Indigan, daughter of a mainlander or no. Most
of the academy's denizens had looked upon her as a half-breed, or worse --
the child of a deranged northerner, and a barbarian _man_. And the women who
weren't Indigan... they had avoided her like the plague. Still, they had all
respected her ability to some degree... Damaris had never been a weakling.
But she always was, and always would be different. So she had found an
Kill the comma
occupation that was fairly accredited and highly prosperous... And one where
no one really cared about her origins. The council in Orbtown was not
discriminatory, in that case.
I'd kill most of these ellipses and dashes. Thats a few too many for one
paragraph.
The balls of power were moderately plentiful, and creatures of all
shapes and sizes could be found to store within them, once the power was used
up.
Must not comment. Must not make jokes. Will crumbling.
Rare psi spheres were a hot commodity, but even those could be found if
you looked hard enough. The Sphere Hunters -- collectors who sold the balls
for a large profit -- were occasionally ruthless, but most could be bargained
with. Damaris had found a smattering of fame locally, and a modest amount of
cash from her numerous battles with other Fighters. Her youma-creatures were
strong, and she had several orbs with high power levels. All in all, she
found it rather enjoyable, and the constant skirmishes kept her own abilities
up to par. And it gave her pleasure to think that others acknowledged her
strength...
I fail to see the purpose of that ellipse.
Like the Arena Lords in Mordecai.
Fragment. And you want to clarify where this came from.
The thought shook her out of her
reverie, and she suddenly shivered, finally feeling the cold. Her parents
would be there... The first she would see of them in seven years.
"I worry... that they've changed. That they think I've changed."
Damaris sat up slowly, wrapping her bare arms around her body,
wishing she had heeded her aunt's words, and worn something warmer. The
scanty silk dress she wore around her now felt like nothing -- the icy air
snapped at her through it, making her skin turn numb. She shook her head, and
her hair fell forward in a shimmering mass, coating her arms like armor.
She had received the invitation two weeks ago -- in a gold-embossed
envelope, with her name engraved dramatically on the cover. The note was
straightforward: "Damaris Magane-Rhys, Sphere Fighter 25th sector, are hereby
invited to the 200th anniversary of the PsiWar Assembly, in the holy city of
Mordecai." Under the uniform message were scrawled a few words: "A fortnight
and a day! Don't be late, don't be early!"
So the shit hits the fan tommorrow.
Damaris found herself flattered, and nervous. A cavalcade of seasoned
warriors, thrill-seekers, and celebrities flocked to Mordecai on a regular
basis -- the time of the Assembly brought thousands more. It was not a place
for the faint of heart. And the letter from her mother had only served to
further agitate her...
She rubbed her brow, thinking she should probably head back home.
There was no use worrying about it now. She'd just have to deal with it when
she --
Damaris blinked, suddenly, earlier thoughts momentarily discarded.
Something had changed. The air itself had stopped moving. She could feel it,
a building pressure, filled with heat. She stood, slowly, her whole body
taut. She was no longer alone...
o/"You are not alone. I am here with you."
o/"Though we are far apart, you are in my heart."
The lightning ball exploded, without warning, in the spot Damaris had
occupied only a moment earlier. She had pivoted to the side, merely on
instinct. The blast had knocked her to the ground, but she struggled to her
feet, unharmed. She immediately saw the culprit, standing stoically a few
yards away.
"What the hell was that?! You nearly blew me up!" she yelled,
exasperated at his apparent indifference. She hesitated, noticing something
strange. He looked rather... small. Like a child...
Psychotic seven year olds. Gotta love 'em.
He scratched his head, frowning. "Right... knew I forgot something."
He leapt forward, posing dramatically, his dark cape whisked over one
shoulder. His blue-black hair had fallen awkwardly over his eyes, but he
ignored it, intent on making a good first impression. "Damaris Magane -- I
challenge you!" He cleared his throat, and batted his hair away impatiently.
no comma here.
"To a fight, of course. With spheres."
A fight with tennis balls. Take ten paces turn and bounce.
"I... understand the concept."
Unless I missinturpretted <in addition to misspelled> part of the plot,
aren't these challenges rather frequent? You make them seem to be almost
unknown.
Damaris continued to stare at him,
taken aback. He had blue eyes... An Indigan boy-child. How unusual. And he
was a Sphere Fighter... Even more unusual... "I thought the legal age to own
and operate a sphere was 12?" she muttered, her hand closing around the
single orb she had taken with her. She wasn't really prepared for a battle...
perhaps he would show a weakness...
"Hey! I heard that!" he yelled, pulling out a purple-tinged psi
sphere. His face become suddenly serious. "Don't underestimate me, Damaris."
"Don't worry... I won't," she said quietly, raising her sphere slowly
above her head. "I accept your challenge. Devourer, I summon thee!" She
Cthulu, I summon thee.
And thus the heroine is eaten by the Creeping Chaos in the first
chapter. D'oh!
pitched the ball upward, watching it implode in midair. The broken pieces
showered down into her hands, where they formed into a round shape once more.
Nice imagry.
The Devourer youma that had emerged from the psi sphere hovered above
her head, its immense form casting Damaris into utter darkness. It slowly
found its way to the ground, and lumbered forward, waiting obediently for a
command from its master.
might want to describe the Devourer youma.
The boy looked at it for a few long moments, and then rummaged within
his robes for a new sphere. The final choice was a glowing, yellow orb,
thrumming with internal power.
Once again, Damaris was taken aback. Any novice Fighter would know
that her youma was immune to almost any pure power attack...
Thus the plot thickens.
"Yellow Power, I summon thee!" The ball rose into the air, its size
growing along with its brightness. "Now! Attack!"
The two powers clashed high above the ground,
I thought the Devourer was walking.
as the Devourer closed
its mouth around the offending orb, the youma vibrating violently as it tried
to contain the other being. The energy from the battle lit up the grasslands
like daylight -- Damaris and the boy glowing angry blues.
Doesn't anybody ever glow happy blues? Just for the sake of variety? Or
how about green? No one ever glows green.
Damaris pressed the palms of her hands together, and closed her eyes,
lending support to her youma. <Do your thing...>
scientific terminology I see.
She winced, slightly,
feeling the power of the sphere's impact. It was strong... but not strong
enough. The Devourer made a low sound deep in its belly, as a black hole
began to build, tugging the sphere down into its bottomless center.
Damaris:1
Strange Funky Dude:Zip
The light suddenly evaporated -- the power sphere ultimately snuffed
out. There was a small popping noise, and then silence. Her youma swayed from
No comma
side to side, but remained standing.
It grooved with the beat.
She opened her eyes, blue battle aura fading, and nodded praisingly
at her youma. "Devourer, return." The creature slowly slid out of focus, as
its essence trickled back into its sphere. It disappeared entirely with a
sudden snap, and then it was over. She had triumphed. Much too easily.
She's a quick one our Damaris. Not that Psycho Age Seven was subtle or
anything.
Damaris looked up at her opponent, and saw that he had changed neither stance
nor expression.
"Well, darn. Seems like you won." He shrugged, and made an attempt to
look glum. "Guess I'll have to hand over a sphere."
Bet he failed his "conceal sarcasm" roll.
Damaris, disconcerted, was about to protest, but changed her mind
when she saw the orb he had pulled out. It was strange-looking, an iridescent
blue; its sides decorated with an assortment of images. Even as far away from
it as she was, she could feel the quiet, yet fantastic, power within. She
realized what it was almost immediately. <A deity youma... I thought they
were only myths...>
When in a Fic has ANYTHING ever existed only in myths? One of these days
I'm going to write a fic just so some myth _doesn't_ come true.
"Here you go." He threw it in her general direction, and it halted,
inches away from her face, bobbing serenely in midair.
hi, I'm Bob.
Damaris held her hand beneath it, and it dropped obediently into her
palm. Its surface was smooth, almost cold, and as she stared at it, she
noticed the images changing...
"Well, I'll be on my way." The boy cleared his throat again,
adjusting his sagging hat. "It was nice meeting you... oh, and very
informative battle, by the way."
"Wait!" she called out as he turned to go. He paused, and waited for
her to speak. Damaris stared at him intently, brow furrowed in frustration.
"Who are you?"
Thats an original question. Someday I'd like to hear someone say "What
size shoes do you wear?" Then, when the mysterious stranger looks at
them in confusion, they wedgie him.
The boy shrugged, averting his eyes from her gaze. "Just a nobody,
like everyone else." He smiled slyly at her. "But I could never refuse a
pretty lady my name... Call me Rai..." He tipped his hat in her direction.
"Now, I really must be going. So... I'll see you in Mordecai, my dear."
Now there's an ominous statement.
Damaris watched the boy's retreating form, until he had disappeared
into the night. She glanced down at the sphere in her hands, speechless. She
felt almost in a fog. There was no way that boy could've just _given_ away
something like this orb... It was too valuable, too difficult to obtain...
"What just happened here?" she whispered to herself.
The wind howled wordlessly in response.
So she shot it for not being helpful.
The police station was deserted, the sign hanging and cracked, the
lights long dead. The few officers, who had the unfortunate duty of working
there, had left long before nightfall. Even the vagrants had disappeared into
the night, tired of yelling their senseless insults at ghosts; and the street
had finally seemed serene.
But the police station was not deserted after all, and the vagrants
had not really disappeared.
they were partying with the police.
In the alleyway behind the station, two men, clothed in rags, pried
away a carefully concealed piece of rotten wood, and made their way into the
building on hands and knees. They dusted each other off, and glanced around,
more familiar with the place then they should've been.
One turned to the other. "No one saw us come in, right, Skule?"
"Don't be paranoid," the other snapped. "I used to work here. So I
The other snapped.
should know why and when everyone slinks back into their respective holes."
I detect animosity between these two.
The other man nodded, and began stripping off his clothes. Underneath
he wore the dark uniform of an officer. He stared at his reflection in his
partner's polished breastplate. "How do I look?"
"Like an imbecile," Skule scoffed, "what else?"
Yep. Definately animosity.
The other man glared at him.
Skule frowned. "Enough. We need to find the records room." He started
down the long hallway, purposefully striding underneath the age-old camera.
He turned the corner, and ran straight into what he was looking for. "Ah.
Perfect." He called over his shoulder, "Get over here, Senzo."
"This is it?" The other man had crept up behind Skule, and now peered
into the sparsely lit room. "It's really... musty."
"How observant you are," Skule muttered. And louder, "You take the
left side, I'll take the right. And try not to be so sluglike... We need to
be out of here by 3."
The two men split up, rummaging through the yellowed record books.
The old was mixed in with the new, and vice-versa. There seemed to be no
order to any of it.
Senzo suddenly spoke up. "Found something."
Skule raised an eyebrow, not bothering to look up from his reading.
"What?"
"East division Detective Inspector sent to Mordecai," the man read
slowly,
"details scant. Po --"
"That's it." Skule stared at his companion, amazed. "It appears you
have a brain, after all. Go ahead," he prompted Senzo, "continue."
"Possibly," Senzo began again, "investigating arena lord." He looked
up. "Isn't that one of those ball masters?"
Skule made a face. "You make everything sound so vulgar. But yes, I
suppose you could call them that..." He put the book he was holding down, and
went to join his partner. "Does it say anything else?"
"No, not really," Senzo lied, carefully closing the book. He would
have to look back on it later. He turned to Skule, his face a dumfounded
mask. "Do you think those women are behind this?"
"What are you talking about? The Indigans are paying us..." Skule
paused, and squinted at the other man, trying to see him in the dim light.
"I've never known you to be forgetful."
Senzo shrugged it off. "Sorry."
Skule sighed, brushing it off as easily as his partner. "Well, this
has been a waste of time. I suppose we'll have to tell our employers we
failed..."
"Do you suppose there's a map somewhere in here?" Senzo asked,
ignoring the other man's comments.
Skule stared at him. "Yes.... underneath the bottom shelf. Why?"
"No reason," Senzo answered, calmly reaching inside his uniform.
"What are you doing?"
Senzo slowly pulled out a dark, gleaming object, and smiled. "Just
tying up loose ends. Partner." He raised it, aimed, and --
"Se - senzo?!"
-- fired.
I'm pretty sure now. There was animosity!
"Well," Senzo sighed, looking down at the mess, "now that that's over
with."
He clenched his fists, and closed his eyes, concentrating. His form began to
waver, the frame growing and thinning out. His face changed from a distorted
grimace to a satisfied smirk. He blinked, his eyes quickly becoming
accustomed to the low light. He would have to take the map with him, study it
carefully. The trip to Mordecai would be treacherous.... and impossible
without a proper guide.
His metamorphing bit isn't very clear. I'm not quite sure what he did
his morphing into.
As for now... his "partner" would have to be disposed of. When the
policemen came in the morning, all they would find would be another dead
beggar... probably killed by his own hand.
End.
first I'd like to say that contrary to what you may think, I actually
liked this. Like you said though, there are places it could be fixed. I
think you used way to many ellipses on the whole. characterization was
nice but being as it was the first chapter, not enough has been said for
me to really critique.
I have some experience with writing fight scenes, having written maybe
one or two. What is your difficulty? I might be able to help.