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Here are a few more comments. Hopefully I'll hit a few that other folks
haven't yet.
As always, all opinions strictly my own. Ignore as you please.
Stretching hugely he took a sip from his mug, grimacing
at the bitter taste. Looking around at the wattled walls of his
hut only fed anger the dark murky brew had ignited. Once he'd
supped at the table of kings, drunk the finest wines, dressed in
silk and eaten from plates of gold. Now it was beer and rancid
stew in earthen ware plates . . . a blob of mud fell from the
roof and splattered a scroll he'd stolen from Alexandria . .
.and the roof _leaked_!
earthenware
No spaces between the periods of an ellipsis. (Alexandria... and the
roof)
Zhang, for so he thought of himself now, looked at the
work of years. The irregular lump of stone was now a mirror-
bright polished sphere that glowed with a faint green inner
light. Hundreds of lives had fed his magicks through the years
of endless toil as he'd patiently peeled away layer after layer
of protection, both earthly and other-worldly. The bones of
those he'd slaughtered rose in a mossy hummock above his
shelter, and his vineyards were richly manured with their
blood. The spoils of those he'd murdered fed him like a king
and clothed him more sumptiously than the Emperor of Heaven
himself. Costly silks draped his walls and plates of gold
replaced more plebeian ware, assuring that his food, while
rich in appearance, was always cold.
"Manure" is a very specific form of fertilizer. It isn't blood...
unless, perhaps, you have hemorrhoids! I suggest saying 'and the soil of
his vineyards was enriched with their blood'.
"No! No!" Chubby legs kicked in protest. "Want
mama!" Hot tears of fear and humiliation streamed down his
cheeks. He'd tried to be brave. Brave like his mama. His
mama wasn't afraid of anything. She'd come for him.
"I find it hard to believe anyone is _that_ brave."
Zhang replied to the child's unspoken thoughts as he watched
emerald fire pulse in the heart of the star-stone.
He's telepathic?
Crawling slowly through grass close cropped by herds
of goats she listened to the whirr of insects and smelled the
rich soil that she bruised in passing. The sun seemed warmer,
the sky bluer and she wondered if this would be her last day
alive. Death rested lightly on her soul. The thought of failure
turned her bowls to water. For almost two centuries the
magician had been harvesting the Amazon's like a wolf among
the lambs until a once great people had been reduced to a few
wandering bands. Adalwolfa knew her nation would live or
die depending on what happened today.
If the grass has been 'close-cropped by herds of goats', then it would
be too short to offer any concealment. Imagine an armed and armored warrior
trying to crawl across your front lawn, and that should give you the right
image. Herbivores tend to eat grass down almost to the root level. In many
countries, families let their sheep or goats into the house yards for
exactly that reason. That way, they don't have to mow the lawn (or pull
weeds) themselves.
In a rush, what seemed to be hundreds of Amazon's
erupted from the ground and hurtled toward the magicians lair.
Those farthest from Adalwolfa screamed their war cries and
fired whistling arrows as fast as they could draw bow, in
hopes of drawing his attention from the main attack.
hundreds of Amazons
The necromancers house exploded in green fire, killing
a dozen warriors instantly, scattering the rest over the ground
like leaves in a storm. Dazed and bleeding Adalwolfa dragged
herself to her feet to see a giant, bathed in green fire stride
across the yard, crushing Amazons, dead and living, beneath
his feet.
The necromancer's house exploded in green fire, killing a dozen warriors
instantly and scattering the rest over the ground like leaves in a storm.
Dazed and bleeding, Adalwolfa dragged herself to her feet to see a giant,
bathed in green fire, stride across the yard crushing Amazons dead and
living beneath his feet.
Kynthia burst from concealment, firing her composite
horse-bow at point-blank range. The heavy iron bolt spattered
against the green fire, like grease on a hot griddle, and
vanished. With a laugh like breaking stone the giant plucked
the Amazon from the ground and pinched off her arms and
legs, like an evil child tearing the wings off a fly. Casting her
bleeding, dying husk aside the necromancer looked around for
new play things.
horse bow (horse-bow would be a mixture of horse and bow, not a bow used
from horseback!)
playthings
Stabbing and hacking the maddened Amazons ripped
chunks of flesh from the magician with their wooden claws,
rending him like a pig in a slaughter house. At last a wooden
sliver pierced his heart. With a shriek the necromancer
expired, emerald fire vomiting forth from his broken chest to
consume the remaining Amazons, the fields, the trees, the birds
and beasts and every living thing for a hundred li.
Stabbing and hacking, the
Calina paused at the top of a hill to look back into the
blasted valley. The green fire had lapped at the base of the far
hills, then fallen back like a storm tossed sea. In it's wake
. . .nothing. Not a single bird, no fish, no growing thing. Not
even the worms of the earth remained alive.
In its wake... nothing.
Seven days it had taken her. Seven days without food,
drink or sleep. Yet she felt as if she'd just begun. She'd been
terrified that any inattention to her task would be taken as a
lack of faith by Kwannon and her son would die. As she had
told the monk, she had no skills as an artesian, certainly no
skills in working metal. Yet the icon of Kwannon-who-
answers-a-single-prayer had appeared with surprising ease.
Indeed it had seemed not so much that she was making the icon
as that she was uncovering something that already existed
within the metal.
Seven days without drinking anything? One can fast for (possibly)
several weeks before becoming delirious and eventually dying, but
dehydration can kill in a much shorter time, depending on the temperature.
A person can die of dehydration as quickly as three days if they are
sweating heavily.
"What a lovely birthday party,"Tendou Kasumi smiled
at her baby sister while she deftly removed the decimated
remains of cake and ice cream, "and so many lovely presents."
party," Tendou
"Let me help you with that Oneesama." Akane started
to her feet, only to be waved back.
that, oneesan." 'Sama' is way too formal, and you don't need to
capitalize 'onee' any more than you would 'sister'. The way you wrote it,
if translated into English, could be phrased this way: "Let me help you with
that, milady Sister."
"Two hundred yen says Ranma gets another three
lumps before he loses consciousness." Nabiki waved a wad of
yen in front of the small group of party goers still remaining.
partygoers
The Master of All Evil's eyes gleamed in the
moonlight as he stared at Akane. Licking his lips he moved
closer. This would be even better than the time he hit her
shiatsu sleep-spot, or when he used the dream incense, or that
time at the hot-springs , or . . .
hot springs
This change in continuity is deliberate, right? In the original story
line, he did those things to Ranma.
**Her shinai! Gratefully her hands closed around the
smooth familiar shape----**
A bokken would be more appropriate. Shinai are made of a length of
bamboo that is split into four strips for most of its length. Shinai are
designed to be flexible, so that when it hits, it doesn't do any real harm.
It just stings like crazy, like being whipped with a willow switch. Bokken,
on the other hand, are solid pieces of wood, and are very capable of
breaking bones.
In a severe beating, it's more likely the shinai would break before
ribs, arm, or leg bones would.
"Nihao Airen!"
Nihao, airen!
"MY----," Damn, she was going to have to order that
new hydraulic upgrade from Spatula Monthly.
"FIANCEE!!!"
Fiance. She knows that Ranma is a boy. Fiancee is the female version
of the word.
"Oh yeah!" Ukyou thrust her chin forward
pugnaciously. "Well, to interfere between the Master of God-
Sent-Okonomiyaki and her fiancee, means a beatin'."
Oh, yeah!
fiance
"Oh Ranma," Tendou-san, weeping a river, fell on
Ranma's shoulder as the young martial artist hit the bottom of
the stair. "Have you heard what happened?"
Oh, Ranma
Ja mata,
LarryF
http://lwf58.tripod.com