Kitorak: Fall of an Empire (436 hits)
Category: Quotes & Stories -> PoetryRating: 0.5 on 17 reviews (Rate this item) (V)
Submitted by Zeglamancer <Zeglamancer.at.gmail.com> (View user info) at 2007-06-14 21:57:37 EDT
So I am bored at work and have decided to write a short story. I'll post the first chapter and we'll see how the feedback is. If enough people enjoy the story and my style of writing I'll finish the book, if not than at least you had something to kill some time with I guess.
The morning sun filtered in through the tent flap and Lrukch cursed sleepily as he tried to roll over and hide his face from the blinding rays. The large Mithiral cased earing shaped like a coiled whip he wore in his left earlobe, a symbol of his station as a tribal sanctioned Taskmaster snagged on the edge of the cot as he rolled over and tore part of his earlobe.
An orc sentry, who happened to be passing the entrance to Lrukch's tent instinctively ducked as a small box sailed out of the open flap followed by a loud stream of angry curses and invokations of the Dark Gods' rage. The orc tried to suppress its grin as an angry goblin appeared in between the tent flaps clutching its ear. Blood trickled down the creature's gnarled green fingers. The orc succeeded only in catching the goblin's boot in its backside as it hurried to get out of the angry Taskmaster's way. Lrukch briefly toyed with the idea of tearing the orc's eyelids off with his barehands and staking him down face-up to let the sun fry his brain via his exposed eyes as punishment for laughing at his discomfort. However, more pressing matters then torturing an annoying orc took hold on Lrukch's calculating mind and he soon forgot about the young sentry.
Lrukch did not appear extraordinary in any particular way. He was of average height and average skin hue for a Goblin. The only way one could tell he was not a common wood goblin, was his eyes. Deep emerald eyes, always calculating. Lrukch was known for his ferocity in combat. Even the orc soldiers had whispered of his feats over the campfires at night. Lrukch was never siezed with fear, as his kin were known to do when facing odds not overwhelmingly in their favor. Lrukch had risen in the Goblin ranks and even caught notice of Orc Chieftains with his brazen yet never out of control tactics. Lrukch was never caught up with battle-lust and he never lost control of himself. Lrukch's anger was a cold and focused one.
After his successfull completion of Da Boss' forward base of operations, ahead of schedule none the less. Lrukch had been rewarded with a whip made of the finest rawhide material and capped at the butt of the handle with a flat piece of polished iron. It would not be of much use for any common fool beyond a basic blunt striking tool. However Lrukch like all Brethren of the Coiled Whip, was no common fool where whips were concerned. In the skilled hands of a Taskmaster, the flat piece of iron could easily be used to parry daggers or other items thrown at the user. If the wielder was particularly adept with a whip, it could be used to entrap the end of an opponents whip and with the appropriately timed twist and yank of the whip hand. one could relieve an opponent of their whip. Expert Taskmasters had been known to use this tactic to acquire the opposing Taskmaster's whip in their off-hand mid fight and rarely did they lose.
All matters of conflict in the Brotherhood of the Coiled Whip were settled by whip. It was not uncommon for gatherings of council to end with the hauling off of three or four corpses, former Taskmasters dead at the lash of one they had problems with. The only rule Taskmasters followed was it was strictly forbidden to interfere in any way, in the dueling of two Taskmasters. There was no love lost when two Taskmasters had a falling out and one slew the other. No punishments were exacted on the victor. Those of the Brotherhood of the Coiled Whip who had not the strength to come out victorious, did not deserve their lives or more importantly, the title of Taskmaster. To date Lrukch had slain 5 Taskmasters and thus relocated himself closer and closer to the seat of power each time he removed one of higher standing than himself. One day he planned to replace Da Boss. In front of all the assembled Brotherhood he, Lrukch, would kill Da Boss and take his place as leader of the Brotherhood of the Coiled Whip. For now however, Lrukch simply followed Da Boss' orders and patiently waited for his time.
Lrukch's whip hung coiled around its holster, its jeweled handle and polished flatend shining in the morning sun. From a distance it appeared as an enlarged mirror image of the earing that hung from his torn earlobe. Though his ear had been damaged in the morning's event, Lrukch would not remove the trinket. It was a symbol of his station in the world. It was what made him who he was. Lrukch would retrieve his ear from a battlefield and sew it back onto his skull without ever having removed that earing if such a need were to ever arise. It would not occur to him to do anything else.
He marched purposefully across the camp inspecting everything. The walls had been built to near perfection. Being as they were built by his soldiers and not by a slave workforce, who wouldn't put much effort into it as in their minds they knew they were dead already anyways. Speaking of slaves, thought Lrukch as he forced himself not to glance in the direction of the shallow mass grave just down the river where the orcs had deposited the remains of their fun a fortnight ago. Lrukch decided it was time to kill two boars with one ogre, as the saying goes. His soldiers would get another morale boast and he would acquire a new labor force at the same time.
Orcish battlechants floated above Lrukch's camp that day as orcs labored throughout the day, felling large oak trees to be used in the ritual campfire required by the dark god Greskh before his children were allowed to raid. Orcs were not afraid of very much on this world. Often would fight to the death, to the last man. Never once considering surrendering to the human scum an option. An orc slave was incredibly rare to possess in the kingdom of man, as most orcs who were some how stunned and captured usually found a makeshift weapon and fought until destroyed as soon as possible. Their race had evolved out of the need of fear as an emotion. They simply had no use for emotions other than Anger and Lust. However, the orc nation greatly revered Greskh and feared his retribution on them should formalities to this dark god not be observed.
There remained in the camp, only a single slave. A wily old elf. Even by elven standards he was old. Perhaps into his sixth century on this plane. The only one who knew for sure was the saphire eyed slender old elf, and he had not felt it neccessary or prudent to inform anyone of the correct answer. He had avoided being slain in the orc' bloodcrazed spree all those nights ago by pointing out the fact that if the orcs killed every single slave in the village, than the task of cleaning out the warmount stalls and snaring a young quail for the Taskmaster's breakfast among other menial chores, would fall upon the shoulders of those who slew the last slave. Unless one was curious to find out what it felt like to have skin lashed off their body until they succumbed to death. In which case they could suggest to the mean tempered old Taskmaster that he clean the stalls and trap his own quail each morning. The orcs, while not known for being the sharpest knife on the Kraxonian Man-Skinner's belt had seen the wisdom in keeping a single slave alive for the daily chores. They turned as one and fell upon the cowering and frightened human slaves with a drooling and bloodthirsting look on their faces.
"Ulf!" Cried one orc as it was lugging a felled elm tree back to camp. The old elf came running at once "Yes Boss?" He said in perfect Orc. It never ceased to amaze the elf that he had walked these very forests for three centuries before learning his first word of orc from a dying orc scout one summer many many years ago. Yet time and time again orcs less then three decades old, such as this one had never known a language other than their own and still could not grasp it correctly enough to realize it was pronounced "Alf" not "Ulf." Even that thrice damnable goblin Lrukch could speak fluent Goblin, Orc, Common, and if rumors were true the sneaky old bastard had even managed to acquire the ability to speak a spot of the elf's own native tongue. "Why is it always Ulf? Ulf, Ulf, Ulf!" the elf fumed in his head as he danced lightly down the trail.
Of course the elf wasn't foolish enough to ever correct one of the vile orcs mispronunciation of their own language. As most orcs instead of debating the finer points of anything, let alone a language's pronunciaton, would sooner settle the matter with an axe to the head and continue pronouncing it the way they were used to. So whenever the word ulf was cried out from somewhere in camp, the elf would show up as if magically out of thin air within seconds. Some of the younger orcs who had not yet been racially conditioned to hate elves, sometimes spoke without black malice to the elf when they had midnight watch and no one was awake. The old elf was at times, allowed to whittle little stick figurines while quitely humming an old elvish folk song to himself if he lucked out and had just such an orc on duty. It was a passed time he cherished deeply.
Many times did the elf muse at the camp's inherently weak security and see ample opportunities to escape every night as time and time again the sentries succumbed to their own drowsiness and boredom. They simply nodded off and fell asleep. All though he was chained to a tree near Lrukch's tent every night, he was confident that if he so wished he could pick the lock before he had lost have of the evenings cover and be long gone by morning. In the ways of stealth and misdirection few could come close to matching an elf who did not want to be found. Were it not for the Elven Court's deep need of an able pair of eyes and ears close to Da Boss and his favorite Taskmaster, Algaf most certainly would have exscused himself from his impolite hosts' company a long time ago.
User Reviews
Submitted by Fey (user info) at 2007-08-20 16:20:01 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I'm not going to rate this negatively, as it appears to be an honest attempt at creation.
I am, however, going to ask where the HELL the person who wrote the following comment went,
"
Submitted by Zeglamancer (user info) at 2007-06-15 03:38:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
If it helps, the way I pronounce it to myself would be with a silent R in his name. Luck-shhh as though you had placed your index finger to your lips telling someone to be quiet.
For the record I never pretended to be, or ever fooled myself into believing I was a toprate writer. I appreciate the honest feedback from people who tell me the reasons why my writing sucks, so I can work to improve it. I really enjoy this hobby and I'd like to get better at it.
Thank you for your time. "
and why you replaced him/her/it with a fucking wannabe troll with no redeeming features or positive qualities.
AND, you're trying to write fantasy because you feel that the path has already been paved. Any hack thinks they can do it, but you still need a concept that is original, a germ of an idea which belongs to only you, for it to work. Orc, elf, goblin, mithral are NOT YOURS.
Submitted by charminglybeef (user info) at 2007-07-02 23:21:14 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
Couldn't enjoy this. That's not to say you don't write well -- it's just that it's the same old tired shit.
What does the fantasy world add other than another layer of cliche?
No denying you've got a way with words though. Keep posting.
Submitted by Foolproof (user info) at 2007-06-20 18:40:20 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
No Comment
Submitted by Ballare (user info) at 2007-06-18 18:37:07 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
I didn't read your post.
Instead, this -2 is for your mindless yoshi spam.
Submitted by ih8u2man (user info) at 2007-06-18 16:10:10 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
No Comment
Submitted by TheUniter (user info) at 2007-06-15 21:16:51 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Submitted by orph (user info) at 2007-06-15 06:53:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Keep it up.
If you're going to dump people in your world, the next chapter should set about defining it.
Submitted by Zeglamancer (user info) at 2007-06-15 03:38:42 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
If it helps, the way I pronounce it to myself would be with a silent R in his name. Luck-shhh as though you had placed your index finger to your lips telling someone to be quiet.
For the record I never pretended to be, or ever fooled myself into believing I was a toprate writer. I appreciate the honest feedback from people who tell me the reasons why my writing sucks, so I can work to improve it. I really enjoy this hobby and I'd like to get better at it.
Thank you for your time.
Submitted by rob_berg (user info) at 2007-06-15 03:08:33 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Lrukch did not appear extraordinary in any particular way. He was of average height and average skin hue for a Goblin. The only way one could tell he was not a common wood goblin, was his eyes. Deep emerald eyes, always calculating. Lrukch was known for his ferocity in combat. Even the orc soldiers had whispered of his feats over the campfires at night. Lrukch was never siezed with fear, as his kin were known to do when facing odds not overwhelmingly in their favor. Lrukch had risen in the Goblin ranks and even caught notice of Orc Chieftains with his brazen yet never out of control tactics. Lrukch was never caught up with battle-lust and he never lost control of himself. Lrukch's anger was a cold and focused one.
---
Count how many times you started off a sentence with that weird name.
Even if it was somewhat pronounceable - that kind of repetition is still jarring.
Not a bad start though...
Submitted by kaos-king (user info) at 2007-06-15 01:10:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: 1
Maybe break up the paragraphs a little more.
Get some dialogue in there.
Almost too cliched fantasy, try to put your own spin on it.
Submitted by ilikesteak (user info) at 2007-06-15 00:15:50 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
I re-read it hoping I was wrong the first time.
You're one of the worst writer's I've seen in quite some time.
Submitted by GodChicken (user info) at 2007-06-14 23:33:41 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
You're laying on the Fantasy aspect a little too thick, and also taking for granted your reader knows what mithral is supposed to be, what goblins and orcs and elves are in your world, both physically and culturally.
Pad out the story a little by making introductions to these things. Descriptions in your story were very offhandish, they don't draw the reader into the scene you're trying to set.
There's plenty of room for series posts on here, but you won't get a lot of readers with a script for a Forgotten Realms novella unless you make it possible for the reader to identify motives and similarities they are sympathetic to.
Submitted by ilikesteak (user info) at 2007-06-14 23:08:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
Submitted by Zeglamancer (user info) at 2007-06-14 22:18:12 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
I liked the first paragraph, than I stopped liking it. Please play again.
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Theis lacked plot development, charachter development, ot any other kind of develpoment. There was no attempt at a good segue into the next thought or idea, which made this choppy and dull. You have such poor descriptive skill that I couldn't imagine this happening or being there. There was no real introduction to this "story" which is like starting in the middle of a pointless conversation. Your vocabulary seems to be poor, which would explain your awful concept of writing.
That was the closest to advice I'll ever give you again. Till then, think of your own comments.
Submitted by Stagger_Lee (user info) at 2007-06-14 22:46:17 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
Novella?
Welcome to uber. Not my cup of tea, but you're trying.
Submitted by Zeglamancer (user info) at 2007-06-14 22:34:29 EDT (#)
Ranking: 0
I appreciate the honest feedback. I'll definately apply that to future works. The thing is about what type of story it is, I am not trying to write a 300 page book. Nor am I trying to write a 3-8 page short story. I don't particularly know of any middle ground terminology to use instead of "Short Story" and "Book" So I apologize for that.
Submitted by Zebra (user info) at 2007-06-14 22:27:18 EDT (#)
Ranking: 2
First post auto +2
Normally I would not rate something I did not finish reading, but I figure since it's a +2 I am not being unfair in a negative way.
The reason I didn't finish is because I was not enjoying myself. You have a nice way with words at times (although that second sentence could use a remodel) but starting a piece off with such density is hard to take.
By density I mean you are creating an entirely new world and the unfamiliar comes so thick and fast it makes the story difficult to relax into.
It was dull for me, but I admit I stopped about halfway through.
This may be just me, but I dislike character names I can't pronounce because I read aloud in my head sometimes, if that makes any sense. I know it's a contradiction in terms.
Also, you described this a short story and as a book in your disclaimer. Perhaps you should settle on one or the other.
It's nice to see serious fiction on this site, however, so I hope you continue.
Submitted by ilikesteak (user info) at 2007-06-14 22:15:15 EDT (#)
Ranking: -2
I like the first paragraph. That is whee I stopped liking it. Thank you, please play again.