King of Phoenix: Part One

[Maledicte]

my current novel. First one, actually. Heh heh. I figured I'd finally post it here to get more input and because R.Zion hasn't gotten around to READING the chapters I sent him, and hoping that he'll at least read it here.
No it is not about some guy who decided to tke over Arizona. It's fantasy, although in the more minimalistic vein--not so much mages and spells and doom and lots of magical creatures as is the setting, which is roughly medieval and never happened. But yes, some magic and monsters, but not tons of it.
Some slight offensive language (although I don't think it's been written yet, I forget), and quite a bit of violence and blood. The violence doesn't occur until chapter 8, I believe.
These chapters are still rather rough, as I have been given feedback but haven't rewritten them. I'll do a mass rewrite later on.
----------------------------------------
King of Phoenix Chapter 1

“Tell me again why you have to leave.â€

[Maledicte]

the second part of the chapter.
-------------------------------------------
Arick departed in the spring, when the days were just beginning their three-month trek to longevity. Farmers were preparing their fields for the year’s crops, livestock were giving birth. Other trades would surely be requiring extra assistance due to the influx of customers during the warmer months. Perhaps someone would be in need of Arick’s services. Perhaps he could leave his bad luck behind somewhere.
He decided on first going to the city of Sorister, where he and his grandfather went to sell their crops on market day. Sorister was technically a two-day trip one way, but considering the mishaps that often occurred because of their fine, odious, stubborn donkey and rickety old wagon the trip was often extended to five days both ways. Free of both burdens, Arick could make the trip in the original time allotted, although he did have to stop and rest.
He reached Sorister at dusk, just before its gates were about to close. Nervously he began to trek the worn, slick streets, looking for a warm and inviting inn, which he supposed were always warm and inviting. He followed and orangey light whose source lay inside the windows of a rather gloomy two-story building. As he approached he could hear harsh laughing mixed with cursing (he tried his best to ignore it) and the obvious sounds of a brawl. He slid cautiously forward.
When Arick reached the door it exploded outwards with one man plowing another onto the street, where he landed a few more punches on the other. When he finished, the victor spat on the fallen loser, now writhing in the dirt, and stalked back towards the building.
Arick, still panting from his narrow escape from the door, gingerly tapped the man’s shoulder. “Ex-xcuse me, sir?â€

[Esoteric]

hehe! Poor, Arick. I like it! I can't think of much else to say right now, but I like your writing style.

[Maledicte]

I just realized...this story is mostly an "Arick's really really bad day" line-up. Of course better things will happen to him later on. Much later.

[Magekind]

Still, you do have a good style going here. I was going to comment yesterday, but failed so to do. Good characters, good visualization... One thing you've got that plagues even my writings is a minor lack of description on your characters. I'm sure it'll improve, though. I mean your main characters. Everybody else just happens, they might not need a distinct description.

[Maledicte]

it's kind of intentional...Arick is the point-of-view character right now, and I don't think he's ever taken the time to look himself in the mirror. When more main characters show up, there will be more descriptions, depending on their importance (or if I just feel like gushing). Also, the lak of description makes the reader work his or her brain a little, because goodness this is hard enough as it is

and thank you! I'll have the next chapter posted soon...

[Esoteric]

I just realized...this story is mostly an "Arick's really really bad day" line-up. Of course better things will happen to him later on. Much later.

That must be why I can relate so well...with the way work's been for the past month, I've felt like laying down in alley and crying too. ...I've gotta change my career...

[Kaori]

Initially, I will say that this chapter seems to be a fairly promising beginning; I enjoyed reading it, especially the first half. The dialogue between Arick and Pice is particularly strong. Also, both characters are very likeable, which is part of what made this scene a pleasure to read. In the second part, as well, the pathos comes across fairly effectively.

One thing you've got that plagues even my writings is a minor lack of description on your characters.

I will have to differ with you on that, Magekind. To begin with, I personally do not believe that physical descriptions of characters are particularly necessary. However, the description that is included in the chapter is used to great effect, like "freckly, golden-curled Pice," which in very few words establishes quite a vivid image.

Finally, what kind of criticism (if any) are you looking for? Is there any particular aspect on which you would like feedback?

[Maledicte]

Thanks guys for all the feedback! Esoteric, I hope this story will be a blessing to you, so at the very least you can say, "my life isn't THAT bad after all...."
Feedback? hmmm. Just comments, anything, somethng to tell me that you're actually reading this thing. And tell me if anything made you wince from its utter horribleness, and I shall endeavor to make it all better.

Here's chapter 2....be forewarned, there is a dream sequence in this chapter, so it is MEANT to sound all trippy and psychedelic and all...just to let you know.
oh, and the "d" word, i think....

King of Phoenix
Chapter Two

The sound of morning woke Arick up rather than the light of it, and he jolted upright. Shaking, he took a few moments to remember where he was, and why he was lying in a smelly alley daubed with excrement. He snatched his pack and blankets and scrambled out of the alley, wiping himself frantically.
There were lots of people already in the street, more people than Arick was used to. He had seen lots of people before on market day, but that was only once every six to seven days, not everyday, like it seemed to be here. Today was not market day, he knew.
He was jostled amongst the crowd, in which he saw no familiar faces. Vendors had already set up their booths on either side, hawking their odd, exotic and interesting wares so wonderful that, had Arick bought one, he would be so overwhelmed with the fact that he bought it that he would not know what to do with it. He heard haggling and yelling from the shopkeepers and their customers, and giggling from the children chasing each other amidst the feet of taller people. Arick felt uncomfortably enclosed, as if the streets which had seemed so wide and empty the night before had shrunk the night before. Then he smelled the sweet, warm, buttery scent of fresh pastries.
His mouth already beginning to water, Arick reached for his purse, whose location he remembered this time. Last night’s experience had told him that he should know how much money he had before buying something. He did not have to buy the pastry, as he had enough food in his pack, but a freshly-baked pastry or roll sounded much better than dried biscuits and beef. He walked quickly in the direction of the smell, a stupid grin sticking to his mouth as he anticipated that first bite.
His hand fumbled for the purse behind him, but for some reason he kept missing it. Annoyed, he twisted around to see where it was.
It wasn’t there.
Arick whirled completely around, like a dog chasing after its tail. Had he dropped it somewhere? He almost bent down on the ground on all fours, but prevented himself from looking like a fool. He stood up straight and began to retrace his steps. Gawky and tall as he was, Arick could see nothing below him but heads, shoulders, and feet. So he bent down and crawled on all fours.
It took him a little while before he entertained the possibility that someone may have stolen his money. He snapped up straight, knocking into some folk whose complaints he was too stunned to hear.
Stolen?
He dove headlong into the surging crowd, the thought once again not occurring to him that by this time the thief would have made well off with his money. He grabbed people at random, asking “Have you seen a thief here?â€

[Maledicte]

*ahem* part 2 of the chapter. here's the trippy dream part...

Arick scoured the countryside for some months, not recognizing the passing of the seasons. He found a few odd jobs as he went, too odd to require his assistance for a great length of time, and too small to make much of a difference. He did, however, acquire some new tricks and abilities, such as placing one’s feet against the trunk of a tree so that one could climb it no mater how smooth the bark, digging for roots for food, and a smattering of reading to add to his limited skills. He could also count up to thirty. These abilities were merely by-products of his adventures; no one had bothered to teach him anything.
The pulse of summer began to beat, and Arick found himself heading towards the woods in an involuntary urge for shade. He traveled along a worn highway, but it seemed to have been unused for quite some time. Arick did not mind not having a companion, because at least the forest trail would not be as boring as a flat country road.
After a few hours he amended that speculation.
After a day had passed, Arick’s boredom was pierced by a man riding a horse, both dressed and laden with furs of many animals. Arick waved.
“Excuse me,â€

[Maledicte]

*ahem* part 2 of the chapter. here's the trippy dream part...

Arick scoured the countryside for some months, not recognizing the passing of the seasons. He found a few odd jobs as he went, too odd to require his assistance for a great length of time, and too small to make much of a difference. He did, however, acquire some new tricks and abilities, such as placing one’s feet against the trunk of a tree so that one could climb it no mater how smooth the bark, digging for roots for food, and a smattering of reading to add to his limited skills. He could also count up to thirty. These abilities were merely by-products of his adventures; no one had bothered to teach him anything.
The pulse of summer began to beat, and Arick found himself heading towards the woods in an involuntary urge for shade. He traveled along a worn highway, but it seemed to have been unused for quite some time. Arick did not mind not having a companion, because at least the forest trail would not be as boring as a flat country road.
After a few hours he amended that speculation.
After a day had passed, Arick’s boredom was pierced by a man riding a horse, both dressed and laden with furs of many animals. Arick waved.
“Excuse me,â€

[Magekind]

That'll teach 'im...

[Esoteric]

Poor, poor Arick.

[Kaori]

Again, there is some fairly good writing in this chapter. I thought that the crowd scene and the successive refusals to take Arick as an apprentice were relatively strong, and I particularly liked this image:

Finally Arick stood still, the separate threads in the warp of the crowd merely nudging their way around him, oblivious to his plight.

Arick does have a rather distinct personality]there is a dream sequence in this chapter, so it is MEANT to sound all trippy and psychedelic and all...just to let you know.[/QUOTE]
And trippy it is.

In general, one of the ways (in my opinion) that your writing could be most strengthened is by using more active verbs in some of your descriptions. You may have heard of the "show, don't tell" principle, and this is what I am referring to. It isn't that your descriptive writing is bad--I have already pointed out a few instances of phrases I found very effective--it is simply that the quality of the description is not as strong in some places as in others.

[mastersquirrel]

I read this today and I must say that it's quite well written. I agree with Kaori, most of your descriptions are well done. I'm not sure what the "show, don't tell" principle is, but Kaori probably knows what Kaori's talking about.

Quite enjoyable, I look forward to the next update.

[Kaori]

Kaori does know what Kaori is talking about, but the more important question is whether SirThinks2Much knows what Kaori is talking about. If not, just let me know, and I will try to explain myself more fully.

[Maledicte]

Since he is such a sympathetic character, I find myself hoping that the current series of unfortunate events does not continue to be completely unrelieved--although I believe you did indicate that his situation would not improve for quite some time.

To simply make an observation, as a reader I am slightly incredulous about the complete lack of sympathy on the part of every townsperson Arick encounters.

oh, don't worry, all will be explained in time....and to make you all feel better, good things will happen come chapter 5. But please, if his predicament seems a little too unbelievable, try to imagine him like Job. Job went through a lot of hard times too....

In general, one of the ways (in my opinion) that your writing could be most strengthened is by using more active verbs in some of your descriptions. You may have heard of the "show, don't tell" principle, and this is what I am referring to. It isn't that your descriptive writing is bad--I have already pointed out a few instances of phrases I found very effective--it is simply that the quality of the description is not as strong in some places as in others.

yes, I do know what "Show vs Tell" writing is. In fact I am so terrified of going into too much "tell" that I tend to avoid over-lengthy descriptions....please bear in mind that you are reading the "bare-bones" version, unedited, so there is bound to be a lot of sections that need to be cleared up, lengthened, re-written, etc.

thank you all for your comments. (people are reading!!!! *floats*) I've decided since I write one chapter a week, I will post a new chapter every Friday (seeing as UC has Mondays).

[Maledicte]

my first fight scene. I'm not good...

King of Phoenix Chapter Three
Soon afterward, Arick’s rations ran out.
They hadn’t exactly run out, but Arick was more afraid of dying from eating the fuzzy green clumps on his ever-hardening bread than of starving to death. He crept off the path just a little ways, so as to be walking parallel to it on his search for food.
He soon found a cluster of sprawling bushes, drooping with the weight of large, round, bright purple berries. Some of the berries had fallen, leaving dark little stains of black juice.
Arick’s first thought was of diving in and shoving every single fruit into his mouth. But the lessons he had learned both on the farm and on his travels were not lost on him—though tempting, the berries could be poisonous. He shook the branches of one bush to see if any songbirds which might be feasting within would fly out. He resisted the urge to pop even one berry in his mouth.
Finding no birds, Arick hid behind another bush, this one without fruit. Here he could clearly see the other bushes. He would watch for forest animals; if the ate of the berries, he would know that the fruits were safe, and if they didn’t eat any he would move on.
It was going to take a lot longer than he thought.
He wanted to scratch himself. He wanted to sleep. He wanted to ignore the whole thing and go ahead and eat the berries, poisonous or not. At least then he would find out.
Finally a large squirrel skittered along the ground and cautiously approached the closest bush to Arick. Arick clearly saw its twitching whiskers, the moisture coating its black beady dot-eyes, the rippling of the musculature beneath its fur.
It was a fat, fat squirrel.
Arick’s mouth watered, not at the prospect of eating berries, but at the thought of fresh squirrel meat. Meat, in general. His dried beef had been digested a long time ago, and that was ancient stuff. No, fresh meat, hot and dripping, just lifted from the spit.
The squirrel lifted the first berry to its lips.
With an excited cry, Arick lunged out of his hiding place. His pack, which he had forgotten to take off, jangled and clunked and succeeded in making him fall on his face a few steps short of where he wanted to land. Even if he had not fallen, the squirrel sensed the danger it was in and quickly scurried up a tree, because squirrels scurry quickly no matter how fat they are.
After some overdue whining, griping and wailing in complaint, Arick consoled himself with his last piece of bread without the green fuzz.

[Maledicte]

second half.

Arick desperately wanted his life to change. He prayed to a deity he was not aware of, or perhaps Fate, to bring about some change. Change came, as he had asked, in a way quite unasked for.
The next day found him once again stumping up the thin trail, using every third or fourth breath to grumble unintelligibly at his predicament. At one point he veered off the trail altogether, but this went unnoticed, blinded as he was by his personal cloud of self-pity.
He ignored the subtle facts around him, that no one had crossed his path nor overtaken him since he first started up the road, that no birds neither flew nor sang, and that the subtle stench of rotting flesh invaded the air. Had he been aware of these, what happened next would not have surprised him.
He barely heard the guttural growl before the head that emitted it lunged out of the forest and attacked him.
The thing was the size of a horse, had the said horse been stretched to nearly twice its original length and crawled much closer to the ground. It was sinewy and green, hairless and scaly. Its thin, wormlike tail, easily half again its size, squirmed as if it had a life of its own. Two thin membranes, purplish, clung wetly to its sides like the remnants of a spider’s web. And its head, the size of a mule’s, only flatter, and with much sharper teeth, swerved closer at its intended victim.
Arick.
Arick leapt back as the head jolted forward, snapping its jaws. Unbalanced by his heavy pack he fell backwards, just missing the creature’s loathsome teeth and taking a full hit of festering breath.
The creature let out another growl, this time higher pitched and with more force. Before Arick could stand up again it scrambled out of its fortress of foliage and snaked its neck around him from one side, its tail from the other. It hissed softly through its sharp, raised nostrils.
Arick hopped back clumsily, stumbling over the thing’s tail but managing to stay erect. His pack hampered his movement and he tried to shrug it off, as the beast cracked its tail and swung its head inches from Arick’s face. A soft tongue flickered between its scaly lips and it opened its jaws just a little, its partially-gaping snout the parody of a grin.
Arick felt insulted. He swung his pack at the creature’s face.
The action that ensued was an awkward scuffle, the two scrawny beings being miffed at one another for being so difficult: the beast at being cheated of an easy meal and Arick at having a bad day made worse. They danced around one another in a limping waltz, the creature leading. Arick kept the beast at bay with his pack, which was now torn to worthlessness and which still had one of his shoulders hooked in one strap. Finally the canvas shield broke free and the beast shook it violently and tossed it aside, and then glared at Arick as it prepared to do the same thing to him.
Arick whipped out his sharpened iron bar, which he had only just remembered. He waved the object about in some convoluted pattern, perhaps thinking that its movements might astound the creature and make it leave him alone. When the creature’s constitution did not waver, Arick jabbed at the thing with his weapon, whacking it on the broad side of its snout. The creature gave a sharp yelp and jerked backward. Now it was insulted.
The creature let down all barriers and lunged full force, its mouth open wide. Arick ducked (which, by the way, did nothing to help him at all) and stabbed the makeshift sword down the beast’s throat.
The beast slammed its jaws on the weapon without hesitation. Its slit-like eyes peered up at Arick, and the creature began to slowly swallow up the sword and the hand that held it along with it.
Arick pulled back; neither the sword nor the beast budged. The beast let out a slow, deliberate breath, so hot that the cheap iron began to soften.
It was then that something strange awoke inside Arick. What was this…this thing that had the audacity to eat him? What, did he look like a good meal to anything that happened to walk by and see him? And it was eating his sword—not really a sword, but it had taken him a long time to make it! That was two weeks solid work it was eating there! How dare—
Arick let out a roar, that sounded very unlike Arick, and ripped the sword from the creature’s throat. Before it had time to recover he smashed it in the head with he blunt end of the weapon.
The creature, now truly angry, if such a thing were possible, hiss-growled at him and struck with both teeth and claws, knocking him backward. Arick spun in the dust, escaping the thing’s shredding grasp and clouted it on the head again, breaking into the skin around the nostrils. The thing continued to wrestle with him and finally pressed its body on his chest, and dove in for the very first bite when Arick stabbed the thing in the neck.
The beast jerked, shuddered confusedly at the blow. Arick pulled out the blade and struck again, piercing the fleshy folds beneath its crop. Blood spurted out, hot and smelly, and Arick yanked out the blade and backed away on all fours. He stared at the spectacle.
The beast twitched and writhed, screaming an unearthly bubbling noise as it fought its mortality. Its limbs kicked and its tail slithered, and the two strange membranes snapped wide and flexed like some bird’s wing or a fish’s fin. Its death took a surprisingly short time.
Arick wiped the blood shamefacedly on his trousers. He killed something he realized. This alien creature, which he had no idea existed before then, had died by his hand. He had indeed killed things before, like chickens and pigs, but never one that had tried to eat him first.
Stupid animal, he thought, and it frightened him to think so vehemently at another living—or once-living—thing.
He couldn’t just leave it there. The carcass would lie there, rotting away and stinking up the immediate area and possibly killing things with its stink, unless he did something about it. He remembered grandmother Cellia telling him to “economize,â€

[Kaori]

It seems that the privilege of being the first to reply falls to me this time.

The change of tone in this chapter is a welcome one. I laughed aloud when I read this sentence:

What was this…this thing that had the audacity to eat him?

The concept of two opponents coming to a stalemate through equal incompetence is a good idea and fairly amusing]my first fight scene. I'm not good...[/quote]
I enjoyed it, nevertheless.

My only major criticism is that Arick’s whining and complaining in this chapter seems somewhat out of character. In general, he came across as morose, self-effacing, and more likely to accept hardship humbly instead of grumbling. His behavior in this chapter can partly be explained by his hunger, a state which does tend to put people in unfavorable moods, and the fact that no one is perfect—but even given that, it seems just a bit inconsistent.

In contrast, I thought that Arick’s newfound assertive streak to be an interesting and fairly plausible development. This might be because you placed an emphasis on the fact that this is new and unusual behavior for Arick, like in this sentence:

Arick let out a roar, that sounded very unlike Arick, and ripped the sword from the creature’s throat.

And this one:

Stupid animal, he thought, and it frightened him to think so vehemently at another living—or once-living—thing.

Just as a suggestion, if the type of creature that Arick encounters in this chapter is going to appear again later in the story, it would be helpful to give it a name simply so that readers would have a way of referring to it mentally other than “that strange creature.â€

[Magekind]

Good, good. An above average fight scene. I got a better idea of what was happening than one would get from watching DBZ fight scenes. If you've got that, you're good at action. Overall, cheers. This is only getting better.

[Maledicte]

The concept of two opponents coming to a stalemate through equal incompetence is a good idea and fairly amusing]

I never thought of it that way.

My only major criticism is that Arick’s whining and complaining in this chapter seems somewhat out of character. In general, he came across as morose, self-effacing, and more likely to accept hardship humbly instead of grumbling. His behavior in this chapter can partly be explained by his hunger, a state which does tend to put people in unfavorable moods, and the fact that no one is perfect—but even given that, it seems just a bit inconsistent.

I haven't looked back on these chapters since at least 3 months ago. So I have completely forgotten nearly everything prior to chapter 11...please bear in mind that this is only the first draft, but thank you very muc for pointing that out. (so the all-knowing UC-sama does NOT see everything...hmm)

In contrast, I thought that Arick’s newfound assertive streak to be an interesting and fairly plausible development. This might be because you placed an emphasis on the fact that this is new and unusual behavior for Arick...

*foreshadow foreshadow foreshadow*
you know, I had completely forgotten having written those sentences. They certainly don't look too bad on the second read...

[quote="Kaori"]Just as a suggestion, if the type of creature that Arick encounters in this chapter is going to appear again later in the story, it would be helpful to give it a name simply so that readers would have a way of referring to it mentally other than “that strange creature.â€

[Maledicte]

Sorry for the delay.....

King of Phoenix Chapter Four
Within a day Arick found the village the traveler had told him about. It seemed to be years ago, since he spoke to the man.
Arick scampered in as fast as his bundle of skins would allow him, tripping several times in the process. People! he thought. Food! Warmth! Some way to get rid of this awful skin that was tripping him once again…he stopped short as he passed the first building.
The village was empty. No villagers, no animals, nor any of the sounds either of those species would make. Nor was there any evidence of footprints, dung, or other residue. No carts or tools lay about, and a quiet, mocking wind stirred the leaves at Arick’s feet. Every door he could see was closed, most likely barred because none of them swayed in the breeze. Every window was barricaded as well.
He wandered slowly through the village, calling cautiously for signs of life. As he had expected but not hoped, all the buildings were in the same state of impenetrability as the ones in the front. Still the air was silent.
As continued further the houses began to spread out and become more detached from another. He started at the sound of a loud snap, only to find out that he had only stepped on a dry limb. He looked down and saw that the ground was littered with chestnuts. He stooped down to pick some up, perhaps to throw or to toss to himself or to eat, but the floppy skin got in the way. Tired and irritated and starting to get thirsty, Arick kicked each chestnut within easy reach and watched them roll away into the grass.
It took him a few moments to realize that the last house he had passed had a series of racks and tables sitting in the back of it, tools for stretching skins. He ran back, without tripping this time, and pounded on the door.
“Hello?â€

[Maledicte]

part two

Finally after much strain, the man opened the door. He was short and muscular, with a protruding and perfectly round stomach. His gray hair was thinning and was pulled into a tight ponytail at the base of his scalp. The same gray hair also sprouted from his chin and above his lip. Those same lips were scowling.
“So what do you want?â€

[Magekind]

Absolutely love it, ST2M. After all this, Arick's still got enough pride left, tempered by common sense, to make things work out - for him, anyway. And the Marim/Jambo relationship adds an extra touch of amusement.

[K. Ayato]

Makes me think of Miracle Max and Valerie from The Princess Bride.

[Magekind]

You do know that Max and Valerie were actually named after the author, S. Morgenstern's parents, right? And their relationship was probably pretty much a direct copy.

[K. Ayato]

No, I had no idea.

[Magekind]

Apparently, Goldman studied it pretty well when he abridged Princess Bride. Goldman's is the version you'll find on bookshelves, and from which the movie was eventually made... but I've dragged us all off topic. Sorry, SirThinks2Much. I'll just sit here real quietly and wait for the next installment.

[K. Ayato]

Ahem! S. Morgenstern really is Goldman. He made the name up.