[2Roads 2014] Cleave
1
The story is 92 words over the limit, and hope that it is acceptable. I might add in the notes and an auctorial note later; although I'll leave a definition of a word I coined, oblivificient, it means "causing forget". Sorry for the long delay. I'm separating this into two posts because I can't seem to upload it without Fakku going out for maintenance.
Cloven had they been.
Before a river, he stood and remembered her long, white—occasionally argent, if the capricious clouds permitted the sun to gaze, even faintly, upon her—hair, which would have blended with the fog, a ghostly mead sitting but sometimes drifting across the banks of the tortuous and, now, due to his subfusc thoughts, torturous river, a reminder of the divide that had grown ever wider as he had departed to the sea; even in the fleeting caliginosity of dusk and arriving illumination of dawn, he wistfully clung and clasped and coiled around his only mementos, his tenuous, meretricious memories of her; nevertheless, those memories were his life’s only light.
They had been wedded a day before their separation. Their ceremony of the gems had been wondrous. Their deep purpureal stones had fallen, as legend predicts, from the empyreal empire three days before their ceremony; had no stones fallen for them, then they would have been destined to not be together. As VÄ“no and Imdre of legend had carried the stones up the mountain, they also had carried the gems of Enria up it. Resting in an alcove beneath the mountain’s peak was a shrine in a garden fulsome with resplendent flowers, the colors of which could be found throughout the spectrum of the rainbow, where the aged priestess of Enria, who would have normally, and happily, traveled to their home in order to perform their ceremony, had been meditating when the ardent youths reached her.
Then when the moon had sailed into the heavens, and the fire kindled, the ceremony began; legs crossed and sitting naked before one another, they handed the stones to the priestess, who, chanting all the while in her tremulous, congested voice, had enchanted her hands with a magical hoary aura. Her chant grew quiet as the magic transferred to and consumed the stones until small gems of purple, glistening in the fire’s light, were produced. They held each other’s arms and supinated the other’s right hand. The priestess who then placed in their palms the gems, engulfed in magical purple flames, spun round to the fire as she returned to her chant’s original volume. Beside them the fire gradually turned purple and crackled intermittently, while the gems’ color resonated with that of the flames. Everything became soundless as the two stared into each other’s eyes, as their right hands were enveloped, unbeknownst to them, in the magic. The gems pulling curiously for the other, the lovers synchronously lifted them up and outstretched their arms, pausing at one another’s chests before finally inserting the gems into each other. On that night, they had forgotten the world and had cleaved to each other.
Having not moved from the river shore, whose morning fog was dispersing, he wondered if that shrine was still there or if it had burned to ash before he plunged his worn, warped walking-stick into the muddy sand—puncturing its skin—to propel himself forward slightly and give the needed bounce in his step. The sunrise scathed his face; smiling wistfully, he bowed his head and sunk back into himself.
Oh, how in love they had been.
But war had cared not and betwixt them it had come, its invidious drum loudly beating, and the wizened ire in men waking like a wyrm, a wrathful wreaker of woe, they descended to the rocky coast, where the sullen sea splashed and plashed and maliciously laughed, as war’s malevolent music marched them on; with those men, he stepped onto the wooden steed of the sea, a creature loath to enter the dominion of Jervoya, the god of the oceans. To be wreathed in stormy waters far fromwards his love was his life’s greatest tragedy.
After the sea was forgotten and land remembered, he fought and slew and became enslaved. Years of servitude in a foreign land wrought many of them into the shape of servile recreants, withered their estival happiness until it was segregated into the one inaccessible place to the conscious, dreams, the frame within which those idyllic moments were retained, and infused in them a hibernal despondence of which many had prayed to be relieved, all of which was done to prepare some of them for a voyage across the sea in which they would labor aboard ships sailing back to their home.
On freezing days, he and others, the shackled witnesses to their home’s desolation as imprisoned scribes—historians—scrawling sorrowfully, painfully, in their hearts the tale—the record—they would never forget, manned the slippery ship under the strident direction and discretion of the whip, whose commands were sharpened by the wintry water’s venom.
The shore was looming, clouds were glooming, and doom was blooming. With the ships moored and soldiers gone, he surreptitiously debarked. At first tumbling down, because of its slipperiness, the frozen coast, from which wet rocks interspersedly protruded, then running anxiously up its slope and through the forest, and finally coming to the grey, somber valley where his people resided, he felt, when descrying his fugacious city, as a revenant does when he realizes that he is once again alive. After he descended the slope, he entered the city, and while being stared at by his people, some being amazed that he had returned whereas others shocked and frightened when this stranger had trespassed, he hurried to his domicile, but once he passed through the threshold, he found nothing but a musty, fetid smell to greet him.
Inside the miasmal den which, ere seeing its desolateness, he had called home but now seemed more akin in odor to a tomb, he pondered her absence momentarily, after which he quickly searched for a tool, either a genuine one or a vulgar substitute, to break his chains, to finally, truly unburden himself from a labor that would have appeared sempiternal, had he not escaped; once found, he sundered the links from the cuffs. When he, ready to depart, headed back to the doorway whose already dull light had been obstructed further by an elderly woman whom at first he did not recognize until he approached her, the priestess of Enria, she prevented him from leaving so that she could tell him that she sent his love far southwards because she was clairvoyantly aware of the coming danger. He thanked her; then, as the invaders arrived to raze the city, he fled.
Spring, with its colorful and mellifluous delights, had come and he wandered still. His heart was tugging him fromwards where the priestess had sent his love. He could do nothing but follow its exhortation. Doing so he came out into a vast plain vigiled by distant mountains. Lowering his eyes momentarily, he continued on.
As she, ignoring the tugging in her heart, crept through bushes which, bowing from having soaked up the rain, responsively rustled, because she had heard, periodically, vulpine cries, which the agnogenic sound of lightless fire rumbling and grumbling accompanied, she listened for the hunters who had snared the fox but were either elsewhere or overly cautious when claiming their prey. She arced towards a tree, which, once reached, she touched before peeking around it to descry the unexpectedly large animal, which bit at the snare’s rope then momentarily cried before resuming. She approached it slowly. When it heard her graze through the foliage, it instantaneously lifted its head up to immediately behold her and thus began to bear its teeth, draw its ears back, and gekker ferociously; nonetheless, she fearlessly ambled towards it, outstretching her arm with an eager affection. Unto her, the sound’s origin had been revealed: the fox’s coat, which flowed seamlessly, continuously towards its ennead of tails, while occasionally thinning at the verges before shedding off the fiery mass and curving upwards into air’s arms where they dissipated, produced the fire’s suspiring. Gently, friendlily, she raised her hand, which sought the fox’s wrinkled snout.
The fox charily sniffed her outstretched hand, which emanated no hostility, no baleful intention to thieve a meal from others, nor to terminate its life for sustenance, only to liberate it; now cognizant of this, it relaxed—hiding its teeth, silencing its growl, which faded into a guttural susurrus before finally dissolving, lifting its head upright, which revealed its niveous chest, all of which created an air of majesty that ultimately countervailed a barely perceptible tinge of ignominy. It then rubbed its head affectionately underneath her palm, raking its ears backwards. She proceeded to unbind its paw. Upon being freed, it sprang backwards inhostilely, whereupon it began a dilative circumambulation around her, who kept sight of it, so as to inspect her for any secret smirches, the nonexistence of which astonished the fox.
The fox observed that, spiritually, a rich fragrance in unconnected, parallel pieces, a smell, which it, having been enwreathed in its fear-induced ire, had not noticed, which it yearned to capture more everlastingly, swirled up and around her fluently. After whispering a few reverent, encomious words, which, although inaudible to humans who, had they been there, would have not been cognizant of, the fox heard clearly, she, whom her heart tugged more fiercely, stepped backwards, then, using her heel as a fulcrum, turned around so that she could jog back through the foliage, but it hopped over the snare to pursue her, to protect her on her journey, as a grateful, graceful guardian.
As she ran, she remembered their matutinal embrace, his arms around her, when waking atop the mountain, hearing birds sing a blithe aubade, a commemoration to the new day, the purple fire nothing but embers shrunken and murmurously crackling in order that its death would be heeded. She remembered when they had exchanged their gems, she, her chest, had felt strange. But in several days’ time, to watch him—having kissed her farewell—marching, stoic and dutiful, with his back facing her, to the heaving seashore which was to cleave him from her, she supplely maneuvered through the sinuous, undulant gaps between people whose legs needed constant readjustment because of how long they had been standing. She gravitated to those two memories because of their oblivificient effect upon many others, and because of the memories’ recency and significance, for one was the acme of their love and the other the nadir.
Years thereafter, the priestess, knowing of the looming danger, sent her south to the rebuilt village that Veno and Imdre had left, and told her that one day she would feel a tugging deep within. Hopeful, she remained there among her kinsfolk, but one day, she, feeling it, followed it into the woods.
Coming to a walk, she could hear the purling of water, and with trees receding behind her, she stopped to behold, on her right and from atop the slope, a wide river—where numerous deer drank and obtained a respite—slithering from one mountain among many and parallel to trees that ran up the slope and joined ones that were periphery to the ones from which she emerged. She descended and the deer fled.
In her hands she cupped and drank the water. Out from the woods behind her a lost, hungry, thirsty wolf came, but it forgot its thirst when it saw her drinking. It snarled as it began to dash towards her. She turned quickly as the beast lunged, but the feal fox, darting from the forest, tackled it, which rolled numerously before recovering its balance. Growling and shaking its head, it looked at the fox, whose legs, forming a trapezoidal shape, were firmly planted and outspread. Now that it had seen this isangelous animal, it fearfully, submissively lowered its tail, for to fight it was to attack a servant of the deities and to directly arouse the ire of Enria; then, the wolf fled in the hope that it would not be pursued.
The fox then travelled for days with her to and alongside the mountains until they found a path which led to a valley flowerful with amoranths nigh the origin of the river. When they arrived to this beauteous land, which the sunset tinged in reddish-orange, she could feel the tugging within her chest more intensely; she obeyed it, following its command to a combe between hills, and upon the slope opposite hers, a man supporting himself with a stick stood staring into the welkin imbued in pinkish-orange before finally glancing in her direction. They tacitly knew the other. The fox observing, the two ran to and embraced each other.
Forever since, to one another they cleaved.
[size=14]Cleave[/h]
Cloven had they been.
Before a river, he stood and remembered her long, white—occasionally argent, if the capricious clouds permitted the sun to gaze, even faintly, upon her—hair, which would have blended with the fog, a ghostly mead sitting but sometimes drifting across the banks of the tortuous and, now, due to his subfusc thoughts, torturous river, a reminder of the divide that had grown ever wider as he had departed to the sea; even in the fleeting caliginosity of dusk and arriving illumination of dawn, he wistfully clung and clasped and coiled around his only mementos, his tenuous, meretricious memories of her; nevertheless, those memories were his life’s only light.
They had been wedded a day before their separation. Their ceremony of the gems had been wondrous. Their deep purpureal stones had fallen, as legend predicts, from the empyreal empire three days before their ceremony; had no stones fallen for them, then they would have been destined to not be together. As VÄ“no and Imdre of legend had carried the stones up the mountain, they also had carried the gems of Enria up it. Resting in an alcove beneath the mountain’s peak was a shrine in a garden fulsome with resplendent flowers, the colors of which could be found throughout the spectrum of the rainbow, where the aged priestess of Enria, who would have normally, and happily, traveled to their home in order to perform their ceremony, had been meditating when the ardent youths reached her.
Then when the moon had sailed into the heavens, and the fire kindled, the ceremony began; legs crossed and sitting naked before one another, they handed the stones to the priestess, who, chanting all the while in her tremulous, congested voice, had enchanted her hands with a magical hoary aura. Her chant grew quiet as the magic transferred to and consumed the stones until small gems of purple, glistening in the fire’s light, were produced. They held each other’s arms and supinated the other’s right hand. The priestess who then placed in their palms the gems, engulfed in magical purple flames, spun round to the fire as she returned to her chant’s original volume. Beside them the fire gradually turned purple and crackled intermittently, while the gems’ color resonated with that of the flames. Everything became soundless as the two stared into each other’s eyes, as their right hands were enveloped, unbeknownst to them, in the magic. The gems pulling curiously for the other, the lovers synchronously lifted them up and outstretched their arms, pausing at one another’s chests before finally inserting the gems into each other. On that night, they had forgotten the world and had cleaved to each other.
Having not moved from the river shore, whose morning fog was dispersing, he wondered if that shrine was still there or if it had burned to ash before he plunged his worn, warped walking-stick into the muddy sand—puncturing its skin—to propel himself forward slightly and give the needed bounce in his step. The sunrise scathed his face; smiling wistfully, he bowed his head and sunk back into himself.
Oh, how in love they had been.
But war had cared not and betwixt them it had come, its invidious drum loudly beating, and the wizened ire in men waking like a wyrm, a wrathful wreaker of woe, they descended to the rocky coast, where the sullen sea splashed and plashed and maliciously laughed, as war’s malevolent music marched them on; with those men, he stepped onto the wooden steed of the sea, a creature loath to enter the dominion of Jervoya, the god of the oceans. To be wreathed in stormy waters far fromwards his love was his life’s greatest tragedy.
After the sea was forgotten and land remembered, he fought and slew and became enslaved. Years of servitude in a foreign land wrought many of them into the shape of servile recreants, withered their estival happiness until it was segregated into the one inaccessible place to the conscious, dreams, the frame within which those idyllic moments were retained, and infused in them a hibernal despondence of which many had prayed to be relieved, all of which was done to prepare some of them for a voyage across the sea in which they would labor aboard ships sailing back to their home.
On freezing days, he and others, the shackled witnesses to their home’s desolation as imprisoned scribes—historians—scrawling sorrowfully, painfully, in their hearts the tale—the record—they would never forget, manned the slippery ship under the strident direction and discretion of the whip, whose commands were sharpened by the wintry water’s venom.
The shore was looming, clouds were glooming, and doom was blooming. With the ships moored and soldiers gone, he surreptitiously debarked. At first tumbling down, because of its slipperiness, the frozen coast, from which wet rocks interspersedly protruded, then running anxiously up its slope and through the forest, and finally coming to the grey, somber valley where his people resided, he felt, when descrying his fugacious city, as a revenant does when he realizes that he is once again alive. After he descended the slope, he entered the city, and while being stared at by his people, some being amazed that he had returned whereas others shocked and frightened when this stranger had trespassed, he hurried to his domicile, but once he passed through the threshold, he found nothing but a musty, fetid smell to greet him.
Inside the miasmal den which, ere seeing its desolateness, he had called home but now seemed more akin in odor to a tomb, he pondered her absence momentarily, after which he quickly searched for a tool, either a genuine one or a vulgar substitute, to break his chains, to finally, truly unburden himself from a labor that would have appeared sempiternal, had he not escaped; once found, he sundered the links from the cuffs. When he, ready to depart, headed back to the doorway whose already dull light had been obstructed further by an elderly woman whom at first he did not recognize until he approached her, the priestess of Enria, she prevented him from leaving so that she could tell him that she sent his love far southwards because she was clairvoyantly aware of the coming danger. He thanked her; then, as the invaders arrived to raze the city, he fled.
Spring, with its colorful and mellifluous delights, had come and he wandered still. His heart was tugging him fromwards where the priestess had sent his love. He could do nothing but follow its exhortation. Doing so he came out into a vast plain vigiled by distant mountains. Lowering his eyes momentarily, he continued on.
* * *
As she, ignoring the tugging in her heart, crept through bushes which, bowing from having soaked up the rain, responsively rustled, because she had heard, periodically, vulpine cries, which the agnogenic sound of lightless fire rumbling and grumbling accompanied, she listened for the hunters who had snared the fox but were either elsewhere or overly cautious when claiming their prey. She arced towards a tree, which, once reached, she touched before peeking around it to descry the unexpectedly large animal, which bit at the snare’s rope then momentarily cried before resuming. She approached it slowly. When it heard her graze through the foliage, it instantaneously lifted its head up to immediately behold her and thus began to bear its teeth, draw its ears back, and gekker ferociously; nonetheless, she fearlessly ambled towards it, outstretching her arm with an eager affection. Unto her, the sound’s origin had been revealed: the fox’s coat, which flowed seamlessly, continuously towards its ennead of tails, while occasionally thinning at the verges before shedding off the fiery mass and curving upwards into air’s arms where they dissipated, produced the fire’s suspiring. Gently, friendlily, she raised her hand, which sought the fox’s wrinkled snout.
The fox charily sniffed her outstretched hand, which emanated no hostility, no baleful intention to thieve a meal from others, nor to terminate its life for sustenance, only to liberate it; now cognizant of this, it relaxed—hiding its teeth, silencing its growl, which faded into a guttural susurrus before finally dissolving, lifting its head upright, which revealed its niveous chest, all of which created an air of majesty that ultimately countervailed a barely perceptible tinge of ignominy. It then rubbed its head affectionately underneath her palm, raking its ears backwards. She proceeded to unbind its paw. Upon being freed, it sprang backwards inhostilely, whereupon it began a dilative circumambulation around her, who kept sight of it, so as to inspect her for any secret smirches, the nonexistence of which astonished the fox.
The fox observed that, spiritually, a rich fragrance in unconnected, parallel pieces, a smell, which it, having been enwreathed in its fear-induced ire, had not noticed, which it yearned to capture more everlastingly, swirled up and around her fluently. After whispering a few reverent, encomious words, which, although inaudible to humans who, had they been there, would have not been cognizant of, the fox heard clearly, she, whom her heart tugged more fiercely, stepped backwards, then, using her heel as a fulcrum, turned around so that she could jog back through the foliage, but it hopped over the snare to pursue her, to protect her on her journey, as a grateful, graceful guardian.
As she ran, she remembered their matutinal embrace, his arms around her, when waking atop the mountain, hearing birds sing a blithe aubade, a commemoration to the new day, the purple fire nothing but embers shrunken and murmurously crackling in order that its death would be heeded. She remembered when they had exchanged their gems, she, her chest, had felt strange. But in several days’ time, to watch him—having kissed her farewell—marching, stoic and dutiful, with his back facing her, to the heaving seashore which was to cleave him from her, she supplely maneuvered through the sinuous, undulant gaps between people whose legs needed constant readjustment because of how long they had been standing. She gravitated to those two memories because of their oblivificient effect upon many others, and because of the memories’ recency and significance, for one was the acme of their love and the other the nadir.
Years thereafter, the priestess, knowing of the looming danger, sent her south to the rebuilt village that Veno and Imdre had left, and told her that one day she would feel a tugging deep within. Hopeful, she remained there among her kinsfolk, but one day, she, feeling it, followed it into the woods.
Coming to a walk, she could hear the purling of water, and with trees receding behind her, she stopped to behold, on her right and from atop the slope, a wide river—where numerous deer drank and obtained a respite—slithering from one mountain among many and parallel to trees that ran up the slope and joined ones that were periphery to the ones from which she emerged. She descended and the deer fled.
In her hands she cupped and drank the water. Out from the woods behind her a lost, hungry, thirsty wolf came, but it forgot its thirst when it saw her drinking. It snarled as it began to dash towards her. She turned quickly as the beast lunged, but the feal fox, darting from the forest, tackled it, which rolled numerously before recovering its balance. Growling and shaking its head, it looked at the fox, whose legs, forming a trapezoidal shape, were firmly planted and outspread. Now that it had seen this isangelous animal, it fearfully, submissively lowered its tail, for to fight it was to attack a servant of the deities and to directly arouse the ire of Enria; then, the wolf fled in the hope that it would not be pursued.
The fox then travelled for days with her to and alongside the mountains until they found a path which led to a valley flowerful with amoranths nigh the origin of the river. When they arrived to this beauteous land, which the sunset tinged in reddish-orange, she could feel the tugging within her chest more intensely; she obeyed it, following its command to a combe between hills, and upon the slope opposite hers, a man supporting himself with a stick stood staring into the welkin imbued in pinkish-orange before finally glancing in her direction. They tacitly knew the other. The fox observing, the two ran to and embraced each other.
Forever since, to one another they cleaved.
0
Xenon
FAKKU Writer
The Logophile wrote...
The story is 92 words over the limit, and hope that it is acceptable. I might add in the notes and an auctorial note later; although I'll leave a definition of a word I coined, oblivificient, it means "causing forget". Sorry for the long delay. I'm separating this into two posts because I can't seem to upload it without Fakku going out for maintenance.This is interesting. My submission was also exactly 92 words over the top. I asked Coffee if is was fine and he said to trim it down, but it was no big deal if I couldn't find a way to. I managed to chop it down myself, but it's up to you. Personally I see many opportunities to cut down unneeded content, but that is obviously up to your own discretion.
Also, in regards to oblivificient: oblivescence wouldn't suffice, or perhaps this is your way of adding another form to it?
I did my best to make notes as I read through it. You can find them in red below with your story copied to make navigation easier.
Spoiler:
Bravo, what a wondrous story. I could truly imagine each scene painted in a delightful array of sights and smells. It's hard to believe this is a story of its own and not part of some larger epic. Even if so, it does a great job of inducing within me the desire to know more.
I'm a sucker for happy endings, and although I suspected it might turn gloomy during some parts, I am happy to see it take a positive path and come full circle.
Marvelously done, lover of words. This was a joy to read and experience.
1
Xenon wrote...
(Not only do I find the use of "Then" inappropriate with not having a direct previous sentence within the paragraph, but it also is unnecessary and drives your word count up without adding much. The paragraph beginning without it is satisfactory enough.)(I feel the same way with "But" beginning a paragraph like I did with "Then." I feel like its use here is more artistic in following the previous statement's emotion, but can't escape the thought that it is also unnecessary.)
(I tend to dislike the use of "And" to begin a sentence, but usually in those less competent in their writing ability so as to not form bad habits, of which you certainly don't belong in my eyes. It is artistic, although I still don't see the need for its use here. That being my personal opinion.)
Then refers back to a previous action in the prior paragraph, but I will review it in a few days. But directly contrasts with the previous sentence. Well, for and, I separated the two sentences to provide a breather for some of the long sentences before.
(Is the use of "plashed" not redundant in this instance? Perhaps artistic and cute with its similarity to the previous word, but are they not just forms of one another?)
Yeah, plashed is redundant; its sole purpose is to, a, create a three-part rhythm and to, b, add to the assonance within that sentence.
(The absolute first tragedy? He must have had a radiant and supremely fortunate childhood. This isn't a complaint, so much as an afterthought from reading this sentence.)
You know that's a damn good point. I'll change it to "greatest".
(Eh. The use of the noun "vigil" as if it were a verb you could affix the suffix of "-ed" to is a bit of a stretch. It may be artistic, but it's a bit odd, especially when using it with the non-sentience of the mountainside. Although, that's not too far-fetched a use of artistic integrity for me to appreciate.)
Yeah, I asked myself, "is there a verb form of vigil?" To which I responded, "well, no, so let's make it."
inhostilely (Ehh, the use of this form isn't exactly orthodox. It's difficult for me to assess why you're doing it on purpose.)
I need adverb that was antonymous to hostile, and most of the other words with actually adverbial antonyms had some connotations that I disliked. So I thought up inhostile, then added the adverb suffix.
(Ah, I was wondering if we were going to see the modified Naruto sentence come into play. I can see you maintained its initial wonder.)
Yeah, I trimmed it a up a little for d(^_^)(^_^)d; I just have to wait to hear his thoughts on the revised version.
(Is this really a proper form of the word "encomium" or did you modify it yourself? It's a noun, but you're modifying it like an adjective.)
Coined it. Thought of encomium, then slapped on the adjectival -ous suffix.
(I see what you meant earlier. Still, wouldn't "oblivescence" work in place of "oblivificient effect?" I do not dispute the idea of coining new forms and terms, but merely suggest this as it is more legitimate.)
Oblivescence is the state of being forgotten and -escent suffix "forming adjectives denoting a developing state or action", so oblivescent would most likely mean "becoming forgotten", but I needed something that causes forget.
(amaranth, I think you mean)
Nah, I mean amoranths: amor (Latin for love) + amaranth. I created the portmanteau early on.
Bravo, what a wondrous story. I could truly imagine each scene painted in a delightful array of sights and smells. It's hard to believe this is a story of its own and not part of some larger epic.
Yeah, it's not part of anything else, but I had considered of doing it momentarily.
although I suspected it might turn gloomy during some parts
I ain't edgy.
Marvelously done, lover of words. This was a joy to read and experience.
Thanks. I'm glad you liked it.
0
Xenon
FAKKU Writer
The Logophile wrote...
Yeah, I asked myself, "is there a verb form of vigil?" To which I responded, "well, no, so let's make it."Coined it. Thought of encomium, then slapped on the adjectival -ous suffix.
Nah, I mean amoranths: amor (Latin for love) + amaranth. I created the portmanteau early on.
I appreciate the gall within your innovation, though I think the plural of amaranthus is still amaranth. Wouldn't it make sense to follow suit and say amoranth?
Also, I think it's worth calling attention to since it's easy to miss with the bright red font in a blind spot from my comment, but if you'll look slightly before that comment about the amoranths is the insertion of "a." I'm not sure if you feel the same way I do, but I hate letting small typos like that slip so I did my best to locate what I could to help you. Fortunately, that seemed to be the only one I noticed, but d has a talent for finding some even I miss. I look forward to hearing his commentary on this as well.
1
I feel the same about the length of your sentences as I did in the last story you posted. There was one paragraph where I got the gist of what was going on plot-wise, but it was difficult to understand the details.
This paragraph . . .
Sounds pretty and all, but what the hell is going on?
The soldiers left their slaves unguarded, and he was able to make his way back to his village without hassle? I find that hard to swallow.
Ah, you shouldn't have. I find the current version much better.
I don't think so. It starts and ends at the river, and the main issue is resolved.
The fox observed that, spiritually, a rich fragrance in unconnected, parallel pieces, a smell, which it, having been enwreathed in its fear-induced ire, had not noticed, which it yearned to capture more everlastingly, swirled up and around her fluently. After whispering a few reverent, encomious words, which, although inaudible to humans who, had they been there, would have not been cognizant of, the fox heard clearly, she, whom her heart tugged more fiercely, stepped backwards, then, using her heel as a fulcrum, turned around so that she could jog back through the foliage, but it hopped over the snare to pursue her, to protect her on her journey, as a grateful, graceful guardian.
This paragraph . . .
Their deep purpureal stones had fallen, as legend predicts, from the empyreal empire three days before their ceremony
Sounds pretty and all, but what the hell is going on?
With the ships moored and soldiers gone, he surreptitiously debarked.
The soldiers left their slaves unguarded, and he was able to make his way back to his village without hassle? I find that hard to swallow.
Yeah, I trimmed it a up a little for d(^_^)(^_^)d; I just have to wait to hear his thoughts on the revised version.
Ah, you shouldn't have. I find the current version much better.
Xenon wrote...
It's hard to believe this is a story of its own and not part of some larger epic.I don't think so. It starts and ends at the river, and the main issue is resolved.
0
Xenon
FAKKU Writer
d(^_^)(^_^)d wrote...
Their deep purpureal stones had fallen, as legend predicts, from the empyreal empire three days before their ceremony
Sounds pretty and all, but what the hell is going on?
I interpreted it that purple gems fell from the sky (empyreal empire likely implying heaven) before their "wedding" signifying the gods' acceptance of their union. It's a bit supernatural, but not hard to understand. Obviously stuff like that doesn't happen in our world, but this is an entirely different one with a background of fantasy.
That is my interpretation, but perhaps The Logophile can provide more if he wants.
d(^_^)(^_^)d wrote...
With the ships moored and soldiers gone, he surreptitiously debarked.
The soldiers left their slaves unguarded, and he was able to make his way back to his village without hassle? I find that hard to swallow.
I actually noticed this plot hole, and it did bother me slightly, though I didn't find it an impossibility.
d(^_^)(^_^)d wrote...
Xenon wrote...
It's hard to believe this is a story of its own and not part of some larger epic.I don't think so. It starts and ends at the river, and the main issue is resolved.
I didn't mean to imply that it wasn't complete on its own, but that there was a sufficient amount of lore and back-story to allow for more content, and that the amount presented is enough to warrant the desire to read more. Similar to your own story, I would say.
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Xenon wrote...
I actually noticed this plot hole, and it did bother me slightly, though I didn't find it an impossibility.It might not be impossible. I've heard some stories of escapes that probably shouldn't have worked, but that's beside the point. Just because something can happen doesn't mean that it should happen.
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Xenon wrote...
I interpreted it that purple gems fell from the sky (empyreal empire likely implying heaven) before their "wedding" signifying the gods' acceptance of their union. It's a bit supernatural, but not hard to understand. Obviously stuff like that doesn't happen in our world, but this is an entirely different one with a background of fantasy.That is my interpretation, but perhaps The Logophile can provide more if he wants.
No, you've got it.
d(^_^)(^_^)d wrote...
The soldiers left their slaves unguarded, and he was able to make his way back to his village without hassle? I find that hard to swallow.First, I'll say this: the soldiers leaving the slaves unguarded should be changed. The original idea was a little different: I was going to have him be sold at a slave auction far to the northwest of his home. Second, you have to remember that this was someone who had lived their prior and thus would have knowledge of shortcuts that the foreign soldiers don't.
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First, I'll say this: the soldiers leaving the slaves unguarded should be changed. The original idea was a little different: I was going to have him be sold at a slave auction far to the northwest of his home. Second, you have to remember that this was someone who had lived their prior and thus would have knowledge of shortcuts that the foreign soldiers don't.
I still think his escape went far too smoothly.
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d(^_^)(^_^)d wrote...
First, I'll say this: the soldiers leaving the slaves unguarded should be changed. The original idea was a little different: I was going to have him be sold at a slave auction far to the northwest of his home. Second, you have to remember that this was someone who had lived their prior and thus would have knowledge of shortcuts that the foreign soldiers don't.
I still think his escape went far too smoothly.
I don't disagree. I only meant to outline my thought process.
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Considering the contest is over, I suppose I should provide some notes:
1) [Referring to VÄ“no and Imdre] As their village far in the south from where the story begins was being attacked, two lovers prayed to Enria for refuge. Hearing the orison, Enria sent a nine-tailed fox to guide them, and other absconders, with “two stars that fell from her palace deep within the sky” to the mountain where VÄ“no and Imdre exchanged the “stars” and consummated their love atop it, thus starting the tradition of the ceremony. Then they with the other survivors built a new home at the base of the mountain.
2) Goddess of love [first mention of Enria], I couldn’t find a place to put it without upsetting the readability of the sentence.
3) [Note refers to the use of wreaker] Originally, I wanted to use wroughter, which I would like to think would be a more fiendish alternative to worker, but decided not to and decided on wreaker.
4) I’m using agnogenic to mean, “having an unknown cause/origin” and not related to its medical definition.
5) I created oblivificient because I wanted a word that expressed “causing to forget”. It’s a Latin based word composed of oblivisci †˜forget’ +facient †˜doing, making’. For aesthetic reasons, I chose to substitute i for a. An alternative to oblivificient could be oblivific.
6) A slight portmanteau of amor (Latin love) and amaranth (a flower that never fades), thus: undying/unfading love.
1) [Referring to VÄ“no and Imdre] As their village far in the south from where the story begins was being attacked, two lovers prayed to Enria for refuge. Hearing the orison, Enria sent a nine-tailed fox to guide them, and other absconders, with “two stars that fell from her palace deep within the sky” to the mountain where VÄ“no and Imdre exchanged the “stars” and consummated their love atop it, thus starting the tradition of the ceremony. Then they with the other survivors built a new home at the base of the mountain.
2) Goddess of love [first mention of Enria], I couldn’t find a place to put it without upsetting the readability of the sentence.
3) [Note refers to the use of wreaker] Originally, I wanted to use wroughter, which I would like to think would be a more fiendish alternative to worker, but decided not to and decided on wreaker.
4) I’m using agnogenic to mean, “having an unknown cause/origin” and not related to its medical definition.
5) I created oblivificient because I wanted a word that expressed “causing to forget”. It’s a Latin based word composed of oblivisci †˜forget’ +facient †˜doing, making’. For aesthetic reasons, I chose to substitute i for a. An alternative to oblivificient could be oblivific.
6) A slight portmanteau of amor (Latin love) and amaranth (a flower that never fades), thus: undying/unfading love.