So yeah, I've been writing, and as long as everyones coming here for Loki's topic I figured I'd post the small bit I have.
Please be as critical as possible: This story's really important to me, and a quadruple edit would make me feel good about it.
Carnage Bladers
Chapter One: Depraved Routine
Yigdrill was a rather poor village, and the heat wave had affected them just like it affected every other little village in Ganeen that had bothered to disrupt the large plains. Food was a scarce resource, but Yigdrill had not yet sunk into famine. Everyone’s belts were drawn a little tighter, everyone’s meals a little smaller, but rotten food was still considered garbage and not dinner. The trash heaps were constantly raided by the local dogs whose standards were much lower then that of their best friends. Today, however, the dogs were confronted with a conundrum: for it was not one of their own rummaging in the trash.
A head emerged from the mess, and the dog’s primitive brain quickly assessed the situation. Blond hair in an unkempt spike that flopped to the left, sunken cheeks, scarred face. Human young. Little threat. Possible meal. A guttural growl came forth in an odd unison amongst the dogs.
The heads body leapt from the trash, clad with nothing but a torn, bloodstained gray shirt and tattered fragments of what once were pants but now resembled a short dress. Two blistered hands grasped wooden sticks, carved into a crude likeness of swords. A name belonged to the child- Hioku- but the dogs only saw the tantalizing lean muscle. The pack leapt without hesitation.
The dog closest to Hioku, a flea-bitten mangy creature, found its brains uncomfortably revealed to the open air by a sudden smash of a wooden sword. His fellow lived, suffering nothing more then an unexpected trip backwards. By then, the dogs changed their interpretation of the threat presented by this slim child and ran speedily away, stopping only to grab the delectable corpse of the recently killed member of their pack. They did not kill those similar to them, but if the meat was already there, they certainly knew nothing of morals that interfered with the food.
Hioku allowed himself a slight grin before jumping back into the trash. Plunging in to the rank refuse, he sifted the garbage with practiced ease. Dung, meat full of maggots, and other things that Hioku didn't take time to focus on. His eyes quickly fell upon the prize pick of this less then distinguished litter: a sack, stained with something vile but still tightly shut. Hioku grabbed the sack and pulled it out of the bin. After wiping the waste off, he peeked inside the pack.
It was fruit, and not very old, either. Anything near the edges had to be removed, of course, and there were some beyond saving. But, there were many edible pieces in there, far more then one would have expected to find in a pile of trash. He poured the center of the bags contents into the ragged remains of his shirt and threw the foul smelling sack back into the trash.
Darting behind the houses, Hioku held his two weapons and his food huddled against his chest. His bare feet made little sound on the dry, caked dirt, and thus he made it to the plaza without incident.
His destination was no more glamorous then the rest of Yigdrill, a dozen or so small shops selling their wares. After peeking into the right-most shop and finding it empty, Hioku walked into his sanctuary: Bruno’s Bakery.
Bruno, sitting on the sole chair in the small store, smiled and said “Hioku! Did you finally start farming?”
Hioku smiled as well and said, “No, Bruno, these are from the trash, like always. Would you like some?”
“As long as it doesn’t taste like bread.” Being a baker, Bruno has access to much more food then most people, and it showed. While he wasn’t fat – no one in these small villages could be fat in a bad season- his stomach still bulged through his stained white apron. “I’m sick of the stuff.”
“Everyone’s sick of the stuff, Bruno, but you’re one of the only food salesmen in town, so they keep eating it.”
“Well, I’m glad for the change,” Bruno said, gesturing towards the rather forlorn pile of fruit. “I have some bread beyond selling, but good enough for us. The crunch will give it flavor.”
The meal passed without conversation as Bruno and Hioku busily stuffed their faces. Of course, even when the meal was done, there was little to talk about: The chief topic of idle chatter, the weather, was long standing as hot and dry. However, as if nature had foreseen the awkward silence that would follow the meal, it sent a squall of dark clouds over the area.
“Thanks for that, Hioku,” Bruno said when all of the food had been consumed. “That fruit helped me stand the taste of my cooking.” He glanced outside. “There’s a storm coming. Hopefully this will be the one that ends this cursed dry cycle.” His last words were accompanied by a peal of thunder off in the distance. “This one seems violent. Hioku, where is it you live again?”
Hioku sighed. They had been over this before, and he was sure Bruno knew the answer. “It’s a tunnel I dug in the ground.”
“You’ll drown to death in a tunnel.”
“I made a rain catch.”
“Hioku, it’s no trouble for you to stay here, so why won’t you?” Bruno words were insistent, but not angry.
“Bruno, I doubt a ragged orphan will give your store a good reputation.” While it was a true enough statement, Hioku had another reason for avoiding living in the bakery: if Bruno had constant watch over him, he’d feel like Hioku’s father, a caretaker of sorts. And with conditions the way they were, Hioku refused to place that kind of burden on Bruno.
“You can sleep in the kitchen, and if someone sees you there, they’re robbing me and I’d like the security.” Another thunderous roar sounded, louder then the first, followed by the light patter of rain. Hioku knew full well that his tunnel would be occupied by creatures looking to avoid the rain and noise. “Fine, Bruno, I’ll stay for just this night.”
“Excellent!” Bruno said. “Now grab that bucket and put it outside.”
As the two brought the buckets out, Hioku commented, “What about the wells? Aren’t those still open to everyone?”
“They are, but I hate lines, and this is easier.” Bruno replied.
Bruno quickly retired on the stone floor with nothing more then the comfort of a slim pillow (he had offered it to Hioku, who had outright refused). Hioku had to admit that the kitchen was far better then his tunnel. There were only a few bugs, and the stones by the oven still had a bit of warmth. Still keeping a loose grip on his battered wooden swords, Hioku fell asleep to the screaming lullaby of the storm.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
As he had fallen asleep to a storm, it was only fitting that Hioku’s awakening was heralded by silence. As always, he awoke with no sign of movement given by his body, and assessed the situation. No odd smells, no noise, no new sensations on his skin, and only then did he peek behind still seemingly closed eyelids to help solidify his guess that nothing was around.
Please be as critical as possible: This story's really important to me, and a quadruple edit would make me feel good about it.
Carnage Bladers
Chapter One: Depraved Routine
Yigdrill was a rather poor village, and the heat wave had affected them just like it affected every other little village in Ganeen that had bothered to disrupt the large plains. Food was a scarce resource, but Yigdrill had not yet sunk into famine. Everyone’s belts were drawn a little tighter, everyone’s meals a little smaller, but rotten food was still considered garbage and not dinner. The trash heaps were constantly raided by the local dogs whose standards were much lower then that of their best friends. Today, however, the dogs were confronted with a conundrum: for it was not one of their own rummaging in the trash.
A head emerged from the mess, and the dog’s primitive brain quickly assessed the situation. Blond hair in an unkempt spike that flopped to the left, sunken cheeks, scarred face. Human young. Little threat. Possible meal. A guttural growl came forth in an odd unison amongst the dogs.
The heads body leapt from the trash, clad with nothing but a torn, bloodstained gray shirt and tattered fragments of what once were pants but now resembled a short dress. Two blistered hands grasped wooden sticks, carved into a crude likeness of swords. A name belonged to the child- Hioku- but the dogs only saw the tantalizing lean muscle. The pack leapt without hesitation.
The dog closest to Hioku, a flea-bitten mangy creature, found its brains uncomfortably revealed to the open air by a sudden smash of a wooden sword. His fellow lived, suffering nothing more then an unexpected trip backwards. By then, the dogs changed their interpretation of the threat presented by this slim child and ran speedily away, stopping only to grab the delectable corpse of the recently killed member of their pack. They did not kill those similar to them, but if the meat was already there, they certainly knew nothing of morals that interfered with the food.
Hioku allowed himself a slight grin before jumping back into the trash. Plunging in to the rank refuse, he sifted the garbage with practiced ease. Dung, meat full of maggots, and other things that Hioku didn't take time to focus on. His eyes quickly fell upon the prize pick of this less then distinguished litter: a sack, stained with something vile but still tightly shut. Hioku grabbed the sack and pulled it out of the bin. After wiping the waste off, he peeked inside the pack.
It was fruit, and not very old, either. Anything near the edges had to be removed, of course, and there were some beyond saving. But, there were many edible pieces in there, far more then one would have expected to find in a pile of trash. He poured the center of the bags contents into the ragged remains of his shirt and threw the foul smelling sack back into the trash.
Darting behind the houses, Hioku held his two weapons and his food huddled against his chest. His bare feet made little sound on the dry, caked dirt, and thus he made it to the plaza without incident.
His destination was no more glamorous then the rest of Yigdrill, a dozen or so small shops selling their wares. After peeking into the right-most shop and finding it empty, Hioku walked into his sanctuary: Bruno’s Bakery.
Bruno, sitting on the sole chair in the small store, smiled and said “Hioku! Did you finally start farming?”
Hioku smiled as well and said, “No, Bruno, these are from the trash, like always. Would you like some?”
“As long as it doesn’t taste like bread.” Being a baker, Bruno has access to much more food then most people, and it showed. While he wasn’t fat – no one in these small villages could be fat in a bad season- his stomach still bulged through his stained white apron. “I’m sick of the stuff.”
“Everyone’s sick of the stuff, Bruno, but you’re one of the only food salesmen in town, so they keep eating it.”
“Well, I’m glad for the change,” Bruno said, gesturing towards the rather forlorn pile of fruit. “I have some bread beyond selling, but good enough for us. The crunch will give it flavor.”
The meal passed without conversation as Bruno and Hioku busily stuffed their faces. Of course, even when the meal was done, there was little to talk about: The chief topic of idle chatter, the weather, was long standing as hot and dry. However, as if nature had foreseen the awkward silence that would follow the meal, it sent a squall of dark clouds over the area.
“Thanks for that, Hioku,” Bruno said when all of the food had been consumed. “That fruit helped me stand the taste of my cooking.” He glanced outside. “There’s a storm coming. Hopefully this will be the one that ends this cursed dry cycle.” His last words were accompanied by a peal of thunder off in the distance. “This one seems violent. Hioku, where is it you live again?”
Hioku sighed. They had been over this before, and he was sure Bruno knew the answer. “It’s a tunnel I dug in the ground.”
“You’ll drown to death in a tunnel.”
“I made a rain catch.”
“Hioku, it’s no trouble for you to stay here, so why won’t you?” Bruno words were insistent, but not angry.
“Bruno, I doubt a ragged orphan will give your store a good reputation.” While it was a true enough statement, Hioku had another reason for avoiding living in the bakery: if Bruno had constant watch over him, he’d feel like Hioku’s father, a caretaker of sorts. And with conditions the way they were, Hioku refused to place that kind of burden on Bruno.
“You can sleep in the kitchen, and if someone sees you there, they’re robbing me and I’d like the security.” Another thunderous roar sounded, louder then the first, followed by the light patter of rain. Hioku knew full well that his tunnel would be occupied by creatures looking to avoid the rain and noise. “Fine, Bruno, I’ll stay for just this night.”
“Excellent!” Bruno said. “Now grab that bucket and put it outside.”
As the two brought the buckets out, Hioku commented, “What about the wells? Aren’t those still open to everyone?”
“They are, but I hate lines, and this is easier.” Bruno replied.
Bruno quickly retired on the stone floor with nothing more then the comfort of a slim pillow (he had offered it to Hioku, who had outright refused). Hioku had to admit that the kitchen was far better then his tunnel. There were only a few bugs, and the stones by the oven still had a bit of warmth. Still keeping a loose grip on his battered wooden swords, Hioku fell asleep to the screaming lullaby of the storm.
<><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><><>
As he had fallen asleep to a storm, it was only fitting that Hioku’s awakening was heralded by silence. As always, he awoke with no sign of movement given by his body, and assessed the situation. No odd smells, no noise, no new sensations on his skin, and only then did he peek behind still seemingly closed eyelids to help solidify his guess that nothing was around.
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