I was talking to Lieutenant Marj when it happened. The entire left portions of the Imperial City walls collapsed. Hundreds of good Imperial subjects were crushed by tonnes of rubble, smashing their bodies to a pulp. The ground was shaking, and I looked to Marj with fear. "What the hell is going on?!" I screamed over the noise, the Lieutenant already had his sword in hand and was pulling me away from the dropping rubble.

A piece of falling rock slammed into the ground next to us, and I screamed in confusing. Marj's hard face had many creases and scars over his years as being a Legion officer, and he had a very rugged appearance. Marj and I stopped in an alley, and he let go of my hand. We were both covered in dirt flung up by the crumbling wall, and I had several cuts from the shrapnel.

The Lieutenant had been my friend and mentor for the entire thirteen years I had been alive, he was there when I was born, and he was here now. "What is happening, Marj?" I sobbed, trying to keep up with the tall Dunmer.

"I don't know," he said, and left me in the dark alley, "But stay here until I get back. I'm going to find out what just went down."

"Don't get hurt," I called to him as he sprinted away, his steel armor clanking with each footstep. The alley was dark and foreboding, who knew what sorts of criminals were the regulars around here? Shadows danced further down the space in between the houses, and suddenly I was aware of a presence at my side.

"You're a long way from home, boy," hissed a voice in my ear, and I fell to the ground. A large Khajiit stood over me, a flip-up knife in his hands. He was clad in a leather jerkin with several pieces of iron and steel sown into it.

"Please, go away!" I shouted at the man, my arms over my face and my legs pushing me away from the advancing cat.

He lunged at me with the knife, but I rolled out of the way and I kicked out with my left leg, tripping him. His knife landed upside down, and his chest fell onto the blade. I looked at him, and began crying. He went limp, before rolling over. Blood was seeping out of his sternum, the iron knife jammed into it. His mouth was open, tongue hanging out of it like a cartoon. His ears were straight up, and his eyes were already glazed over. "Don't be dead, no! Please!" I screamed, realizing what I had just done. He would've killed me anyways, wouldn't he have? Could I have done anything differently?

But there was no time to think; his buddies ran into view, and I picked myself up, running as fast as I could from them.

Tears flew by my face, and I felt guilty, both for the death of the Khajiit, and ditching Marj. Two of the thugs were chasing me, and I increased my effort to run. I neared a large bush, and dove sideways into it. The branches and twigs scratched at my arms and face, several shallow cuts forming, along with a few deeper ones. I was too lethargic, my race from the bandits had drained me more than I had thought.

There I lay, for the Nines know how long, and waited. I was exhausted, and I succumbed to the dark embrace of my nightmares. Into the swirling void of emotions and colours I drifted, unconscious.

P.S. Srry for the short chapter, I like to start my fanfics short to get a review on how it is before I write a whole ton.

Try not to use so many dialogue tags. It breaks the immersion.

Well, that's silly. How are we supposed to get a feel for it if it's so little? :twirl:

So far, it seems like you've got a strong idea. This is a catchy, suspenseful scene to start on, which is good. However, it's over so fast that the reader never gets a chance to really feel that suspense that should be pulling them in. Draw stuff out through description. Is the alley eerily shadowed, leaving him feeling vulnerable when left alone? What expression does the Khajiit wear as he dies? Does Lieutenant Marj have wrinkles around his eyes that crease as he turns to the main character? And most importantly, what's going on? Are they dodging arrows, lightening bolts, or dragon fire? Description is an asset in scenes like these. Don't be afraid to smother us in it to really paint the picture that's in your head; it's always easier to remove excess later.

Just my two drakes, and you can definitely take it or leave it. Give writing more of this a go; there's no reason not to write ten pages. What matters is ultimately what you think, not what I or anybody else does.

Aight. I think I'll take it . Thank you for the CC. It helps a lot. As for redsrock, I don't even know what you're talking about X_X. I'm only 12 yrs old, so I haven't perfected my writing yet :frog:

Yes, that is much better. It is good that you take constructive criticism so well; it shows you really are willing to improve. Writing is definitely a skill that takes time and practice to build up, but you're definitely on your way.

I hope you keep working on this. :goodjob:

Thanks . I'll try to have another chapter out by 11:00 pm my time. I haven't thought about how to continue the story yet, I like spontaneously writing instead of planning . If I don't have another out tonight, I'll try n get it out tomorrow for sure.

I awoke in the same place I had fallen asleep in. I tried to move, but yelped in pain. A gnarled, old branch had speared through the skin on part of my left leg. Sobs of pain and sorrow wracked my body as I forced my leg up and out of impalement. "Anybody? Please.. Help me!" I screamed, and the only person nearby, an Altmer, heard my cries of pain.

He approached me, and I hesitantly reached my hand out so he could help me up. After my encounter with the bandits, I knew I couldn't trust anyone I didn't know. "Well, now, how did a lil'un get stuck in a bush like that," she said in a singsong voice, and picked me up. "I could just eat you up." She reached down and pinched my cheek. I was practically fuming from the insult, but I shrugged it off.

"Please, can you heal this?" I said between sobs, pointing at the wound on my leg.

"Oh yes, yes. I'll see what I can do."

She helped me over to a bench that I slowly and carefully sat down on, trying not to put pressure on my leg. It seemed we were in the Market District, its many shops and buildings slightly intimidating.

Her hands began to glow blue, and she lowered them onto my leg. First came pain that shot up my body, to my heart, and I held back a scream. Then, relief and surprise flowed through me and I looked at my ash-coloured leg. The place were the branch had sliced through was perfectly healed, if not a little discoloured. "Thank you so much. You don't realize how much this helps," I said reverently to the woman, and embraced her in a spontaneous hug before darting off.

I had to find the Lieutenant, he had been the father I never had, and let me get by with things most Imperial Guards would arrest you on sight for. He was my father in every sense, and I owed my life to him. He had taken me under my wing when my mother had died when I was three.

The Imperial City seemed to be in a state of calm, and I was glad that criminals weren't roaming the streets, because I would be a sitting duck. The cuts that the Altmer didn't heal were already scabbed over, and I was hit by a thought.

How long was I out for?!

I looked down at my stomach, and it growled as if talking to me. I suddenly felt very tired and hungry. I sighed in relief as I gave my pocket a pat, telling me I still had a loaf of bread and an apple. "Thank the Nine," I sighed, stopping my sprint to pull out the food. It was molded and crusty, but my hunger made me get past that fact.

I sunk my teeth into its crumbling material, and it tasted like a piece of silt-strider dung. I painfully swallowed it, and it seemed to svck all of the moisture out of my mouth. I coughed violently, flinging pieces of moist bread out of my mouth. I forced myself to take another mouthful, and put the bread back into my pouch.

The Eastern Watch Tower was coming into view, and I rejoiced at the sight. Several guards were posted outside it, all hands on their silver longsword hilts. "Please, help me!" I shouted as I rushed over to them. A high-ranking - this was obvious, he had a large plume of purple horse hair on his helmet, and a large badge of office on his chestplate - soldier approached me.

"What is the problem, civilian?" he asked, almost putting an emphasis on the word "civilian", as if making it clear he was the superior.

I grumbled in disgust; I hated being disrespected or treated like I was a child, although I was. "I was separated from my father during the collapse.. Please, can you help me find him? He's an Imperial Legion Officer."

"I'll see what I can do," he retorted, trudging back to the other soldier. I overheard him say quietly to one man, "Get me the death lists, I have a bad feeling his father," he jerked his finger back to me, and the rest of what he said I didn't hear.

He came back to me bearing a clipboard with two or three pieces of large scroll-paper on it.

"What is your father's name, boy?" he asked.

"Lieutenant Marj Adelles."

"He is currently in the Waterfront medical bay, as the charts say.. I would hurry, he may not have much time left," said the officer, shaking his head sadly.

I fell to my knees, crying. "You stupid stupid man! I told you to be careful!"

Several of the Imperial Guards looked at me with pitiful glares.

I leaped to my feet, and ran as fast as I could.

First things first:

HELLO BSPARROW!! :wave:

:P

Anyways, just a few things that didn't seem to flow right.

First:




Nothing a simple revision and a thesaurus can't fix. :shrug:


For the use of the tense:



Everything seems like its in the past tense, except for this little section. I may be wrong, but should it not be "tasted like a piece...."

Anywho, you haven't really given much (any actually) hint on the main plot, except that the Imperial City just got [censored] kicked by something (an earthquake?) and that this Dunmer boy is seemingly about to loose a father like figure, and will perhaps send him off the deep end.

Can't wait for the next one

I'll hint at it, it isn't an earthquake. Also, both the corrections you made were right, I didn't even realize it; I will change them ASAP. Thanks for commenting , I'm glad you liked it.

Yoyo Walrus! Well it s'all good stuff for me. But then again I'm the worst reviewer of fan-fics on the face of the earth, so it would be wise to listen to Sparrow; she's a good writer and her advice will be vital in making this a success. But yeah carry it on

EDIT: I don't know if you've been told, but I think what redsrock means by dialogue tag is when you go "he said" after every bit of dialogue is wrote. I do agree with him, sometimes it gives a better flow when you leave them out. For example if you put an exclamation mark after the dialogue you wouldn't necessarily need to write "he shouted" after it. I hope you see what I mean, my explanations are crap I know.

At least I think that is what it means. If not somebody tell me.

Ah... I thought that's what it might meant. I just wanted to stop confusion, but I'll edit it after I get up-to-date with Mech-Hearted Menace

"Tursuhj.." coughed my father, his face having several new scars. He was wrapped in bandages and bed sheets, and almost looked like a mummy.

"Marj please! You can't leave me.. What will I do without you?!" I sobbed into his chest, and he looked at me pitifully.

"Please, for-forgive me... There were too many of them..." he stammered, bandaged arm around my shoulder. The cot he lay upon was dirty and dusty, and I had to hold back a cough as he talk to me.

"Too many of what?!" I shouted at him, furious.

"You... Wouldn't believe me."

"At this point I'll believe anything."

"There were.. men made out of earth. They didn't die, no matter how many times I hit them with my sword. They were made out of rock itself, and so were their weapons," cried my dad, tears now flowing out of his face. "I'm sorry, Tursuhj.. We couldn't hold them off..."

"No!" I shouted unbelievably.

"Tursuhj please, I need to rest... If I have any chance of living you mustn't stress my brain. Now off with you, visit me in an hour. I'm going to catch some shut-eye, eh?"

I groaned and said back, "Don't you die on me now, I'll be back in an hour sharp."

I left, and with a brief trot out of the hospital, I was out into the Waterfront. A man was nearby, a Redguard. He had a sleek, greased rogue knot and three other men stood around him. I recognized one of them, my father had introduced me to the man. He was a Dunmer, went by "Currux Valem."

Walking up to the man, I called out to him, "Hello, Valem.. Don't you remember me?"

He turns around quickly, hand on his hilt. He sighed when he saw me, "You gave me quite a scare you did, Tursuhj..." Then he looked around at the three other people, and looked back, "Oh uhh, this is just a uh... Meeting. For my work in uhh... Slaying ogres, yeah."

I saw through the lie easily, the man was not very good at it. I gave off a chuckle and said, "Heh, suure. Slaying ogres. What is this really?"

"Eh, well, um.. Y'see, money's a bit tight, after the falling rubble crushed my house, and everything well uh.. I'm going to join the Thieves Guild," he scratched the back of his head and looked around.

"The Thieves Guild?!" I gasped, my mouth open. Then I got an idea. If I could make an ample salary working for the guild, then maybe I could pay for Marj's medical supplies. "Is this initiation or something?"

OOC: I'm going to edit this into a WAY bigger chapter, but I have to convert to my laptop. Cheers

Do they have mummies in Tamriel?

Yeah, they do. They were an enemy in Daggerfall, and Ashlanders mummify their dead.

I never would have guessed. Thank you sir, for enlightening me.

"Can we please hurry this up? I have a competition to win," hissed an impatient Argonian. The Dunmer turned back to the Redguard and whispered something in his ear.

"The boy's father is dying? Well, boy, I suppose I can make an exception and let you into the initiation. I am Armand Christophe," said Armand, looking at each of the four people in turn.

What looked like a Nord or Breton woman had an air of confidence around her, and she looked like she knew her stuff. I should just follow her, that's most likely my best bet.

"The Thieves Guild is not a myth. We are followers of the Gray Fox and I am his doyen. Just by finding us, you have passed the first test," said the Redguard in a confident, strong voice. "It's unusual for us to have four potential recruits at the same time. Rather than the normal test of skill this will be a contest."

"That's not fair," hissed the Argonian.

"Methredhel, you know the rules. However, for Amusei and the two Dunmer, let me state them clearly. Whoever brings me the diary of Amantius Allectus without killing him, will be invited into the Thieves Guild. It's somewhere in the Imperial City. The beggars will help you find it for a price. I can sell you lockpicks if you need them. One more thing. You cannot kill each other during this trial. We may be thieves, but we're not murderers," he explained, and with that, the Breton lady took off, with me sprinting after her.

She noticed me, and spat back at me, "Get away from me you little runt! That diary is MINE!"

"Just shut up, lady," I snapped back at her, wasting some of my breath. I kept on pumping my legs, our heavy footfalls resounding throughout the Waterfront. I was slowly gaining on her, but we were about the same speed. Before either of us knew it, we were at the Temple District, taking a sharp right into an alley behind all the buildings.

She stopped at a house's back door, and began to pick the lock. The lady looked at me with murder in her eyes, and bared her teeth. With a grunt, she snapped the lock open and pushed the door ajar.

"Stop right there, criminal!" I shouted in as deep a voice as I could conjure and she bolted, leaving me free to enter the building. Holding back a laugh, I entered, not wanting to waste any time. By now she probably realized her folly.

I closed the door behind me, and moved a chair in front of it quickly. I looked around the well-furnished house, and noted several containers of interest. An iron-bolted wood chest would be my first target, followed by a cabinet, then a desk at the far side of the room.

I jimmied the lock, and popped the top of the chest. I tossed out the items, a shirt, a paint palette, and a pickaxe. No diary. Moving onto the cabinet, I could hear the Breton's feeble banging on the door, and I hurried my search desperately. Ripping the door to the cabinet open, I was dismayed to see a carrot, some onions and a mutton as the only objects inside.

The door burst open, the chair splintering and flying across the room. The Breton entered, eyes wide and red with hate. "You little cur! I should run you through!"

"And ruin your chances to EVER enter the Thieves Guild? I think not," I spat back, leaping from the table I had gotten onto to see into the cabinet, and tripping over the desk's chair. She lunged for the desk, and I tripped her. The lady bashed her head into a staircase, seemingly unconscious. "Oh my," I stammered, rushing over to her.

Putting my ear to her mouth I sighed: she was still breathing. What should I do though? Just let her lie there to be caught? Or should I be honorable and carry her to safety?

Now back on my feet, I pull the desk's top down violently, and I rejoice in the sight of a quill attached to a notebook. "Haha! The diary is mine!" I shouted, picking it up and was about to leave.

"Oh, right." I put the book into my belt, and hoisted the small woman over my shoulder. I ran out of the building, this area wasn't safe for now, there were guards crawling all over the place.

I sprinted as fast as I could with the Breton's weight, away from Amantius Allectus's house, and away from the guards.

OOC: I was going to edit this into my last post but I thought it was big enough to be its own chapter. Hope you lubbed it.

Anyone have any criticism? Comments? That's the point of this story, to better my writing.. It's hard to do that w.o you guys criticizing .

Mah boi, patience is what all true warriors strive for! (cookie for anyone who gets the reference) But seriously don't worry about it. People will review soon. It's good for me but like I said I like most things.

Or maybe they don't have much to criticize Which is always good.

EDIT: I'll publically apologize in this thread for not being very helpful in your PM, Holy, but I must really svck at reviewing things unless they genuinely (sp?) are awful. Which isn't a good skill to have at all

Psst... Methredhel's a Bosmer, not a Breton. :whisper:

;)

Your action is still happening very fast. You rely heavily on dialogue, and so may want to use a bit more description to break it up every now and then. Maybe break in for some personal reflection from the character--what is he thinking and feeling? Getting us into the character's head will also make us care more about what happens to him. Make us not only see what he sees: make us feel what he feels. We should feel his fear about finding money to pay for the medicine. We should see the bushes rustling in the Garden of Dareloth as Armand holds his torch close and whispers his instructions. We should hear the guards raising shouts and coming closer as he flees into the night with Methredhel slung over his back. These are just examples, but you get the point. Detail is what makes fiction come alive.

But, again, I can tell you're working on it, and you're not going to become Voltaire overnight.

So again, just write what you like, and keep working on it. Learning to write is as much about time spent pounding on a keyboard as it is about raw talent, so practice, practice, practice. And above all, you need to write for yourself first, and others second; that way, you're not so worried about seeking approval. It's easier to take criticism that way (even mine ).

(Oh, and be nice to Methredhel. She's one of my favorite NPCs. )

Heh .. I was looking at Methredhel ingame and she looks like a Breton or something, but I'll change it to Bosmer soon. Thanks for the criticism ..

In the next chapter I'll try and put what the character is feeling and describe the surroundings better, it's just that I'm a really fast typer and I hate having to stop and think about stuff x_X I usually just shoot it out and look over it

But I'm going to try really hard on the next'un, I hope you all like it :S

I felt a pang of guilt as I realized I had ditched my dad. I shouldn't feel guilty though, right? I'm trying to help him... I thought as I lowered Methredhel onto the soft grass. He body made a soft thump as it hit the ground, and I hopped onto the nearby wall to wait.

Picking at my teeth, I sat back, leaning up against the bigger city wall. The Argonian came in to view, his eyes were baggy and bloodshot. "You, Dunmer.. Why do you look so smug? I should wipe that smile right off your face," he spat, obviously in a bad mood.

"Calm down there, lizardman. I aint got no problems with you, just waiting for Armand," I retorted, holding my head high as I thought about my father. An hour flew by, and I couldn't get Marj out of my mind, I was worrying too much. I had to calm down.

My head lolled back onto the wall, and I dozed off into my sleep. The bushes rustles quietly next to me, the cool night wind skimming through the land. Lightning struck in the distance, it seemed there was a storm up at Cloud Ruler Temple.

Unable to immerse myself fully into slumber, I pulled myself up and off my perch, landing next to the unconscious Bosmer. Currux came into view, and there were tears at his eyes. "It doesn't make any sense! I looked everywhere.. Where could it be?! You!" he cried when he saw me. "You took it, you little fetcher!"

"It's a competition, have some sportsmanship. Yeah, I got it. Big deal, just try out next time."

He sat down on the grass and wept into his hands. "Jeez, you're taking this pretty bad."

"My best friend was mangled by a piece of falling rubble.. I was going to join the Thieves Guild so I could pay for his medical needs. Obviously, that isn't going to happen," he explained, looking up at me, tears covering his face.

"My father is in the same condition... If I make any extra money, I'll give it to your friend, I promise."

"You.. You do?" he asked in a lighter mood.

"Yeah, sure. But only if I have extra."

He now sat back, and made himself comfortable as we all waited for Armand. More lightning off in the distance, seems to be getting closer. "Damn storms," I grumbled as our Redguard doyen came into view.

"Hey, guys," he shouted as he rounded the stone wall. He was clad in sleek black leather and a black adventurers cloak. "So, who got it?"

"Me, sir," I called up, standing to my feet and handing the diary to Armand.

"Really.. Well, congratulations, and welcome to the Thieves Guild. Although due to the recent attack, you can meet me in Cheydinhal."

"So uhh, there some kind of fence?" I wondered, anxious to start raking in money to help Marj.

"Yes, his name is Ongar the World-Weary.. He resides in Bruma, and will be your only fence for a while, till you manage to get to the "Bandit" rank."

Bruma was a long ways away, it would be quite a trek, and a dangerous one what with all the strange things happening lately.. The Oblivion gates, and the disaster at the wall. Rumors had it that huge men made of stone had stolen the Elder Scrolls, but I dismissed that as rubbish. All that mattered to me now was getting money.

"Well, it's an honor to be in the guild... I have to hurry if I want to make it to Bruma in time. Thank you for everything, Armand," I replied.

"Yeah, it's nothing. Now go steal something for me, Pickpocket."

I waved goodbyes, and began to walk towards the medical bay. Marj would have to just hold on and pull through when I'm gone in Bruma.. If he's going to die, I want him to die with me at his side, not fifteen miles away.

YOUTUBE POOP

they pinch back







don't know if someone already got that or not