|source; this guy looks like he's constantly dancing to the music I'm listening to|
No book is without its sin. (And yes, that was a parody of CinemaSins's tagline thingy.) My old story, which does not have name, is no different. So I think it's time we go back to those time-worn pages and mock them for the fourth time! Are you ready? Then let's do this thing!
This was the same Smits they were looking for?
No, it's a different one. Because Smits is a name you hear all the time.
"Anyway, we, which includes me and soldiers by the names of John, Alex, Xander, and Nathan, fell into this world. The tank landed on some fire blossoms, which sprout flames when something falls on it. We managed to get away with our info laptop before the tank blew up. Justin, a teenage boy, was responsible for the rescue of the computer. He claimed he was immune to fire. Actually, he is."
David frowned. "How is that possible?"
"I'll leave that story for him to tell."
So first off, there's something about Smits's recap that just makes me laugh on the inside. Maybe I'm getting this image of him calmly telling this outlandish story. Then he doesn't know to say "them" instead of "it" when talking about the flowers. And finally, what's the purpose of waiting to tell them about how Justin is fireproof? Why can't he just tell them now? He doesn't seem to have any good reasons for not doing so.
"They're called ptorelin leaves. They are extremely bitter, but they have miraculous healing qualities." He handed one to David, who accepted.
Deus ex ptorelin leaves. What a convenient way to fix David's bullet wound.
"Is there a tingling in your shoulder?" Smits asked. When David nodded, he said, "Take off your shirt. You'll want to see this."
Get ready for Smits to say "You'll want to see this" more in the future. It's his favorite sentence in the world.
"I'll be right there," Smits replied. He grinned at the others. "You will want to see this."
See?! Two pages later and he's already running out of creative things to say!
For your info, I've skipped a good chunk of this chapter because it involves a lot of uninteresting info dumping. As in, the dumping itself is uninteresting, not the info. *shakes my head* I often wonder what I was thinking when I wrote this story.
A city rested next to a beach. A port housed many ships. The city stretched far and wide. An enormous castle sat in the distance.
This was the best description I could come up with? It's so bland, so tasteless. It's like taking a drink of water, expecting it to be nice and cold, and it turns out to be room temperature instead. No one likes that! (And if you do, I have to question your childhood.)
Mark, too, was noticing the people, but his eyes were picking out a certain group: the young maidens. They whisper-talked to one another, giggled, and pointed. Most smiled at him, and he smiled back. Then there was more whispering and giggling. He liked the attention. And then he saw . . . her.
She was graceful, with long auburn hair and sky blue eyes. She wore a simple white dress, decorated with golden lace. The dress was cinched at the waist and revealed her slender form.
Mark watched her daintily pick flowers. She looked at him and waved. Mark tried to wave back, but it's hard to wave when your arm feels tied to a block of steel. The girl tittered.
Yep, believe it or not, your boy tried adding a bit o' that timeless romance flavor to this messed-up curry he was concocting. (That has to be one of the weirdest sentences I've come up with in my entire life.) As you can clearly see, I was phenomenal at it! Can't you just how beautiful this girl is as she *cough cough* daintily picks flowers and titters at Mark? Ah! To find such a lass is to find truest love. I'm going to have to hunt me down a flower-pickin', titterin' girlfriend. I'll be back . . . oh, I don't know, NEVER! Because I'll NEVER find one because they don't bricking EXIST because this story LIED to me.
*takes a deep breath* I'm okay, I'm okay. Don't worry about me. Let's see what happens next, shall we?
David had by then observed that Mark was gone and asked, "Where's Mark?"
Smits looked back and chuckled. "He's meeting Michelle."
The name of beauty, I tell you! Doesn't it just invoke images of a girl who picks flowers oh-so-daintily and titters at the male species? . . . I'll shut up now.
David wheeled around. "I'll get him." He went over to the two and gave a little bow to Michelle. "Hello, madam."
"Hello, good sir," Michelle sweetly replied, giving a curtsy.
"Please excuse my friend's behavior. He has just--"
"--never seen a beauty as beautiful as you," Warren finished, coming toward them. "Now, if you don't mind, we must take the Slack-Jawed Wonder with us so we can continue our lovely stroll." With that, Warren gently took Mark's shoulder and led him away.
I'm not gonna lie: Warren's dry sense of humor is one of the best things to come out of this story. It's definitely an aspect of him that I'm going to keep when I reboot the series.
"Have a good day, miss," said David politely.
"You too, sir," she replied. As the three men walked back to Smits, she laughed, something she obviously did a lot.
The dazed look left Mark's eyes, and he turned to Warren. "Slack-Jawed Wonder, eh?"
Warren shrugged. "Would've you preferred something like the Gaping Gentleman?"
"No thanks," Mark said.
Well, there you have it. The first "romantic" scene, and not the last one, I assure you.
There was a little room in between the portcullises. "Is that room for capturing enemy troops?" [David asked.]
"Indeed. You don't want to get caught in there. With the flick of a lever, several large saw blades lower from the ceiling, spinning. It is rare for someone to survive."
Mark frowned. "That would make a gory mess."
"It does," Smits simply said.
Sounds a little grisly for the good guys, if you ask me. *shrugs* But there's something I find amusing about Smits's response. I have no idea why. Is something wrong with me?
Mark found the food very interesting. First, there was the meat. It was black and quite tender. It tasted like bison, with a touch of garlic. There was an assortment of colorful, tasty vegetables. Then there was a big loaf of bread, fresh from the oven. Last, but not least, there was glazed scones with fruit for dessert.
I'm oddly starting to feel hungry . . . am I the only one? But I apparently had issues when it came to knowing what words to use around plurals ("was" when I'm talking about scones).
"So, since we're here, what are we supposed to do?" David wondered.
"We would like you to join us in a war," Smits said hesitantly.
"One that's been going on for approximately six thousand years," Samuel [the High Elder] added.
Warren frowned. "That's too long. Why so lengthy? How did it start?"
"The reason for the length of this war has eternal significance," said Samuel. He reached down, picked three copies of a book, and passed them to the soldiers. "Read it now, for this cannot wait. If it waits, then it could be too late."
The friends knew that if the situation was so dire, then they'd better start reading. So, they began.
Okay, first things first: Mark, David, and Warren literally have no reason to join the war. Yes, they may be soldiers already, but there's no motivation to fight. They should be clamoring to get back home as soon as possible, realistically speaking.
Secondly, they're just going to read this book at the dinner table? What's everyone else going to do? Stare at them until they finish? Because that would be awkward and weird.
Thirdly, if things are really so pressing, don't have read about the reason for the war! Just go ahead and tell them, for crying out loud.
Now, I know this post is a bit shorter than the others in the series, but there's a reason for that. We've just reached the end of the chapter, and I know the next one is going to have a lot of juicy pieces of writing. I decided to cut it off here instead. Hope that's okay!
So what're your thoughts on this post? Is it still entertaining? (I know I'm still loving it like crazy.) Didn't I masterfully craft a romance scene? Is it proof that I should simply write romance novels? (That would be so weird.)