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Today, we have a fan-favorite: Josiah Dyck with his unnamed first story in the Portal Chronicles trilogy. (What a guy! He can't even name his own projects.) When we last left off, the convenient Chosen Ones were running off with their tails between their legs because they got their butts whooped by the enemy situated in the Rachendax. Warren has been captured by Leviathan, and the good guys have suffered heavy losses in the battle, due to their bomb being used against them. Let's see what's happening today!
Mark, David, and Taylor rode in silence; it was like they were taking time to respect the courage the army of rebels and Followers had shown.
Eventually, they arrived at the human fort and summed up what happened to those there. Then they boarded the ship that was bound for Zracs. As they were, Taylor said, "General Clive never talks about Detrius, so what do you think caused him to?"
"Tumultous events such as these can prod someone towards a good type of soul questioning," David responded.
Oh, look, it's nothing new. We're getting more impassive showing with no search into what the characters are actually feeling right now after witnessing such a slaughter, and David is offering some religious statements that just don't sound right. How typical of younger me. And it's tumultuous, by the way.
They made their way to the sterncastle, where the quartermaster gave orders for the launch to the crew. Captain Isaac, a wiry young man, greeted them warmly. "Welcome aboard the Thunder Cannon. I hope for your sakes that the trip isn't as treacherous as it normally is."
He showed them his cube map of Erador. "See, Adiryulle, Ghrumet, and Kalansif form half the world, while Zracs, Nirackel, and Darava are the other side. The last three are set in the Carnert Ocean, translating to the misty ocean. Because of the temperature, Zracs has the thickest mist. And unlike the Ocean of Raffas, the Carnert is anything but peaceful. Tales and legends buzz about, describing horrendous sea creatures that smash ships."
Hey, guess what? It's another minor character pulled from a generic template that we don't care about. Man, was I good at those back in the day. I was also good at info-dumping stuff that the main characters should already know since they took a geography class.
I'm going to skip over the next two and a half pages, because it's basically a sermon in the middle of the story. While I agree with the points I made, it's not necessary to jam that kind of teaching in a novel. It bogs down the pace, has the potential to bore the reader, and comes off as really inorganic. My advice for you folks reading--er, watching this show is to avoid that same mistake.
Smits stood near Juinq's harbor, eyeing the rebel ships that were docking. For some reason the air felt more empty, more solemn, more . . . mournful. "Why?" he wondered.
Clive led the knights off the vessels of war. His normally smiling face was slumped with despair. Exhaustion showed itself in the entire group. Clive stopped by Smits. "Half."
Smits was confused, so he asked, "What do you mean?"
"You were about to ask me how it went, and I told you we lost half our men," explained Clive wearily. "Plus, Warren got captured by Leviathan, who also killed Ethan."
At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I'm going to point out some repeat offenders: use of a term like "vessels of war" instead of saying something like warships; poor description of emotions, which leads to no empathy from the reader; attempted creativity with speaker tags (and potential overuse of adverbs); and reminding us of a character who was barely present and whom we'll never miss.
A gasp escaped Smits's lips. He put a hand on Clive. "I'm sorry, general. I'm sorry for all of us. Did the Chosen Ones, excluding Warren, leave for Zracs?"
"Yeah. We should've listened to you and the others. Maybe we could have avoided the carnage at the Rachendax. I'll give you the whole story later." As the depressed men left, Clive said, "I think us rebels need to rethink Detrius."
Smits swivelled back towards the ocean, gazing far out in the distance for any sign of the missing soldier. "Oh Warren," cried Smits, "where has Leviathan hidden you?"
A simple gasp is such an unemotive response to the news that 10,000 men died in combat. And the rebels need to rethink their whole way of life, not to mention their moral compass. Also, does Smits expect to see Warren out from where he's standing? Because that's not going to happen . . . or is it?
Warren awoke with a start. Had someone callen his name? He shook his head. "Must've been under the sun too long," he thought. He looked at his surroundings. He was in a small room with rock for three walls and metal bars as the fourth. There was a small cot, a table, and a chair. "Am I in a cell?" he asked himself.
Do recall that it's been previously mentioned that the rebels were building a BRICKING CASTLE for Leviathan. That's actually where Warren is being kept right now, which is why he heard his name being "callen." I have to ask myself, why do I always specify when a character is thinking with a speaker tag? It really isn't necessary. It also seems pretty obvious that he's in a cell based off the horrible description. He should know that.
Someone approached from down the corridor. Warren peered out and grew concerned. It was an ox that was eight feet high. Its hide was a brownish-black hue, and it appeared to be very muscular with wickedly sharp horns. And its eyes were like the ones for the statue of Lurkum, only yellow. Behemoth had arrived.
Can we all just appreciate that Warren "grew concerned"? How in the actual heck was I so bad at writing emotions? Gah, it's so frustrating. And I need to stop commenting about poor descriptions at this point, because I'll just be saying the same thing over and over again.
The massive ox stooped down to the jail. "So you are one of the chosen, eh?" Behemoth growled. "Don't look so special to me." He guffawed.
Warren was scared stiff. Never before had there been so much evil concentrated in one place close to him. "What's the matter? Leviathan cut your tongue?" Behemoth laughed again. "Well, I just come by to wish you a hopeless stay here. Enjoy it while it lasts, which won't be very long." He continued on his way, chuckling evilly.
. . . Seems I also need to stop talking about my poor conveyance of emotions. Now let's give Behemoth the "most cliché villain of this post" award.
"So, what's the story on the wraithclaw tribe?" David queried. "Why did we single them out as potential allies?"
"It started pretty soon after Lucas and Bart became Lurkum's elite generals," began Isaac. "A wraithclaw overheard the prince of evil discussing his plans of demoting the tribe to be workers with Leviathan and Behemoth. Now, at the time, the creatures were, in a sense, free, and to bring a certain group down to such a level was practically enslavement to the wraithclaws. So, since they could survive any temperature, the race packed up and left for Zracs, a vast, empty, ice-filled land. Troops were sent to get them back, but none survived the chilly weather.
"The aftermath of the situation was Lurkum setting up mini-kingdoms on the continents, with loyal kings ruling. The leaders took orders from the Dastardly Duo, who got their's from Lurkum. The arabons didn't take part in the deal, as they are the common soldiers.
"And the reason we're attempting a treaty is because it is prophesied. Remember what Chief Richard quoted at the war meeting?"
David nodded once.
"Well, we have, in the past, attempted to create a pact with the wraithclaws, because the Chosen Ones must do so. Of course, it never worked, since those who went were not actually the chosen. But now that we know that you guys are, this kind of a test, for both you and the tribe."
"That's right, the prophecy said we had to pass the 'wanting heart's test,' didn't it?"
"Correct. It also says that those who aren't the Chosen Ones 'will harden the race.' So all this time we've been making it harder for you."
I'm not going to deny that the history/lore that's being presented is interesting, because it is. But I feel like it could be said in a more creative way. Plus, shouldn't David know this stuff? He took a history class, did he not? Just saying. This is obviously for the reader's benefit, not his.
There was a gurgling roar, and a sea serpent arose from the waters. It was the hue of a shiny, pale white and had eyes fully washed with purple. It reminded David of a Chinese dragon, only instead of limbs there were huge webbed fins.
It stretched its neck towards the lookout until their heads were mere yards apart. The serpent huffed, and a small blast of blue energy struck the man, who screamed horridly and toppled off his perch. Little sparks danced around his fallen body.
"It breathes orbs of lightning? Definitely one of the drucoes' pets," Isaac muttered.
What another horrible reaction to death. I mean, it isn't even really a reaction. Isaac just glossed over the fact that one of his crewmen was just brutally killed.
Isaac went to the bell and rang it a few times. Men streamed out of the lower decks and took positions at the ballistas and catapults. At a yell from the quartermaster, ballistas on the upper layers of the ship fired. Some missed, but most hit their quarry, igniting in a small burst of flame. Now that the monster was lit up, knights in control of the catapults launched them, rocks slamming into the serpent. It trumpeted and dove under the waves, splashing an icy cold one over the main deck and drenching the defenders.
I was gonna point out that the knights don't need the serpent to be lit up, until I remember that they are currently in a thick fog. Instead, I'll mention the proper pluralization of ballista is ballistae. Carry on, gentlemen.
Suddenly, the water glowed with electricity, and the serpent lifted its head out. It began to ram the Thunder Cannon, either attempting to tip it or jolt the crew off, where the ocean sizzled.
For some reason, I really like the simple word picture of the ocean sizzling. At least younger me did a few things right.
"Archers, your turn!" the quartermaster bellowed. The archers appeared, quickly sizing the situation and nocking their bows. Mark, who was among them, knew they were going to aim at the creature's eyeballs. It noticed the new group and raised its head higher, curious. Unfortunately, for the serpent, curiousity killed the cat. Or, in this case, blinded it. Arrows pierced both of its eyes, and purple liquid leaked out of the wounds. Slowly, they turned white, obviously meaning the beast was without eyesight.
Notice how the POV of this scene was originally David, then switched to a floating camera attached to no one, then transferred to Mark. Bad technique, I say. Curiosity, by the way. Not curiousity.
It howled and hammered its cranium onto the warship, knocking over a mast. Several jets of lightning zapped from the neck. Mark launched back in time, but a number of archers were hit. One near Mark, whose skin was whiter from the coolness, turned and then gray as he was fried from the inside out. He collapsed and broke into ashy pieces.
Pleasant. But I'm pretty sure this is the last gory thing we're going to encounter in our mocking of this story.
Mark stared in horror, not seeing the serpent rearing up and biting at the sea vessel. He would've become monster chow had a female archer not pulled him away.
The Canadian shook off his daze and looked at his rescuer. "Michelle! I hadn't seen you aboard before. How come?"
"I was in the female's quarters." She smiled. "You owe me one."
Mark grinned as well. "I guess being saved by a girl beats not being saved at all. If Warren was here, he'd say something like, 'But you got saved by a pretty girl; that's even better.'"
"Hey, we kind of have to focus on that oversized electric eel over there," David called to the pair. Mark saluted and readied his bow.
While I appreciate the banter, I can't ignore that people were literally fried to death right before their eyes, and they're acting all nonchalant. Mark was only horrified for a few seconds. *smacks all my characters upside the heads* What'sa matta wich ya?
Now the serpent was slapping the boat with its fins, trying to destroy its prey. "I've had enough," Isaac snapped. "Time to unleash the thunder cannon." He went to a big cannon on the sterncastle, loaded it, lined it at the right angle, then shouted, "Cover your ears!" He lit the explosive powder before following his own advice.
There was a second's pause, and the cannon roared like thunder. "Hence the name," thought David. A metal ball zoomed at the creature and broke upon its skull. It swayed with unconsciousness and pain, unable to detect what hit it.
If the thunder cannon is so effective, WHY DID ISAAC NOT USE AT THE BEGINNING OF THE BATTLE?! It'd be over in seconds, with no one dead. Honestly, I can't be the only who sees the lack of logic these people possess. And why would you name the ship after the weapon? Couldn't that get confusing as to which you're referring to?
Isaac grabbed the next cannonball and coated it with grease before putting it in the cannon. Another thunderclap, and the fiery ammunition careened into the target. The sea monster wailed as a ferocious burn spread across a portion of the milky skin.
"Yes! I knew the explosion of the powder would work," Isaac said to himself.
To quote Lizzy from the Cars movie, "You keep talking to yourself, people'll think you're crazy."
The beast gave a scratchy bellow, and the waves boiled harder. "I that doesn't stop soon, the bottom of the ship will melt," warned the helmsman.
The serpent began to suck in to deliver the death blow. David, in desperation, threw a knife, hoping to land the perfect hit, just as Mark and Michelle fired their bows.
Lightning flashed from the assailant as it heaved a giant orb. If it struck the warship, it would be the end. All of a sudden, it left its original course and swirled around the three weapons flying at the monstrosity, attracted to the metal of the dagger and the arrowheads.
Okay, hold up, hold up. You're telling me that one dagger and two arrows had enough metal to deter this giant electric orb from hitting the ship, which probably had more metal with the anchor and thunder cannon and whatnot? And how close is this serpent, anyway? I imagined it being pretty close if it's bashing its head against the deck. If that's the case, wouldn't the orb just instantly hit the ship and it'd be game over for the heroes? I know, suspension of belief, but that's no excuse for lazy, non-scientific writing.
The strengthened blast was absorbed by the creature's head. There was sharp crackling, and it swayed violently as it overheated. Then it froze, and its cranium rocketed off the rest of its body. Black, goopy blood splashed the deck.
"Well," David piped up, "I guess it's too late to ask for my favorite knife back."
The crew laughed, but stopped when the sea serpent's head thumped onto the water vessel. David eyed it and said, "You know what, maybe I should just keep that as a trophey instead. I don't want to carve it just to get my--"
Welp. Evidently I lied, by accident. The death by electric frying was not the last gory event. (Dude, why on earth did you add an e to trophy? You're a horrible speller.)
Michelle walked over to him, pulled up her sleeves, and reached into a hole in the scales. Feeling around, she retrieved the knife, along with a sticky mass of innards.
"--blade back," David finished. "If your hand wasn't covered in that filth, I would kiss you. Thank you very much, m'lady."
"You're welcome, noble sir," laughed Michelle.
Who would've ever thought that the girl who daintily picks flowers and giggles at boys would stick her hand straight into a dead monster's head to retrieve a knife? I sure wouldn't have! A little advice for you, David: you can still kiss her. It just can't be on the hand, lest you want to pick up some horrible disease on your mouth or something.
Mark huffed. "C'mon, Dave, anyone could've done that. Watch and learn." He rolled up one sleeve and placed his arm in the wound.
"Hey, I'm stuck. Somebody help, before my limp burns or something," panicked Mark.
Mark, remember that time when you tried to show that you were as muscular as Warren, when you really weren't? You should've learned from that. Don't show off unless you're actually prepared to deliver the goods.
David hefted the serpent's remainder and asked, "Why would it burn?"
"I don't know, there could be an acid inside," the Canadian argued as he attempted to jerk out. Finally, he was able to twist his army from the injury with a pop.
Peals of merriment resounded across the boat. "You weren't stuck," Isaac said, pointing at Mark's hand. "You were just holding onto that beastie's brain."
"I knew that. Wait, its brain?! Yuck!" Mark tossed it away with a vivid expression.
What shall we call this scene? Comical? Disgusting? Over-the-top? Illogical? I mean, how do you not know you're holding on to a brain? Most likely all of the above.
The quartermaster caught it quickly. "Thanks, Mark. I'll use this for my favorite dish--pickled brains. Did you want me to kiss your hand?"
The face of Mark was taut with feat at the possible prospect of eating the gross recipe. He doubled over and vomited near the man. The quartermaster moved away and replied, "Or you could almost puke on me. That works too."
I don't think anyone in the history of anything would eat pickled brains . . . right? *Googles for a minute and decides not to delve too deeply* I feel like the quartermaster and I share the same sense of humor. Whether that's a good thing or not is up to you. Also, "the face of Mark" is the greatest phrase of our time.
David sauntered to his friend, saying, "Watch and learn, huh? At least you taught me how to hurl."
"Har dee har har," Mark said, shoving David aside.
Isaac shook his head in amusement. "Okay, boys. It's time to put on your winter gear. And Mark, you might want to clean yourself first."
The fact that Isaac called them boys is actually pretty funny. I mean, they are acting a bit like schoolyard children right now, are they not?
They all went down, save the helmsman, and put on the warm clothes. There were heavy light gray fur coats and pants, as well as boots line with some kind of soft insulation. Also, things like ski masks were worn under the parka hood. Scabbards were attached to the torso like quivers.
Not gonna lie, these clothes actually sound super comfy. I'd totally be down for wearing this in winter. Though why "things like ski masks" and not just straight-up ski masks?
Isaac brought the helmsman's outfit with him and took the wheel while he put it on. The troops lined the deck as they waited to arrive at Zracs.
Once the steersman was finished, Isaac went to the front of the group and said loudly, "Let us pray. Detrius, thank You for taking us this far and reassuring us that You won't let us down. Help the Chosen Ones soften the hearts of the wraithclaw. May they join our ranks, and help us not to treat them wrongly. Thank You that Your powerful hand is upon us, and thank You that we re more than conquerors through You. In Your precious name, amen. Revier abounds!"
"And He is with us!" the soldiers yelled confidently.
Wham! One of the hatches to the lower levels slammed open and a knight emerged from the bowels. "The ship, she's . . ." he panted. "She's being run aground."
Let's comment on a few things here before we wrap up. Firstly, if Zracs is cold, wouldn't they have had to don their snow gear before they got so close? Secondly, Isaac, you called them wraithclaws before, and now they're wraithclaw. Make up your mind! Thirdly, I still love the whole "Revier abounds" mantra or chant that they do. Fourthly, while I have no issues with you guys praying before you do something dangerous, YOU'RE LEAVING THE SHIP VIRTUALLY UNATTENDED! Do you not feel or hear the ship scraping the ground? Where is your lookout to see how close you are to land? Get your act together!
That's all for today's show, folks! Tune in next month for the last episode of Humble Beginnings! Yes, I said last episode. Stop crying. You're making everyone feel awkward and uncomfortable.
