And Thus Dies a Beloved Series /// Humble Beginnings, Part 14

Yes, this day is both one of hilarity and despair. On July 14th of last year, we embarked on a journey of sarcasm and laughter, where I commentated on my oldest novel I've written. That post--the fifth one on my blog--is still at fourth place for most views. All good things must come to an end, though, and that's the case for the Humble Beginnings series. Prepare yourself for one last leg of our travel, and try not to cry too much.

source

As if in response to the knight's statement, a series of cracks sounded. Chaos broke loose when the crew began shouting questions on what to do and the rookies started to get frightened.

"Calm yourselves NOW," the quartermaster hollered above the racket and instantly silence blanketed the people.

Oh my gosh, this crew is just the worst. First, they all abandon their posts, even if it is to pray, and when they're being run aground, they act like a bunch of headless chickens. Unbelievable. The quartermaster really shouldn't have to tell 'em to shut up.

Suddenly, a massive collage of icy spikes nailed the Thunder Cannon's bow. The fighters were jostled to the deck. Then, all was still. Isaac picked himself up and declared, "We've landed on Zracs, so we need to disembark and make our way to the wraithclaws' castle."

Ooh, that's a very cool opening sentence for the paragraph. I'll have to remember that. Also, is it just me, or is it very abrupt to be all, "Well, we're here, let's be on our way, we don't need to check if anyone's hurt or if the ship's a total wreck, nosiree"?

The gangplank was lowered and the miniature army stepped off the warship. Isaac gazed at it and queried, "Quartermaster Goliath, do you think we'll be able to sail this thing when our mission is complete?"

"It'll take a miracle, sir," answered Goliath. "We would have to push the boat off the shore and then fix it before it sank."

"Hmm," Isaac murmured, tapping his chin. "Sounds difficult." 

Clearly I didn't know anything about how sailors would beach their boats to clean or fix them. And while Isaac is interested in the ship's welfare, he should also be asking his men how they are. It might endear us to him a little more. On top of all that, why is the quartermaster only getting a name now? I feel like it should've happened in the last chapter.

They started the trek across the snowy landscape, their boots crunching. Wind nipped them, although it didn't have much affect, thanks to their cozy get-up.

The wind should nip at them, and it wouldn't have much effect. You're welcome.

The surrounding are was beutiful, complete with rolling hills and little caves here and there. Fir trees that had dazzling blue pines stood at various places like watchful sentinels. Creeping scarlet lichen stretched out on the ground and the side of rocks that seemed to resemble sculptures. An iced pond made itself visible occasionally. Snowflakes swirled gently, dancing to an unheard tune. "It's like an orchestra," Mark thought, "with Detrius as the conductor."

There's a few things I'll note here. Like how I forgot the a in beautiful. Or how my description of landscapes still sucked, but has a few details I want to remember for later. And can I just mention how we've had one whole page with no proper POV? We've seriously been a floating camera until we randomly attached to Mark. Unbelievable.

Michelle wandered to Marks side and smiled at him. He did the same to her, thinking she looked cute in her outfit.

"Isn't this place wonderful?" she questioned.

"Yeah. It could be warmer, but it's nice," Mark said. "Kind of . . . romantic, in a way."

Not gonna lie, I've sometimes thought girls in snow gear are cute, so I still agree with younger me's sentiment. But Mark could really work on his subtlety.

"No wonder the wraithclaws like it here. They're romance fanatics, if you know what I mean," added Michelle.

He nodded. "Sure thing." His hand was abruptly held, and he looked to see that Michelle had acted. Now he beamed and gripped her tighter.

*raises hand* I still don't know what you mean. What cause someone to fall under the classification of romance fanatic, and what does it all entail? Please elaborate for our sakes, because I surely can't be the only one who doesn't get it.

Half an hour later, the group reached a vast stretch of terrain that was non descript and had knee-deep snow. "The Barren Lands," Isaac said. "The worst place in the world to be in the middle of a storm. Those who have gone before us learned that the hard way."

"Obviously," Goliath interrupted, "a few made it, since our relationship with the wraithclaw has been dented."

"Fortunately, we have come with better preparations," Isaac continued. "Sewn inside our clothes are bits of dried and crushed fire blossams. So now, instead of creating flames, they provide an efficient heat to keep us toasty warm."

"Will they be hot enough to preserve us in a blizzard?" David wanted to know.

Goliath gave a grimace. "That is something only Detrius will be able to truly do."

Wow! Right off the bat, we're hit with a boatload of exposition. Then the plural for the tribe changes from wraithclaws to wraithclaw, blossoms is spelled incorrectly, and the fire blossoms are once again used as a deus ex machina, albeit a not-completely effective one.

The situation turned bleaker when the rushing stream of air became a torrent. Visibility was low, bad enough that one couldn't see very far ahead. Shouting had to be used in order for others to hear.

Virtually this entire paragraph is a prime example of my bad writing back in the day.

Michelle staggered to Mark, shivering harshly. "So . . . cold," she could barely manage to say.

Mark whirled in time to watch her eyes roll upward. She fell on her back in the growing snowdrifts. "Michelle!" he yelled, ripping his mitten off and almost numbing his hand in an instant. He felt for her pulse and was relieved to find it. He put the mitten back on and, unsure what else to do, lifted Michelle up gingerly.

Correct me if I'm wrong, but Michelle shouldn't really be passing out right now. Aren't you in more danger if you begin to feel warm again and then go unconscious? I don't think Mark would've really needed to almost freeze his hand in order to see if she's alive.

David and Taylor had heard his voice and went to its source. Taylor, upon catching sight of Mark, called, "What love won't do for a friend, eh, Mark?"

"'Course," said David, "you're used to carrying a woman while this chilly precipitation falls. I mean, you live in Canada."

Mark laughed. "You Americans think that Canada is a big, frozen, artic wasteland, and that's not true. Do you also assume we live in igloos and dress like Eskimoes?"

Lemme get this straight: Michelle is (supposedly) in danger, and David and Taylor are cracking jokes about it? Not seeing if she's okay? Is it a requirement for all characters to be unlikable at some point in this story? And jokes about Canadian weather really aren't that funny most of the time, for your information. They're just so overused.

"We need to stay together," commanded Isaac loudly. "Hey, where's Goliath?"

"Right here, sir. And I just found a cave for us to stay in until this weather passes."

"Perfect. Lead us on, quartermaster."

Oh, how convenient. A nice cave to die in, because they actually have no idea how long the storm is going to stick around. It could be days, and with their food supplies still on the ship, they'd die from the cold and/or starvation.

General Thorskov and his squad of wraithclaws were not having a successful hint.

"This weather is driving away the snow sparrows and flethry serpents," one said.

"Not to mention the boars and the elks," another complained.

Thorskov scratched his back. "I should'a known that a blasted storm would meddle with our huntin' plans."

"None o' us saw this coming," a soldier stated/

Okay, but you guys have lived here for who-knows how long. Shouldn't you understand the weather patterns a little better?

The sound of padding feet carried to the team. "Humans," the lieutenant cried excitedly as he raced into the cave's far room. "They're 'eaded here."

"How many, Quh?" Thorskov demanded.

"Dozens, all armed," Quh said. "And sire, I saw one young man holdin' a sweet looking girl in 'is arms."

The general's already soft heart somehow was able to soften more. "Get the goats and carts; we're going to take them to the emperor's palace. We never get guests anymore, so he'll be pleased, no doubt."

Some of the wraithclaw hunters/foot soldiers left with the lieutenant, while the others awaited the humans. "If they're friendly, they'll be blessed with hospitality. If not . . ." Thorskov let his thought hang.

But . . . but what about those who aren't the Chosen Ones hardening the wraithclaws' hearts toward humans? This seems like a contradiction! Wouldn't they be more likely to take them to the emperor as prisoners? Don't tell me it's just because Mark was carrying Michelle.

A curtain of fur abruptly emerged from a tunnel in the cave, and David hit it solidly as he was walking.

"Sorry lad, didn't see ya there," a voice apologized. 

David gaped up at the mountain of white fuzz that towered over him. It was humanoid and brawny, complete with wide hands and feet and sausage digits. It had iron gray talons that were three inches long, and its large, round, only black eyes probed David.

"I'm guessing you're either a wraithclaw or a yeti. Probably not the latter," David speculated.

The wraithclaw laughed. "Well met, sir! I'm General Thorskov." 

This is a pretty uncreative design for the wraithclaws. They might as well be your standard yetis. And I'm not sure if it would've been a better introduction to them if they only appeared now, instead of having their own little scene.

"General," Isaac greeted, "so nice to see you again. How's your wife these days?"

"'ello, cap'n," Thorskov said warmly. "My bride's fine, just fine. How's your ship?"

"The Thunder Cannon was accidently grounded on the shore. It took some damage in a fight with one of the drucoes' serpents."

"WHAT?! The weasles are playin' on our territory? Not on my watch, they're not."

David cleared his throat. "What exactly are they?"

Forget that! I want to know how the blazes Isaac and Thorskov know each other and happened to meet on this very important journey.

"Vicous half-man, half-squid things with terrible breath to boot," Thorskov replied. "Worse yet, they ate emotions, 'cept the bad ones. And love is on the top of the list. They don't even marry. Their brains must be a scrambled mess." He frowned disapprovingly.

Stop dumping info on other races and give us stuff that's actually important for this point in the story!

"Interesting," said David. "And how, might I ask, do you two know each other?"

Personally, I would've asked this question before the whole druco thing, but whatever. At least it's being asked.

"First, my men need to give you some comforts." Thorskov whirled around and boomed, "Alright, ya blokes, these people deserve the wool blankets. Bring 'em all out."

More wraithclaws like Thorskov came bearing the blankets and passing them to everybody. All of the creatures were apparently about seven feet tall, giving them a presence of fierceness, yet protection. They seemed friendly, exhibiting heartfelt concern for Isaac, his crew of knights, and the Chosen Ones.

Well, at least Thorskov's got his priorities straight, but I still feel like there's an inconsistency here. Are the wraithclaws antagonistic against the humans, or are they not? Is it just this squad that's friendly? I need more context, people!

After personally making sure everyone was comfortable, Thorskov sat next to David. "The way Isaac and I met was during the first trip to Zracs. He and his men 'ad just landed when large flethry serpents attacked them. Me and my huntin' group happened to be walking by when we 'eard the commotion. We found 'em with ease and helped end the skirmish, but not before a few of the fellows were bitten in vital areas. They died just a couple o' minutes than we could've given aid.

"Isaac closed his eyes in grief for just several seconds, and no one but I noticed the boar that was stealthily comin' at the cap'n. They can be quite sneaky creatures, those boars. Anywho, I grabbed a decently sized rock and chucked it at the things 'ead. Well, that boar crumpled to the ground as fast as lightnin'. That's when Isaac opened his eyeballs and thanked me so much, I thought he was going to yap my ears off. I 'eld up a hand and told him, 'One of the hunter's worst enemies is shut eyes, because in doing so, he could miss either an opportunity or a threat.'

"After that, I gave him some supplies, and they decided to leave. And in the voyages afterwords, we became good friends. That is 'ow we met. Now, if I am allowed, could you tell me your story of how you and that young man met?"

OH MAH BRICKING GOSH, WE MAY AS WELL WRITE A WHOLE OTHER STORY JUST TO HEAR ABOUT HOW THESE TWO GREAT FRIENDS MET.

*takes a deep breath* It's chock-full of conveniences: Thorskov's group happened to be in the area, Isaac happened to close his eyes, the boat happened to somehow be stealthy so that only ONE SOLITARY PERSON NOTICED. It's just poor writing all-around, and that goes for the wraithclaws' inconsistent accents as well. At least this kinda explains why this one particular squad is fond of humans. Sort of. Perhaps not really, if you think about it too much.

"Sure thing," David said and launched into his adventure. Thorskov was deeply interested, occasionally interrupting with questions, gasps, and exclamations. It seemed at some points the wraithclaw general couldn't stop shaking his head in wonder.

I mean, his adventure was decently interesting, but it was hilariously bad more than anything else.

At the end, Thorskov declared, "You, good sir, have done things most haven't, are smart and don't use it as an excuse to get uppity, and stick to your beliefs. I admire you, even if we've only just encountered each other. And if there's anything I can do to assist you in findin' Warren, just let me know, sir."

Aww, isn't that nice of Mr. Yeti-Knockoff? But seriously, Thorskov might be one of the only decent characters in this story, and that's saying something.

David looked at Thorskov and saw that he was completely concerned and sincere about his promise.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is where this project died. I got busy with school, and it fell to the wayside. Now, I actually have more that I wanna say, but I don't have enough time now. Keep your eyes peeled for a post soon that details what I'm going to do with the novel and what new series will take the place of Humble Beginnings.

So what'd you think, not just of this post, but of the series as a whole? Did I have enough sarcasm for your tastes? Are you going to miss these? Any fond memories from them? Let's take a moment to pay respects to the series. RIP Humble Beginnings; press F to pay respects.