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Post by Matteo ((Taed)) on Feb 18, 2015 0:00:25 GMT -5
Genre: Wuxia
Secret Ingredient: Locomotives
Due Date: 12:01 AM EST Wednesday, February 25, 2015
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Post by Bloodeye the Bai Ze on Feb 24, 2015 22:37:15 GMT -5
The arid sands blasted against the rough patterned metal of the train as it floated along the ancient lines at a break-neck pace. It was a multi-tiered monstrosity, once a venerable liner to cross the vast reaches of the Far Desert in the most ideal conditions of comfort and leisure, now the outer facade was a blurry wash of rusty brown and plagued green from oxidation. Though the inside was kept to a very modest and rustic tone in the similar manner as it had when the vehicle shuddered across the wastes in its hayday, few would know of it from the outside.
Music drifted from an old player box into the dining car, which resembled a two-story restaurant with a canopy ceiling. Glasses on the table rattled with every disapproving shake of the car along the old rickety track.
“Sir? Madam? Are we ready to order?” the waiter asked, smiling hard through both sets of his teeth.
Longhunter dropped his menu down slowly next to his hat on the table. “Yes. I’d like the special today.”
“Oh excellent choice sir! The Carbass today is fresh from the docks of New Juro. It’s such a tender fish, with a flaky texture that will-“
“Yeah yeah, I get it. The fish is good.” Long replied with a grim huff. Nearly a week on this rocketing death trap of comfort and he was starting to get more than a little cranky. Of course the company of the woman across the table from him was a nice detour from staring out the window of his cabin at nothing but sand and lizards.
“And you madam? What can I get you?” The waiter asked, turning to the woman with his pearly whites glistening in the midday sunlight streaming through the shaded windows.
The woman just held her menu up to her face and didn’t respond.
“Ma’am?” the waiter finally asked after a long, drawn-out silence, “I’m ready for your order.”
“I’m not ready.” She responded curtly, not even looking up from her menu.
“Come on Xen.,” Long retorted. “You’ve had plenty of time to figure out what to eat. Just pick something.”
He was answered by a gruff clearing of Xen’s throat and a sharp finger in the air to hush him.
“My master once told me that the road to enlightenment is often set upon after a perfect meal.” Xen said, eyes glued to the glossy panels of the menu.
Long sighed heavily in disapproval as an odd feeling of interest skittered up his spine. He had only known this woman for a few days. She had gotten on at the last stop before the great expansive desert swallowed up all paths and civilizations between Nelsis and the glittering white sandy beaches of Gorgh, home of extensive ancient Carcali structures, mistranslated texts, and a plethora of young, half-naked Feros girls spending time sunning themselves on the beach. Of course, the Feros were cold-blooded and slightly on the scaly side, but if you could look past that their women weren’t too unappealing. Xen, being neither of those things and having the additional nuance of actually being Carcali herself instantly peaked Long’s fascination among other things.
It was difficult anymore to find people of his race. No one was too sure of population numbers and considering the significant damage the incursions by the Threck had on his people and their remaining lands, it was safe to say that most of whoever was left was either in hiding or scattered to the far corners of the world.
Surprisingly, it wasn’t just her racial equality to Long that had him taking notice of the woman sitting across from him. Her demeanor was like a mountain. Distant, yet the more you approached it the more you in awe you were. She said little unless it pertained to a conversation and even then she only seemed to quip pieces of philosophy torn from the scrolls of some old practice. The scholar in him was eager to find out more about her and the things she’d seen. The fighter in him eyed the sword gently laid across her lap like a child eyeing a piece of candy.
“So… this master of yours. Did he teach you how to use that thing?” Long inquired, leaning forward with anticipation.
“What thing?” she answered.
“The sword. I mean I hardly see anyone running around with a sword. I wouldn’t,” he said, only to be shot a hard glare from over the top of the menu. Sapphire and amber glittered at him with the harsh intensity of an explosion in mid blast. He coughed and tugged at his collar uncomfortably. “, not that there’s anything wrong with swords. Swords are pretty neat. I just prefer guns, ya know? They’re sorta my thing.”
“It is in the use of firearms that the ideologies of temperance, nobility, and self control have faded to the point that their fragility could be shattered at a mere whisper.” Xen replied, lifting her menu back to her face.
“Riiiight… whispers. Do you ever speak like a normal person or is this all part of some philosophical swordswoman routine you have worked out?”
“I am not average, therefore I have nothing average to say.”
“In short, you’re better than everyone else and you know it.”
“That is not what I said.”
“No. It’s what you meant. Anyone can just say something. It’s the context around what they say that provides interpretation,” Long smirked. “Not much difference between reading a person and reading an old scrap piece of scripture.”
“Your view of the world is abusive if not practical. Were you taught in this way?” Xen inquired without so much as stopping at the wine list.
“Comes with the career, sister. You don’t go crypt diving without some idea on how to fill in the holes. History is never in one solid tapestry. It’s a pile of bits and pieces. Sometimes you use common sense to glue things together, other times you stitch in some complete bullshit, hoping that someday someone either proves you right or wrong. As long as you make some kind of connection between things, then you start to have a story.”
“So you lie just to bring fulfillment to your purpose.”
“I prefer “fanciful adlibbing” to “lying”.”
“I see. So is there anyway for you to “fancifully adlib” our way out of the current predicament?”
“You mean the squad of Threck commandos that are currently surrounding our table?” Long asked, turning his head to look at the menacing black uniforms and rebreather masks of the squad that now stood over the duo. “I don’t know. Maybe.”
“We are here for the archaeologist,” groaned the Threck in the front of the group. Xen lowered her menu to the table as Long leaned back in his chair. Both just stared back at the hollow eyes of the commando leader.
“Sorry friend. No archaeologists here. I sell books for a living.” Long chuckled, hoping that his sarcasm would carry him yet again. However it was Xen who rose to her feet, her sword promptly swung around to be held in her offhand behind her back.
“What is it you want of him?” she inquired to the leader plainly, a serious calm air spreading around her.
“Nothing of your concern.” The leader responded without looking at her, his gaze locked on Long.
“I believe it is my concern. If you have no want to tell me, I’ll be forced to assume that your intentions are ill and I will be pressed to take action against you.”
The sound of unsheathed steel filled the air as the commandos armed themselves with their knives. Threck hated guns in general for no other reason than the fact that guns killed quickly and they preferred to savor the deaths of their victims. Xen brought her sword out from behind her back slowly, her calm unwavering. Long was now at the edge of his seat. For someone in his situation, he was a bit too excited to see what would happen next. Xen moved her thumb against the hilt of her sword and pressed gently. The blade pulled smoothly from its scabbard with a soft ring of steel sliding over the brass embellishments. The blade whistled as it darted thru the air before coming to a stop in Xen’s hand, the point aimed at the group of Threck soldiers.
“Who has the nerve to strike first?” Xen asked, a coy smile cresting across her face. As she scanned the group, one of the Threck took a step forward:
“Madam?”
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“Madam?”
Xen jumped in her seat as the waiter stood over her, his bright shiny teeth gleaming.
“Are you ready to order?”
The Carcali swordswoman looked across the table at Long, who stared back with a raised eyebrow and a stern glare.
“Oh! Yes! I uh,” Xen stammered, hastily folding her menu the wrong way, refolding it the right way, and then nervously placing it onto the table with a smoothing action. “I’ll have the special too.”
“Very good ma’am. Will there be anything else?”
“No! Nope! That’s good. That’s all good. Nothing else. Good.” Xen blurted out to the question, not taking her time at all to speak. She kept looking over at Long, whose expression was slowly becoming more and more disapproving as she spoke, which only made the situation worse. The waiter took the menus and marched away happily while Xen sipped at her water in hopes to elude any more looks from Long. When he did finally speak, it caught her so off-guard that she nearly coughed water across the table:
“So… do you know how to use that thing?”
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Post by Matteo ((Taed)) on Mar 5, 2015 19:28:57 GMT -5
I didn't ... get it? What was the point of the cut? Was she just daydreaming? It was odd, since the first half of the story was clearly from Long's point of view, but then it just becomes part of her imagination. The last line seemed to imply that she did, in fact, have a sword, so I guess only the specific events were imagined? She's a wandering ronan for real, but she only dreams about being smooth and enigmatic? Very odd.
I did like the basic picture you painted through most of the story. I had a good mental image of the rattling train car, and the characters sat at the table. I was a little worried initially that you were just throwing the topic elements at a wall to see if they stuck, since the main concession to Wuxia was just Xen having a sword. I think it came together, though; the sedate conversation followed by the standoff with bandits was good, kind of reminding me of the restaurant scene in Crouching Tiger. Although, the fact that it all turned out to be fictitious was, again, a weird choice that threw me off.
It's a shame that, beyond the original set-up, I feel like we haven't gotten to know your setting all that well. We're two months in and I'm hearing references to races that I know nothing about.
I always have a lot of notes on your pieces, because I feel like your langauge generally suffers from a few very easy to fix problems. If you don't already, try coming back to your work the day after you write it and reading it aloud. I think you'll start catching some basic flaws in the pacing and word choice, that you'll then have a simple time fixing on your own.
"Floated along" sounds slow.
The tense is screwy. It looks better as either "a blurry wash of rusty brown, plagued with splotches of green oxidation," or else "a blurry wash of rust brown and plague-green oxidation."
Using the words "rust" and "rustic?" Ehhhh ...
I'd go with "(admittedly comfortable) death trap"
When else do you say things?
Quibble, but where did the waiter go? Is he still just standing there?
Would be better If she mirrored his word choice. Change him to average or her to normal
Contractions don't fit her speech
This continues to baffle me. Do people really do this?
Winner: Blood
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