guanohead on 2/7/2007 at 11:25
I don't like the idea of fanfics usually, and yet I love the Thief world a lot and find myself wanting to write within it's boundaries.
I wrote this first chapter and then wrote the prologue after showing it to a friend who had no idea what I was talking about. If anyone wants to read this and tell me what you think, I'd be greatful. I'm not proud and really don't mind critisism. Specific questions I wonder about include:
- Are the characters portrayed realistically?
- Does it make sense to you?
- Are there any world/cannon inconsistancies that I missed?
- Is it interesting and engaging? (do you want to know what happens next?)
- Does it flow fast enough?
- Do you have any idea's of where it could go from here? (I'm still deciding)
And, of course, anything else you have to say I would be very grateful to read about.
Thanks!
guanohead on 2/7/2007 at 11:27
Prologue
The Old Quarter sits like a bad memory, sprawled and derelict at the core of the City. It was once a vital neighborhood with major affairs being forged behind important doors. Now it is abandoned to the horror that tirelessly stalks its desolate streets. There are few who still remember its story, but even fewer can forget it exists. The imposing stone and mortar walls were built tall to protect the City from the Old Quarter and for the past 50 years they have stood un-breached, but for the past 50 years they have also choked its malevolence in upon itself, to silently feed and curdle until traces of the foulness quietly oozed into the surrounding quarters. If the City is a cancer as a cynical poet has said, then the Old Quarter is surely its dark heart.
In the heart of Old Quarter itself is a massive Hammerite cathedral. THE great Hammerite Cathedral: forsaken, but never silent. It is rumored to be darkly cursed and even to be the seed of the contamination itself. It is rarely spoken of, however, as the speaker risks denouncement and excruciating chastisement at Hammerite hands.
Some have called the Order of the Hammer a nest of fanatics. Others refer to them as violent sociopaths. The order cares little for the words of Heathens. The City greatly needs a ward or it would plummet into the Trickster's maw as quickly and utterly as the Old Quarter did. The Hammerites provide this moral order. They are the roof and walls against the chaos of a storm and their job is not easy. A moment of weakness would be a crack through which the Trickster could enter and sweep the City to the ground. He is ever searching. A moment of weakness is not to be tolerated. A moment of weakness is to be cut quickly and absolutely from the vigil, like the Thief's hand or the Liar's tongue.
For the past year the Hammerites listened from their temples as the creaking whispers of the Old Quarter grew silent. Warily they forced open the gates and peered inside. Carefully they tread the unholy earth, searching for hidden, sneaking peril. By the time they reached the shadow of the long-lost cathedral, all they had found were silent, empty ruins, and dust.
Behind the cathedral walls, a few zombies still wheezed and muttered. They shambled past the crumbling entryway, oblivious to the party of hammerites as it readied its war-hammers.
The announcement that the hammerites were officially reopening the gates to Old Quarter and reclaiming their great cathedral was met with a tumult of disapproval. Even after the situation was explained, the City streets thundered with cries of protest. Yet the Order of the Hammer had made its decision and like a breaking dam the City watched as events unfolded.
guanohead on 2/7/2007 at 11:27
Chapter 1
An unfortunate demise
Man walked within the cathedral's walls once again. Voices and footsteps and the mechanical sounds of change echoed through dark, dusty halls, down into storage cellars and up into the tops of empty towers. The immense brass bells reverberated their sleeping power at every boom, scrape and shout. The first had been a scout, a spy, a vilifier. These were settlers, reshaping the landscape to suit their whims.
"Place the sitting stones along this wall. Watch yourself...!"
Brother Alasia grabbed the corner of the granite chair as it tipped passed saving. He felt the shudder and crack as it landed on his knee. To his horror, it kept falling unabated and the boom echoed in the massive hall and shook the floor. He also landed heavily, clutching his shattered leg.
"Builder! Mortar and ...!"
Then the pain passed as a darkness spread across his vision. He was surrounded by shouting voices but they were distant and echoed. His rapid heartbeat thundered, drowning them out. He knew then that he was soon to enter the Builder's house. He took one last look and saw the faces. Malignant grinning visages peered from the rafters, from the stone walls, from behind doors and from each and every shadow. They were all staring hungrily at him through blackly pitted eyes. There were even faces perched on the shoulders of his concerned and horrified brothers.
"No!"
"Still thy tongue Brother Alasia, the medic hast been summoned! Guard thy strength and keep thy wits."
Brother Mortanio's stern face eclipsed his vision. The overseeing architect! Alasia needed to tell him, to warn him! They had come here to renovate the Old Quarter Cathedral, but the Trickster's claws still clutched the foundations and evil and corruption remained rotting within the beams. He needed to tell him! He pushed air through his lungs, knowing it was his last breath. He shouted but, as if he was underwater, only garbled noise reached his ears, almost drowned by his booming heartbeat.
"Cursed!!"
Mortanio clenched his teeth at Alasia's last cry. He glanced at the men's faces about him and saw the word sit like a death knell. He checked Alasia's breath.
"He hast all but entered the Builders good house." He held his palm to the man's clammy forehead and thought fast. The next hour was critical. The last thing the job needed, on top of the bad history, was an accidental death, especially one like this. The Builder's will was clear but whispers of doubt yet echoed, even through his own halls. It was obvious to Mortanio that whatever alleged horrors had been here a year ago had been expunged. The undead had been dealt with (far fewer of them than the stories had made out), rituals had commenced, priests had blessed and no further evidence of lingering evil had been detected by those judged competent to detect them. Yet perception was still against the project. The redemption of this cathedral was the victory needed to re-set the mortar of faith, shaken by the recent Mechanist uprising. If it failed... if he failed, then dark times lay ahead.
-~o<@..@>o~-
Brother Nolan saw the crowd and ran towards it, his medical bag bouncing against his side. The group parted, revealing a cracked sitting stone and Brother Alasia, lying beside it with a fractured left leg. 'Fractured' was inaccurate; 'liquidated' was more apropos. Nolan knelt beside Alasia and began a tourniquet. Alasia should either be breathing very heavily or not at all. Unfortunately, it was the latter. Nolan exchanged a glance with Architect Mortanio. The project's lead was a critical man, with little patience for superstition. He was undoubtedly already working out ways to keep the gears of this renovation rolling. Nolan knew that not only the Order, but the whole city was observing events here and many of those watching had their hands ready at their hammers. Nolan was in accord with Architect Mortanio and began setting things strait as best he could.
"Brother Thompson, take that sheet and lay it beside brother Alasia. Brother Arch, thou liftest the feet as I lift the shoulders. We shall place this man upon the sheet and bring him thus to the infirmary." The two acolytes jumped into action and soon the body of Alasia was lying upon Nolan's examining cot.
guanohead on 2/7/2007 at 11:29
Brother Arch stood in stricken silence, watching as Nolan examined through glass, poked with needles and generally checked for any signs of life. Had he truly seen cause for hope, Nolan would never have moved Alasia. As it was he ran through the motions for completeness's sake. What else was there to do? Arch spoke.
"He wast a goodly man, and lived a hard life in service of the Builder." Nolan looked up to see the solemn face and clenched fists of the acolyte. He looked down at the departed brother on his table. Alasia was spoken of, even outside of this cathedral, as a strong and noble Hammerite.
"Thou speakest aright brother. Thou speakest aright." Nolan lowered his head to recite the Builder's prayer.
"Buurn.... meeee!" Nolan looked up in shock. Alasia was staring up at him through wild eyes. Nolan backed away as Alasia's contorted hand snatched and clutched his wrist in an impossible grip.
"Flee! Flee! Flee....AAaaahaah!!" The burning eyes turned, transfixed, towards the ceiling. Then they froze and his arm fell down to the floor. Both men stared in horror at what they had witnessed. There had been no signs of life, and then this! Nolan's mind fought against omens and portents but it was impossible. The man had seemingly returned to demand that they burn him as if he were pagan! Yet surely the spark of life, though too low to detect, must have lingered to this last moment.
As Nolan stood frozen with Alasia's terrified voice and fiery eyes beating in his mind, he fought between what he had seen and what he knew to be true and he couldn't tell which was which.
guanohead on 2/7/2007 at 11:30
Architect Mortanio's rational words eased the company's spirits somewhat during the eulogy. He spoke of Alasia's goodly life amongst the brethren; he spoke of responsibility and steadfastness. He spoke of the Builder's great house and its many rooms. He spoke of Alasia's commitment to the Builder's will and of his constant vigilance against the Trickster.
Nolan thought back to his meeting with Architect Mortanio and Brother Arch. They had spoken in hushed tones of the incident. By the end it had been concluded that Alasia's last words were the unfortunate ravings of a dying man and that his state of mind upon death should be kept discrete for the time being. Both Arch and Nolan had sworn not to speak of it again lest they risk dissention within the cathedral walls and the companies venture to fail.
Mortanio consecrated Alasia's vessel, and the men with shovels stood to bear the coffin off to the catacombs. Even in this solemn parade heavy war hammers were slung over their shoulders and vials of holy water dangled from their belts. The cathedral grounds had been well sanctified but nobody was naive enough to believe that the undead had left the catacombs below. Nolan had heard that the cunning haunts were the vilest of the specters and that on certain nights you could hear their moaning curses and unearthly chains dragging and rattling beneath the cathedral floors. He shuddered and felt grateful for the daylight.
As the men lifted the coffin and set their jaws for imminent battle, Nolan watched the faces of his fellow, mourning brethren. Nolan was a new addition here, having been reassigned from his comfortable, dull post at the clock-tower. He had not yet met many of the brothers in this company but they seemed a stalwart, unnervable group; picked no doubt for these very attributes. Arch in particular seemed to embody, in spirit and mind, what his broad shoulders and stable brow embodied in physical labor and combat. The very Builder's man if ever there was one. Mortanio also left the impression of being as the hewn stone: strait foreword, honest and pragmatic.
To be frank, Nolan felt rather out of sorts here. He had devoted less of his life to swinging his hammer and more of it to sewing skin and studying anatomy. He felt fairly competent around gears and pistons, due to his time among the clock-tower's caretakers, but he knew very little about rebuilding a derelict cathedral and even less about chasing ghosts and ghouls from the shadows. He was a thin, small man and, though he'd worshipped the Builder since his days at the Cradle Orphanage, he felt an unnamable flaw in his being, both physically and spiritually. His most embarrassing admission was that his thoughts, while in prayer, needed to be watched lest they stray to lesser matters. Only with his keen mind did he feel worthy of the Builder's hands and, among these resolute fellows, his flaws seemed quite prominent and his strengths of little worth.
He would give all that he could however, and perhaps that would be enough. Amongst these true and rugged frontiersmen, he would find his courage and worth.
-~o<@..@>o~-
guanohead on 2/7/2007 at 11:31
Brother Mortanio watched the pallbearers finish the ceremony. Vigilance would be kept at the entrance until they returned, headed by the sturdy brother Arch. He felt grateful for the strength of his company. They had taken this setback much better than he'd have hoped. The careful choice of his words at the oration would most likely be enough to set affairs aright. The last thing they needed, of course, was to witness a blasphemous funeral pyre for the late Brother Alasia. Mortanio scoffed under his breath as he stepped down from the altar and towards the entrance to the catacombs. The medic, of course, wasn't aware of the details of the cathedral's history. He'd have to fill him in one of these days. Builder but he was an odd egg, that one: bowing in respect, yet forthright to the point of impertinence. He seemed to be honestly concerned however, and his oath to silence had felt true. It was probably his time amidst the heathens that had so emboldened his tongue. Mortanio, of course, had overseen many renovations. He knew better than any about accidents. They happened. You needed to speak the Builders words and move on. The Trickster fed his maw with fear and chaos and the best route was to ignore his deceiving net and keep your hammering steady; to starve him and damn him down to his place. Mortanio watched the coffin being carried below ground. He nodded to brother Arch and turned the key to the catacombs until the bearers' safe return.
Cosmos on 8/7/2007 at 17:54
Hey guanohead, when's the next installment coming? I find it hard to be a critical reader when the story is interesting, so I can't exactly answer your list of questions. Suffice it to say, it piqued my interest. Keep it going!
Xenith on 9/7/2007 at 08:33
very interesting:)
I guess the only thing I found annoying was the fac that the word "Brother" was repeated in almost every sentence :nono: can't you just put their names whitout the "Brother" title in them, like you did on some parts of the story? I mean you made your point that they're part of some Brotherhood the first time you repeated 10 times the word Brother :D I don't think I can stand reading a 10 chapter story that has the same word in every action packed sentence...:erg:
other than that it's really cool so far :thumb:
Mugla on 10/7/2007 at 09:49
A fresh perspective, and flowing reading. Wouldn't change this bit much myself.
-The character's were realistic thusfar (not much could be told about them yet)
-Same goes for the situation. I can imagine the opening might be done under such conditions
-Not the whole Old Quarter was sealed, only "the Sealed Section"
-Yes, I'd like to read further please
-The prologue seems to wallow in place a bit, in the second paragraph. Could be the text was tad obscure
-Where to go from here? Seriously, I'd trust that part entirely on you. A few times I was worried you'd end up stating the obvious, or making a less logical plot step, but was pleasently surprised each time.
The difficult questions you left in the air were "what is the source of this new necromancy", [SPOILER]as the Eye has already been removed,[/SPOILER] and "what were the shades Bro Alasia saw there". You can easily fall into blatant explanations on both instances.
Oh, and after the next chapter, you got something good(long) enough to hook up into thecircle.com, if you could please. ;)
guanohead on 13/7/2007 at 03:41
I updated the story a bit. I am currently reading "The Name of the Rose" and I have this project in mind as I read it. I am hesitant to continue writing until I'm done though, just because I'm getting lots of ideas (backstory mostly) and I don't want to cement the base before they arrive, if you get my meaning. I believe I can get through the book pretty quickly, life permitting, and then I can really dig my teeth into this story. In the mean time, many parts and pieces are working themselves out in my head.
Regarding the fact that only a part of the old quarter was corrupted. I have taken an artistic license with names simply because I can't think of a decent title other than "The Old Quarter". "The bad part of the Old Quarter" just doesn't have the same ring to it.:p
It's funny, I was wondering about overexposure to the word "Brother" and if it would get annoying. I just wasn't sure. I removed it as much as seemed reasonable in the circumstances.
Again, thanks very much for the feedback and I hope to continue soon and to really make some serious progress this time.
Thanks,
Guanohead
