Strongest Start! (Page 2 of 3)

Promise to throw some at the screen and you're invited to the show!

This isn't really a contest. It's an exercise in character development. I've found that it's easier to develop a varied cast this way.  With more than one casting director, the cast has different priorities. It adds conflict and depth of field.

I can honestly say that if I had been writing the second chapter, there would not have been trolls  :-)  Take your time, Janet.  We'll be looking forward to whatever you come up with.

Make you characters trolls.  Then he can kill them all.  (Yum.  Popcorn.)

Oh, and K can gladly kill this troll for me!  Heck, I'll even throw the troll at him!

Oh, K? 

I posted the new chapter of Dictates.  Could you browse and tell me what you think of the power moment?

Thanks!

A

This is going to get messy ...

http://nethack.wikia.com/wiki/Troll

Of course, you could make the corpse your pet ....

Eyes pursed tight and soundlessly gasping for air, Char gave little heed to the conversation on the other side of the broken door.  The thick, stale air inside made it hard to breathe.

Still betta tha' bein’ burnt ta dust.

Char, keeping her eyes closed, waited for the imbeciles to move on so that she can get out of there.  Quick.

“We have better things to do.”  Feet clattered on stone; fading rapidly.

Gud, da daft guards iz gone.

“Hey!  You dropped the bird!  It’s yours!”

Darnit, da bum iz still ‘ere.

“No harm done!  Please, come out, won't you?”

A frosty wind blew across Char’s exposed skin.

Hiz wasting precious time!

Char crushed the piece of bread in her right hand; a trickle of sweat dribbled down her temple and cheek.  It left a trail of ice behind.  Crunching her face, she closed her eyes even tighter.  A desperate cry almost escaped, an iron clad fist on her chest the force behind it.  The air chilled some more.  The hair on her arms rose.  She knew, should she open her eyes, she would see white mist every time she exhaled. 

She also knew evil. 

Outside, footsteps shuffled closer and then moved back again, a few times.  But finally, the man went away.

Char scuffled, her back pressed hard against the cold stone, oh so slowly, to the entrance.  Two steps and she’d be gone.

“And where do you think you are going?”  The voice was gruff, hoarse; yet, distinctively female.

One-and-a-half steps.

“Ha ha ha ha.  Ha ha ha ha.  She thinks she can escape!”

A chorus of bitter laughs joined the voice in a chorus to end in bone piercing howls.

One step.

Char was almost there when a frozen grip tightened around her left wrist.  Char gulped, and then screamed.  Eyes wide, she tried to yank her arm free, for naught.

Clouds shifted outside and let golden streaks of sunshine paint a haggard shape on rotten filth through the distorted entrance.  Bodies hobbled out of the way; bodies Char could now make out.

There were only females. 

Hardly any hair covered bold, green heads of those not wearing hairpieces.  The hairpieces made no difference.  Crooked noses, scattered liberally with dark, hairy moles, nearly touched their mouths.  Pointed, dropped jaws revealed coal black toothless gums.  A lucky few had one rotting, mouldy tooth left – bottom row.  Eyes, far apart, were like nuggets of gold glowing in the sun.  Char never thought gold could glow cold.  Grimy robes of indeterminate colours covered their grotesque, rotund bodies.

The hold on her wrist didn’t budge at all.

Time froze; Char remained fixed on the spot.  The moist bread in her hand completely forgotten.

Would logical reasoning work with them?

Maybe she could convince them it’s not because they are trolls, but it’s because they are eating humans that they’re not liked?

Char shook her head.  She was being silly.  And talking like a lady again. 

Biting her lip, blinking back tears, she knew, watching the white mist of her exhaled breath, they were not capable of rational thoughts.  And once they had you in their sights, they will never let go.

Priest sez I ‘uz born in year 1085.  Lost me mum to fever tha’ day.  It uzed ta be the worst day of my life.

I like how Janet made her speak like a lady when she's frightened.  And I like that she dared to keep Janet in her dialect during the other times. 

Anyone else interested in picking up the thread?  Otherwise I'm going to mull a bit and see what I can come up with.  I work for the next two nights.  If I can find some time while in the coal mines, I'll have something in the pipe by Sunday.  (If I triple my time estimates, I always look like a miracle worker)

No. I'm kinda covered up writing my new story. It's fun to watch you all be creative. I'm lurking though.

I thought her lady manners could add a nice layer to her character, and the way it's set up, she was stressed and reverted to her "normal" speech .... so readers should go:  mmmm, interesting.

Fur ... when we rewrite this, I'll add fur to the trolls.  What an excellent idea!!!!  And yes, we're going to re-write this - we will win more prizes that way!