[Recruiting]Anyone to everyone

[DragoonHP]

#####EDIT#####
Click his link for the first draft of the story:
http://lemmasoft.renai.us/forums/viewto ... 51#p102651

Hello.
If anyone care, it's not for I'm Not a Killer. It will take time because just 30,000 words have been written.

So, for in the time being, I wanted to make a Ren'Py game. More history would be included in the game [which will be released in a week or two hopefully].

If anyone is interested PM me.

Skills required: A special ability for surviving thousands of words of disgraceful writing.

P.S.: Oh yes, about the story, I don't know what's it's genre to be honest. It's kind of Fantasy/Romance/Angst and maybe a little bit of mystery. I have written around 8,000 words and I plan it to be around 15,000 words for the Chapter 1.

And if anyone who has a little bit experience with Ren'Py will come forward to help this newbie, I will be glad beyond imagination.

In the meantime, if you want to know my writing style, check my FanFiction account, but beware...

And is anyone wants to donate art *kneels and begs*, please.

[fortaat]

What's a "Verifier"? I don't know the word.

Could you provide a summery of the story?
It's not tempting to commit to several hours of work, proof reading or art making, on a story we know nothing about.

And if anyone who has a little bit experience with Ren'Py will come forward to help this newbie, I will be glad beyond imagination.

On the surface (which is what you need for a first game) it's a very simple language, mastered by 12 years old. If you have any special questions, ask the in the forum.

[machinist]

he/she probably means a proofreader

i'm pretty noob at renpy myself too,
but if you're planning to make very basic novel with default interface feel free to pm me

the quick start manual is very helpful
http://www.renpy.org/wiki/renpy/doc/tut ... Quickstart

anyways for free art here
http://wiki.renai.us/wiki/Character_Art

[DragoonHP]

By 'verifier' I mean, to read through the story to find that if it can be turned into a playable Ren'Py game.

Summary: To be honest, I don't myself what will happen in the story. I never know, I just let myself get lost in the writing.

But I will give it a shot:

World: A fantasy Kingdom called Somar in a world called Solario

It's a story about a Man who is dying. He just have some hours to live. He is the ruler of the aforementioned Kingdom. The girl he loves tells him to go away from her life, never to see her again. So, the story after some starting dialogues will wrap to the point where our leads meet the girl and follow from it.

It's really bad, but what can I do. I really suck at writing summaries and it don't help when you don't know what's you are going to write in the next line.

he/she probably means a proofreader

mechnist I don't mean proofreader, as I have mentioned earlier. I just need a person, or a couple of persons who can go through my story and tell me if it can be turned into a Ren'Py game. And as a side note, it's he.

i'm pretty noob at renpy myself too,
but if you're planning to make very basic novel with default interface feel free to pm me

In any case, you are advanced then me. I am just going to PM you. I just need a 'Verifier' but who knows, I may turn lazy.

What's a "Verifier"? I don't know the word.

I invented the word.

Could you provide a summery of the story?
It's not tempting to commit to several hours of work, proof reading or art making, on a story we know nothing about.

Actually it's not proofreading, but I guess you would have known it by now.
But if you can make art, please just 'Verify' my story and if you like it, donate some art to this poor fellow.

[DragoonHP]

Me and mechnist (he is my verifier) found out that we both pretty much suck at summary writing. So, we came to the conclusion that we will post the first unedited draft of the story, to see if anyone is interested.
So read and enjoy. It will be on FictionPress soon:

I stand alone in a dark alleyway. There is no one, just no one except me and my misery. Everyone seems to be rejoicing the passing moments, but for me every passing moment is like a deadly blow on my heart.
My dreams, my love, my life; everything had come tumbling down a few days ago. Now I look forward to what everyone despise to the core of their hearts; now I look forward to the very thing which scares even the mightiest of our kind.
This is my story, this is my life and this is going to be my end.
A bright light sweeps over my body, dazzling my eyes for a moment. I turn around and look at the source. All I see is a silhouette of a man, holding a cane or a stick, I cannot tell for sure from this distance.
"Who's there?" he booms, when I choose to keep quiet.
"No one," I answer him dejectedly.
"Yeah, yeah," he says, as he walks towards me, "Likely story. Don't you think I've heard this kind of..."
He stops, mid-sentence. If someone was seeing him at this moment, they must have thought that it's quite chilly here. He was shaking from head to toe, looking as he has seen a ghost.
"Sir," he falls to his knees.
"Get up," I say to him, helping him get up.
He seems too thunder struck for the moment. I think of going away, but I don't.
"Si... sir," he seems to get his voice back, "what, what a--are you doing h--here?"
He stutters out, his bright blue eyes, sweeping over me.
"Just fancied a walk," I say evasively, waving my hand in air, as to firm my point.
"But... sir," the man says with more confidence, "you of all people..."
I lift my right hand, signaling him to keep quiet. He complies without second thought, his head bowed as he retreats some steps back.
"It's my decision and I don't think anyone except me have a right on it," I say.
"Yes my lord," the man says, not lifting up his head to look at me. His voice sounded scared, and why shouldn't it. After all, he is standing in front of the Sholastic Heir, the ruler of this kingdom and master of the Divine Arts.
A deadly silence engulfs us. The man doesn’t move an inch, looking and behaving like a statue.
"You shouldn't," I say to him, "tell about our meeting to anyone. You never saw me and as a matter of fact, you never entered this alleyway. Am I understood?"
"Yes my lord," the man says, without hesitancy, "Anything else, my lord?" He adds, looking up for the first time; but still he does not dare to meet my eyes.
"No," I say to him, "you may go."
He bows and without turning, retreats. I sigh in relief, and look up in the skies, praying for help some miracle.
I know; I can't stay here much longer now. I have full confidence that the man won't speak in natural circumstances, but this time, everything is different. Nothing is simple, and nothing with me ever goes as planned.
So, I silently look around, checking for any tail or intrusion. No one is around, as I suspected.
I pull up the hood of my cape and walk out from the dark alleyway, walking in the bright sunshine of my kingdom.
People are rushing around me; they all seem to be in some kind of frenzy. And this is because of me, because today is my birthday. It has been a ritual from five years, since I became their ruler. Titled the Sholastic Heir at a bare age of sixteen, I have always tried to uphold my kingdom's honour.
And because of this, the citizens of my kingdom have always valued my life and happiness, more than they have valued theirs. The love they show towards me, always overwhelms me. I have always tried to pay them back for their generosity, but they haven't accepted an extra Dren from me. They say that they are fortunate to get me as their ruler, but in reality it's the other way around.
I walk aimlessly around, hoping to just pass my time.
SLAM.
I bang into someone. I shake me head to ease the pain and look at the stranger. He smiles at me and asks me, "Are you hurt, mister?"
How generous! It was partially or maybe fully my fault but still, the man is behaving as he was the reason of our collision.
"Yes, I'm fine," I reply, smiling. It was before I realise that it was futile; my cape is still in its place.
"Say fine man," the man continues, smiling, "why are you wearing that cape in this fine morning? Don't you want to cherish your senses in this fine sunlight, a gift to us by God Sholastic?"
"I can't," I answer truthfully.
"And why so, if I may enquire young man?" he asks me, his face showing dawning comprehension.
"I'm cursed," I lie, silkily, feeling a little bad about it.
"Oh I see," the man says to me, his face showing genuine sympathy, "Go and see our ruler. He may free you of your curse."
"Is it so?" I ask him, a little amaze.
"Yes," he answers, "He is a very fine young man, gifted with unnatural powers, powers beyond our mortal imagination. I have seen him in his fury; he is a power you cannot behold..."
I look more intently at the man's face. Because to the fact he mentioned, only selected few are aware. His face is hidden in the shadow cast by the clouds. But as they move, I see the man's face. My old General and adviser, Rivaski, who retired some months ago because he said he was bored, bored because there was no fun in this job. But I know the true reason; he retired because he was infected by a deadly curse, which had no cure. He survived, by the good grace of Sholastic and even since I have tried my fullest to rope him back in the council. But he always refuses my offer with a gentle shake of his head, saying that he is now too old for the job.
"Where are you lost, fine man?" my old General, Rivaski asks me.
"Nowhere," I reply, "Just contemplating your idea."
"No need to contemplate the idea, young man," he answers cheerfully, "absolutely no need. If you want I can fix you an appointment with him. Or better you can ask him himself today after the party."
"Oh,' I say, feigning surprise, "today, is his birthday!?"
"Yes fine man, yes," he answers, looking disturbingly happy.
"What do you plan for his birthday?" I ask him, my curiosity getting the better out of me.
"Oh," he says, an evil smile spreading over his lips, "the usual party, celebration and yada, yada, yada..."
"Mind me sir," I say, getting a little irritated because of his evasive answer, "but I've heard that the citizens of Somar do something new every time on their Ruler’s birthday. And I don't think you are going to break that tradition."
"You are a clever man," he says, appreciatively, "Yes, we have something planned, something secret, and something we have managed to hide from our great Ruler."
"Ah," I say, leaning forward, "And what it is, sir?"
I can feel my curiosity is at its limit, but the man seems to be oblivious of the desperation in my voice. I want to know everything about...
"Aren't you getting a little curious, my fine man?" Rivaski asks me suddenly, pulling me out of my thoughts.
"Who won't be, sir?" I ask him in return and continue, "I have heard such magnificent things about this kingdom. And the tales I have heard of this day, of your Ruler’s birthday celebrations are just splendorous."
Rivaski keeps silent and so I continue, "And I have come with the hope of becoming a part of this grand event, so I can tell my friends and family and the generations to come about the generosity of Somarains."
"Ah young man," Rivaski says, "you got me intrigued. I will tell you our little secret."
He leans forward and says, "We are planning to take him to the Fall of Nyhara."
"Fall of Nyhara?" I hiss, looking at him sharply.
"Why are you amazed, young man?" Rivaski asks me, "He deserves to have a bath in it. A lake visited by God Sholastic himself; it's the place he should have been much earlier."
"Doesn't the passage leading to it open once in a year at a specific time in one of the full moon night," I muse.
"You know an awful lot about the Lake," Rivaski inquires, his eyebrow raised in suspicion.
"I read myths too, I will let you know," I reply, curtly and he laughs at my statement.
"True, young man, very true indeed," Rivaski says, “You are a very cunning man.”
“You can call me as you please,” I say to him, “but I just like to keep myself well acquainted with my surrounding and facts.”
“Umm…” he hums, looking me over. When he doesn’t seem to be pursuing the conversation further, I bow to him and say, “Good day, sir.”
He smiles at me, bows and before I can leave, he leaves. I sigh and look at the watch on my wrist. Four hands to eight. Just four hands to go, meaning two hours more.
Now I have a destination in my mind, I want to visit before my departure. I look around, making it sure that I’m alone. Then silently, I flip out a coin from mid air, toss it and I’m gone.
I arrive at my destination; I beautiful meadow, overlooking a lake. No one seems to have inhabited this area. But I know better. I take some step forward and as soon as I walk in the clearing, a beautiful cottage materlises in front of my eyes. But I do not seek to look at the cottage, nor did I seek to admire the beauty of the nature. I have did it so often, that I can paint the scene with my eyes closed.
I seek to find a woman; the woman who has stole my heart from me, Rose. The name sounds common, I know, but the woman bearing the name is not. She is one of her kind; beautiful, caring, polite, helpful and every other word you can find to elevate a person character. If I don’t know better I would have entitled her a goddess; such is her beauty and intelligence.
But I’m not allowed to visit her. Not by any law, because no law is superior to me but by the very word of the lady. Up to this point, I’m not aware of the reason, the reason for which she had left me. Every time I have come to her door, she had ignored me, not even considering me worthy of an explanation.
I, till this day, remember every fleeting moment, we have spend together. And I oh so well, remember the day, the fortunate day, I met her and the days after. They were the best spend days of my life.
X|X|X|X|X|X|X|X|X|X|X|X|X|X|X|X
“Huh, huh, huh…” I pant, “I will, huh… make, huh… sure you, huh… pay for, huh… it…”
“You may very well, my lord,” Rivaski replies, smirking, “Now if you don’t hurry up, you will have to spend the day without breakfast.”
“Hey that’s unfair, Rivaski,” I cry out, as my stomach grumbled showing its disagreement with the statement. He just chuckle and continues to run forward.
“I’m the ruler. I order you to stop right there and now.”
But he doesn’t stop. I grumble and follow him.
Ah, I notice a shortcut, I have used when I was a child. An evil smile creeps over my lips, as I glare at the general direction in which Rivaski has hurried off. It’s going to be worth a million Glan, watching his dumbfounded expressions.
Smiling at my coming future, I speed off, occasionally stopping to decide which path to take.
But it doesn’t take me much longer to notice the fact that I’m lost. My skin reddens, not because of any kind of curse or ill effect of my surroundings; it reddens because of my obvious embarrassment. I can hear Rivaski boom of laughter in my ear. I’m very much contented to cheat this time, but I don’t. I’m a man of words and I have promised Rivaski that I won’t use magic. Sometime I hate myself for my way of living of life and this is one of those times.
My stomach grumbles again, demanding food. I kneel in front of its wishes and prowl around trying to find some edible fruits and wild growth.
As I continue my search, my eyes fell on a secluded area. I see a meadow, a meadow of such beauty that it lefts me bewildered. It’s quite plain but it has an aura, an aura of magnificence and beauty that mesmerises me. A small yet beautiful lake glimmers in the middle of the meadow. There is not even a ripple on its surface and from my point of view, the water looks crystal clear, like it is made of molten diamonds.
The forest is so beautifully and secretly surrounding it, that’s it’s almost impossible to tell that such a beauty exist in the middle of this horrendous forest. I quickly grab some fruits from the low branches of trees and hurry off to the spot.
I stop just before taking a step in the beautiful meadow. Because I have noticed a small cottage. Like the whole of the meadow, it has an aura around it, which dazzles my senses. During normal circumstances, I will be at my guard around this type of area. But for some reasons, I don’t see any need of the precautions here; it just feels like home here.
My feet automatically move towards the cottage, but I, applying every single Dren of my will power, stop myself. For all I know, it may be someone property or a monument left in memory of someone. And taken I’m the ruler of this Kingdom; I still don’t like using my status to intrude in someone’s privacy or property until it is absolutely needed.
So, I silently make my way toward the lake. It looks the same as it looked to me when I saw it from afar. The water is heavenly crystal clear and calm.
“Maybe it’s a mirage”, I muse and drop my hand in the water. Ah, how wrong I was. It is after all, not a mirage for my hand dips straight into it. Ripples surround my wrist, spreading out afar in the water. I feel guilty of disturbing the calmness of the lake. Using as much deliberation I possess, I lift my hand out of it.
I shake my hand a little, shaking-off the droplets of water. I grab the first fruit my hands could reach.
“I wouldn’t eat it, if I were you,” a sweet voice breaks through the silence. Every alphabet, which came from the person’s lips, seems to be caressed with such deliberation that it feels like a song sung from the very lips of Crizus.
I turn around to greet the person and my neck freezes in mid way. A girl stands in front of my eyes, a girl of such beauty that turns my eyes into stone, for they refuse to budge from their position. Her flaming red hairs sway lazily in the wind, fanning around like they have life of their own. Her emerald eyes, shines more brightly than any emerald have even dared to. Her peach complexion, her heart warming smile, the dimples in her cheek; everything about her is perfect.
No not perfect, for it is an understatement. But no greater word exists in my vocabulary which can truly define her magnificence and heavenly beauty. Comparing her with the word perfect is a blasphemy, because the word is so meek in comparison to her. The better will be to compare the word perfect with her, for the word can never be as flawless as the girl is.
Sunlight escapes from the clouds and fells on her face. The glow her body emanates surpasses even sun’s magnificence with a large difference. No qualms with Sholastic, but the girl’s beauty surpasses the magnificence of every beautiful thing I have ever seen in my life, and mind me, I have seen many.
The girl raises an eyebrow and my heart beats erratically. I don’t know why, but it is a sensation I have never felt. I open my mouth to say something, just anything, but no words come out. It feels like I have lost the power of speech. My stomach churns but not because of hunger, but because of something, something that I haven’t experienced ever in my life.
“What are you staring at?” the girl says, exasperation in her voice clear.
I still can’t look away and without thinking, without missing a beat, my stomach grumbles. I flush blood red and I feel like all of my blood has pooled in my face. The girl laughs at me and my obvious embarrassment suddenly turns into pride. I don’t know why I’m feeling this sense of pride, because I’ve done nothing except making a fool out of myself. Maybe it’s because I have made her laugh, for her laugh is as flawless as every other thing is about her. And somehow it is decreasing my sense of embarrassment.
“Hungry, huh?” she asks me, smiling. I find myself nodding, as my ability of speech hasn’t returned yet.
“Oh,” the girl slaps herself on her forehead. She seems to be in the process of saying something, when her expressions suddenly change. She looks sharply at me and says, “Why are you staring?”
Unable to answer, I try to turn away. My traitorous body refuses. Summoning all of my strength, I finally turn away, my back facing her; all the while my eyes are trying to go in the back of their sockets, to look at the girl from the back of my head.
I hear footfalls approaching me. My heartbeat quickens and a delicate shade of red spreads through my body. Good Crizus! That Rivaski is not here. Otherwise I would have become a standing joke for him for all my life.
From the corner of my very eager eyes, I see the girl sitting on the grass. She smoothes her cloths, but suddenly looks pointedly at me, as if aware my eyes are groping all over her. I hastily turn my eyes to look at the lake. But all I see is the angelic face of the girl.
I can feel her eyes on me, but I don’t turn to look at her, afraid that if I do so, I will not be able to take my eyes off from her. But ah, my traitorous eyes, they always find one way or another to look at the girl.
And if I’m not wrong, she is very well aware of the brief snippets my eyes are taking, because after every snippet of her which my eyes hastily take, the intensity of her gaze increases.
Time passes and my brief snippets of her continue, and in retaliation the intensity of her gaze increases. It increases to such intensity that I feel holes burning in my skin. I snatch off the first fruit that my hands grab, for my vision is still swarming with the face of the girl, and viciously bite off a large chunk from it. Or I think so.
Because now the fruit is not in my hand, it’s enveloped under the girl’s hand, which means both of our hands…
My thoughts cease at this moment. I feel the warmth of her skin and my heart starts to pump blood at a demonic pace. My breath becomes ragged, but none of us pulls the hand away. Or maybe I’m the one who doesn’t want to leave her hand, as I can feel a little resistance from her hand.
I slowly turn my head to look at her. A red blush graces her skin making her look more heavenly, more beautiful if possible.
Both of us stay in the same position for much time, the exact I can’t tell for at that time I didn’t care about a thing. Because during those blissful moments, she was the only thing, the only entity that existed for me.
Finally, she uttered something incoherent and hesitantly pulled her hand away from me.
And now, we are sitting, pointedly looking away from each other. My erratic heartbeat hasn’t slowed yet, nor has the blush resided, not even a little. But none of us makes a move to get up, and walk again. For me, this is the most beautiful and important period of my life. Today’s date, 8th of August, from now on will hold a special place in my heart and in my life. But the reasons of all these things, of all these self made promises to myself, are unfortunately not known to me.
Time continues to trickle away in silence. During these moments, my mind is filled with many questions and it has made such a mess in my mind that I can hardly think about anything. But the one that manages to make some sense to me is, except the thoughts of the girl, is; why am I still here?
As much as I scorch my mind for an answer, I don’t get one. And maybe it’s because at the present moment, my ability to think has subsided to a very low fraction, only comprising of the girl and her beauty. I find myself wishing that the girl should be thinking of me, like I’m thinking of her. But I have no way of knowing and it somehow brings me great disappointment.
I sigh, and let my body relax. I should behave like a ruler. What would she be thinking of me now, a ruler who can’t even hold his demeanour in front of a girl?
I absentmindedly snatch a fruit from the small pile, because the old one has been thrown away, by whom I can’t tell and I don’t even care.
As soon as the fruit touches my lips, a hand connects with me cheek, painfully. The fruit is tossed in the air, landing in the water with a soft splash and a series of ripple.
I massage my throbbing cheek and turn to the girl, who stares at me unabashed, looking at me accusingly like I’m the one at fault here. I part my lips to protest, but again words fail me. The girl smirks and my dignity roars me into action.
“Why did you slap me?” I finally ask, in a voice louder than I anticipated or wanted to use.
“I should have let you eat it,” the girl mutters darkly, throwing a dirty look at me.
“Ah,” I say, “You also spoiled a gift by the mother nature.”
“Stop now,” the girl says, whipping her body around. For one fleeting moment, her hand rises in air. I quickly place my hands over my cheeks, protecting them from any further assaults from the girl. But she only looks at me an expression on confusion and mirth, like I have grown a pair of extra heads.
I quickly relax my arm, as a red blush found its way to my face. The girls laugh at my expressions and I’m left fuming with indignity.
“What!?” I finally ask her, when she continues to roll back and forth, obviously finding my embarrassment as a good laughing stock.
“So--Sorry,” the girl chokes out between laugh, “But your expressions…” I snort indignantly. I don’t know what was funny in it, but the girl obviously found something really funny in it, because she is continuing to roll around, laughing.
“Stop it,” I all but shout when the girl continues to laugh. I snatch another fruit from the pile and bring it tentatively to my mouth. As I suspected the girls hand shoot out again towards me. But this time I’m ready. I instantly free the fruit from my grasp and grab her wrist pinning both her hands together.
“Leave my hands,” the girl hisses, all the playfulness in her voice gone.
“Why aren’t you letting me eat?” I ask her, trying my best for not to sound neither too polite nor too stern.
“I should’ve let you,” the girl mutters darkly, wrenching her wrist away.
“And why’s that?” I ask her, turning to face her, fully.
“Don’t mind me,” the girl says, “eat your fruits. Don’t care if they are poisonous or mot.”
“Poisonous?” I repeat, glancing at the fruits.
“No,” the girl replies, “don’t care. Go on, eat. I swear I won’t disturb you. Mind you if you are at it, eat the black one, the one which is rolled at the side.”
My eyes instantly sweep over to the mentioned fruit. A black fruit, of some unknown name lay there. Its texture and gloss is so fine that it can rival any royal fruit. I lift the fruit, twirl it in my hand, and look at the girl. The girl nods hotly and motions for me to go on, making it look like some kind of dare.
I take a bite of its juicy flesh and the girl shouts. I quickly swallow it. The taste is divine. The right amount of sweetness, with adequate juice and something, something which I just can’t name.
Suddenly, the world around me flashes black. My whole body tremble and my grip on the black fruit looses. It fells on the ground with a thud, as the world around me spins and swirls in colour. My heartbeat slows and my eyes water, even without any pain.
I turn to look at the girl. She is hovering over me, an expression of concern on her face. After a while, she runs to back to the cottage, leaving me alone to suffer here.
Suddenly my body looses all its strength and it gives away in gravity. The only thing I hear before my mind is taken away in darkness is my body falling on the ground with a resounding thud.
I open my eyes, shaking my head a little. I try to get up, but my body refuses and a hand pushes me back, gently. I turn m face to look in the general direction of the hand. A girl is sitting there on a chair, the same girl who I met before in the meadow.
But there’s a big difference now. Before her body was glowing, emanating shine brighter than sunshine, but now she seems to have lost that charm, that shine. It seems that my fainting is the cause of her distress.
I tried to get up again, but the girl again pushes me back. I look at her accusingly and demand, as my memory comes back to me, “What happened to me?” It comes out, harsher than I intended almost like I’m accusing her.
The girl looks sharply at me, and a spark of her previous fierceness is seen by me. I smile; happy seeing her getting back to normal.
“Ungrateful brat,” she almost spats, and don’t even keeps her voice down, “I told you it was a poisonous fruit.”
“No, you didn’t,” I reply furiously.
“Oh yes, I did,” the girl reply, looking at me sharply. Our eyes meet and I feel like she has looked into my soul with her green eyes.
“I--I won’t ca--call it a warning,” I say, regaining my composure, “I will rather call it a dare.”
“Wise man knows the difference between dare and a warning,” the girl replies.
“Then I’m not wise,” I reply stubbornly, crossing my arm over my chest. The girl looks at me, slightly amused.
“You looked like one,” she says airily, sounding as she doesn’t care if I live or die.
“Do I walk around,” I ask her, “with a sign that says I’m wise?”
The girl smiles at me, actually smiles. I feel like flowers are blooming in my chest and stomach, and without caring I smile back at her. Our eyes meet; emerald in chocolate. The sensation that follows is not like before; it’s entirely different and one that I’m not aware of, not even at that slightest. I have gone through various degrees of pain and happiness, suffered almost all kind of punishment, experienced almost all kind of feelings, but this feeling I haven’t experienced before. It’s a pleasant, and yet at the same time, it is a little unnerving feeling.
Time trickles away in big dollops. But we are oblivious to everything, almost everything except the other one. None of us tries to look away; none of us shrinks in the gaze of other. For me, it’s kind of a treat for my eyes and heart, for the latter hasn’t stopped beating excitedly since the very moment we have been looking at each other.
Something fells on the floor, and the spell around us is broken. I hastily pull my head away, as the girl rushes off in the direction from where the sound has come.
She comes back after a moment, looking thoroughly irritated. Not daring to irk her more, I lay there, completely silent. I glance out of the window and all but jump from the bed.
“Hey!” the girl says, jumping to her feet.
“Sorry,” I reply, donning my cape, “but I have to go. I will drop sometime by later, maybe tomorrow.” I, somewhere in my heart know, it’s inappropriate to fix an appointment without asking the host, but I don’t care.
As I near the door, a question pops up in my head. I turn back to look at the girl, who is merely inches away from me. The closeness makes my blood boils and it is a boon of Sholastic that I manage to find my voice.
“What’s your name?” I ask her and the look she gives me, makes me wanting to run away as soon as soon as possible.
After a short pause, and a pointed glare, she answers, “Rose.”
Rose. The name is imprinted in my memory, never to be forgotten. I turn to go back to the castle, even when all I want is to live here, live around her.
“What’s your name, stranger?” Rose asks me. So, she doesn’t know who I am after all. Good.
“Escor,” I answer her question, truthfully.
“Isn’t it the name of the ruler of this Kingdom?” she muses.
“I’m sure it is,” I say with a laugh, “but names can be shared by two persons. Him being a ruler does not make his name sacred or something.”
“Right,” she says, “but you are talking as if you don’t like him. All I have heard about him is good talks and praises.”
“Every people have different opinions,” I reply, “But don’t take it as I hate him, I just pity him.”
And before she could ask me any more questions, I turn back, walk out of the cottage and say to her, “I’ll meet you tomorrow.”
“I never gave you my consent,” Rose says to my retreating back as I hurry off to the castle. The fun and mischief is evident in her voice and so is a little sadness. I would have consoled her if I have the time. But sun was already shining over my head and I should have been back at the castle hours ago.
I struggle my way through the trees, occasionally falling on my knees in my haste. I should have asked the way out from Rose. Feeling lost and seeing no resort, I take Zokari out of my pocket. I flung the golden ball up and wave my hand in intricate patterns. The ball burns yellow, and start heading in a direction which I soon follow.
After walking for an hour, I stood at the edge of the main city of Somar. I extend my hand in midair, my palm stretched upward. The golden ball hovers in air for a moment and then flies to my extended palm, resting on it gently. I pocket it silently. I look around and pull the hood of my cape over my head, covering it so as to make sure no one recognises me in town.
I hurry off to the familiar lane leading to the castle. People bustle around me, but no one notices me. No guard is out here searching for me yet and it is a great relief, because every time it had happened, it had turned very embarrassing for me.
I reach the main gate of my castle and walk right through it. The two door guards raise their eyebrow at me in suspicion. Pulling off the hood of my cape, I continue to stride forward. From the corner of my eyes, I see that the two guards have resumed their former position.
“My lord,” comes Rivaski exasperated voice. I brace myself for the coming lecture.
“Where were you?” he asks me, sternly.
“Nowhere,” I answer him airily, “Just took some bad turns and got lost.”
“You are lying, my lord,” Rivaski says, boring his eyes in mine.
“I’m not,” I reply, feigning indignity.
“We’ll see,” he replies and turns around, “You are required in the Assembly.”
“I’ll take a shower first,” I say as I start to march toward my personnel quarters, “have something to eat first and then I’ll come.”
“No need of eating, my lord,” Rivaski says, turning to face me, “you have come way late. And no use of trying to steal some food from the Kitchen Wing, for it has been closed from the inside.”
“I’m the ruler here,” I boom at him, my hunger getting the better out of him, “I’ll do as I please. Am I understood?”
“Yes my lord,” Rivaski says, bowing, “but you are not getting any food till evening. So, if I were you, I will be saving as much as energy as I can for you have to attend a tedious Assembly with the Ministers of other Kingdoms.”
I sigh in defeat; I can never win in front of him.
“Didn’t I participate in one, just yesterday?” I ask him, my memory vague because of the hunger.
“Yes, my lord,” Rivaski says, turning to the Assembly Hall, “And there is one more tomorrow and day after tomorrow.”
“What a tedious week!” I exclaim, marching toward my quarter.
“Yes it is my lord,” Rivaski says to my retreating back.
After walking for some minutes, I enter my quarter and head toward the royal lake. A servant meets me there and gives me my change of cloth. Bowing, he retreats back to the palace.
I stand in front of a rock, in which various runes have been embedded. I sweep my hand softly over it, tracing some selected runes. The rock glows brightly and then turns back to normal. I smile and enter the rock; ripples forming on the surface of rock as I enter it.
I arrive in a brightly lit cave. Its top is enchanted to show the sky I desire, which is showing a full moon night now, like always. I ascend to the middle of the cave. Small orbs of lights float around me, swaying lazily with the wind. A beautiful lake glitters at the end of the small cave. A waterfall is falling from the sky, colliding with the lake’s water with barely a ripple. The scene is magnificent and I have learnt to admire it from the very first day I saw it.
But today, something is different. My admiration for the lake hasn’t subsided, not even a little, but the lake I saw today, has gotten more admiration in my eyes than this lake. It was very plain, just like an ordinary well kept lake, but there was something, something that has charmed me over.
With these thought in my head, I undress and slowly enter the lake. The water too, like everything in this cave is enchanted. The water temperature automatically turns to the temperature I desire; I don’t even need to say it aloud.
I relax in the water, feeling my body tension soothing out.
I don’t know for how much time I am in the water. But suddenly, a low humming sound echoes through the wall, reaching my ears. I look at the entrance of the door. No one except the ruler and her wife is allowed inside, not unless one of them grants the permission of entrance to some other. And I have only granted it to two persons; Cleo, my childhood friend and Rivaski.
The rock has turned transparent and I see a silhouette of a man. After some seconds of waiting, I recognise Rivaski.
“What happened?” I ask him in a slightly strained voice; I haven’t forgotten our little exchange.
“Nothing, my lord,” Rivaski replies, curtly, “It’s just that you have been here for the past quarter of hour and the Ministers from the other Kingdoms are waiting for you. And it’s not appropriate to make a guest wait.”
“Okay, okay. No need to lecture me,” I say to him, exasperated, “Go on, I will come in a couple of minutes.”
“I think I should just be here,” Rivaski answers, “Just to make sure you are right on time.”
“No,” I say, “You’ll go back to the Assembly Room and inform the Ministers that I will be coming, soon.”
“But…”
“No, buts,” I almost shout, “You are going and it’s an order, not a request.”
“Yes, my lord,” Rivaski bows and retreats to the rock, dissolving in it.
I sigh. I never like to force someone to do anything, but Rivaski… he’s a special case. He always winds me up good.
The same humming sound echoes through the wall again. I turn to look at the rock, anger pulsing through my nerves. How dare he defy a direct order! As much as I respect him, he has no power over me.
“What are you doing here?” I roar out as a silhouette forms. The man stops for a second, takes some step towards me. I feel like I should just bang my head until I faint. Because Rivaski didn’t come back. It is Cleo standing there, looking indignant and irritated.
“Sorry, my lord,” Cleo say disdainfully, bowing a little, “Forgive your servant. I just came here to give you something to eat. But if my presence is not required, I may just go back to my wing.”
“Don’t be stupid,” I say, “I didn’t know it was you. I thought it was Rivaski again. That man, he gets on my nerves, big time. And I remember telling you to call me by my name when we are not in the court.”
“Oh,” Cleo says his posture relaxing, changing the topic, “He was at it again. I would have come before, but I saw the bull heading for its mark.”
“Now, stop babbling and give me something to eat,” I say and grab the tossed fruit.
“You came late again,” Cleo laughs out loud, falling on the floor.
“No, he just wants to starve me,” I mumble angrily and take a viscous bite of the fruit.
“I should go now,” Cleo says, turns around and hurry out of the rock, not even glancing at me.
I sigh again, tossing the seeds of the fruit away. I head towards the fall, bracing myself for the coming cold. The water of the fall is extremely chilly, almost bone freezing. But it’s a ritual, a Ruler is supposed to follow.
I jump up at the podium which is situated just before the fall and walk straight in the fall. The water hits my body, sending a series of shock wave through it, which makes every single of my hair stand straight on their stands. And after that horrifying moment, the water turns warm, soothing the coldness that has spread through my body.
I swim out of the lake and quickly dress. Glancing around for a last moment, I walk out of the rock and enter my personnel quarters.
I glance around, looking for anyone who may be here. When I’m satisfied, I walk toward a portrait showing the royal items; the Sword of Dragoon, the Armour of Ritz and the Crown of Somar. I walk straight in the painting, muttering an incantation. The portrait glows and swallows me whole. I feel an unpleasant sensation as darkness surrounds me. My body hums with the sensation for a second and then I am teleported back to my room. I look over myself; I’m wearing the armour, the sword is in my right hand. I lift my left hand and trace it over my head. The crown is settled on my head. I could have done it manually, but it’s a tiresome job that way. I sheath my sword and fix my crown.
Happy with the results, I head towards the Assembly Hall.
I enter the hall. Every single person present in the Hall bows. I nod towards the selected few and head to the Crown Chair. Rivaski gives me a glare, obviously because I’m late. I try to repress a smirk.
After I sit on the Crown Chair, everyone sits back on their respective chair. A deadly silence surrounds the Assembly Hall; all of them are waiting for me to break the silence.
“Proceed,” I say, feeling very awkward. Even after nearly four year of ruling over Somar, I still can’t shake off the awkward feeling.
“My lord,” Rivaski begins, “Rulers from the other Kingdoms has sent some preposition and gifts for the pleasure of my lord.”
I swallow and motion with my hand to continue.
“My lord,” Rivaski motions to a stately looking person. He stands and bows to me.
“Lord Sikara has come from the land of Picaso. Ruler Nimake has sent you a gift in order to strengthen our weak bond.”
I motion with my hand again and Sikara snaps his finger. Two servants come in the room, dragging a rectangular object covered in velvet clothing.
“What is this?” I ask, curiosity bubbling inside me.
“It’s is a very special gift, my Lord,” Sikara says, bowing low, “A special gift our Ruler has choose himself for you. I daresay you’ll be pleased to the extreme.”
“Is that so,” I say, leaning back, my posture relaxing.
“Yes my Lord,” Sikara says, “And without further ado, my Lord, I present you the gift.”
The servant pulls off the velvet cloth and a deadly silence follows, occasionally disturbed by the rustling of the cloth. Some women lay on the floor what appears to be a cage, their bodies barely clothed. I tremble with anger as my hands grasp the hilt of my blade, tightly. Sikara seems to take it as a good sign, as he claps his hand in happiness.
But Rivaski seems to decipher my countenance for its true nature. So, he quickly turns to Sikara and says,
“What is this, Lord Sikara?”
“You don’t know, Lord Rivaski,” Sikara says, almost jumping on the ball of his feet, “It’s the finest unspoiled women our Ruler has selected for the pleasure of my Lord…”
“Shut your despicable mouth now,” I roar, jumping to my feet, “Or I will do it for you. How many times have I told your Ruler that Somar does not advocate these types of tradition and trade? If he wants to develop a friendly bond between us, he would have to stop doing these kinds of disgraceful act.”
“But…”
“Have I told you to speak,” I roar at him, “And how you even dare to try to give these kind of gift to me? If you haven’t been my guest, I would have shown you what you get for trying to spoil the holy land of Somar.”
“But…”
“Don’t you value your life, Sikara,” I hiss at him, pulling my sword out of its sheath.
“No my lord,” Rivaski says at once, looking alarmed, “you shouldn’t do this. Respect the rules of your elders, my Lord.”
“But don’t you see him, Rivaski,” I shout at him, “How he dare bring that kind of disgraceful and devilish gift to me? Haven’t I rejected them many times before?”
“Yes you have my Lord,” Rivaski says, and turns to Sikara, “Lord Sikara you should have thought the odds before bringing this kind of gift. Now, I have to ask you to leave Somar as soon as possible, if you want to maintain your dignity and pride.”
Sikara huffs angrily, turns and order the servants to follow him.
“Stop,” I say.
Sikara does not stop, behaving as he hasn’t heard my voice. But the guards have for they close the door, halting his progress.
“You are going to leave the women here,” I order and motions to the guard. They walk toward the cage and start unlocking it.
I turn to Rivaski
“Go and fix some place for the women to live. Send Mariel here, so she could dress the women appropriately and order the cook to start making some meal. We have guests.” I finish motioning to the cage.
Rivaski bows and walks out of the Assembly Hall. Sikara at this, turns to me and snarl,
“My Lord,” he begins contemptuously, “you have rejected our gift. So why are you freeing the women, when you have no interest in them?”
“I don’t have interest in such worthless gifts,” I say, calmly, “But like every Solarion, these women deserve freedom.”
“Their freedom have been sold,” he says, smirking, “to us. Now we are their masters and their freedom, and as a matter of fact every single cell of their body belongs to our Lord.”
“Does it now?” I ask him, as anger bubbles in my chest, “Who gave your Lord the right to purchase Solarions. It’s an act of devil, and is forbidden.”
“It’s forbidden only in some worthless part of Solario,” Sikara says, “In the developed part of Solario, it’s a blooming trade.”
“Preposterous,” I say, glancing around the room, daring anyone to challenge my point of view. No one does.
Silence follows all the while my mind in an overdrive trying to find a solution.
“What’s the cost of these women?”
“You want to purchase them?” Sikara asks me, a smile on his face. I nod.
“But I don’t want to sell them to you?” he says, sneering.
I smile.
“It was never an offer, Sikara. It was an order. Either you happily take some Glan and be off or get kicked out of Somar. The choice is yours; I’m just letting you choose the way you want that to happen, because it will happen at any cost.”
Sikara mumbles something under his breath and glares at me.
“If you wish so, my Lord,” he says, a smile creeping on his face, “These women will only cost five thousand Glans. If you still wish to purchase them, I’ll be honoured.”
A roar of anger and disapproval booms around me. I lift my hand in midair, motioning them to stop; every sound cease. I turn to Kipaso, the Keeper of the Royal Vaults.
“Kipaso,” I say to him, motioning him to come closer.
“Yes my lord,” he says, kneeling.
“Give Sikara five thousand Glans from the Royal Vault,” I order him. Kipaso heads shots up at once. He looks at me like I’ve gone mad or something.
“My Lord,” he begins but quickly stops when I shake my head in disapproval, anticipating what he is going to say.
“Okay my Lord,” Kipaso says and march out of the room. Every pair of eyes is fixed on me. I can feel the intensity of their gazes burning hole in my body. But I don’t react, knowing the fact that any comment on my part will result in a very heated one-sided debate; me versus all of the others.
Time passes, and the hushed whispers and furtive stares at me continue. It is making me very uncomfortable, but I don’t have much choice. After all I called it up on myself.
The door opens and Rivaski comes with Mariel, looking very angry. I have a shrewd idea, which I really want to turn wrong. But by the looks of the things, it’s not.
Mariel busies herself with the women and Rivaski march towards me, looking like he may plunge a sword in me anytime.
He stands next to the Crown Chair, leans towards me and say in a angry whisper, “What have you order my Lord? Five thousand Glans for just some women? If you have forgotten my Lord, Glan is the highest unit of money; it is preceded by three units of money…”
“Don’t lecture me…”
“Then my Lord, show some wisdom,” Rivaski says, “I don’t mean that we shall let the women continue with the slavery. I just mean that we can use force, kick Sikara out of Somar…”
“Now, now,” I say, feeling a little delighted, “Aren’t you forgetting the rules made by our elders?”
“I’m not, my Lord,” Rivaski says, a nasty smile on his lips.
“You are…”
“My Lord,” comes Kipaso voice. Rivaski retreats back with a scowl on his face.
“Have you brought the Glans with you, Kipaso?”
“Yes, my Lord.” With that Kipaso pulls a small chest out of his robes. He places it on the floor and traces some runes over it. With a flash, a big trunk materlises out of thin air. Kipaso opens the lid and the room is bathed in the shine coming from the circular cut diamonds. Sikara jaws drop, as his eyes widens in surprise and greed. He hurries to the trunk and thrust his hand in the trunk, looking like he might eat them.
“Now,” I begin, contempt dribbling from every alphabet of my word, “you may leave the castle and Somar as soon as you can. You and neither your Lord are welcomed here anymore.”
Sikara nods as he closes the trunk. The trunk does not turn back to its portable size. Sikara turns to glare at Kipaso, who sneers in response.
Sikara summons his servant and orders them to follow him with the trunk.
Soon after that, Sikara leaves the Assembly Hall. Rivaski is so mad with me that he too leaves the Hall, muttering something about indecent Ruler’s.
I shake my head and order the Assembly to continue.
After three hours of tiresome conservation with some Ministers, I leave the Assembly Hall. Rivaski still hasn’t return, I can’t blame him; he just loves Somar too much.
I head to the court room, readying myself for hearing the thoughts and complaints of the people of Somar. If my luck is with me, it will be like it is everyday. A little bit of fun, showcasing of some weird talents and then departure. But I shouldn’t get my hope high; it always tends to backfire the worst way Solarionly possible.
The door Guards bows, and pushes the door open. Every sound and movement cease as soon as the door is opened. I walk on the velvety carpet; my eyes are fixed on the Crown Chair. I nod towards selected some, who I know personally.
I sit on the Crown Chair and motion for the court to start.
* * * * * * * * * *
After two fun hours, I leave the court room, a smile fixed on my face. At least my day ended well or rather saying my usual routine for the day ended well, for no one knows what might happen the next second.

It is a little bit unedited, so mind me. Now if anyone is interested, let it be art, or let it be script writing or music let me know.

Enjoy.

[fortaat]

I stand alone in a dark alleyway. There is no one, just no one except me and my misery. Everyone seems to be rejoicing the passing moments, but for me every passing moment is like a deadly blow on my heart.
My dreams, my love, my life; everything had come tumbling down a few days ago. Now I look forward to what everyone despise to the core of their hearts; now I look forward to the very thing which scares even the mightiest of our kind.
This is my story, this is my life and this is going to be my end.

There's a law in writing, which says the first line/paragraph/scene is the most important, since it's the one people are most likely to read. If it's not gripping enough, they'll stop, and put the book/movie/game back on the shelf.
I'm going to be very honest about the opening paragraph, and I'm saying this without reading any further - either this is a parody, or your narrator is a melodramatic whiny bitchcake, sprinkled with shiny pink Emo.
Can you see my finger as it slowly cuts the air, landing on the keyboard? That's right, I'm deleting your VN.

His voice sounded scared, and why shouldn't it?

but they haven't accepted an extra Dren from me.

Dren=Coin.
There's no need to give a special name to the coins, it only burdens the reader with useless information.

"Oh," he says, an evil smile spreading over his lips, "the usual party, celebration and yada, yada, yada..."

Show this suspicious fellow is evil, Don't tell us. It was pretty good until you told us he was evil.

I can feel my curiosity is at its limit, but the man seems to be oblivious of the desperation in my voice. I want to know everything about...

The MC must be aware Rivaski knows who he is.
He's the bloody king, you can't get any more famous than that, and as a former general, Rivaski must be extremely retarded not to recognize him.

I seek to find a woman; the woman who has stole my heart from me, Rose. The name sounds common, I know, but the woman bearing the name is not. She is one of her kind; beautiful, caring, polite, helpful and every other word you can find to elevate a person character. If I don’t know better I would have entitled her a goddess; such is her beauty and intelligence.

Than find some, you lazy writer. Show us these qualities, make a metaphor, give us a love scene, make us care for her.
A shopping list of characteristics is hardly enough.

I, till this day, remember every fleeting moment, we have spend together. And I oh so well, remember the day, the fortunate day, I met her and the days after. They were the best spend days of my life.

That's a Disney film. Stop it.
Also, this is where you can put a flashback.

It’s going to be worth a million Glan

See above.

It“I wouldn’t eat it, if I were you,” a sweet voice breaks through the silence. Every alphabet, which came from the person’s lips, seems to be caressed with such deliberation that it feels like a song sung from the very lips of Crizus.
I turn around to greet the person and my neck freezes in mid way. A girl stands in front of my eyes, a girl of such beauty that turns my eyes into stone, for they refuse to budge from their position. Her flaming red hairs sway lazily in the wind, fanning around like they have life of their own. Her emerald eyes, shines more brightly than any emerald have even dared to. Her peach complexion, her heart warming smile, the dimples in her cheek; everything about her is perfect.
No not perfect, for it is an understatement. But no greater word exists in my vocabulary which can truly define her magnificence and heavenly beauty.Comparing her with the word perfect is a blasphemy, because the word is so meek in comparison to her. The better will be to compare the word perfect with her, for the word can never be as flawless as the girl is.
Sunlight escapes from the clouds and fells on her face. The glow her body emanates surpasses even sun’s magnificence with a large difference.

Disney is gonna sue you. watch it.
I suspect that later on we'll find her beauty is a curse\lie, and that all the lovy-dovy oh-my-gosh descriptions were just a trick, but most of your readers won't read that far.


2800 words into the story, and we're still far from the complication. The plot is still in the exposition part, and only three characters were poorly introduced. since we know very little about them, we don't care what will happen to them.
The good part is that the background sounds interesting - He isn't a normal king, and this isn't a normal kingdom. The rules are different, and that's good. I'm actually curious about the lake, and where the story is going.

I think it's too early to start recruiting, since the story might undergo major changes.
Good luck with the rewriting.

[DragoonHP]

There's a law in writing, which says the first line/paragraph/scene is the most important, since it's the one people are most likely to read. If it's not gripping enough, they'll stop, and put the book/movie/game back on the shelf.

Unfortunately I'm aware of the rule. But... let's just say I can never write a gripping starting. They always are pretty bed, badder than this. Can't help myself.

There's no need to give a special name to the coins, it only burdens the reader with useless information.

I have pretty different views on this one. I am creating my own world and I won't call them the usual coins. Nope.

Show this suspicious fellow is evil, Don't tell us. It was pretty good until you told us he was evil.

You seem to be getting the wrong idea. This fellow is not suspicious.

The MC must be aware Rivaski knows who he is.
He's the bloody king, you can't get any more famous than that, and as a former general, Rivaski must be extremely retarded not to recognize him.

Mind me, but where did I say that Rivaski didn't recognise him? I never specified it, and it was for a reason.

Than find some, you lazy writer. Show us these qualities, make a metaphor, give us a love scene, make us care for her.
A shopping list of characteristics is hardly enough.

English is my third language, so it is sometime very hard for me to just pop some words out of my brain, I will let you know.

That's a Disney film. Stop it.
Also, this is where you can put a flashback.

Disney film? Is it? Guess, it could be, I have never seen many Disney films to start with.

Disney is gonna sue you. watch it.
I suspect that later on we'll find her beauty is a curse\lie, and that all the lovy-dovy oh-my-gosh descriptions were just a trick, but most of your readers won't read that far.

They are not. It's not like the fruit was cursed by a evil queen, it was naturally poisoned. Reason will be known in the full story, if you read the KN or VN (most probably KN) that is.

And the reason you said had me laughing like mad.

2800 words into the story, and we're still far from the complication. The plot is still in the exposition part, and only three characters were poorly introduced. since we know very little about them, we don't care what will happen to them.

The last I check it was around 7,000 to 8,000 words.
Your wish.

I think it's too early to start recruiting, since the story might undergo major changes.
Good luck with the rewriting.

That's one of my major faults or better, my style. I don't rewrite. I may change a little words here and there, but I never re write because I won't, I can't and I refuse to do so. I'm just too much attached to my stories to re write them; to me it's a betrayal to the content.
And it's never too early to start recuriting. Enjoy!

P.S.: And thanks for thecriticism. You are the only one among the 7 person who read my story and picked out so many faults and lets leave it here....

Bye.

[fortaat]

Unfortunately I'm aware of the rule. But... let's just say I can never write a gripping starting. They always are pretty bed, badder than this. Can't help myself.

Yours is worse than "not gripping", it's scaring the reader away. You can actually cut it away, and it will probably be better.
Saying "Can't help myself" is an excuse. Here's what you should do:
a. Sit.
b. Think.
c. Rewrite
Repeat as many times as necessary.
Possible alternatives for the beginning: he sees Rivaski and fears to discovered, he thinks back on a time he ordered someone to the gallows (or some other creative metaphor), he walks the streets while lamenting the barbarism and disgusting hygiene of his people.

I have pretty different views on this one. I am creating my own world and I won't call them the usual coins. Nope.

Listen, you Scrudle, I don't give a Yenbo's tail on your Spicerd's on the matter at Kabo (that's hand in English).
You haven't created a world, you just made up some names that add nothing to the story.

Mind me, but where did I say that Rivaski didn't recognise him? I never specified it, and it was for a reason.

Read carefully what I wrote - "The MC must be aware Rivaski knows who he is."
Rivaski knows him since childhood, and yet neither of them say anything to acknowledge they recognizes each other. Both of the characters act in a dumb way, fix it.

English is my third language, so it is sometime very hard for me to just pop some words out of my brain, I will let you know.

It's not a matter of finding unique words. The problem is you spat out the qualities, instead of showing them.

Bad:
Susy is a nice tomboyish girl, with dark hair. she is looking for a father figure.
Good:
Susy gave the old man a cigar. She had to bent, as he sat on the sidewalk, where a dog probably pissed yesterday. She smiled as she handed it to him, and judging his rugged appearance, she immediately pulled out a lighter.
"Thanks missy."
"Sure."
He reminded her of her father.

Your descriptions are of the first kind. The last line I used is of the first kind too, but it's integrated into the situation in a more natural way.

They are not. It's not like the fruit was cursed by a evil queen, it was naturally poisoned. Reason will be known in the full story, if you read the KN or VN (most probably KN) that is.

I don't think you understood what I tried to say by comparing the lover's descriptions to Disney.
Your descriptions are way way to fabulous. No one thinks this way, or talks this way. It sounds like he's a retarded 12 year old, gushing over his new girlfriend, promising to love her forever after.
I raised the theory they were not really true, because that's the only way your narrator can say them without sounding like a retard.
As I said in my previous post, most people won't read the full story and find out the truth. The reason for this, among others, is that the descriptions are way too annoying, and they have no reason to forgive you and say - "well, maybe it's not bad writing, but a clever trick".

That's one of my major faults or better, my style. I don't rewrite. I may change a little words here and there, but I never re write because I won't, I can't and I refuse to do so. I'm just too much attached to my stories to re write them; to me it's a betrayal to the content.

Every writer gets attached to what he writes, it's natural. this is why after you finish writing the first version, you should put it aside for a week to let it cool off. This allows you to see it more objectively, and recognize the flows. You don't owe the content shit, you create the content. If it's bad, you change it. Not changing it is not "your style", just a bad habit.

And it's never too early to start recuriting. Enjoy!

Wrong.
Half the threads in WIP progress are crappy descriptions of a half baked plot. They shouldn't start recruiting, since they haven't put enough effort to their own project.
YOU SHOULD rewrite, because like any other guy, you're not perfect, and you make mistakes.
Only after you finished rewriting, you should recruit artists and such. Until then, you're asking the community to help you in something that could change drastically, and isn't likely to become a finished project.

thanks for thecriticism. You are the only one among the 7 person who read my story and picked out so many faults and lets leave it here

Glad I could help, however, notice how you haven't accepted a single point I made as legitimate. Is it that I'm truly wrong about everything, or can it be that you haven't properly examined the criticism?
I'm not saying you should agree with everything I say, but it seems like you're so attached to your story, you aren't ready to hear bad things about it.

About your 7 readers, first I should say Ad Populum, and second - how many of the 7 people are friends or family, and read less than 500 books?

I liked many things, as mentioned in my previous post, but the story needs a lot of work.
Once again, good luck with the rewriting.

[DragoonHP]

Yours is worse than "not gripping", it's scaring the reader away. You can actually cut it away, and it will probably be better.
Saying "Can't help myself" is an excuse. Here's what you should do:
a. Sit.
b. Think.
c. Rewrite
Repeat as many times as necessary.

Oh, I have tried it. You are not the first one to say that, mind you. But every time I do that, I end up getting a writer block, and a severe one at that.

Possible alternatives for the beginning: he sees Rivaski and fears to discovered, he thinks back on a time he ordered someone to the gallows (or some other creative metaphor), he walks the streets while lamenting the barbarism and disgusting hygiene of his people.

If I did that, I will have to change the theme of the story which I'm not very favoured to do.

Oh, I have tried it. You are not the first one to say that, mind you. But every time I do that, I end up getting a writer block, and a severe one at that.

Listen, you Scrudle, I don't give a Yenbo's tail on your Spicerd's on the matter at Kabo (that's hand in English).
You haven't created a world, you just made up some names that add nothing to the story.

That's your choice. You can either see it as a world made from scratch or you can see it as some typed words. It's all in your thinking.

Read carefully what I wrote - "The MC must be aware Rivaski knows who he is."
Rivaski knows him since childhood, and yet neither of them say anything to acknowledge they recognizes each other. Both of the characters act in a dumb way, fix it.

I may fix how Escor thinks, but Rivaski one will be unchanged. And the only reason I will give you is, it's for a reason.

Bad:
Susy is a nice tomboyish girl, with dark hair. she is looking for (at) a father figure.
Good:
Susy gave the old man a cigar. She had to bent, as he sat on the sidewalk, where a dog probably pissed yesterday. She smiled as she handed it to him, and judging his rugged appearance, she immediately pulled out a lighter.
"Thanks missy."
"Sure."
He reminded her of her father.

Ah, a valid point. I will try to change the words.

Your descriptions are way way to fabulous. No one thinks this way, or talks this way. It sounds like he's a retarded 12 year old, gushing over his new girlfriend, promising to love her forever after.

It most probably could be. I have no experience from which I could patch up my mistakes, and maybe re reading it four times, I too thinks it's a bit exaggerated. Will patch it as soon as someone throws some lights.

Every writer gets attached to what he writes, it's natural. this is why after you finish writing the first version, you should put it aside for a week to let it cool off. This allows you to see it more objectively, and recognize the flows. You don't owe the content shit, you create the content. If it's bad, you change it. Not changing it is not "your style", just a bad habit.

You don't understand. I don't change the content, I may rephrase it to read better and give more understanding to the reader. I never change the base of the story.

Only after you finished rewriting, you should recruit artists and such. Until then, you're asking the community to help you in something that could change drastically, and isn't likely to become a finished project.

You don't honestly think that this is the only draft i have wrote. It is the first draft; I've written 15,000 words more. My story is nearing the end for the first chapter.

Glad I could help, however, notice how you haven't accepted a single point I made as legitimate. Is it that I'm truly wrong about everything, or can it be that you haven't properly examined the criticism?

You will be amazed by the fact how much I took in account. I'm a impulsive person and disturbingly protective of my work. So, for the first time, I always protect it, but when I sit alone and think, the criticiser thoughts affect me, much and mostly they are for good.

I'm not saying you should agree with everything I say, but it seems like you're so attached to your story, you aren't ready to hear bad things about it.

I won't say that. I'm ready, heck despise sickingly sweet reviews. They don't help you progress, they drag you down.
But yes, some points of yours are good, and at the same point I do not agree with some points of yours. Like the coin name one.
But, please continue shoveling my story to help me improve.

About your 7 readers, first I should say Ad Populum, and second - how many of the 7 people are friends or family, and read less than 500 books?

Mind me, but what's Ad Populum?
And that out of the way, that is the stats:
Family: 0 (They think I'm wasting my time writing stories)
Friends: 0

Among the six others, three are writers themselves, much more famous than I'm on FanFiction.net (Forget it, I'm not even known there at all) and the other two are my reviewers (criticisers) and the last one is mechnist. And of course you are the last one.

I liked many things, as mentioned in my previous post, but the story needs a lot of work.
Once again, good luck with the rewriting.

And still you say to me change the thing you like (hint: The behaviour of the king Escor).

And I'll try to re write.