The Writer's Guild

the Savage Hippie · **Posted:** Sun Dec 18, 2011 2:00 am

I have several stories in progress. I think that I might get around starting to actually write them now when I've got so much time alone. My avatar may indicate in which style I write and who is my biggest influence - he he he.

Crepe the Ashlander · **Posted:** Thu Dec 29, 2011 7:26 pm

Seem so this is the writer's guild right? Well, I was hopin' you guys could help me. I've had this story in my head for about a year and a bit now, i've built up a nice bit of canon, regarding characters, locations, backgrounds, events and so forth. Yet I never get myself motivated enough to actually start writing my story, even though I already have planned a full saga, and several side stories, does anyone know how I can motivate myself enough to start writing?

The-Shadow-One · **Posted:** Fri Dec 30, 2011 4:26 pm

mhmm. what generally motivates me is the fact that people can see and judge my stories and i could improve.

Avron the S'wit · **Posted:** Fri Dec 30, 2011 5:36 pm

Motivation is tough, as it's a personal affair...so what works for one person doesn't always work for another. However, I find that when I want to write, having a goal and a group to support and join in on the goal is a big, big help. I used to write like a fiend when I was younger, but once I got to college that changed, as I had to do more important things...and getting back into it now, as I've tried, is really hard. When I did National Novel Writing Month (aka NaNoWriMo) in 2010, I wrote more than I ever wrote before - and it was because I had a goal, 1,667 words a day, and I strove to meet it...and thus I did. That was what worked for me!

Also, another important thing I learnt is to ignore the inner editor. Just write, and go back and change things much later. As I used to be an editor, this is tough for me, but I'm slowly getting better at it. It really helps when you are more concerned with putting your imagination into words and less concerned with how perfect those words are!

AddictedtoMorrowind · **Posted:** Fri Dec 30, 2011 5:38 pm

That reminds me, I need to get working on my story!

Arch-Mage Matt · **Posted:** Sat Dec 31, 2011 8:20 am

I'm getting into the mind of my antagonist in 'The Chase' (Located in The Three Stories thread). She's an evil old woman hellbent on taking over the wold. I rather like her.

Crepe the Ashlander · **Posted:** Sat Dec 31, 2011 11:09 am

Thanks for the help, Avron, that sounds like a reasonable way to motivate myself, and I, like you used to write a lot when I was younger, but as more important things surfaced I stopped writing, and last year I just decided I should write a novel. I find I usually gain a lot of ground when there is a milestone in sight and I don't have to keep on writing till I finish, it eases the pressure I find as well.

GrayFlux · **Posted:** Sat Jan 07, 2012 12:59 pm

the Savage Hippie wrote:

I have several stories in progress. I think that I might get around starting to actually write them now when I've got so much time alone. My avatar may indicate in which style I write and who is my biggest influence - he he he.

Horror. H.P Lovecraft and perhaps a little Poe, good authors to akin yourself to.

I recently started one of my central character's sagas.

Spoiler:

Norroen Dyrd · **Posted:** Sun Jan 15, 2012 9:17 am

Oookay. I really am into writing, fantasy mostly (duh), and so far my audience has consisted of three people: me, myself, and I. But then I had this urge to find out what other people might think. You know how it is with urges. They come and go just like that.
I realize my style is childish - especially compared to the piece by GrayFlux I just read; man, that gave me the creeps! as usual - the dark imagery (at first, I was rather reminded of the initial scene in the Game of Thrones), and the use of complex vocabulary as a characteristic trait.
I am usually inspired by Disney's movies and classic children's literature. So here goes something. If it passes unnoticed (as I fully expect it will), I will just delete my post and pretend nothing happened.

Spoiler:

Once upon a time there was a world, lost in the middle of nowhere, maybe floating in the vast blackness of open space, and maybe doing nothing of the sort, and its name was the Made-Up World, because, well, it was home to many made-up things, like elves, and goblins, and trolls, and dragons, and talking animals, and walking trees. In short, it was one of those places they usually call "fantasy worlds". And like every self-respecting fantasy world, it had a sort of custom of someone particularly evil popping up every now and then and declaring him- (or in some cases, her-) self the Dark Lord (or, obviously, the Dark Lady) and having the whole world take up arms (or paws or tentacles) against him (or her), because nobody in their right mind wanted to be conquered and then crushed by an iron fist, suppressed by a reign of terror or cast into eternal darkness, none of which is a pleasant experience. But there always were those who apparently were not in their right mind, so they would side with the Dark Lord (Lady) and the whole thing would always grow into a long and nasty war. And just as everyone would start to get tired of fighting evil, a wise old sage would make a prophecy about a hero coming to save the day, and this hero, usually called the Chosen One, would indeed come and indeed save the day, sometimes in a couple of years, but more often in a couple of centuries. All this repeated age after age with such accuracy that finally everyone in the Made-Up World decided that a set of rules was in order, so they scratched their heads a little (those who had the necessary limbs to do, of course) and invented them. They called these rules The Great Book of the Order of Things and wrote them down in a huge leather-bound volume, which was kept in an ivory tower in Skyhame, a city in the middle of the sky where all the wisest magicians of the world came to improve their skills by reading rare scrolls and talking to each other for days on end. And the Order of Things was as follows:

1.To become a Dark Lord or Lady, the candidate should first pass the Test of Wickedness in the Chasm of the Ghosts, during which his or her acts of evil will be judged by the ghosts of all the previous Dark Lords and Ladies.

2. If the candidate passes the Test, he or she should start constructing a Dark Tower and gathering a Dark Army.

3. In the meanwhile, the current Prophet should be notified and the rulers of the peoples which do not wish to support the rising evil power - sometimes called the Keepers of Light - should gather together on the Summit of Summits to have the identity of the Chosen One revealed to them.

4. Once the Chosen One, if not born yet, reaches the Adventuring age (ten years old, by human scale) he or she should set out on the Great Quest to overthrow the aforementioned Dark Lord or Lady.

5. The Chosen One should be protected by three Warders (a wizard, a warrior and a vagabond), who should be selected during a tournament in the Golden Crown arena in Shangalar (that is, a major coastal city in the Sunlit Lands, a country in the south of the larger of the two continents separated by the Crystal Sea).

6. The Chosen One and any of the Warders are allowed to take their familiars (i.e. magical talking wisecracking pets) with them on the Great Quest.

7. As soon as the Great Quest officially starts, the Dark Lord or Lady may send his or her minions on a task to thwart the progress of the Chosen One and the Warders and even capture them.

8. Whatever means of magical transportation (super-fast steeds, teleports, eagles, etc.)may be available to both sides, they should travel on foot (with the exception of ships and boats if faced with a water obstacle), as it is a time-honoured custom of the Wars of Good and Evil. The Great Quest's route lies across the Scorched Desert, past the Old One's Teeth mountain chain, over the Bogmarch, through the Great Emerald Plains and finally, over the waves of the Mouth of Darkness. The length of the journey, established by tradition, provides the Dark Lord or Lady with enough time to gather an army of doom, thus enabling fair play between Good and Evil.

9. It defeated, the Dark Lord or Lady may be reborn, but only three times, whereupon the Dark Lord or Lady should be cast into the Chasm of the Ghosts for all eternity.

These rules surely sound frightfully boring, but all this is just routine. The really exciting things start happening once the Chosen One and the Warders set out on their journey. And it is one of these journeys that this story is going to be about.

So much for the beginning. I have been writing this story for a while now. It's already of substantial size (for me at least; I usually abandon stories half-way).

GrayFlux · **Posted:** Sun Jan 15, 2012 10:38 am

I love how you map out the tropes as if they were child's play, which in most cases they are. Oh, but I may point out that you forgot to mention the literary device: 'deus ex machina'.

Your style is not childish. You can't keep doubting yourself. The style is somewhat ironic, as if you are of a higher understanding and wish to toy with convention. To me it seems like the start of a delicious satire.
Whether you delete it is up to you of course, but I don't see any reason to delete it.

It's good to hear that you are sticking to a storyline!
I hope my praise isn't empty in your eyes.

Norroen Dyrd · **Posted:** Sun Jan 15, 2012 1:08 pm

GrayFlux wrote:

I love how you map out the tropes as if they were child's play, which in most cases they are. Oh, but I may point out that you forgot to mention the literary device: 'deus ex machina'.

Your style is not childish. You can't keep doubting yourself. The style is somewhat ironic, as if you are of a higher understanding and wish to toy with convention. To me it seems like the start of a delicious satire.
Whether you delete it is up to you of course, but I don't see any reason to delete it.

It's good to hear that you are sticking to a storyline!
I hope my praise isn't empty in your eyes.

Thank you for appreciating!

I have recently dealt with quite a lot of books that, in a way, realize that they are books - and the author realizes that he is an author, that is, he can very well pull a deus ex machina every now and then and muddle his or her characters' plans. Like in the French Lieutenant's Woman when the author pops up suddenly, observing the protagonist while he is asleep in the train and tossing a coin to decide how the plot will develop afterwards - or when he turns back the clock to show the reader several possible endings. I haven't tried these techniques myself, but I am still conscious of certain clichés that are inevitable in literature and try to take them humorously, since there is hardly a way to get rid of them. I am glad you could see that.

In my preferences both as a reader or viewer and as a writer, I tend to lean more towards things directed at young audience. This may be regarded as lack of seriousness, but as Roald Dahl once put it in an interview, 'It's much easier to write a mediocre book for children than it is to write a mediocre novel - but it's much harder to write a first-rate book for children than it is to write a first-rate novel'.

GrayFlux · **Posted:** Sun Jan 15, 2012 1:43 pm

Norroen Dyrd wrote:

'It's much easier to write a mediocre book for children than it is to write a mediocre novel - but it's much harder to write a first-rate book for children than it is to write a first-rate novel'.

I can definitely agree with that statement. There's a very fine art to writing a unique children's sequence.
I can see you publishing something akin to the Discworld series.

Keep up the good work! Heed not your doubts, it'd be a shame to see your talents go to waste.

sumantra · **Posted:** Wed Jan 18, 2012 7:12 am

here are some of the stuff i had been writing last week...poetic may be, but i don't call them poems, they are just pieces of writings for me...just picking up an idea, object or moment and slight elaboration of it...here are some of them, the first 5...the series is named " Softness of Disparity"...would love to get responses...

1. Today

Everything was remarkable today. I woke up in the morning and found everyone waiting for me to make tea for them. My concerned tea was so supple; I could suffer through its psyche, could insinuate its assertion. It is fascinating to work. I cooked chicken with curd and butter. The soup got mixed so kindly, the flesh of potato, the chill of pepper, the released excitement…

You found the smell of raw meat from my body and held me tight to your breasts. Nothing but a sense of gladness is pinching me with its watery sound. I dare to go beyond. Dare to trust a life like this, a life longing for today.

2. Breast

Breast can hold you to free, breast can groove you to grind. It can edify you the uplifting manifestation of suppleness and immediacy. Breast can press you and nail you to the elegiac peak of organism. You can make yourself breathless by it. You close your eyes in its refined tenderness. You lose your body to obtain its load. You stir your tongue to delight the ample quietness of being.

You feel you need to tighten up, you feel you need to move. You remember you have another life to live.

3. World

The day the world came closer I was standing nude beside my open window and the anonymous subjects dashed over the solicitous view. All day long I grouped emotions, I stride passed the abyss of subtle links, I waved the slogans, I heaved the whistle, I slowed down and even mystified. My sister was roaming with a song, my mother carried my father home and a dim light kept on speculating the household glow. The day the world went over my throat I stood alone and told you to unlock your dress. I needed to see you one more time, your thighs and you careful height. I held you all along the religious cabaret. The day the world drifted apart I was standing away from the mar and I didn’t have anything to offer to the ministry or to the discharged road.

4. Hero

You find your hero sitting in an almost empty unknown railway station with his suitcase between his legs. You want your hero to look a bit tattered and migrant. There is dust pulled from the ground by an overweight truck. A small boy is pumping the tube well; you need your hero to hear that. It must be an afternoon and there is lot of sunlight. You need extreme contrast. The scene is simple; your hero is wearing a black T shirt. He shrinks his eyes at times and pats his moustache. Your hero must be sad. You only wonder whether he is going to the heroin or coming back.

5. Us

You get bloated in these fevers; you sink your lips in rust. And then all at once you crease your deferred wings and say, “my agonized time, my measured time”. Frequently you get pinned in your awareness and ingredients. You have some faint conventions, some stunning wines. I am its lustrous abuser; I am its spongy spine.

You will come back distinctively and say there is only one hour left. You will count your watch in graphic flashes. My motherland, my fabrics, my shuddering, my prop, in point of no return, will hanker. Its acidic hum will cut through your critical protein; it will cut through your poignant scamper of germs.

Rassilon42 · **Posted:** Sat Jan 28, 2012 10:58 pm

This is just a bit of drabble I wrote to try and read writers block.

Spoiler:

And an alternative ending:

Spoiler:

I'm having trouble deciding which ending I like more. I'd love some feedback if anybody has the time. (Mainly on the first one though, to be honest.)

Frost Mage · **Posted:** Sun Jan 29, 2012 5:25 am

Norroen Dyrd wrote:

Oookay. I really am into writing, fantasy mostly (duh), and so far my audience has consisted of three people: me, myself, and I. But then I had this urge to find out what other people might think. You know how it is with urges. They come and go just like that.
I realize my style is childish - especially compared to the piece by GrayFlux I just read; man, that gave me the creeps! as usual - the dark imagery (at first, I was rather reminded of the initial scene in the Game of Thrones), and the use of complex vocabulary as a characteristic trait.
I am usually inspired by Disney's movies and classic children's literature. So here goes something. If it passes unnoticed (as I fully expect it will), I will just delete my post and pretend nothing happened.

Spoiler:

Once upon a time there was a world, lost in the middle of nowhere, maybe floating in the vast blackness of open space, and maybe doing nothing of the sort, and its name was the Made-Up World, because, well, it was home to many made-up things, like elves, and goblins, and trolls, and dragons, and talking animals, and walking trees. In short, it was one of those places they usually call "fantasy worlds". And like every self-respecting fantasy world, it had a sort of custom of someone particularly evil popping up every now and then and declaring him- (or in some cases, her-) self the Dark Lord (or, obviously, the Dark Lady) and having the whole world take up arms (or paws or tentacles) against him (or her), because nobody in their right mind wanted to be conquered and then crushed by an iron fist, suppressed by a reign of terror or cast into eternal darkness, none of which is a pleasant experience. But there always were those who apparently were not in their right mind, so they would side with the Dark Lord (Lady) and the whole thing would always grow into a long and nasty war. And just as everyone would start to get tired of fighting evil, a wise old sage would make a prophecy about a hero coming to save the day, and this hero, usually called the Chosen One, would indeed come and indeed save the day, sometimes in a couple of years, but more often in a couple of centuries. All this repeated age after age with such accuracy that finally everyone in the Made-Up World decided that a set of rules was in order, so they scratched their heads a little (those who had the necessary limbs to do, of course) and invented them. They called these rules The Great Book of the Order of Things and wrote them down in a huge leather-bound volume, which was kept in an ivory tower in Skyhame, a city in the middle of the sky where all the wisest magicians of the world came to improve their skills by reading rare scrolls and talking to each other for days on end. And the Order of Things was as follows:

1.To become a Dark Lord or Lady, the candidate should first pass the Test of Wickedness in the Chasm of the Ghosts, during which his or her acts of evil will be judged by the ghosts of all the previous Dark Lords and Ladies.

2. If the candidate passes the Test, he or she should start constructing a Dark Tower and gathering a Dark Army.

3. In the meanwhile, the current Prophet should be notified and the rulers of the peoples which do not wish to support the rising evil power - sometimes called the Keepers of Light - should gather together on the Summit of Summits to have the identity of the Chosen One revealed to them.

4. Once the Chosen One, if not born yet, reaches the Adventuring age (ten years old, by human scale) he or she should set out on the Great Quest to overthrow the aforementioned Dark Lord or Lady.

5. The Chosen One should be protected by three Warders (a wizard, a warrior and a vagabond), who should be selected during a tournament in the Golden Crown arena in Shangalar (that is, a major coastal city in the Sunlit Lands, a country in the south of the larger of the two continents separated by the Crystal Sea).

6. The Chosen One and any of the Warders are allowed to take their familiars (i.e. magical talking wisecracking pets) with them on the Great Quest.

7. As soon as the Great Quest officially starts, the Dark Lord or Lady may send his or her minions on a task to thwart the progress of the Chosen One and the Warders and even capture them.

8. Whatever means of magical transportation (super-fast steeds, teleports, eagles, etc.)may be available to both sides, they should travel on foot (with the exception of ships and boats if faced with a water obstacle), as it is a time-honoured custom of the Wars of Good and Evil. The Great Quest's route lies across the Scorched Desert, past the Old One's Teeth mountain chain, over the Bogmarch, through the Great Emerald Plains and finally, over the waves of the Mouth of Darkness. The length of the journey, established by tradition, provides the Dark Lord or Lady with enough time to gather an army of doom, thus enabling fair play between Good and Evil.

9. It defeated, the Dark Lord or Lady may be reborn, but only three times, whereupon the Dark Lord or Lady should be cast into the Chasm of the Ghosts for all eternity.

These rules surely sound frightfully boring, but all this is just routine. The really exciting things start happening once the Chosen One and the Warders set out on their journey. And it is one of these journeys that this story is going to be about.

So much for the beginning. I have been writing this story for a while now. It's already of substantial size (for me at least; I usually abandon stories half-way).

That is fantastic! It kind of reminds me of Douglas Adams, my favorite author ever!
I'm fairly proud of my CotM entry, as it is one of my first real "writing projects" I've done in a while. I have a feeling I could very much enjoy writing, and I think that writing TES fan fiction like this is a good place to start, as I plan on doing mostly fiction most likely. Of course I will also spend more time here getting inspiration!

Norroen Dyrd · **Posted:** Sun Jan 29, 2012 8:22 am

@ FrostMage: Thank you!

A little bit to continue:

Spoiler:

I can't start telling you about the journey right away, though, as stories are like trees: each has both a trunk and roots that feed it, reaching deep down into the earth, so deep, in fact, that sometimes you cannot tell at once which tree they belong to. The roots of this particular story began their slow growth one beautiful starry night, just in the beginning of summer, quite a few years before the trunk started emerging.

It was a night of celebration in Skyhame, the great city of magicians, which, as you already partly know, is built on a giant rock that drifts high above ground, like a majestic, intricately shaped cloud. Every window of every house was brightly illuminated, and long garlands of large glowing orbs were stretched across the streets over the heads of the passersby like necklaces of fiery jewels, and the two dozen enchanted fountains, which were the pride and joy of the citizens of Skyhame, were shooting jets of glowing, many-coloured water towards the clouds above like fireworks, and fireworks were streaming down from the sky like fountains. There was hardly a place in the whole city that was not packed full of merry-makers, talking excitedly, patting each other on the shoulder, bursting into frequent fits of deafening laughter - more often than not, for no particular reason, - singing snatches of songs, rather out of tune, exchanging sudden hugs and even passionate kisses, brandishing bottles of suspicious-looking beverages - and occasionally tripping over their own feet and remaining sprawled on the pavement, with a serene, content smile of acceptance of their current position. Those wandering revelers were all students of the local magical university; they had received their official diplomas the day before and were now celebrating their graduation. There was one among them, however, who did not seem to be all too excited by the festive occasion. It was a gloomy-looking young elf, with a pale, gaunt face and long, unkempt black hair (these things always seem to come with a gloomy disposition); he was roaming the streets with no apparent purpose, allowing the rejoicing throng to sweep him in its wake, the expression of his stern, transparently grey eyes a mixture of uneasiness, bewilderment and suppressed fear - caused, most likely, by his own thoughts, as he took no notice whatsoever of what was going on around him. Once a tall, broad-shouldered, dark-skinned human youngster tried to grab the restless elf by the hem of his graduate's mantle and pull him away from the crowded streets into a remote tree grove, where a girl in a long cloak could be seen sitting in the grass, outlined sharply against the lantern-light.
'Hey, Raven pal!' the dark young man cried, deliberately leaning towards the elf's ear, 'Come and sit with us! I've got something to tell you! Linnet has just accepted my marriage proposal!'.
Raven - for that was obviously the elf's name - stared back at him blankly, as if he had just spoken in a different language; the dark youth was so taken aback by Raven's reaction (and he had every reason for being taken aback; Raven had been 'bestest chums' with him ever since they first came to Skyhame, barely into their teens, to study magic at school there, and Linnet - the girl in the grove - was Raven's twin sister; surely, a blank stare is not the way you are supposed to respond to your sister being engaged to your best friend, now is it?) that he let go of his mantle, allowing the crowd to carry him off far out of his reach.
'Weird,' he muttered to himself, shrugging his shoulders, 'I always thought Raven wasn't the kind of guy to drink himself into a stupor like this. Well, I guess I will talk things over with him in the morning - if his head allows him, that is.' Having thus contented himself, the dark young man headed for the place where Linnet was waiting for him and rewarded her for her patience with a long kiss.

Raven, in the meanwhile, after going down a few more streets, suddenly threw himself on his knees, dug his fingers into his hair - with such force, too, that his rather untidy nails scraped the skin on his temples and two small trickles of blood oozed slowly down his cheeks - and screamed in an unnaturally shrill voice, 'Go away, whoever you are! Stop meddling with my thoughts!'. He remained silent for a few moments, as if waiting for someone unseen to answer his cry; then he frowned and said slowly, 'Fine. I will go somewhere quiet so we can talk. But promise me one thing - promise to leave me alone after you've had your say'.
After a short pause Raven nodded gravely and, ignoring the curious stares of the passersby who were starting to gather round him, rose from the ground and made his way swiftly through quite a number of narrow winding side alleys towards the very edge of the floating rock on which Skyhame was built. He stopped on a small, steep ledge, facing the dark swirling clouds that were rushing across the great, round, sleepy face of the moon, and remained there for several hours, listening to a voice that only he could hear, clenching and unclenching his fists, his eyes suddenly darkened and flashing angrily, his tall forehead covered with a glistening film of cold sweat. Finally, when the sky grew pale and the bright moon became little more than a stroke of half-transparent paint, Raven passed his tongue over his lips, which were parched after a long silence, and spoke, his voice hoarse but firm. Rather like another raven from a well-known poem, he uttered only one word, and that word was 'Never'.
Once again, there followed a strained pause, during which Raven tugged at his mantle's collar, as though it was suffocating him, his mouth quivering and twitching nervously. Suddenly he let out a loud groan and said through gritted teeth in a tone of desperate resignation, 'Well, if you must have your way, I will think about it. Just give me some time'.
And turning away from the edge of the precipice, he slowly, very slowly, walked back to the city, bending forward slightly, his shoulders hunched and his hands clasped behind his back, muttering something to himself all the way.

After a week or so, a young elven girl with flyaway black hair and eyes the colour of an autumn sky could be seen running through the streets of Skyhame, knocking on doors and blocking the way of the passersby, firing anxious questions at anyone who would listen. She was closely followed by the bulky, dark-skinned youth who had been wondering at Raven's behaviour on the night of the celebration. It was Linnet and her husband-to-be; they were making inquiries about Raven, who had vanished without a trace several days before. Sadly, all their attempts at searching, even the ones involving magic, proved to be totally fruitless. Raven - at least the Raven they used to know - was never seen in Skyhame again.

Unionhack · **Posted:** Thu Feb 02, 2012 1:14 am

I took an 'everyone lives on flying ships' idea that I saw earlier in this thread and I'm adding my own stuff to it. It's been hard to flesh out, but I have a story to go with it, and gave it a nice post-apocalyptic-yet-steampunk theme. I'll post eventually, giving that I find the time.

Witchery · **Posted:** Thu Feb 02, 2012 1:25 am

I'm thinking of writing a TES (Skyrim specifically) story. . hopefully it will be good if I decide to do it. :I

Arch-Mage Matt · **Posted:** Fri Feb 03, 2012 1:57 am

I've decided that after The Chase, Story 2 of the Three Stories, I'm going to write a small scale thriller as Story 3. I've already set up a web of manipulation and plot.

And then... I can write my version of the TES Avengers. Or something like it.

Assassin540 · **Posted:** Thu Feb 09, 2012 6:43 pm

Today I am going to start the story of Savund the Hunter I hope you like it.

Spoiler:

My name is Savund Savund the Hunter they call me. I am growing very old and I feel death approaching either by the blade or sickness so I would like to tell the story of my life grandchild, because I cannot speak it in words I have decided to write it down so that you may know who your grandfather was what he did and so that maybe you will learn from some of my mistakes I hope this get's to you grandchild so you may really know your grandfather. I will start my story in the year 4E 146 13th of Evening star it was a cold rainy night on the squalor filled streets of the city of Riften. It was my 8th birthday and I was in the filthy Ratways of Riften sitting on a bedroll in a dark corner this is what I called home. I sat there cold and hungry trying to sleep but unable to because I kept hearing Skeevers from the other side of the room but I could not see anything it was pitch black in the room. So I took my Shiv from under my pillow and crept over to the sound of Skeevers and then began to stab and I landed right on in the Skeevers filthy head. I then dragged the Skeever back to my bedroll skinned it then ate it raw. I then fell asleep finally, when I awoke I made my way to the entrance of the Ratway and opened the door. I then headed to the upper section of Riften where I would get food like any other day so I headed to the market then waited until the vendors took a lunch break I then stole a few potatoes and headed into the alley I usually hung out at when I wasn't in the Ratway. I ate one potatoe and left the other 5 for the next 5 days. After I was done eating I sat and admired the man across the street who everyone knew his name was Jon Iron-Fist he was a tall big Nord man with long Black Hair braided on each side in traditional Nord fashion and a full beard everyone in Riften knew Jon he was leader of the Thieves Guild and one of the most powerful people in the city of Riften.

I sat and watched this man every day from my alley I would watch him as he and the other Guild member hung out in front of the Iron-Fist Tavern Jon owned it. The reason I always admired this man so much is because he started out just like me a poor kid from the Ratways but made it to one of the most Powerful men in the city he had his own Tavern he wore nice clothes he ate well, and he was leader of the Thieves Guild. I wanted to be just like him when I grew up. I would always dream of joing the Guild and getting to meet Jon what I didn't know is on that very day I would meet that man. So I was sitting in the alley watching Jon when I saw a Dark Elf who hadn't seen before walk up to Jon they then started argueing and I saw the Dark Elf put his hand on the dagger at his side. I reacted fast I pulled my Shiv and ran as fast as I could jumped on the Dark Elf's back and stabbed him in the side of his neck he then stopped moving and fell backwards ontop of me I was stuck under him I couldn't move I then pulled my shiv out of his neck blood went everywhere and started to pour onto my face I tasted the warm blood on my lips I was terrified it was like a bad dream I couldn't move and the blood continued to poor onto my face I felt as though I was drowning in his blood I couldn't breath. But then the body was lifted off me and I saw Jon looking at me smiling he picked me up brought me into the Tavern and washed me off.

When I was all dried off Jon took me into his office. I sat across from him and he looked at me and smiled. He then asked me why I did it why I saved him, I told him that I saw him put his hand on his dagger and I thought he was going to kill you. Then Jon asked but why do you care if I live or die? I said well your really the only person I care about, and he said why do you care for someone you don't even know? I told him that I felt like I knew him I watched him everday and that really admired him. When I said that he let out a big smile one that lit up the whole room. He said good good I like you how would you like to live with the Guild down in the Ratway. My whole face lit up and I said that would be great. But he told me it wasn't going to be easy he was going to train me to be a master thief. I told him that that was all I ever wanted.

So he brought me down to Ratway it was nothing I hadn't seen before until he opened a door I had never seen before. It led to a taven inside of the Ratways I was amazed there where Thieves all around me drinking and having a good time. he then opened a closet which was actually a door I was amazed we then walked through another door then down a dark hallway. At the end of that Dark Hallway I saw the most amazing site I had ever seen I t was a Giant dome with a hole in the top with a light shining down I felt overjoyed with everything that was happening. he introduced me to a few members then showed me to my bed I slept like a rock that night it was the most comfortable bed I had ever slept in, now that I think about it at the time it was the only bed I ever slept in.

I woke up to the sounds of swords hitting eachother and a frenzy of talking. I liked it I usually never woke up to such nice sounds I would usually wake up to screaming or Skeevers this was great I couldn't believe I was in the Thieves Guild hideout it felt like a dream. Then Jon came over to me greeted me I then began my training as a thief. I started out learning how to move my feet to make myself silent, I then trained with a dagger, then practiced hiding in the shadows. After a few months of training I started pickpocketing people in the city I became very good at it after a while I was making enough gold to pay for a meal that had the amount I would have eaten in a month a few months back, everything was going great I was learning how to become a great thief and was being trained by the best of the best it was all I ever wished for.

Here's the next part

It's the year 4E 149 It is a gloomy stormy day in Riften I creep into a jewelry shop the owner is away I only have 5 minutes. I pick the lock and silently but quickly head to the safe I pick it then pick up the bag of gold and head out of the shop. I head back to the hideout with the gold to bring to Jon but when I get there everyone is yelling I heard one of them say someone had killed Jon.

After I found out Jon was killed I asked everyone where his body was nobody would tell me. But eventually I found out he was in his room. I opened the door to find his body tied to his bed with his throat slit I went to him held him kissed him on his forehead and then wept that man was like my father and I would find who did it no matter what they would pay with their life. So I walked out and asked my best friend in the Guild if he would come with me and find Jon's killer he agreed. That friend of mine was named Fathis he was a 20 year old Dark Elf man with long black hair pushed back and Red eyes. We set off that morning and what we thought would only take a week started turning into months we had now traveled to the farthest reaches of Skyrim, and all we knew is that he was a Khajiti with black fur and yellow eyes and that he was last seen in Sentinel 1 month ago. So we headed to Hammerfell.

Assassin540 · **Posted:** Mon Feb 13, 2012 12:26 am

When we arrived in Sentinel it was very alien to me there was a deserts and odd architecture I hadn't seen before. Fathis and I stayed at a local inn in the slums of the city. We got up the nect morning and began to ask around about the Khajiit. Nobody would say anything, we stayed in Sentinel for a month before we found out anything about him we found out that he was an assassin and a good one they wouldn't tell us who he was employed by but they did tell us that the Khajiit was still in Sentinel. After alot of interogating we found out that he usually hung out at a Skooma den in the slums, we got the location and headed there. When we found him he was in the back corner of the den wearing a black robe with a hood that covered his face. Fathis confronted him and asked him if he killed Jon, the Khajiit noded his head. Then Fathis unsheathed his dagger and swung at his neck but the Khajiit ducked back then unsheathed his own dagger and stuck it in Fathis' stomach I held Fathis in my arms as he died. I then looked at the Khajiit as he headed out the door and he looked at me then turned away and walked out the door.

I was filled with so much anger and sadness that Khajiit had killed the only two people I ever loved. I would have my revenge. I picked up Fathis' dagger and Ebony Bow and left the skooma den I followed the Khajiit through the streets of Sentinel through alleys and streets we finally came to a Tavern called the Golden arrow. I went around the side of the Tavern and peered through the window I saw the Khajjit walk up to a Redguard with a shaved head and a scar down one eye, with a man to his right and his left one was a Khajiit with Yellow fur and the other a Redguard with Dreadlocks and a full beard. The Khajiit sat at the table across from the Redguard and told him that he was right and that someone did come after him but he took care of it.

Now I knew what these men looked like I would need to kill them each one they where all responsible the two men at his side seemed like his partners. I slept outside the Tavern every night for a month I came to find out that the man who owned this Tavern the bald Redguard's name was Cyrus and those two men at his side where R'vanni and Muhammed was the redguard helped him run the Golden Arrow Guild and the assassin was named Do'Vashand he was aGolden Arrow assassin and had killed Jon because Cyrus and Jon grew up in the same City they grew up in Sentinel and Jon killed Cyrus' brother when they where younger because they where in rival guild's. Now that I knew enough about these men I would kill them but I was smart I knew I couldn't go in there and try to stab a Guild leader in the middle of his Tavern I would die and I most likely wouldn't even be able to get that close to him so I decided I would have to join the Guild and earn their trust.

So I cut my hair into a mohawk and bleached my black hair as to not be noticed by the Khajiit. I then walked into the Tavern but was stopped by a large Redguard with a scarred face and a Dreadlock mohawk. I asked to see Cyrus and he let me in. Cyrus asked me why I was there I told him because I wanted to join at first he laughed but then he got serious and asked me to stab the old beggar across the street. I told him I didn't want to he then struck a right blow to the side of my head and knocked me out of my sit. When I got back up he laughed and said if you can't complete a small feat like that you cannot be a Golden Arrow member. This angered me I spat fine I will do it. He handed me the dagger I walked over to the beggar across the street in the alley and then plunged the dagger into his heart I wanted him to die quickly I didn't want him to suffer I was mad on the outside but on the inside I was crying because I was killing an innocent old man. I headed back to the Inn where Cyrus looked at me smiled and said your a Golden Arrow now good job kid.

While in the Guild I did many things that I wouldn't have done normally, but after awhile I got used to killing it was just another part of my day this was when I truly became a killer 2 years before I was just a scared kid I was now 14 and I was a murderer I became one of them one of the Guild members I was no longer a kid these men turned me into a killer a murderer I didn't care who I hurt and Cyrus had grown close to me and taught me some things he taught me that life had no value I was just putting these people out of their misery the misery of life, and even though I never liked this man I did listen to him and learned some things from him. Now on my 15th birthday I decided I was ready today was the day, I would kill those 4 men all of them. They would be having a meeting today at noon on the second floor of the Tavern. I waited and waited all day going over the way I would kill them in my head. When it was time I strapped my dagger to my side and put my bow on my back and walked into the meeting room, they all looked at me and Muhammed asked me why I was interrupting their meeting I shot him in the mouth with my bow I then dropped the bow and slit R'vanni's throat. I then turned to my left to kill Do'vash but he hit as I turned I felt a right uppercut connect to my jaw.

When I woke up I was on a beach face down looking at the ocean and I was sore all over. I stood up and looked around I walked up past the beach into a jungle with many swamps and it was very humid. After walking around the wretched swampy jungle and trudging through many swamps I came to a small village built ontop of a swamp with small wooden shacks only about 10 of them I walked up and asked an Argonian with Red and black scales where I was he replied Black Marsh. I was really confused the Argonian man took me into his house I met his family they where very nice, I got to know the man over a few months he was a good man. I ended up working for him as a hunter and fisher we would go out and hunt and I would stay at his home.

But oneday, I woke up to screams, and the smell of smoke filled the air, I got up looked out the shack to see burning shack and screaming people being murdered by very large Argonians, I looked around for my family but they where nowhere to be found I left the burning village and decided to go, to Hammerfell I still had people to kill I still wanted revenge for Jon and Fathis' death. Cyrus and Do'Vash needed to die. So I hopped a boat to Cyrodil all the way mourning the loss of my Argonain family thing's where finally going good and they died they always die everyone I get close to seems to die it's a curse. When I arrived in Cyrodil I stayed the night in Leyawin and in the morning took a carriage to the border of Hammerfell I then payed him extra to take me to Sentinel. I wanted revenge I didn't care what it took they killed Fathis and Jon and they beat me and left me for dead. They where going to die no matter how long it took.

Unionhack · **Posted:** Mon Feb 13, 2012 5:04 am

I really hate to be 'that guy', but Assassin540, I can't take it anymore. You've got a fine story and all, but there's a very important thing that makes stories bearable to read, and it's called proper punctuation. No one is going to take you seriously as a writer until you start utilizing it. This includes commas to avoid run-on sentences.

Let's take a paragraph and see the difference.

Quote:

But oneday, I woke up to screams, and the smell of smoke filled the air, I got up looked out the shack to see burning shack and screaming people being murdered by very large Argonians, I looked around for my family but they where nowhere to be found I left the burning village and decided to go, to Hammerfell I still had people to kill I still wanted revenge for Jon and Fathis' death. Cyrus and Do'Vash needed to die. So I hopped a boat to Cyrodil all the way mourning the loss of my Argonain family thing's where finally going good and they died they always die everyone I get close to seems to die it's a curse. When I arrived in Cyrodil I stayed the night in Leyawin and in the morning took a carriage to the border of Hammerfell I then payed him extra to take me to Sentinel. I wanted revenge I didn't care what it took they killed Fathis and Jon and they beat me and left me for dead. They where going to die no matter how long it took.

Edited:

Quote:

But one day, I woke up to screams, and the smell of smoke filled the air. I got up and looked out the shack to see burning shacks and screaming people being murdered by very large Argonians. I looked around for my family, but they were nowhere to be found. I left the burning village and decided to go to Hammerfell. I still had people to kill; I still wanted revenge for Jon and Fathis' deaths. Cyrus and Do'Vash needed to die. So I hopped on a boat to Cyrodil, all the way mourning the loss of my Argonain family. Things were finally going good, and they died. They always die. Everyone I get close to seems to die; It's a curse. When I arrived in Cyrodil, I stayed the night in Leyawiin and, in the morning, took a carriage to the border of Hammerfell. I then paid him extra to take me to Sentinel. I wanted revenge. I didn't care what it took; they killed Fathis and Jon and they beat me and left me for dead. They where going to die no matter how long it took.

It really makes a difference, man.
I'm not trying to be mean here; that's the last thing I want to do. I understand that every writer starts somewhere, but somewhere along the line, you need to accept the basic rules of grammar when writing so that it's easier on the reader.
I hope this will help you in your future writing endeavors. Please don't be offended by this; that's the last thing I want.

Panthera · **Posted:** Mon Feb 13, 2012 5:08 am

Dark Lord Cam wrote:

http://uesp-forums-club.deviantart.com/gallery/27482080#/d2qo6fj

http://uesp-forums-club.deviantart.com/ ... 0#/d2rhe2b

http://uesp-forums-club.deviantart.com/ ... 0#/d2w9dj6

http://dlcam.deviantart.com/gallery/#/d2qut2d

I write a lot.

Hey, you are pretty good!

On a related note, I like to write sometimes, very rarely, but when I do I write poetry, or just write my thoughts to clear my head.

Assassin540 · **Posted:** Sun Feb 26, 2012 7:42 pm

Unionhack wrote:

I really hate to be 'that guy', but Assassin540, I can't take it anymore. You've got a fine story and all, but there's a very important thing that makes stories bearable to read, and it's called proper punctuation. No one is going to take you seriously as a writer until you start utilizing it. This includes commas to avoid run-on sentences.

Let's take a paragraph and see the difference.

Quote:

But oneday, I woke up to screams, and the smell of smoke filled the air, I got up looked out the shack to see burning shack and screaming people being murdered by very large Argonians, I looked around for my family but they where nowhere to be found I left the burning village and decided to go, to Hammerfell I still had people to kill I still wanted revenge for Jon and Fathis' death. Cyrus and Do'Vash needed to die. So I hopped a boat to Cyrodil all the way mourning the loss of my Argonain family thing's where finally going good and they died they always die everyone I get close to seems to die it's a curse. When I arrived in Cyrodil I stayed the night in Leyawin and in the morning took a carriage to the border of Hammerfell I then payed him extra to take me to Sentinel. I wanted revenge I didn't care what it took they killed Fathis and Jon and they beat me and left me for dead. They where going to die no matter how long it took.

Edited:

Quote:

But one day, I woke up to screams, and the smell of smoke filled the air. I got up and looked out the shack to see burning shacks and screaming people being murdered by very large Argonians. I looked around for my family, but they were nowhere to be found. I left the burning village and decided to go to Hammerfell. I still had people to kill; I still wanted revenge for Jon and Fathis' deaths. Cyrus and Do'Vash needed to die. So I hopped on a boat to Cyrodil, all the way mourning the loss of my Argonain family. Things were finally going good, and they died. They always die. Everyone I get close to seems to die; It's a curse. When I arrived in Cyrodil, I stayed the night in Leyawiin and, in the morning, took a carriage to the border of Hammerfell. I then paid him extra to take me to Sentinel. I wanted revenge. I didn't care what it took; they killed Fathis and Jon and they beat me and left me for dead. They where going to die no matter how long it took.

It really makes a difference, man.
I'm not trying to be mean here; that's the last thing I want to do. I understand that every writer starts somewhere, but somewhere along the line, you need to accept the basic rules of grammar when writing so that it's easier on the reader.
I hope this will help you in your future writing endeavors. Please don't be offended by this; that's the last thing I want.

I really appreciate the input and help. I want to write I just don't have very good punctuation skills I will try to do better thank you.

Assassin540 · **Posted:** Sun Feb 26, 2012 8:48 pm

Next part in Savund the Hunters story

It was now 4E 161 I was 15 years old and out for veangance so much had changed since that dreadful day when they killed Jon those people turned me into this murderer life used to be good but all that has changed now im a killer and im out to get the last two people who killed the only two people I loved in this world they took away everythin and in turn I would take their lives. When I arrived back in Sentinel it was the same as I left it only now the slums where worse after asking around I found out that in my absence Cyrus and the Guild had grown in power he no longer only owned one small tavern in the slums he owned 3 Taverns plus the one in the slums they told me he was a rich man now a powerful man he had friends in the local order of knights in the area. He also now lived in the rich section of the city in a mansion, he was going to be harder to kill now he wasn't just the leader of some Guild now he was a rich and powerful man, and with power and wealth that would mean he would be harder to get to.

I plotted for months I found out the exact location of his mansion, I got the blueprints of the mansion, I memorized the Guard patrols everything that needed to be done was done it was time now I was ready I put on my old Thieves Guild armor that Jon had given me I put my bow on my back I strapped my dagger to my side I was ready. I left the inn into the warm summer night air of Sentinel I made my way to the mansion going through alleys and back roads. I climbed ontop of a large building where I could see the mansion directly below me it had 10 foot mud walls that Cyrus' thugs pace along all night. I waited until the right moment where all the guard where looking away for a split second and I jumped off the building into the courtyard landing close to silently in the courtyard. After dodging many guards I made my way to the side door which opened up into a hallway Cyrus' room was up on the third floor and Dro'Vash was somewhere around here so I had to keep on my toes. I silently opened the side door just enough to peek through and I saw a giant Redguard looking away from the door down the hall. I would have to kill him so I slowly opened the door but it made I slight creek I looked over to see if the Redguard heard and sure enough he did he slammed the door on me then dragged me into the hallway but I pulled his arm and brought him down to the ground I got ontop of him and held his one arm down with my free hand and with the other I pulled my dagger but he struck me in the face it felt like my fae just got slammed into a hard rock I quickly recovered and held his mouth and violently pushed the blade onto his neck and sawed back and forth 10 times until he stopped moving I then got up and moved him into a storage room.

I then silently walked down the hallway until I came to a giant room with a large staircase leading upstairs but there where guards standing on either side of the bottom of the staircase. So I looked around to make sure they where the only guards around and sure enough they where so pulled my bow quietly of my back then pulled an Iron arrow back and let go the one on the right side of the staircase went down with an arrow in his neck then I turned to the other guard next to him I already had my arrow pulled back and ready to shoot the look in the man's eyes where of fear I let the arrow go and I sent it straight through his neck. I silently moved towards the dead guards recieved my arrow and then headed up the stairs. At the top of the stairs was an intersection of hallways one straight ahead of me and the other paralell to me I headed down the one in front of me that lead to the thrid floor I could see the double doors that opened up into the stairwell to the third floor I was so close so I walked down the hallway and put my hand on the double doors when they got kicked in and I flew down the hallway when I looked over to the doors I saw Dro'Vash he was wielding two Katanas he started slowly pacing towards me, I scrambled to find my dagger I finally got it and pulled it out I then jumped up but I was to slow Dro'Vash sliced my arm I then rolled backwords Dro'Vash following me with swinging Katanas the whole time. I got up and we both got in our fighting stances He threw me a Katana and said let's do this honorably I caught the Katana and sheathed my dagger he swung the blade down quick on my head but I blocked it he followed with a lighting quick swing of his katana at my legs I jumped and dodged it I swung my Katana at his chest but he quickly blocked at the last second and kicked me I fell on the ground my Katana flew out of my hand I grabbed for it but Dro'Vash kicked the blade further down the hall towards the staircase to the second level. Dro'Vash then put his foot on my chest and his blade at my neck and said I enjoyed killing Jon and that Dark Elf I like to kill and I am going to enjoy killing you but the whole time he wa talking while he wasn't paying attention to me it gave me time to unsheath my dagger, I had it in my hand gripped the dagger tightly and slashed his leg pushing him of me he fell on the ground he lay there screaming in agony because I cut him so deep and in a major artery he would bleed out slowly I knelt next to the Khajiti and pulled his head close to mine and I told him that he took away everyone I loved and now I would let him die slowly as to show him the pain that I felt over the years because of his killings he then whimpered and I got up and walked up the staircase hearing Dro'Vash screaming and beggin me to kill him.

When I got to the top of the staircase I saw Cyrus sitting in a throne like chair in the middle of the room with nobody around but me and him and no windows or balconies for him to run to. He looked at me and started to laugh telling me how he never thought that I would get this far, and as he was talking I slowly walked towards him that's when he said you can't kill m..... and that's all I let him say because is grabbed his tongue cut it out and then told him what I had to say I told him why I was killing him I then plunged my dagger into his throat and pulled it out with blood squirting everywhere including on my leather armor and my face. I then walked out of the mansion and back to the inn I had finally done it my journey was over it was finally done they where dead it was almost unbelieveable I had been chasing them so long what would I do now? Well I started by getting a good night's rest at the Old Crone inn.

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