Through the month of November, I've been committed to retelling the tale of the Grey Warden Mage as seen from his perspective. I only began this project because I felt further familiarization with the Dragon Age universe was required in order to properly write a scenario for a Machinima that I am currently planning.
There was a second, less significant, reason to the writing of this literary atrocity: I felt the Bioware writers, though aptly conveying the characters within their limited confines (due to it being a game, no doubt), they created gaps and inconsistencies between the behaviors of all (not most) characters in the game, specifically the Warden. When only faced with three to five replies at any given time, this is understandable, but for those who have a set idea regarding their character's personality it is quite unpermissable. Worse yet, certain options were completely excluded, which I felt weighed down the entire body of the playing character (think Mass Effect 2: in the end, you always disagree with Cerberus, even if you specifically don't want to).
So, I completed (part of) my draft, reaching 50,000 words (medal for me, profit) but leaving me with a tale I can only really approach with discontent. And so, I hope that I will be able to complete and perfect my story here (eventually), preferably before the end of December, but otherwise before Q2 of 2011.
I implore you to add any criticism you may have (except for the obvious complaint that this is unoriginal and uninventive -- I know it is, but I liked the Halo retelling and with all I've added (not to mention that the perspective is completely warped from the game itself, and the storylines, character relations et al.) I believe it's worth the effort put in), as long as it is civil and contributes to the quality of the story (or my writing).
Uncertain of whether I'm permitted by the forum to double-post, I will now attempt to share the first part of my work.
~ Iced
P.S.: There are storylines to be added that will be neglected until the main storyline is through.
Origins - NaNoWriMo retelling
Débuté par
IcedCube
, déc. 02 2010 09:14
Retour en haut
#2
Posté 02 décembre 2010 - 09:28
IcedCube
-
- Members
- 11 messages
[Red indicates a possible rewrite or removal. Tags indicate there is prose missing.]
On a cliff overlooking the dark waters of Lake Calenhad stands the tower
fortress that is home to the circle of Magi. This town is the only place where mages may study their art among others of their kind. Within the high stone walls, the Circle practices its magic and trains apprentices in the proper use of their power. But the Circle Tower is as much a prison as a refuge; the ever-vigilant templars of the Chantry watch over all mages, constantly alert for any sign of corruption.
This gilded cage is the only world you know. Found to be sensitive to magic at a young age, you were torn from your family and grafted here as an apprentice. Now, that apprenticeship is nearly over and all that remains is the final test: the Harrowing.
Entering the chamber of rites, I could feel the weight of the templars’ ill disheartenment. I needed not a guard, nor a caretaker. They see fit my demise, I fall. They see fit my success, I am welcomed into the binding shackles of the Chantry’s will; offered a respectable position for those who are in possession of great might but unwilling to exert it, but what use is even this condonation when the beholder still is sneered by the regency?
[First off: to name members of an order in low-caps is inexcusably flawed. However, this was the writers choice and so I will abide by it. The first sentence needs rewriting because "ill disheartenment," though fitting, is adjective-laden. I don't like things that are adjective-laden. The inaccurate references are intended, detailing the thought process of the narrator.
Another thing to note is that I don't write _expensively_ in regular prose. The used language is part of the character itself, and so these words are fitting.]
I understand imprisonment is a necessary response to certain… stimuli, but could they not have dulled the sentence to decrease the extent and depth of our confines? How amusing that those unbound in immaterial control are so restricted in their worldly being.
So frequently our interaction passes with undisclosed malcontent, and it is in this lack of disclosure we may find tranquility, if only temporary.
The Harrowing’s reputation mirrors its name. Though little is known about the rite by those not yet deemed ready, the gravity of its outcome alone may shatter the will of initiates.
As I was welcomed by the templar examiners and the highest of mages, both warning and caution were presented to me.
[Magi?]
“‘Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.’ Thus spoke the prophet Andraste as she cast down the Tevinter Imperium, ruled by mages who had brought the world to the edge of ruin.
“Your magic is a gift, but it’s also a curse, for demons of the dream realm – the Fade – are drawn to you, and seek to use you as a gateway into this world.
“This is why the Harrowing exists. The ritual sends you into the Fade, and there you will face a demon, armed only with your will.
“Know this, apprentice: if you fail, we templars will perform our duty. You will die.”
His forceful monologue did justice to the reality of his threat. No mage would be spared, should there be need for any such an action. In the instance I was not of sufficient will, I would no longer be tolerated in their realm. But there was no question of sufficiency: I would succeed, and their bloodlust would have to be satiated elsewhere.
Greagoir, though old, was filled with dedication that would invoke fear in even the mightiest of Tevinter Magisters. His grim posture befitted a man who spent the entirety of his life enforcing order-- albeit his order. But the others, they were of a different breed. Be they initiate or veteran, they could never stand in the footing of their Commander.
The circular room we stood in was spacious and empty. Some would call it modest, with few decorations apart from the copper foiled windows and the symbols inscribed in the floor. No doubt these were wards, meant to tame any… uninvited magical presences. Similar to nothing other than a concrete corral, its mere air was exhausting. In this room there was, however, one source of magical affluence: in its centre stood a metal holder containing the pure earthly manifestation of magic-- a lucent substance known as lyrium.
[Worldly?]
Gesturing the holder, First Enchanter Irwin continued the introduction: “This is lyrium: the very essence of magic and your gateway into the Fade.”
“If but a voyage to the nether realm, what purpose does this secrecy have?” I rightly inquired. “If all will undergo this trial, what need is there for concealing its details?”
“You may not agree, but the Harrowing is a secret out of necessity, child. Every mage must go through this trial by fire.”
Not all make it through the Harrowing, we know this much. But rarely is spoken of the execution. Execution by the very hands of the templars.
The First Enchanter must have understood my distress. “As we succeeded, so shall you.”
“And I am ready, as I have been.”
“Keep your wits about you and remember the Fade is a realm of dreams. The spirits may rule it, but your own will is real.”
“The apprentice must go through this test alone, First Enchanter.” Greagoir decisively exclaimed, not expecting a response. Gesturing the lyrium, he concluded: “You are ready.”
Little can be remembered of a transition to the Fade. Serving in allegory of dreams, you find yourself awakening in a world no less real than our own, but nigh inconceivable for those who have not experienced it. It is by will alone one can stand amongst the demons and illusions. A lacking will ends strained, cracked and finally shattered. It is for this reason the Fade is daunting and unruly to those in fear, but beautiful to those who wish truly to see it.
For it is within this realm that one can fully sense the ubiquity of magic. Magic is to mortals a benevolent dictator, determining the entirety of our being and binding us all. But some are not merely bound by it: they alter, they mold, they order. Powerful minds are architects in the mortal realm, but here… here, they are gods.
The Fade is a testament to beauty, to perfection and divinity. But the Fade isn’t one mere thing: it is what a mind chooses to see, everlasting and ever changing, but still absolute in its bitter nature. It was in this realm the Tevinter Magisters conquered their mortal boundaries and were deified, and then cast down and demonized. Still, their legacy is one of great triumph, as even the Maker himself cowered before their glorious arrival.
[These are the first two pages (of many). Also, BBCode is horrid.]
On a cliff overlooking the dark waters of Lake Calenhad stands the tower
fortress that is home to the circle of Magi. This town is the only place where mages may study their art among others of their kind. Within the high stone walls, the Circle practices its magic and trains apprentices in the proper use of their power. But the Circle Tower is as much a prison as a refuge; the ever-vigilant templars of the Chantry watch over all mages, constantly alert for any sign of corruption.
This gilded cage is the only world you know. Found to be sensitive to magic at a young age, you were torn from your family and grafted here as an apprentice. Now, that apprenticeship is nearly over and all that remains is the final test: the Harrowing.
Entering the chamber of rites, I could feel the weight of the templars’ ill disheartenment. I needed not a guard, nor a caretaker. They see fit my demise, I fall. They see fit my success, I am welcomed into the binding shackles of the Chantry’s will; offered a respectable position for those who are in possession of great might but unwilling to exert it, but what use is even this condonation when the beholder still is sneered by the regency?
[First off: to name members of an order in low-caps is inexcusably flawed. However, this was the writers choice and so I will abide by it. The first sentence needs rewriting because "ill disheartenment," though fitting, is adjective-laden. I don't like things that are adjective-laden. The inaccurate references are intended, detailing the thought process of the narrator.
Another thing to note is that I don't write _expensively_ in regular prose. The used language is part of the character itself, and so these words are fitting.]
I understand imprisonment is a necessary response to certain… stimuli, but could they not have dulled the sentence to decrease the extent and depth of our confines? How amusing that those unbound in immaterial control are so restricted in their worldly being.
So frequently our interaction passes with undisclosed malcontent, and it is in this lack of disclosure we may find tranquility, if only temporary.
The Harrowing’s reputation mirrors its name. Though little is known about the rite by those not yet deemed ready, the gravity of its outcome alone may shatter the will of initiates.
As I was welcomed by the templar examiners and the highest of mages, both warning and caution were presented to me.
[Magi?]
“‘Magic exists to serve man, and never to rule over him.’ Thus spoke the prophet Andraste as she cast down the Tevinter Imperium, ruled by mages who had brought the world to the edge of ruin.
“Your magic is a gift, but it’s also a curse, for demons of the dream realm – the Fade – are drawn to you, and seek to use you as a gateway into this world.
“This is why the Harrowing exists. The ritual sends you into the Fade, and there you will face a demon, armed only with your will.
“Know this, apprentice: if you fail, we templars will perform our duty. You will die.”
His forceful monologue did justice to the reality of his threat. No mage would be spared, should there be need for any such an action. In the instance I was not of sufficient will, I would no longer be tolerated in their realm. But there was no question of sufficiency: I would succeed, and their bloodlust would have to be satiated elsewhere.
Greagoir, though old, was filled with dedication that would invoke fear in even the mightiest of Tevinter Magisters. His grim posture befitted a man who spent the entirety of his life enforcing order-- albeit his order. But the others, they were of a different breed. Be they initiate or veteran, they could never stand in the footing of their Commander.
The circular room we stood in was spacious and empty. Some would call it modest, with few decorations apart from the copper foiled windows and the symbols inscribed in the floor. No doubt these were wards, meant to tame any… uninvited magical presences. Similar to nothing other than a concrete corral, its mere air was exhausting. In this room there was, however, one source of magical affluence: in its centre stood a metal holder containing the pure earthly manifestation of magic-- a lucent substance known as lyrium.
[Worldly?]
Gesturing the holder, First Enchanter Irwin continued the introduction: “This is lyrium: the very essence of magic and your gateway into the Fade.”
“If but a voyage to the nether realm, what purpose does this secrecy have?” I rightly inquired. “If all will undergo this trial, what need is there for concealing its details?”
“You may not agree, but the Harrowing is a secret out of necessity, child. Every mage must go through this trial by fire.”
Not all make it through the Harrowing, we know this much. But rarely is spoken of the execution. Execution by the very hands of the templars.
The First Enchanter must have understood my distress. “As we succeeded, so shall you.”
“And I am ready, as I have been.”
“Keep your wits about you and remember the Fade is a realm of dreams. The spirits may rule it, but your own will is real.”
“The apprentice must go through this test alone, First Enchanter.” Greagoir decisively exclaimed, not expecting a response. Gesturing the lyrium, he concluded: “You are ready.”
Little can be remembered of a transition to the Fade. Serving in allegory of dreams, you find yourself awakening in a world no less real than our own, but nigh inconceivable for those who have not experienced it. It is by will alone one can stand amongst the demons and illusions. A lacking will ends strained, cracked and finally shattered. It is for this reason the Fade is daunting and unruly to those in fear, but beautiful to those who wish truly to see it.
For it is within this realm that one can fully sense the ubiquity of magic. Magic is to mortals a benevolent dictator, determining the entirety of our being and binding us all. But some are not merely bound by it: they alter, they mold, they order. Powerful minds are architects in the mortal realm, but here… here, they are gods.
The Fade is a testament to beauty, to perfection and divinity. But the Fade isn’t one mere thing: it is what a mind chooses to see, everlasting and ever changing, but still absolute in its bitter nature. It was in this realm the Tevinter Magisters conquered their mortal boundaries and were deified, and then cast down and demonized. Still, their legacy is one of great triumph, as even the Maker himself cowered before their glorious arrival.
[These are the first two pages (of many). Also, BBCode is horrid.]
Modifié par IcedCube, 02 décembre 2010 - 09:40 .
#3
Posté 05 décembre 2010 - 04:27
Wedger
-
- Members
- 545 messages
Cool! I did NaNoWriMo DA:O FanFic too! It was fun.
Are you gonna put it anywhere but here? Is hard to read here is all
Are you gonna put it anywhere but here? Is hard to read here is all
#4
Posté 05 décembre 2010 - 11:49
IcedCube
-
- Members
- 11 messages
I definitely can and will. 
I'm re-editing the next few pages, they should be up soon.
What was your novel about?
I'm re-editing the next few pages, they should be up soon.What was your novel about?
