Storytellers 2013 Attempted Revision

[Kristopher]

We all grow through the years, and I'm no exception. It is the only story of which I have come back to, trying to rewrite it and make it better. From restructuring sentences, to completely changing the diction and giving it different voices, and even adding or removing things of the city and people, I would like to post the latest one I've been working on. I know there are not many left on here, but those that are here and would be willing, I hope I could receive advice on it, with any form of criticism. My aim and goal is to make it as perfect as possible, changing the mistakes and adding what is needed, or taking away what is not. If you want to see the old version: http://www.hampsterboard.com/board/index.php?showtopic=4258&hl=storyteller. I don't remember the exact year, but I want to say that I've been working on this since about 2005-2006. I've kept the story intact, while changing some things.

 

So, without any more procrastination:

 

Mestfan, a city of life whose age spans over three hundred years as the unofficial capital of the Empire, provides global trade routes by water and land. The marvelous city and port built of wood and stone dwarfs Teracian, an ancient and mysterious city now called the Empire's capital. Large crowds of men, beast, and other creatures swarm the bursting city of Mestfan. Whether you were noble, rich, poor, or even a criminal, it is of no consquence. In fact, the only important things in the entire city are tennels, for Mestfan is a trading city, though it more resembles a vast kingdom twice the size of Phara'i, the province of the Ta-Pharan.

It lives and thrives on the water surrounding it, virtually enclosed by fleets of ships with little space between. Crime in the lawless city is abundant but also secret as the leaders are apt to pay the Empire tremendous amounts of tennels so they may be allowed to do as they please, within reason.

Indeed, Mestaf is not the most placid place known in the human world, but despite all of its faults, its not the most reckless, either. Humans are known for their recklessness compared to the other races. Known for being incredibly territorial, they steal the lands of others, often razing increidble and vast, beautiful cities, fantasizing about the history of the places they destroyed. It is this and and more that causes man to be the most hated of all the races, though even that does not stop the Dwarves from batering with the humans. "Money is everything", a common phrase uttered by those who have ever visited Mestfan.

But beyond the greed and crime, the money and the shops and businesses, the presence of the Legion of the Empire, or even the impoverished districts, all of which Mestfan is made famous for, what the city is best known for is its storytelling. Stories of ancient races, legends and myths fill every street corner of the lively city. Every day is a new blessing for the city offers its residents and visitors a new chance to hear the exciting and magical stories of the Storytellers.

The Storytellers are a small group of people, each belonging to a separate race, led by an elder male named Aero. They never ask for payment for the fantastical stories, but as luck would have it, or maybe the gods' favour, coins are tipped and donated in hopes that they'll return the next day to tell another tale. In truth, there is only seven of the Storytellers, and every night, after a day of hard work, they pool the money together, drawing lots. He who draws and is lucky receives a little extra that night. Though once a winner is chosen, he is unable to win again for six days

.

Even though they are in town every day, and the number of the group being low, only two of the Storytellers are known to the public by name.

Aero is a tall man of an unknown race with long, silver-white hair and soft white eyes. His skin, an odd shade of blue, shines like the surface of the crystal waters of the ocean, while his smooth, warm voice and straight, powerful posture never once suggests he is anywhere over the age of sixty, though he's been performing in Mestfan for over two-hundred years, making him the oldest of the troupe. His home is full of books, with books upon more books, with books on shelves and books on the floor, and never a proper place to sit.

The presumed second-in-command is called Aquan, a strange name in most lands. Before his father died, Aquan was finally told the reason as to his peculiar name. His father had found a newborn swimming the Black Craeg, forbidden and ancient waters ruled by the god Aquan-ar, god of the moving life. But while his past is shrouded in mystery, what features can be seen under his shrouded and covered face appears to be a normal human, with bright blue eyes and a slight olive complexion. With a small, welcoming posture, he always wears the same dark green cloak and robe, hood drapped over his face, and a mask of linen across his mouth and nose. There is a story going around, however, that once his hood was removed one day and hair that flowed across the sky fell from his shoulders as it blew in the wind, shinning like metal.

The rest of the group is almost entirely unknown to the rest of the people swarming Mestfan, hiding themselves like Aquan, never speaking aside from light casual conversation or when telling stories. After a great many years, however, they are now cheerfully referred to as Mikchift, Cansift, Inyan, Biris, and Horaq. It is not known how or why they arrived to Mestfan, or even if those are their real names, but only that they've been there as long as any living person can remember.

 

[Kristopher]

I finally found something worthwhile to add to the first chapter, as it was very short and boring. I, personally, love how I did it. And I am hoping it works well. So here is the new, never-before-seen addition to the parts I posted above:

 

"This story is boring! The only thing a story about the city is good for is putting the old and young to sleep!", shouting as loud as possible to make himself heard, a man of young age taunts the storyteller before him, "Why would I want to hear some sorry old story about the city? You barely even talk about yourself." Looking down and lowering his head, smirking, the old and contested man takes in a deep breath, his body inflating slightly as he begins to exhale loudly, echoing against the the cobbled stone walls of the buildings in the town square. Speaking in calm voice, he says "Then let old Aero tell you a tale to remember your youth and dreams. A story of adventure and action, of fantasy and legend. Yes, you are quite right."

Smiling, lifting his head back up proudly, Aero reaches his arms outward to the side, gesturing for the onlookers to sit closer.

"It's been a while since I've spoken these words. Ancient words that once made kings and even the gods tremble. Gods of different worlds than this one fought for many years amongst themselves. It had been so many years for them that no one remembered who the original creator was. Each and every god felt they were the righteous and just, that they were the most powerful. And so they fought, and so they died. Planets were created and planets were destroyed by the very words they uttered in battle. After millions of years and the death of even more gods, only a handful remained. Once the number of planets in the sky was infinite, but now there only remains one -- this planet. And the amount of lives lost on those planets..."

Closing his eyes and taking another breath, old Aero opens them and looks up at the moon in the sky, and then over to the sun over the horizon. "The remaining gods decided to throw away their childish behaviour as the only thing that came about was chaos. They threw away their mantles of power and set foot on the very ground you're standing on. Then, with the little power they had left, they created four new races unseen before on this world. Hailing from the mighty north, where the mountains fight for space in the sky, the land barren and dry, the first race was called the Ta'er. Soaring over their realm of peaks and chains of mountains with feathered wings of gren and blue hues, and the body of men, they were called the gods of the sky by the one creature that spoke and lived before the fall of the gods: man. "

As Aero continued to passionately tell the enthralled audience a vast story of the early days of their world, more came and stopped, in awe of the words flowing from the lips of the old man. He spoke of the years of fighting between the gods of the sky and humans, and of how the world was forever changed by the gods of different planets. The gods threw away war and destruction when they gave up their mantles, but brought a new kind of chaos to a planet that was otherwise peaceful. The four races they created would come to rule all the lands of the world, secluded from eachother except in battle. Over time, however, they would begin to mingle and each and every race would eventually mix with the other, producing wild and varied offspring.

"And the humans lost their homes and their families. Once the most proud and feard hunter, they were almost reduced to ash by the four warmongering hordes. That is, until one day when a young man born of unknown parents started to gain fame for his bravery for fighting back. Though he was not fully human, it is said he carried the spirit and passion of every human past on his shoulders, taking it as his own, as he fought."

[Horatio]

Fantastic! Welcome back!!! Now for you and - Kat - to get together so she can illustrate your story. Then you can start producing graphic novels.