I'm an idiot

[manatherindrell]

I have been thinking of a story for several months now and I had answered all the plot and character questions except for two, "Why is the principal enemy being so mean to my main character" and "What is the name of my main character?" Last night I was thinking and I remembered the name of a wolf in norse mythology, Fenrir, and thought that was perfect for my character. Now, the day after, my nice little story has ballooned into a trilogy, (The Blood Wolf, The Blood Eagle, and Ragnarök) the main enemy is no longer the main enemy, and the trilogy ends in a war with the gods. How did this happen? I borrowed heavily from norse and a couple other mythologies, #$%*^$&$ Wikipedia! The problem now is that I can't make myself go back on this story because I really like it and all the important questions are being answered.

Well I just have to show you what I have so far, I just started writing last night.

There was fog everywhere and the hound could only follow Fenrir by his scent and sound. It paused for a moment, bonewhite paw frozen in the air. Cocking his head the hound lifted it's red ears, he couldn't hear Fenrir anymore. He must have picked up his pace. The hound had to find it's quarry. Putting his paw back down he lowered his head to smell the ground. Casting around for the scent the hound paced back and forth underneath the trees. Only the scent of rotting leaves came to his nose.
There was no better tracker in the world but still he could not find the trail. That was the problem with tracking Fenrir, he was...different. Sometimes his scent faded for no reason. Other times he could be running through dry bushes and not make a sound. Or he could traverse a field after a rain and leave no prints. It was as if he was not quite a part of this world, but that was wrong, because the hound could scent anything, in this world or not. There should still be some sort of trail.
At the base of a mighty oak there was a print in the ground. The hound had almost not seen it in the fog. Following the prints he bounded off into the forest that stretched from the sea on the east ot the mountains on the west.
It was an ancient forest, the oldest in the world, here since before the Horned One or the Eyeless one had arrived and long before the first of mankind had been created, and the hound had been here before any of them. The hound knew this forest and even though the trail of prints soon faded he was able to pick up the scent again.
Still running the hound raised his head and let out a bonechilling howl. Out of the trees came running more of his kind, ghostly shapes in the mist except for bloodred ears and blazing eyes. All creatures that heard that howl fled in terror. Those that could not flee, the ones held in the human villages went mad while around them the pack moved, eyes blazing like embers left over from the fires of creation. All life fled before them, except Fenrir, and though he didn't flee they could not catch him.

 

[Minniemal]

and though he didn't flee they could not catch him.
Those that could not flee, the ones held in the human villages went mad

I think that's very good—but there should be a comma after 'villages'
I don't understand your first paragraph or the thread title. What are you upset about? Why do you say you're an idiot?

 

[manatherindrell]

Because it is too long for a first time writing. By the time I really get into writing it there will almost certainly be massive plot changes that require starting over.

 

[Stewart]

Well, if it helps, Robert Louis Stevenson wrote The Strange Case of Doctor Jekyll and Mr Hyde in three days, then burnt the entire work, before writing it again in the next three days. Nothing wrong, you see, with starting over.

 

[Minniemal]

Because it is too long for a first time writing. By the time I really get into writing it there will almost certainly be massive plot changes that require starting over.

Oh. Yeah, I can see it's frustrating to come up with a nice turn of phrase and at the same time wonder if you're going to be able to keep it. But multiple drafts and major overhauls are a matter of course for many if not most fiction writers.

 

[manatherindrell]

Here's some more that I wrote yesterday.

Jhonathon was riding along a cliff’s edge with Evan. Down below them was a raging river. Somehow their caravan had gotten lost and ended up on the wrong side of the river and it was their job to find a way across.

Suddenly they heard a howl in the far distance. Both of their horses tried to bolt at once but somehow Jhonathon managed to calm his horse before it went very far. Evan was not so lucky. His horse ran at a mad gallop into the woods that ran along the edge of the cliff.

“Evan!”

Jhonathon shouted after his partner while his horse pranced nervously. There was no answer. Deciding to go after him was not the easiest decision that Jhonathon had ever made. He had never liked these woods, they were too still, and now it seemed that the very air around him was holding its breath. Spurring his horse forward he headed into the trees where Evan had disappeared.

He had only been riding along for a quarter of an hour when a deep fog rolled in. Jhonathon was starting to worry about being able to find his way back. He reigned in his horse. Peering into the mist he thought about going back. The caravan master would be more than understanding. He could not afford to lose two scouts, and besides Jhonathon could not realistically be expected to actually find Evan in this fog. No, he had to find him. It would be wrong to leave. Jhonathon urged his horse forward, further into the mist, his calls seeming to die just beyond sight.

In the mist time itself seemed to die. He had always been there and he always would. Strange shapes appeared and melted away at the slightest shift of air. There were sounds that he couldn’t quite hear, as if someone in some other world was talking about him.

Eventually Jhonathon came to realize that some of the shapes around him were not disappearing into the mist, but were instead coalescing into ruined pillars and buildings under the great oaks.

More and more tumbled boulders appeared, ghostly buildings of an age long past. A feeling came upon him that these stones were not wrought by the hands of men; they were far older than the human race. Neither was this a city where man ever dwelled.

As he rode further into the ruins all thoughts of finding his companion fell away. Upon the pillars of stone were pictures engraved and painted in the stone. Pictures of dragons and giants, of unicorns and creatures he could not recognize, others of men fighting.

On a wall to his left was a great fresco of a man on a horse, but this man had the head and antlers of a stag, the ears of a wolf and the eyes of an owl. Around the horse milled a great pack of dogs, weather chasing the man or following him it was impossible to tell.

At the far end, almost obscured by the mist was another man on a horse. The horse was walking forward and around it lay many men and animals and other creatures. The man on the horse seemed to be very old, but still radiated a feeling of power such as had never been seen by the likes of ordinary man. Jhonathon looked closer at his face and realized with a start that the man had only one eye. Perched on his shoulders were two ravens and held in his right hand was a great spear.

In the very center was a man in a cape riding on the back of a wolf, but the wolf was snarling at the man through an iron muzzle with reigns made of chain. Jhonathon knew that if ever the muzzle broke the man would die.

In the air above this all there was a great dragon whose wings blanketed the sky. While out of an ocean in the background loomed a serpent straining at the dragon.

On Jhonathon rode down what had once been a great boulevard before the oaks had slowly shattered the paving stones. Suddenly he came to a depression and started to descend.

The mist parted to reveal a huge rosebush at one end of the bowl, large enough to be called a tree. On the bush were the most beautiful, the reddest roses he had ever seen. Though the roses should not have been flowering at this time of year, somehow he knew those roses would never stop blooming.

At the other end of the bowl was the mightiest oak tree he had ever seen. The tree sat in the very bottom of the bowl but still dwarfed the oaks in the forest. Underneath the boughs of that tree stood a man. In fury Jhonathon asked him.

“What are you doing here?”



And here's a challenge for you people that like puzzles. All of the answers can be found in mythology or fantasy books, usually both.

In the fresco:
Who is the antlered man?

What are the dogs?

Who is the one eyed man?

What is the name of his horse?

Why are the people dead?

What is the name of the man riding the wolf?

Who is the wolf?

What is the name of the dragon?

What is the name of the serpent? I actually need help with that one, I forgot the name (its not leviathan)

 

[Minniemal]

And here's a challenge for you people that like puzzles. All of the answers can be found in mythology or fantasy books, usually both.

Well, now I'm wondering how original this story of yours is. On the subject of originality, here's a challenge for YOU: write something more interesting than:

"a deep fog rolled in" (Fog is always "rolling in.")

I'm not going back to look for any other clichés that might be in there; Stewart is right about it being hard to read without a space between each paragraph.

 

[manatherindrell]

Well, now I'm wondering how original this story of yours is. On the subject of originality, here's a challenge for YOU: write something more interesting than:

"a deep fog rolled in" (Fog is always "rolling in.")

I'm not going back to look for any other clichés that might be in there; Stewart is right about it being hard to read without a space between each paragraph.

As to how original it is, I have never heard of any book that interprets or combines the elements in the way that I am. Have you ever read Firebird? How about the Dark is Rising? The Chronicals of Narnia. How about Enchantment? Would you say those are not original? Many books are based on legends or myth and are original. Some of the characters may be taken out of myth but that does not mean the story has ever been told before. Those things are not the only parts of my story, only the parts you might be able to figure out right now.

 

[Minniemal]

As to how original it is, I have never heard of any book that interprets or combines the elements in the way that I am.
Many books are based on legends or myth and are original. Some of the characters may be taken out of myth but that does not mean the story has ever been told before.

Good answer! I'm not familiar with fantasy and couldn't rise to your challenge, so I had to ask.

 

[Occlith]

And here's a challenge for you people that like puzzles.

Not sure how many are correct but I'll put spoiler tags in case someone else wants to guess.

Spoiler

Who is the antlered man?
Herne or Cernunnos

What are the dogs?
Herne's hunting dogs

Who is the one eyed man?
Odin

What is the name of his horse?
Sleipner

Why are the people dead?
The slain in Valhalla

What is the name of the man riding the wolf?
Tyr

Who is the wolf?
Fenrir

What is the name of the dragon?
Fafnir or Nidhoggr

What is the name of the serpent?
Jormungand

 

[manatherindrell]

Not sure how many are correct but I'll put spoiler tags in case someone else wants to guess.

Spoiler

Who is the antlered man?
Herne or Cernunnos Correct

What are the dogs?
Herne's hunting dogs Correct

Who is the one eyed man?
Odin Correct

What is the name of his horse?
Sleipner Correct

Why are the people dead?
The slain in Valhalla Wrong but I don't know if this one is actually in any known mythology.

What is the name of the man riding the wolf?
Tyr Wrong

Who is the wolf?
Fenrir Correct

What is the name of the dragon?
Fafnir or Nidhoggr Wrong try a different mythology

What is the name of the serpent?
Jormungand Correct

You got most of them right. Great job!

 

[manatherindrell]

I wrote a second draft of the scene with the hounds. Do you think it is better this time around?

The hound moved silently through the fog. Lowering his head he paused every now and then to smell the ground. If any man had been around to see him that person would have believed the hound to be a ghost, and they might have been right.

The hound’s fur was as white as the mist through which it moved. The only part that was not white was on the tips of its ears. Those were the dull red of dried blood. The eyes, though, seemed to burn a fiery color even in the dim light.

Still perfectly silent as it flowed through the wide open spaces under the trees he broke into a trot, past the great oaks, under the beeches. At times he would almost disappear into the mist except for his ears and eyes. Following something that only he could sense he passed on, occasionally stopping to check for a scent or straining to catch a sound.

Abruptly the hound came to a halt underneath an infant oak. It would be morning soon and he would have to stop the hunt. He had to find the trail soon. Though he could feel it’s presence the hound could not smell it.

There was no better tracker in the world than the hound and he had known these forests since time out of memory. There was something strange about this trail that he had never encountered before. It would lead on for a small distance and then disappear only to come back a little further on. If he were to stay in one place for long the hound could actually smell it come back and then fade again. It was if the trail was not quite real.

Lifting his head, the hound smelled the air as a breeze made the mistforms dance around him. That was all it would do though. This mist would not blow away, it never did. Suddenly the breeze carried a new smell to his nose, something other than the odor of rotting leaves. It was the smell of man and his animals. It was the smell of cut wood and smoke. It was the smell of a human village, and mixed in was the scent of the one he was following.

The hound tilted his snout skyward and loosed a single howl. Out of the fog there was a returning call, and another. Several more cries floated through the air until it was alive with the baying of hounds.

Behind him emerged another hound at a run. Following were many more until the cathedral-like spaces were filled with the seething of white bodies. The hound let loose another howl, this time a full hunting cry, and bounded off into the mist, followed by a sea of bloody ears and eyes blazing like the fires of creation.

When dawn came to the human settlement there were no living animals left in the village. Some were missing while those that had been confined were dead. Some people claimed to have heard howling in the night. All shuddered and made a sign to ward off evil, whether they believed in the Hunt or not.

 

[manatherindrell]

Here's a second draft of the next part. Please tell me what you think.

Jhonathon was riding alongside the cliff edge, between it and Evan. On his left and far below raged a river whose name he couldn’t remember. To his right an oak forest followed the curve of the river leaving little space between it and the edge, sometimes growing out far enough to shade the water below.

Evan was not studying the terrain. He was paying attention only to the front leg of his horse frowning as he rode along.

“Hey, Jhonny, can you tell if this brown bag of malodorous manure here is still limping? I’m not sure I got all the stones out of her hoof.”

“She’s fine.”

“I still can’t believe you made us climb that slope, more like a cliff than a hill. You sure can be hard on those poor beasts.”

Jhonathon surveyed the ledge, trying to find a way down to the river. Riding on, he switched from the ledge to the forest. There was something, strange, about it. He fingered the hilt of his sword.

“Oh no you don’t. You’re not going all silent on me again.”

Jhonathon sighed. “You don’t care one way or another about that horse. We both know you just wanted to turn back.”

“That’s bull! We have to go on until we find a bloody crossing. I know that. I love this fertilizer factory I’m sitting on top of,” he said patting his horse on the neck rather hard. “I wouldn’t mind turning back though, since you brought it up. We might not have enough time to get back to camp before dark as it is.”

Jhonathon reigned in his horse. He studied the sky for a moment, his mount dancing in place before settling down.

“You’re right. Let’s turn back.”

Evan’s face flushed naked relief for a moment before he got it under control.

“Great, let’s go. If you want we could have a small race perhaps? No? Ok, let’s head out.”

They rode for a while before Jhonathon called for a rest for the horses. Evan grumbled about the delay a little, then he moved on to grumbling about other things.

Bursting out he said, “How did that brainless guide manage to get us on the wrong side of the river! If I didn’t know better I would say he’s not from that village at all.”

“It doesn’t matter, all we have to worry about is finding a way across. Let the caravan master worry about the guide.”

Evan threw him a look. “Of course you don’t care, you’re the one with the sword. All I’ve got is this thing,” he brandished a knife small enough that it almost disappeared in the man’s fist.

Jhonathon stood up. “It’s just for show, I don’t know how to use it.” Mounting his horse he motioned for Evan to get up. “Let’s go.”

Evan scrambled to his feet. “What do you mean you don’t know how to use it? Hey, wait!” He climbed into the saddle and urged the horse forward to catch up.

“You really don’t know how to use that thing? You’ve got to be joking.” Evan looked at Jhonathon’s face. “Of course not, you never joke. And of course you had to wait until we’re miles from anywhere before you told me.” Evan’s scathing tone had no visible effect on Jhonathon.

“Say something you mute! It’s like they sent me out with the son of a deaf hermit!”

“Sun’s setting.”

“What?”

Jhonathon pointed at the sky.

“Dear gods in heaven above, protect us,” Evan whispered.

It was not the sun setting that shook him so much. A mist had started seeping out of the ground. It flowed unnaturally into the low places like water, creating large pools and bogs of mist.

From the space underneath the overhanging branches a single, bonecutting howl slid through the fog. Evan’s horse took off at a dangerous gallop through the rising fog, which was now up to the knees of the riders. Jhonathon’s horse screamed and kicked at the air with her front legs. He tried to hold her back but it was no use. The wild-eyed mare got the bit in her teeth and galloped into the mist.

Jhonathon was too busy trying to stay on the terrified horse to pay attention to which direction he was heading. The fog became too thick for the mare to run anymore and she slowed to a walk, head down and sides heaving. Jhonathon dared not get off to rest his horse in case she bolted again.

In the mist time itself seemed to die. He had always been there and he always would. It seemed that he could almost hear sounds as of someone, somewhere, talking about him. Strange shapes appeared and melted away at the slightest shift of air. Shapes of animals and men, made of featureless fog, walked past his knees. Birds drifted overhead, wings floating away in tatters. Silent monsters lunged towards him only to dissolve against the mare’s sides. Jhonathon rode deeper into the mist, forgetting all thoughts of his companion or getting back to camp.

The mare trudged deeper into the forest. Ahead a horse appeared. Atop it was a man. He looked like he was very old but as the mist shifted the man changed and looked to be in the prime of life. As the man rode towards him Jhonathon saw that he was missing an eye. The fog swirled again and two ravens swooped down and alighted on his shoulders. One stared at Jhonathon while the other put its beak near the man’s ear as if whispering.
As the horse strode towards Jhonathon all the shapes of men and animals fell to the ground and dissolved.

The air shifted again and the man changed. He now had a cape that flowed out behind him and rode on the back of a giant wolf. The wolf wore a muzzle made of iron and the reigns that the man gripped in his hands were lengths of chain.

A mound of mist rose up and swallowed the wolf and it’s rider. Out of the mound a bush grew, rising upward. As it got bigger small buds grew and blossomed into large but delicate gray mist roses. The mound rose up and the bush drifted away. A great eye opened. A mouth gaped in a silent roar. Out of the ground a dragon rose and flew away.

Jhonathon rode on in a dreamlike calm. Ahead another man stood. Suddenly Jhonathon realized that the man was not made of fog and his calm was shattered. This man had color and substance. Jhonathon called out in relief.

“Evan!”

The man was not Evan. He turned around, black cape sliding on the forest floor, and gave a most beautiful smile. Jhonathon stared in amazement. It was all he could do to force out one question.

“What are you doing here?”

 

[manatherindrell]

Here's the latest stuff I wrote for my story.

Standing in his path through the shifting haze was the most striking man in the world. Any woman seeing him would have fallen instantly in love. As the man stood there, his black cape swirled around him, revealing a sword in a silver scabbard at his waist.

The man smiled and for an instant daybreak seemed on the verge of arriving to banish the mist. He shook his head and the smile seemed to become a shade wistful, then he spoke.

“My dear Jhonathon, do you really think I wouldn’t find you after what happened? You can’t roam the without me nearby anymore.”

Jhonathon spoke hoarsely, “Leave me alone.”

“You know I can’t rest until the man responsible for it pays.” The mans voice lowered almost to a whisper and his face seemed sad. “He must suffer, and you will help it come to pass.”

The man turned and glided into the fog. As he disappeared a call drifted back to Jhonathon through the eddying mist. “Shouldn’t you be looking for Evan?”



Can you guys give me your impressions on Evan and the man in the cape and anything else you think might be important? I want to see if I got the characterization right.

 

[*~EMMER~*]

When the guy in cape says 'shouldn't you be looking for Evan?' for some reason it makes me think perhaps they are both looking for Evan, as in who will find him first. Has Evan or Jhonathon killed the person in the cape?? Obviously these are just my random thoughts and are probly totally bonkers

The hound moved silently through the fog. Lowering his head he paused every now and then to smell the ground. If any man had been around to see him that person would have believed the hound to be a ghost, and they might have been right.

To me this doesn't flow very well together, even though it has good content. Maybe try to re-phrase this paragraph

 

[ValkyrieRaven88]

Oh, that's VERY good! I like your style and your voice.
"Ahead a horse appeared. Atop it was a man. He looked like he was very old but as the mist shifted the man changed and looked to be in the prime of life."
I don't know what bugs me about this. I think the first two sentences are too choppy. This is just a suggestion, but maybe it would look better like this:
"Ahead a horse appeared. The man atop it looked like he was very old, but as the mist shifted, the man changed and looked to be in the prime of life."
Also, commas are good for adding dramatic pauses to your work, even where they aren't grammatically necessary. I added some into the second sentence here. It's more of a style thing than a grammar thing, but it's useful to know.

 

[ValkyrieRaven88]

Oh, that's VERY good! I like your style and your voice.
"Ahead a horse appeared. Atop it was a man. He looked like he was very old but as the mist shifted the man changed and looked to be in the prime of life."
I don't know what bugs me about this. I think the first two sentences are too choppy. This is just a suggestion, but maybe it would look better like this:
"Ahead a horse appeared. The man atop it looked like he was very old, but as the mist shifted, the man changed and looked to be in the prime of life."
Also, commas are good for adding dramatic pauses to your work, even where they aren't grammatically necessary. I added some into the second sentence here. It's more of a style thing than a grammar thing, but it's useful to know.

 

[ValkyrieRaven88]

Eek, sorry about that. I didn't think it posted the first time and I don't know how to delete this. I edited out my comments to save you from boredom.