Winfins Fantasystory

  • Jakob stood on a dais, a smile on his face, as he presented his right arm to the priest in front of him. The trees on the roof shielded them from the sun that shone from the spotless blue sky. Despite the shade, it had gotten warm under the suit, and the heavy, green silk fabric with its golden embroidery pressed down on his shoulders.


    The Priest held a golden band around his wrist, and he suppressed the urge to draw his arm away at the sudden, cold touch of the metal. The band snapped together with a clanking sound, then the priest produced a small key and locked it. Jakob looked to the woman standing next to him on the right.


    She wore an intricate dress, made from several different fabrics, all dyed in a blue that rivaled the sky, interwoven with threads of copper, worn over tanned skin that made his seemed pale in comparison. Her raven hair had been done up, fixed with needles and a net, both also made of copper. Her eyes were closed in a smile, and she too held her arm towards the priest, though she presented her left. He fixed another band to her wrist, the same way he had done to Jakob’s.


    Another man walked up to them, clad in the same robes as the priest, though less decorated. He kneeled, and presented a white string to his superior. Jakob’s gaze wandered from him to the courtyard, to the heavy benches made from polished granite, decorated with gold and jewels – and to the people sitting on them. Two dozen men sat there, in suits that were plain, but undoubtedly made from the most expensive materials they could get a hold of. They sat there and looked at him.


    A slight twitch went through his cheek, but he forced himself to continue smiling.


    He breathed in.


    He breathed out.


    The priest took the string, then walked behind them and up the dais. He pushed both ends of it through their wristbands at the same time, then held them towards the crowd, and finally tied them together. “Lady Neryja blessed this day with sunshine,” he exclaimed. The booming voice hurt in Jakob’s ears, but he kept his smile. “This day, it is a sign! A sign that Lady Neryja has blessed this marriage also!”


    As he shouted the last words, he raised his hands from their arms. Starting with the knot, the whole string started to turn a vibrant purple, similar to the priest’s own garb. The crowd broke out in applause, an orchestra started to play in the corner of the courtyard, and servants poured out of a door, depositing all kinds of food on several tables. From his point of view, Jakob caught a glimpse of the priest putting a small, empty vial back into the satchel around his waist.


    A man, sitting alone on the bench in the first row, stood up. The suit he wore was of the same color as Jakob’s, and his short, dark blonde hair sported a slight green hue. He turned to the guests, cleared his throat, and said, “It is done! I want to thank again our friends, no, our allies from Vasilfáros, for this token of alliance. Many of the folk outside, from peasants that have lost their sight of righteousness to foreign firebrands, have tried to hinder us, to drive a wedge between us, but they have failed! All of them have failed! Today is that day that history will be written, and it will be our history!” He raised a fist to the sky.


    Jakob swallowed the urge to gag. He breathed in, he breathed out.


    He wouldn’t throw a fireball at the Man. At least not today. While all the focus was on the Man, the priest’s assistant loosened the knot and handed Jakob the string.


    The Man – Jakob refused to even think of him as his father – droned on. Jakob breathed in, and he breathed out. Something brushed against his hand. The woman next to him, or rather, his wife, had grabbed his hand, and intertwined her fingers with his. Then she leaned against him. It felt strange. Her skin was smooth, and while he had felt smooth skin before, he couldn’t place what was different this time.


    He let go, and they walked through the aisle between the guests. They reached out to him, shook his hands, and congratulated him. All the while, he smiled.


    ◊◊◊


    The wall slid up again behind Jakob. It was silent, but he thought his heartbeat must have been loud enough to alert someone. He listened, but no one came even after a minute or so, so he took a deep breath and began to walk. The tunnel he was in led to a small pond, illuminated by moonlight shining in through a circular hole in the ceiling. Voices could be heard through it as well, talking calmly. Step by step, Jakob walked towards the exit, clutching a wooden shape tied to his belt.


    Suddenly, his foot slipped. A small stone or two and a handful of dust rolled into the pond. He stood stock still, listening. Whoever was talking continued unperturbed. A small breath escaped his lips, but he interrupted it immediately. Then he continued towards the exit. A stream split from the pond, vanishing into the darkness of the tunnel, and Jakob followed its way. He didn’t dare to run.


    He didn’t know how long he had been in the darkness, whether it was ten minutes or ten hours. When he broke out of the tunnel, he noted that the moon hadn’t shifted much though. He took a moment to look at the sky, at the stars, then he turned to the left and broke into a sprint.


    He ran up to a forest, along its edge, until he found a trail of trampled dirt. Taking a quick look back, he followed it inside, up to a cabin standing alone between the trees. It looked almost exactly like it did last time he had seen it, over a year ago.


    His heartbeat started to quicken once again as he got closer, and he knocked at the door.


    Nothing happened. Was he to silent? Or maybe they were away, or even had completely left? What if someone had already found the tunnel, and were on their way here. This would be the first places to look at.


    Just as he lifted his hand again, the door creaked open. Through the slit, an eye could be seen, embedded in a head covered by large scales that looked grey in the moonlight. The eye opened wide as it spottdt him.


    “Yeva! Yeva it’s me,” Jakob whispered. “I need your help, now.”

  • The setting sun bathed the room in warm red light. Its rays penetrated Lydia's eyelids, as she tried to breathe in and out regularly. In and out, in and out. Her heartbeat resounded in her ears, and over the thumping she nearly missed the voice calling out her name. She quickly looked around. She still sat in the same long, narrow waiting room, but by now around half of the chairs were empty now.


    In the door opposite to her, a tall woman with wavy blonde hair stood. SHe was four, maybe five years older than Lydia, and had her ears covered by a bandana. She called out Lydia’s name a second time, and flustered, she jumped up. “H-here!”


    Several of the other people snickered, most were silent, and a single pair sitting next top the other door continued their conversation unperturbed. One of the two was a short woman with hazel hair, swinging her hands around as she excitedly pointed out to the other – a blonde woman hanging her arm around a staff – what mistakes she had made in the exam this morning.


    Some of the mistakes Lydia recognized that she had made herself. A bout of dizziness hit her again and she stood for another moment, then followed the one that called her into the room next door. The creaking of the floorboards and the ticking of the large clock standing at the wall resounded almost as deafening in her ears as her heartbeat. The room itself had bare walls and no decoration, the only thing in it was a tall wooden desk, behind which an older nordmen man stood. His brown-black hair and beard were sprinkled with grey, and he looked down at an assortment of papers spread over the desk.


    “Please, come here,” he said without looking up. As Lydia closed in, he continued, “Lydia. No last name provided,” and looked up. He locked eyes with her for a second, then his gaze wandered higher up to her forehead. Lydia blinked in surprise ah he spoke further, “Let’s go through your performance in today’s test. First of all, your style was certainly unique. The way you implemented the scroll is something that I have not seen before, but you were too close. With the movement needed to fully focus on your hand, there is a chance that in real fight…”


    Lydia jerked at a loud slapping noise behind her. She swirled around, to see the woman that had called her in carry two chairs from the waiting room, her hand still at the door. “Please, sit down,” she said before the old man could continue, and placed one chair behind her. “I believe it’s better if you do. You too, dean Ackermann” Then she brought the other chair to the man.


    “Is, that so?” the dean said with a confused glance in the woman’s direction. She just closed her eyes and nudged the chair in his direction. He looked at her for a bit more, but ultimately sat down. He once looked briefly into her eyes, before gazing at her forehead again. Lydia traces her forehead with her hand, trying to find whatever he was looking at, but nothing felt off. Her breathing quickened. Panic set in. Was there some discoloring? Or maybe…


    “Lydia,” the woman called out from next to her.


    “N-nai!” Lydia replied with a startled jump, much louder than intended. A moment later, she felt her face heat up. Her whole body tensed up, and she corrected, “I me-mean y-yes. Yes!”


    “Please don’t mind the dean, there is nothing there. And, before he continues, there is something you should know: you have passed the exam. Congratulations, you are now officially a member of Nehrgald’s Adventurer’s Guild.”


    Lydia stared blankly at her for a few heartbeats. Then the construct she had made in her head, all the ways she imagined to be told she had failed, crashed down like a house of cards. All her strength left her, and she slumped against the backrest.


    Somewhere far in the distance, she heard the dean say, “But magister des Tilleuls, that comes at the end. This is in the wrong order now.”


    “Sometimes exceptions need to happen,” the woman returned. In the dotted haze before Lydia’s eyes, her face appeared, and she felt something cool against her forehead. After a while, she returned to her senses and shook herself. A small handkerchief flopped to the ground with a wet sound. “Ah, you’re back. Good,” thew other woman said with a smile. “Then we can continue, dean Ackermann.”


    “I… I think we should, yes. Erm, where were we? Oh, wait, you jumped to the end, so should…”


    “Dean, just continue where you left off,” the magister said with a sigh.


    “Oh, yeah. That is a good idea, thanks.” He turned back to Lydia, looking at her ear. “As I was saying, in areal combat situation the movement…” The dean continued to explain where Lydia had made mistakes and how to avoid them. It took several minutes, then he suddenly stood up and walked back over to his desk. He took a small, flat piece of metal, which he proceeded to hand to Lydia. “This is your identification for the guild from now on. Magister les Tilleuls here will collect the temporary one when you leave.


    Lydia’s gaze wandered to the magister as her name was mentioned. Sure enough, with a closer look, she could see the slight outline of a pointed ear shape.


    “As the last point before you can go,” the dean continued, “as usual for the new ones we have assigned you to a party.”


    “As-assigned!?” Lydia exclaimed, looking back at him.


    “You’ll meet your party in room…” he began, unperturbed by her reaction, as he moved his hinger across the sheet of paper in his hands. “Ah, here! In room 3. That is all for now. As my colleague has sadly already preempted, welcome to the Guild.” He finished his words with a friendly smile. Then he stood up and went back behind the desk.


    “We’re having people work together for the beginning so they can each point out mistakes to other,” Magister des Tilleuls supplemented from beside Lydia.

  • The setting sun bathed the room in warm red light. Its rays penetrated Lydia's eyelids, as she tried to breathe in and out regularly. In and out, in and out. Her heartbeat resounded in her ears, and over the thumping she nearly missed the voice calling out her name. She quickly looked around. She still sat in the same long, narrow waiting room, but by now around half of the chairs were empty now.


    In the door opposite to her, a tall woman with wavy blonde hair stood. She was maybe ten years older than Lydia, and had her ears covered by a kerchief. She called out Lydia’s name a second time, and flustered, she jumped up. “H-here!”


    Several of the other people snickered, most were silent, and a single pair sitting next top the other door continued their conversation unperturbed. One of the two was a short woman with hazel hair, swinging her hands around as she excitedly pointed out to the other – a blonde woman hanging her arm around a staff – what mistakes she had made in the exam this morning.


    Some of the mistakes Lydia recognized that she had made herself. A bout of dizziness hit her again and she stood for another moment, then followed the one that called her into the room next door. The creaking of the floorboards and the ticking of the large clock standing at the wall resounded almost as deafening in her ears as her heartbeat. The room itself had bare walls and no decoration, the only things in it were the clock, a couple of chairs, and a tall wooden desk. Behind the desk stood an older nordmen man, his brown-black hair and beard sprinkled with grey, as he looked down at an assortment of papers spread over the desk.


    “Please, come here,” he said without looking up. As Lydia closed in, he continued, “Lydia. No last name provided,” and looked up. He locked eyes with her for a second, then his gaze wandered higher up to her forehead. Lydia blinked in surprise ah he spoke further, “Let’s go through your performance in today’s test. First of all, your style was certainly unique. The way you implemented the scroll is something that I have not seen before, but you were too close. With the movement needed to fully focus on your hand, there is a chance that in real fight…”


    Lydia jerked at a sudden scraping noise behind her. She swirled around, to see the woman that had called her in carry two of the chairs over. “Please, sit down,” she said. “I believe it’s better if you do. You too, dean Ackermann” Then she brought the other chair to the man.


    “Is, that so?” the dean said with a confused glance in the woman’s direction. She just closed her eyes and nudged the chair in his direction. He looked at her for a bit more, but ultimately sat down. He once looked briefly into her eyes, before gazing at her forehead again. Lydia traces her forehead with her hand, trying to find whatever he was looking at, but nothing felt off. Her breathing quickened. Panic set in. Was there some discoloring? Or maybe…


    “Lydia,” the woman called out from next to her.


    “N-nai!” Lydia replied with a startled jump, much louder than intended. A moment later, she felt her face heat up. Her whole body tensed up, and she corrected, “I me-mean y-yes. Yes!”


    “Please don’t mind the dean, there is nothing there. And, before he continues, there is something you should know: you have passed the exam. Congratulations, you are now officially a member of Nehrgald’s Adventurer’s Guild.”


    Lydia stared blankly at her for a few heartbeats. Then the construct she had made in her head, all the ways she imagined to be told she had failed, crashed down like a house of cards. All her strength left her, and she slumped against the backrest.


    Somewhere far in the distance, she heard the dean say, “But Eugénie, that comes at the end. This is in the wrong order now.”


    “Sometimes exceptions need to happen. She couldn’t possibly have concentrated in that state,” the woman returned. In the dotted haze before Lydia’s eyes, her face appeared, and she felt something cool against her forehead. After a while, she returned to her senses and shook herself. A small handkerchief flopped to the ground with a wet sound. “Ah, you’re back. Good,” the other woman said with a smile, her voice clear again. Then she held a small bottle out to Lydia, waiting for her to drink, then turned back to the man. “Then we can continue, dean Ackermann.”


    “I… I think we should, yes. Erm, where were we? Oh, wait, you jumped to the end, so should…”


    “Dean, just continue where you left off,” the magister said with a sigh.


    “Oh, yeah. That is a good idea, thanks.” He turned back to Lydia, looking at her ear. “As I was saying, in a real combat situation the movement…” The dean continued to explain where Lydia had made mistakes and how to avoid them. It took several minutes, then he suddenly stood up and walked back over to his desk. He took a small, flat piece of metal, which he proceeded to hand to Lydia. “This is your identification for the guild from now on. Magister les Tilleuls here will collect the temporary one when you leave.


    Lydia’s gaze wandered to the magister as her name was mentioned. Sure enough, with a closer look, she could see the slight outline of a pointed ear shape.


    “As the last point before you can go,” the dean continued, “as usual for the new ones we have assigned you to a party.”


    “As-assigned!?” Lydia exclaimed, looking back at him.


    “You’ll meet your party in room…” he began, unperturbed by her reaction, as he moved his finger across the sheet of paper in his hands. “Ah, here! In room 3. That is all for now. As my colleague has sadly already preempted, welcome to the Guild.” He finished his words with a friendly smile. Then he stood up and went back behind the desk.


    “We’re having people work together for the beginning so they can each point out mistakes to other,” Magister des Tilleuls supplemented from beside Lydia.

  • Nachdem ich die letzten zwei Wochen krank war und mich auf nichts konzentrieren konnte, hab ich nach Rückmeldungen zur Satzstruktur die Tage meine Geschichte nochmal überarbeitet - und dabei noch ein paar kleine Details hinzugefügt. Bin jetzt mit dem Prolog fertig geworden, als nächstes kommt entsprechend Kapitel 1 dran.

    Hier die neue Fassung: (ok, ich teile es auf zwei auf durch das Zeichenlimit)

  • Hier der zweite Teil des Prologs:


  • So, bin gerade eben damit fertig geworden, den bereits bestehenden Teil von Kapitel 1 zu überarbeiten. das heißt alles was nach dem hier kommt ist dann komplett neu


    EDIT: ich habe noch ein paar zeilen hinzugefügt,l die sache mit dem Unterschreiben. Für noch etwas mehr Worldbuilding.


  • Nachdem ich das Wochenende über etwas in Blender an nem Raumschiff gearbeitet hab, hab ich heute wieder geschrieben. MIt dem hier ist Kapitel 1 jetzt abgeschlossen.


  • Es geht wieder (neu) los, wechsle jetzt wieder auf die Fantasygeschichte. Habe mir vorngeommen konsistenter zu schreiben, und da hab ich einfach für die hier nen etwas besseren Plan wie die Story verlaufen soll. Daher hier jetzt schonmal der Anfang.


    Wie üblich, für drüben für die Besprechung, wäre meine Frage wie sich das so ließt, und was für Infos sich aus dem jetzt schon herauslesen lassen. (Und evetuell noch als "Bonusfrage," wie ist das im Vergleich zu den vorherigen Versionen?)

  • Shit, ich merk grad ich hab gestern vergessen den eigentlichen Text mit rein zu posten 😅

    Naja. Dann jetzt hier, zusammen mit dem nächsten Teil:

    Für den neuen Abschnitt, das ist alles ab

    "His train of thoughts was interrupted by the priest walking a circle around the dais."

    wäre meine Hauptfrage, ob Jakobs Verachtung für die Zuschauer, und speziell den Onkel, da gut genug rüberkommt.

  • Uuuund nächste Iteration. Hab als Rückmeldung bekommen die vorherige hat zu viel Exposition und zu wenig was einen festhält, wäre dadurch sehr Zäh zu lesen, daher jetzt das:


    ALso ja. ICh hab jetzt auch überlegt dass das ne abgeschlossene Szene ist, und die eigentlcihe Zeremonie übersprungen wird.

  • Nächste Runde!

    Wie ließt sich das im Vergleich zur letzten Version?

  • So, hab das mit dem Kleid wie vorgeschlagen rausgenommen. HIer das update: