First stab at creative writing. BE KIND!

[SkillNotLuckBrah]

Hi all,

Firstly Sorry to admins if this is posted in wrong spot i wasnt sure were to put it (doesnt classify RP)

Basically i was bored and always fancied a stab at creative writing, this is the first chapter i started blindly without a clue where i was going (in fact it goes no where just introduces a few characters!) it would be nice to hear some feedback i might even continue and get to Deathwing tearing up SW some.

Chapter 1.

“Old all powerful beings angry with us again?!” The familiar and condescending voice of Remskal echoed from the bar down the stairs into the cellar where I sat trying to take note of what needed stocking when the brewer arrives in the morning this conversation stole my attention however as it was a familiar theme at the Pig and Whistle in Stormwind.
“And what divine sin are we paying for now Halla? Scratched my arse a few too many times this winter? Spent a little too much coin on the lasses dockside? 3 wars I’ve witnessed and fought in while you were a mere glint in your pa’s eye.”
“I meant no offense Skal I’m only speculating as the rest of the city is as to the cause of the unearthly happenings of the last season the very earth beneath our feet quakes daily, Stories are passed over a mug of ale every night of Birds dropping from the sky, Cattle falling dead for no apparent reason...”
“Stories” Snorted Remskal “That’s all they are, the ground does not quake in anger the ground is opening, expanding and evolving creating new lands for the ever increasing population of this world it is creation young man not destruction I can tell you some tales of destruction why when I was your age I didn’t get to....”

I tuned myself out of the conversation nothing new to be heard Remskal or “Old Skally” favouring us with his opinion after a few too many jars of the local special Brew. I went back to my task though stock taking was taking less and less time every fortnight, no question the recent war waged north against the Lich King had taken its toll on our country, Purse strings were tight regardless of status and its seems a warm fire, a decent brew and good ol’war stories from eccentric old men are not enough of a draw to the locals anymore.

My name is Merthin and I have lived and worked at the Pig and Whistle inn for as long as I am able to recall. I was taken in as a starving beggar child by the patron Rufus and his wife Glenda, Not through love and affection purely and simply due to the fact I bore a resemblance to a “devoted son” they had lost during the First great war against the Orcs my mother was apparently more than happy to hand me over and send me on my way, that was 11 years ago now and by their reckoning I must be around my seventeenth or eighteenth season now.
I’m pretty unremarkable as appearances go slightly taller than most lads my ages and years of lifting and carrying has left me with a wide and naturally muscular frame, which I must have inherited from my father the only piece of information I have ever been told about him is he was a soldier who died during the fall of Tarren Mill in the third war when the dead themselves rose to overthrow the settlement.

I finished my check sheet and headed back up to the bar area to see Old Skally hobbling out the door (He had lost his right leg during the last war according to him it was ravaged by a riding wolf apparently being ridden by none other than the warchief himself!) poor old fella no family to speak of just a life in service to his nation with nothing to show for it other than the scoffing of youngsters and a few pints of ale of a night.

Rufus was serving the few customers we had left in, all where sat at the bar (we had only the one hearth lit to save on fuel) He is a mountain of a man some rumoured he was directly descended from the Vykrul (which Rufus encouraged as it was good for trade)his long greying hair plaited almost warrior like down his back framing a stern face that i knew hid a soft center. Glenda had died 5 years earlier she had developed a wasting sickness that no healer could cure her of, the big man still carried the weight of her loss around with him like an insurmountable weight undetectable to everyone but me yet he refuses to share the burden or still talk abroad about his wife.
He spotted me and came over to ask the question that week after week was becoming more difficult to answer.
“Well?” His voice though hushed still commanding “how’s it looking down there lad?”
“Pretty much same as last order Pa” (although he isn’t my father out of respect and the fact I have known no different I always refer to Rufus as my Pa)” We will be lucky to need 3 barrels this time”
“Damned it” His voice strained, I knew the effect this was having on him proudly owning and running the most successful Tavern in the Old Town (Arguably the entire city) for the past thirty odd years these times were new and uncertain.
“What’s the problem Merth? Am I charging too much? Is my ale suddenly sour? Is the meat we serve rank?” I was taken aback at this as rarely does my opinion become asked for in such an open way, Although I am involved heavily in the day to day running of the Inn more with the book keeping and paperwork side since Glenda passed and Pa’s eyesight started letting him down.
“It’s not only us Pa no one is spending coin freely anymore they are preferring to stay at home”
“Ay that’s true enough lad, they say the King himself couldn’t scrape enough coin from his coffers to buy a pint after the campaign up north” He chuckled to himself “and it seems less and less folk are passing through hardly any visitors this season, they say the land to the south has become fallow, farmers turned to beggars, Land owner scraping living of nothing but dust....anyway enough of that come lad, wet your whistle you’ve done enough today”

I gratefully took a seat at the bar while Pa poured me a mug of ale. I looked around at the only home I have known suddenly stricken with the thought of what might happen should our downturn continue, It was a grand place a fire cracking away under a large stone hearth casting its warm light onto us, Great huntsman trophies hung on the walls heads of beasts Rufus is said to have captured during his youth, Paintings of the new style hung around the bar showing various images ranging from beautiful farmland overlooking a coastline to a very realistic painting of the great black dragon Onyxia, the brood mother whose head had brought much fanfare and traffic into the city when it was impaled proudly for all to see. What I wouldn’t give for a spectacle of greater magnitude right now drive people to the city to catch a glimpse of some unimaginable beast bested by the best our race had to offer.

[Vinicide]

whew boy. I will try to be as "kind" as possible.

1. Punctuation - Learn it. Use it. Love it.
2. Spelling - several spelling errors, and not the kind a spellchecker would find. ("where" instead of "were"... etc.
3. Plot - Is there one? I know you said you wrote this without knowing anything about where you were going with it, which was probably mistake #1.

That's just a few of the problems with this, honestly. It's good that you are trying your hand at some creative writing, but might I suggest you check out some Websites that offer writing help?

http://www.fictionfactor.com/
http://fictionwriting.about.com/
http://www.writerswrite.com/fiction/

These are just a few. I'd focus on basic grammar and punctuation first though, to be honest.

Best of luck.

[necrotic]

Vinicide touched on the most important aspect of any form of literature - punctuation. If a piece isn't punctual then it becomes impossible to interpret and understand. If I was a writer I would focus more on the understanding of punctuation if you are going to be writing in English tongue.

[Revengencer]

Normally we're not supposed to poke at spelling and grammar but since it is a story and not just a post, and since you are soliciting feedback, yeah it needs to be neatened up a bit.

Punctuation, specifically the comma, is quite important in fiction, as it sets the pace of the narrative. Reading that felt very rushed, to the extent that if someone was telling me the story out loud, I would expect to hear it without them ever pausing. It actually makes it rather difficult to evaluate the content of the story, at least for me, because I'm spending most of my reading attention on figuring out the pace. It's not even so much a matter or right and wrong as the general feel of the sentence. Grammar and punctuation can be the difference between "Helping my uncle, Jack, off his horse," and "helping my uncle jack off his horse."

Also, even though creative writing isn't technically RP, it is usually the best place to put such things. It is where you are most likely to get good, constructive, and interested replies.

[unkn0wnerr0r]

Well I thought it was interesting. I would actually like to read more.

As for the points above, the plot one really isn't that big. I mean it's a few opening paragraphs but it seems implied there is a plot. The inn is obviously in trouble, and there seems to be a general lack of money in Storm Wind. Then you have the desires of the boy to have some big fanfare that would bring people in. The story might not be epic, but it might be an entertaining tale of a boy who goes on an adventure simply to try and show off something that is "epic". Say instead of searching out Onyxia he sets out to simply kill a drake. I don't know, but it does look interesting.