The Adventures of Angela Ashford

zerohour

Well-Known Member
#1
Alright, I started writing a Steampunk story, and I'm currently planning on posting it to Jukepop Serials in hopes of actually getting paid (a very small amount) for my fiction. Currently, I'm reviewing and editing the first two chapters, as well as figuring out what I'm going to do with the third, so I thought I would show you guys what I have so far, getting an idea on how it looks and what needs to be fixed.

Enjoy.


“So, you're leaving?” her mother asked, watching her move back and forth through their home.

“Yes. It's time for a change.” Angela replied, gathering what few belongings remained lying strewn around the house.

“No point in trying to stop you, is there?”

“Nope.” Angela said, not breaking stride.

“You sure? Last time you said you were leaving you were back by supper.”

“The last time I said that I was seven. I'm sixteen now.”

Her mother sighed, a look of long suffering crossing her face, “You at least have some food packed?”

“Enough to last me a week if I'm careful.” was the answer, carelessly given as she bundled another one of her knickknacks.

“What would your father say, if he could see you leaving me behind?” the woman fretted, looking at a well worn photo covered in dust.

“He would probably wonder what took me so long. He always did like adventure, mother.” Angela answered, taking a moment to look at the same photo.

“It was his greatest weakness. The damn fool probably joined the Imperial Army just so he could see the sights.” she sighed, thinking of her husband, and days long past.

“I'm sure he'll be back again soon mom.” Angela tried to comfort her, earning a chuckle instead.

“Your father would rather spend his time exploring caves and ruins than making house with me. He always comes back, but leaves within a few weeks.”

“Sorry...” Angela apologized.

“No need for that. I knew what I was getting into when I married him.” her mother waved off her concerns, “You just focus on getting you ready. Do you have everything packed?”

“Yes mother.” Angela said exasperatedly.

“Clothes?”

“Yes.”

“Toolkit?”

“I wouldn't be much of a mechanic if I forgot it.” Angela said, pointing at the large backpack containing most of her tools.

“Money?”

“Not much but it should be enough.” Angela said, brushing a stray lock of dark brown hair out of her face before tucking it under her hat.

“Are you sure you can carry everything?”

“I've spent most of my life lugging around those contraptions out back. I should be fine for some time, and I can always catch a train when I get a bit closer to the city.”

“Well, alright then...” she trailed off, distracting her daughter from her current work.

“Mom?”

“I just don't know what I'm going to do without you around.” Angela glanced at her mother. Her hair was pulled back in a tight, graying bun, and her crow's feet were deepened by obvious worry and concern.

“Keep Jamie out of trouble, hopefully. Dad left enough money for you to get by, especially without another mouth to feed.” Angela tried to lighten the mood.

“Things will certainly be quieter until he grows up a bit.” She admitted, watching the grinning child rush around attempting to help. But only succeeding in scattering carefully organized piles in his zeal. Outside, a raucous round of barking broke out, encouraging the young boy in his efforts, causing her mother to jump and Annabel to laugh.

“I suppose you're taking that thing with you?” the woman asked, pointing disdainfully at the mongrel dog outside wagging its tail in anticipation.

“I'd hate to leave Scruffy here with you. You'd eat him inside of a week.” was her joking reply, though she didn't break stride, continuing to pack everything remaining with a methodical zeal. “Of course, he always does what he wants, so I can't make any promises.”

“I wish your father would have taken him on one of his trips. It would keep that mutt out of my hair.”

“Jamie would never let that happen.”

“I suppose I could give him your share of dinner, since you won't be around to complain.” her mother joked, earning a laugh from Angela, before a sobering thought shot through her head.

“You're not going to forget me, are you?” Angela asked hesitantly, pausing in her packing.

“Forget you? With those monstrosities you've been tinkering with cluttering up my yard?” her mother said wistfully, gesturing at the numerous piles of scrap scatted across the back yard.

“Those were all dad's. You know that.” Angela answered.

Her mother chuckled, “He always did like bringing home unusual trinkets from his adventures. If I'm remembering right, that's the whole reason you became interested in tinkering with machines.”

Angela smiled, “I always wanted to know how all of them worked. Dad didn't have a clue, so the only option I really had was to figure it out for myself.”

“You never made much progress on them, did you?”

“No. I was always too distracted by whatever new thing dad brought home. By the time I was ready to figure out one of them he always brought home something new to decipher.“ Angela said easily, “Besides, way out here, it's difficult to find a mechanics book beyond the basics.”

“Well, you've done a wonderful job with them. You may not have been able to get them working the way you hoped, but it's far better than anyone else who took a crack at it.”

“I promise, when I come back, I'll clean them up when I come back. Heck, I might be able to have them clean themselves up when I get back.”

“If you come back.” Her mother answered, her voice trailing off

“I'll come back. I promise.”

“That's what your father used to say.” Her mother said with a snort.

“Mom...” Angela trailed off, not sure what to say, “Do you really think I'd abandon you like that? That I would leave and never look back?”

Her mother didn't answer, preoccupying herself with gathering ingredients for dinner. She cursed lightly, before putting a significant portion back, remembering there would be one less person at the table tonight.

“Mom, you understand why I'm doing this right?” Angela asked hesitantly as she packed up the last of her things. When her mother refused to respond once again, she moved forward, staying her mother's hand with her own, forcing her to look at her..

With their eyes locked, Angela could see the fear and worry in her mother's eyes. Suddenly, the rightness of her chosen course was called into doubt, and she felt an unstoppable urge to unpack everything and help her mother prepare dinner.

Upon seeing her daughter's doubts, the look of worry vanished from her mother's face, replaced with a sad smile. “Of course I understand, darling. I may not be happy about it, but I understand.”

“I... I just don't want you to think I'm like dad. That I'd leave you and never look back.”

Her mother sighed, before wrapping her arms around her daughter, hugging her tightly. “Sweetheart, everyone feels the urge to stretch their legs and see the world. There's nothing wrong with that, as long as you don't let it rule your life. Gods know I love your father, and every day I hope that he'll come back, but I know that even if he did, it would only be a matter of time before the urge for adventure took him again. He may not be here physically, but his heart has never left my side. That's why I always wonder when he'll come back, instead of if.”

“Do you think we'll see him again?” Angela asked, her voice almost hushed.

“You're more likely than me. You're the one going on an adventure of her own, aren't you?” Her mother said wistfully. “But while you're out looking for him, we'll be here, waiting for both of you to come home.”

“Thank you, mother.”

“Just stay safe out there, alright?”

“Of course.” Angela said, pulling herself back together, though unable to completely suppress her sniffles.

“Here.” Angela glanced, up and froze as her mother unfasten her amulet.

“It's something your father got me, back when we first met. He always told me it was his promise to always be there for me, in spirit if not in body.”

“Mom... I can't take this.” Angela said, staring at the blue tinged gem encircled by silver. As long as she could remember, her mother always had it around her neck, so to take it from her...

“Of course you can. Your father gave it to me, to assure me he would always be there for me. I'm giving it to you so you never forget you have a home here. I've had it for twenty years, I think I can do without for a bit.”

“Thank you...” Angela responded, not sure what to say. She felt tears begin to well up at the gesture, and sniffled, trying to keep from bursting out crying.

“Are you sure you don't want to stay for dinner?” Her mother asked.

Angela laughed through her sniffles, slowly regaining her composure. “If I did that, then I wouldn't leave until tomorrow, and you'd just offer me dinner again.”

“I didn't really expect that to work. You've always been a sharp one.” She said sadly, before shouting, “Jamie! Come and see your sister off!”

A golden blur rushed out of the back room, before wrapping itself around her. Angela stumbled, but managed to avoid falling at the sudden impact.

“Hey squirt!”

“Don't call me squirt!” he said, his voice muffled by her leg.

“Well you're too short to call anything else!” Angela chuckled, before bending down to ruffle his hair, “Maybe when I get back, you'll be tall enough that you'll need a new nickname.”

“You really think I'll be taller?” He asked, relaxing his grip and looking up at her.

“Of course!” she grinned, “In fact, you might even be taller than me!”

“Really!?” Jamie asked, his eyes wide in wonder.

“Yep!”

“Awesome!” he nearly shouted, squeezing her legs harder as he did. Angela laughed, struggling to keep her balance.

“You'll bring me a present, right? A real one, not like the junk dad brought home?” Jamie asked, his eyes darting towards the mechanical monstrosities outside.

“I'm pretty sure I couldn't carry those like dad, so it'll have to be something much smaller.” Angela laughed lightly. Maybe I can find one of those crystal balls the druids use for you.

“Wow!”

“Now would you mind finding my jeweler's tools? I think they're somewhere in my room, but I have to take care of this mess first.”

”Sure!” Jamie exclaimed, rushing off to her room in w whirlwind of energy.

“Didn't you already pack that?” Her mother asked, raising an eyebrow.

Angela smiled, turning back to her nearly full pack, “I did, but he doesn't know that, and it keeps him busy and out of the way.”

“Good to see you got some of my smarts to go with your father's spirit. Any idea where you're heading to first?” her mother asked.

“The Clockwork City seems like as good a place as any to start. It's the closest city, and even if I can't find anything, there are plenty of trains passing through there that can take me somewhere else. Though I'm not too worried. A place like that could always use another mechanic or two.” Angela answered.

“Well, you won't starve at least. Always work to be found in the big city, especially for a mechanic.” Her mother said, some of the tension leaving her. “I just wish you would pick a place that was a bit safer...”

“It's perfectly safe, mother.”

“It's next to a volcano!”

“And they have a number of safety precautions in the very rare chance that it actually erupts.” Angela said. “Like you said, a big city is the best place to find work as a mechanic, and the Clockwork City is always looking for them, for one job or another.”

“Couldn't you just go work with Harvey? He's got a decent workshop, and it would give you a chance to hon your skills on those pocket watches he likes to make.”

Angela sighed, “Watches were the first thing I learned to tinker with. I can pick one apart and put it back together in ten minutes flat. While I could work there, it just wouldn't have any meaning. I need to go out and see what I can do. I want to learn how all kinds of machines work, not just watches and farming devices. I want to see where dad got those machine, and learn how they work and what they're supposed to do.”

“Alright, I understand that. It's just hard to let you go. The fact that you're going somewhere dangerous just makes it harder.” Her mother said, before seizing her in a steely grip. “Now you be careful out there, you hear me?”

Angela sighed, but returned the hug, “Of course mother. You know I will be.”

“It doesn't mean I don't worry. The volcano certainly doesn't help any with that.”

“Sorry, there's not much I can do about that.” Angela said, sharing a quiet laugh with her mother.

Angela spared one last glance through her things, assuring herself that everything was packed and put away properly. She shouldered the heavy bag, giving herself a moment to adjust to the heavy burden, before turning towards her mother.

“I'll see you again some time. Goodbye mother.” Angela said, locking eyes with her.

“Good luck. You'll need it.” was the reply, given with a look she long ago became familiar with.

Worry.

Angela turned to look at her home for sixteen years. Despite all the chaos her packing had wrought, the house miraculously remained clean. The only mess present was in Jamie's room, and even he had managed to shove most of it under his bed for the moment.

Feeling tears well up in her eyes, the girl looked forward, and took the first step.

Silence fell upon the house, now emptier than it had even felt before. Angela's mother watched as her figure slowly shrank, before vanishing into the distance.

“Come here Jamie.” Angela's mother said. Her son approached her, and she wrapped her arms around him letting the tears fall now that her daughter could no longer be deterred by them.

-----

Angela trudged down the dirt road, watching the few houses of her rural town pass by her. She had expected a more satisfying feeling when she finally left home too find her place in the world. Instead, all she felt was loneliness.

A bark rang out.

Angela paused for a moment, turning to look at the dog that had been around her house for years, always causing trouble often with her helping it along. He was always bursting with energy, nearly bouncing with every step, but now, he sat perfectly still, looking at her expectantly.

Angela looked around, slowly taking in the area around her. This was the farthest she had ever been from her village. The furthest she had ever gone from home. It seemed it was as far as he was willing to go.

“So boy, are you coming with me?” Angela asked. Her only reply was a quiet whine.

Angela sighed, “I get it. This place is your home, isn't it? Even if mom complains about you, it's still home.” her dog didn't reply, but continued to stare at her.

“It's fine. You know where you want to be, and that's a wonderful thing to you. Just promise me something, keep an eye on my little brother for me, and try not to make mom too angry, alright?” Angela asked, receiving a joyous bark in response, before her constant companion took off, heading back towards her home.

Angela watched him wistfully for a moment. You can still turn back. A voice in her head whispered. For a moment, Angela considered it, before shaking her head.

“If I stop now, I'll stop for the rest of my life.” Angela said to herself, steeling her resolve once more. It was far easier to take the next step than it was to leave her home in the first place, but it still hurt. Angela didn't let it stop her, and as her journey continued, the pain faded with each step.

She only hoped it would vanish entirely soon.
[hr]
 

zerohour

Well-Known Member
#2
Chapter Two



Angela desperately wished for the pain in her heart to return. Anything was better than the burning agony racing through her legs and feet now. After sleeping outside on a rocky patch of ground, and walking for what must have been hours both today and yesterday, she was somewhat amazed she could still walk at all.

With every step on the country road, Angela had felt her concerns melt away, replaced with a thirst for adventure and excitement at the unknown.

Unfortunately, the luster of her journey had quickly began to fade. Living so far out in the countryside, where the train tracks hadn't reached yet and what roads there were were nothing but dirt meant that Angela's only option was to walk, and after a few hours, her feet throbbed with pain, and ever step seemed to take an eternity. The going was getting better. As she drew closer to civilization, and the area became more populous, the roads grew wider and better cared for. Unfortunately, it did little to relieve her growing pain and exhaustion.

The noonday sun was blazing above her, when Angela spotted something further along the road. She paused, squinting as she tried to identify it. After a few long moments, it came into focus. It was a wagon, probably heading closer to the larger settlements.

With a renewed burst of energy, Angela sprinted forward, frantically waving her arms to catch their attention.

“Wait! Wait!” She cried, desperate to gain their attention. At first, it seemed that she was simply to far away, and they couldn't hear her, but after several long, agonizing moments, the wagon slowed, and finally stopped. Relief surged through the young girl, who slowed her pace and tried to regain her breath.

“Well, what is it?” An ornery looking man asked, nearly glaring at her. He was a giant of a man, probably at least two feet taller than Angela was if he were standing. It wasn't the willowy type of height either. He was bound is muscle, and if the mood struck him, he could probably twist her head right off.

“I... I don't suppose I could ride with you, could I?” Angela asked. Sweat was dripping from her brow, and her feet aching, exhaustion winning out over any fear she might have felt..

“No room for freeloaders.” The diver said, intensifying his gaze on her, causing Angela to shirk away from him.

“I have a few valuables...” Angela tried, only to be waved off.

“Payment's not the issue.”

“Oh, Brock, let her in. These roads can be dangerous for a young thing like her. Don't you remember how the two of us met?” Angela started, before realizing that beside this hulking brute was a rather petite, pretty woman. She lacked the elegant refinement one would expect of a proper lady, but instead had a sharper beauty. The kind of beauty one would expect from a sheathed sword, or an exceptionally well crafted gun.

“I remember you nearly taking my head from my shoulders.” The newly minted Brock groused, before studying Angela, his eyes lingering on her tool pouches. “You a mechanic?”

“Yes! I've only got a bit of experience, but if you've got anything you need fixed, I can take a look at it!” Angela exclaimed, hopeful.

“Hop in girl.” he grunted, gesturing towards the back of the wagon. “I've got a few small machines that are wearing down. If you can fix them by the time we make camp, you can stay with us until we reach a decent sized town.”

“Thank you sir!” Angela exclaimed, relief surging through he as she clambered into the back of the wagon. As the wagon began to move again, she took a moment to savor the sudden rush of pain, as her body relaxed enough to let it surge through her. As quickly as it struck, it began to leave, leaving her with an ache, but far less than what she had endured all day. For a moment, she just lay there, before sitting up and glancing around.

Inside the wagon, among the neatly piled weapons, she found a collection of ancient looking tools, and a girl, about her own age. She smiled at her and offered her hand, but the girl flinched away, trying to hide herself in the corner. With a quiet sigh to herself, Angela left the girl to her owns devices, before picking up one of the contraptions lying on the floor, and pulling out a small set of tools from her vest.

“Let's get to work.” Angela muttered to herself, before deftly unscrewing and opening the machine. As she gazed into the intricate workings, she could feel herself getting lost, as she traced the fine gears inside, trying to visualize what their purpose was. As she followed the intricate workings with her eyes, her hands were busy at work, realigning gears, pulling out lose wires, and tightening loosened bolts.

As she worked, she slowly became lost in the work. All other thoughts and sensations faded form her mind, as her focus tightened to the singular process of understanding the device before her. First, a cursory examination to determine it's likely purpose. Following that, a closer investigation to confirm or disprove her initial conception. Once its purpose was confirmed, finding out what was wrong followed. After that, the process of disassembly began, each and every part meticulously and carefully removed from the whole, and placed to the side for safekeeping. Once everything was laid out in an organized fashion, examining each and every part for flaws or damage began. Following that, partial reassembly began, slowly reconstructing the mechanical object. After each part was replaced, she tested the unfinished machine, looking for any inconsistencies or other indications about what had gone wrong, and how she could best fix it.

The device was nearly completed before she noticed something off. Finally, she had found the problem. Some of the gears were no longer properly aligned. While it was easy enough to pop them back into place, that wasn't the source of the problem, just the most noticable symptom. Angela traced the path of the disruption, raptly looking for any hint of the origin.

She was almost there...

“What are you doing?” Angela nearly jumped at the unexpected voice, but managed to control herself. She quickly moved the out of place wire that had started the entire chain of minute errors, and quickly replaced the final pieces. Instinctively, she reached for the next device, already working at it before she glanced over at what had interrupted her. It was the girl who had until now been absolutely silent. Angela stared at her in chock of a moment, before glancing down to see what her hands had been doing on the newest machine.

“I'm oiling it.” Angela said, glancing down to confirm that was indeed what she was doing, “If a machine isn't properly oiled, it will rust sooner than it would otherwise. If it's properly cared for, it will work better for longer.”

“Oh.” was the quiet reply. Not willing to lose what little company she had, Angela pressed forward.

“I'm Angela, nice to meet you.” She said, sparing only a short glance at her companion before refocusing on the machine in front of her.

“Saria.” Was the quiet reply.

Their first conversation was slow, interspersed with larger periods of silence while Angela tinkered, but it was progress. As Angela worked, her way through the machines, she slowly got to know Saria, at least a little bit. Saria told her, in bits and pieces about her life with her parents, how they spent most of the warmer months traveling and trading, while the winter was spent at their home.

As it grew too dark to work, she shared some of her own life, as her rate of progress slowed, how she helped her mother care for her younger brother Jaime. How her love of machines was sparked by the mysterious devices her father had brought home on his few visits. Saria listened raptly, before a loud whinny startled both of them.

“Time to make camp.” Saria father said, already climbing down and unloading the necessary equipment.

“Yes father.” Saria meekly replied, already hurrying to her mother's side to help set up a tent.

“Well, girl, let's see your work.” Brock said, looking at

Angela sighed, feeling a new wave of discomfort shoot through her as she stretched muscles that hadn't moved in hours, then reached into the wagon, before withdrawing a small music box. “There were too many of them for the time you gave me. I could get them all finished, but the quality of the repairs would suffer. I figured you would prefer quality over quantity.”

“I suppose it's passable.” Brock said, giving the machines a look as if it were infested with something foul. “I thought I told you to fix all of them though.”

Angela glared at him, but refrained from saying anything. Despite the rest, her feet still ached, and she wouldn't want him to change his mind about giving her a ride.

“Well, I suppose it will keep your hands busy and out of trouble, just make sure you've finished by the time we get to the Clockwork City.”

“That shouldn't be a problem.” Angela answered, but he was already walking away.

“Sorry about my husband, deary. He's not too good with people. I'm Victoria, by the way.” The woman who had been sitting beside him said, causing Angela to start.




Saria was a rather pretty girl. She closely resembled her mother, but her features were much softer with youth. When she reached out to take the repaired device handed to her, Angela could see callouses and faded scars covering her hands.

“Your hands are pretty rough. Do you work on machines like this?” Angela asked.

Saria shook her head. “I help my father with his work, and practicing with my mother.”

“What exactly do they do?” Angela asked idly, but her companion fell silent. Angela didn't notice , too occupied with realigning a particularly troublesome loose wire, and by the time she finished, the question had already left her mind.

Angela continued to work on the numerous damaged devices for the rest of the day. Hours later, after the sun was nearly down, they pulled to the side of the road, and began to unload equipment to set up a camp. Angela watched for a moment, before a grunt from Brock caught her attention.

“Don't help, don't eat.” The giant commented, earning a glare from the young girl, before she picked up the rugged sleeping bags, and began to lay them out.

With four people, camp was quickly set up, and soon there was a fire blazing merrily in front of them, heating up a large pot of stew. Angela savored the delectable flavor that was only found in good cooking after an honest day's labor.

“Let's see your forms girl.” Saria's father grunted. Saria flinched lightly, before reaching back into the wagon, drawing out a pair of beautifully crafted swords.

“I'll join you.” Her mother said with a smile, but it only seemed to make Saria wilt. She quickly schooled her features back to the calm visage of a warrior, settling her stance to match her mother's/

It quickly became apparent why Saria was reluctant to practice with her mother. While their moves were similar, Saria lacked the grace and skill of her mother. Where her strikes were awkward, Vivian's were elegant. Where Saria clumsily parried, Vivian effortless deflected. While Saria was by no means a failure, probably a match for any boy Angela had met, compared to her mother, she was hopelessly ametuerish.

Her mother seemed to notice it as well, releasing a small sigh before moving to correct her motions. All it managed to do was cause Saria to stiffen up, making her actions even more awkward and jerky. Saria' mother sighed, before releasing her daughter, and taking a few steps away.

“You've got to relax more. You need to flow from one motion to the next. Feel what you're going to do and do it, instead of thinking about what's coming next.” Vivian advised, offering a brief demonstration as she did. Saria settled into her starting position once again, but failed to match her mother's gracefulness.

“Who made those swords?” Angela asked, as she continued to watch mother and daughter dance around the small fire.

“I did.” Brock rumbled beside her, directing a critical eye towards the pair.

“You did?” Angela asked, glancing over at the brawny man, before returning her attention to the flashing blades.

“You don't think these arms are just for show, do you?” He asked. Angela looked at the burly arms of the man beside her, and had no trouble envisioning him hammering away for hours without end at an anvil.

“No sir.” Angela answered.

“I've been a blacksmith for near twenty years, and before that, I was helping my pa at the forge since I could life a hammer. Most folk these day want these complexes gizmos and devices, so there isn't much call for swords, but there are still a few who prefer a blade in their hands over a gun. At the very least, it doesn't waste precious seconds reloading in a fight.” He said, as the two stopped going through the movements, and settled into a ready position.

“Are you ready Saria?' Victoria asked, eying her daughter with some trepidation.

Saria's hands were shaking, but she steeled herself, reaffirming her stance, “Of course I am mother.”

“Than let us begin.”

Angela watched as Saria charged her mother, her blades moving faster than Angela could see. They met in a clash of steel, before breaking apart just as quickly. Saria moved to attack her mother once more, but again, her blows were either blocked, or deflected. She was clearly growing frustrated at her lack of progress, and that anger slowly began to damage her technique, her attacks grew stronger, but sloppier. All her rage only served to make her an easier opponent for her mother to defeat,

“You're doing quite well tonight Saria, but I think it's time to test your defenses.” Victoria revealed a faint smile, before reversing the flow of battle, forcing her daughter on the defensive.

As Victoria continued her ruthless advance, Saria's defenses began to crumble. Her blocks and parries were supplemented with dodges, each of which h compromised her stance, making it harder and harder to mount any form of defense at all. It quickly became clear that all Saria could do was draw the fight out as long as possible. Victory was almost impossible at this point.

Despite this, Saria refused to yield. Angela could see her eyes shining with something. It could have been determination, fear, rage, or self loathing, but whatever it was motivated the young swords woman to continue to fight regardless of the impossibility of victory. Vivian's own eyes lit up, and a nearly feral smile played across her lips, before she launched into a new flurry of blows. As Saria reactd to the attack, Angela saw that the purpose of the attack wasn't to land a finishing blow, but to further upset Saria's balance and flow. Each time Saria blocked, her balance was further disrupted, making her reactions to the continuous attacks more erratic with each blow. Within seconds, she lost all control of her own actions, and fell head over heels to the ground ending sprawled on her back, her swords lying some feet away.

Saria lay on the ground, covered in minor cuts, gasping for breath, her mother's swords pointed at her throat.

“That's enough for one night.” Brock grunted, moving to put out the fire. “I'll take first watch.” For a moment, no one moved.

“You could use a bath dear. There was a river a bit to the south of there.” Victoria said as she helped her daughter up. The ruthless warrior from minutes past had vanished completely, replaced with the caring woman Angela had grown used to in the short time they knew each other. Saria nodded, before walking off to wash herself.

Just like that, the tension of battle vanished. Angela sat there, stupefied, for a moment, before realizing just how tired she herself was, and walked towards the tent for a well deserved night of rest. Even after climbing in to her sleeping bag, she had images of the fight racing through her mind.

The next few days of their journey continued in a similar fashion. Angela spent most of her day tinkering with the myriad of metallic devices stores in the back of the wagon, occasionally exchanging words with the quiet girl who accompanied her.

As the days stretched on, Saria became less withdrawn, speaking with Angela more and more often. While their exchanges remained short, they were more frequent, and Angela welcomed the change from the endless plodding of the horses and the click of her tools.

More and more frequently, as they drew closer to their destination, they stopped at towns and trading posts, Brock briefly setting up shop to display their wares. Angela didn't particularly enjoy the delays, but the chance to rest, pick up additional supplies

The fact that he was selling the machines Angela had fixed both irritated her, that he would pawn off the efforts of her labor, and filled her with pride, that he considered it of high enough quality to sell alongside his own work.

The nights were more varied than the days. Most times, they simply made camp and slept. On occasion, Vivian would coax her husband into digging up a well worn guitar to play, accompanying him with a surprisingly rich singing voice. Even more rarely would Vivian and Saria practice their forms. Despite the practice, Saria could never match her mother, and suffered for it.

On the few occasions when they stopped during the day, Angela often caught her new friend practicing on her own. By herself, her skills were much improved, though not quite as good as her mother. The problem was, whenever she even suspected someone was watching her, she would tense up and lose the fluidity and grace her mother effortlessly attained.

Saria didn't spar with her mother outside of that first night. They practiced the forms every night after camp was made, but no further matches took place.

Angela slowly became more comfortable with the small family she was traveling with. She had a budding friendship with Saria, and Vivian was nothing but kind to her. The only issue she had was with Brock, but he seemed to act that way with everyone, so she tried not to take offense. All in all, it made for a very pleasant journey.

Finally, the day Angela had been waiting for arrived. It started the same as any other, Angela working on the few remaining devices left in the wagon. Everything seemed exactly as it had the day before, and she worked fill expecting nothing usual would be happening.\

Until two gruff words were spoken.

"Nearly there." Saria's father called out, causing Angela to glance up in surprise.. After hearing how close they were, she couldn't resist the urge to look outside, and quickly peeked out the back of the wagon.

Leviterra, better known as the Clockwork City, was just a few miles away. It was still too far away to make out any of the details, but Angela already felt her blood start to race at the thought of dwelling there, and couldn't stop herself from grinning. In just a few hours, she would reach her destination, and then her adventure could really begin.
 

grant

Well-Known Member
#3
Have to admit that I first thought it was "Angela Anaconda", something that I only know exists because of JesuOtaku.
 

bluepencil

that's why it's trash can, not trash cannot
#4
Just from a cursory read-through, the opening doesn't grab me. What, Angela can't even offer her mother the common decency of a day's warning in advance that she's going to leave? That's impression the first sentences give.

The discussion afterwards also meanders about in exposition, and despite Angela's words leaves me, again, with the impression that she's exactly like her father. As you said this is meant to be a serial, sorry but I doubt I'd be interested in reading further a character that's only managed to raise a bias against her.

May I suggest rearranging those sentences a bit? Start with a description of what's happening, focus more on the frenzy of preparation (point: why is she even hurrying in the first place?) rather than throwing back her familial attachments. Or an in medias res sample of the exciting times we can look forward to in the story.
 

zerohour

Well-Known Member
#5
I meant Angela to be trying to strike it out on her own and find her place in the world, as opposed to her father who just loves to go out and adventure.

As for leaving without any notice, I meant for it to seem that she's been getting ready for awhile, and now that she's finally got everything together, her mother is having difficulty letting her go.

Thanks for the advice. These were meant to be a rough draft to get an idea on what needs to be fixed. I'm pretty sure I need to do a number of other fixes, so adding to the list just means the final product will be better.

I don't think I'd wan to do an in media res opening, both because it can be misleading, and because I don't really have a plan for what I want to happen. I just have a gut feeling that my story will end up wandering away from whatever I write for that.


Edit: What did you think of Chapter Two? Clearly chapter one needs work, but does the following chapter need it as well, or is it better?

You know, aside from being unable to decide if I'm calling a character Vivian or Victoria.
 

bluepencil

that's why it's trash can, not trash cannot
#6
The second chapter doesn't have anything really objectionable to it, since introducing characters tends to leave a 'wait and see' feeling. If anything, you seem to have packed in too many scenes into one stretch. Perhaps some more obvious spacers or temporizing phrases.

The main issue I can find here is that you may be wasting wordage a bit. Specially in the action scene, you chained together so many commas that it hampers reading speed. Short, clipped sentences work better for action. It's a swordfight. Why jam in introspection into it, instead of a pattern that goes 'click! click!' to evoke striking swords?

You could separate the commentary from the brief bursts of activity.

For example:

“You're doing quite well tonight Saria, but I think it's time to test your defenses.” Victoria revealed a faint smile, before reversing the flow of battle, forcing her daughter on the defensive.
Is redundant. This is exactly what the next paragraph is about.

As Victoria continued her ruthless advance, Saria's defenses began to crumble. Her blocks and parries were supplemented with dodges, each of which compromised her stance, making it harder and harder to mount any form of defense at all. It quickly became clear that all Saria could do was draw the fight out as long as possible. Victory was almost impossible at this point.
I would suggest:
As her mother pressed her ruthless advance, Saria's defenses began to crumble. Her blocks and parries had to be supplemented by clear dodges, each of which compromised her stance, making it harder and harder to mount any form of defense at all. It quickly became clear that all Saria could do now was draw the fight out as long as possible.

Despite this, Saria refused to yield. Angela could see her eyes shining with something. It could have been determination, fear, rage, or self loathing, but whatever it was motivated the young swords woman to continue to fight regardless of the impossibility of victory.
Vivian's own eyes lit up, and a nearly feral smile played across her lips, before she launched into a new flurry of blows. As Saria reactd to the attack, Angela saw that the purpose of the attack wasn't to land a finishing blow, but to further upset Saria's balance and flow. Each time Saria blocked, her balance was further disrupted, making her reactions to the continuous attacks more erratic with each blow. Within seconds, she lost all control of her own actions, and fell head over heels to the ground ending sprawled on her back, her swords lying some feet away.
This paragraph repeated with only more words the very thing you already mentioned in the previous paragraph. What astonishing tactics, just more of the same, only more so. :p It could also be split into two, rather than this big word chunk that makes the eye slide right off.


I am also not impressed with the scene where she disassembles the machine. What is it? As a reader, I'm fairly offended, it's as if the text is playing coy. It's not mysterious, it's just playing dumb. I'm left feeling it's not showing intelligence here, she's like a monkey just picking at an object she doesn't have the words to even describe. At the very least, I'd expect a mechanic to identify what something -is-, and from there run down the potential points of failure.
 

zerohour

Well-Known Member
#7
Thanks for the feedback again. I'm glad I decided to share it here before submitting it. First drafts tend to have issues, after all. I'll go back and rework them once I finish dealing with my computer issues. Hopefully it will be done in time for the full Original Fiction Forum

Apologies about the mechanic scene. I didn't really have anything in mind for what she was working on, and I guess it shows.

Again, thanks for the feedback. If anyone else has comments, or suggestions for improving it, I would love to hear them.

Though please don't use bright blue for corrections. It hurts my eyes.
 
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