Ok, this is a story I have been writing. below is the first chapter, I have gotten to chapter ten. They seem to be slowly getting longer, so once I have posted all the ones I have done it could be some time before the next chapter is posted. but anyway, here it is.


Chapter one: the message

Sir Alban was deep in thought, hands rested on his antique desk. As he thought he studied the knots and whorls in the desks surface. It had been in the family for many generations, as had the room it was situated in.
The room was paneled with wood, and had lamps attached to the wall at regular intervals. The lamps were many, but they shed little light. The room was the study of the king of the mighty Amastaites.
The Amastaities have no known origin. They simply appeared out of the gloom as it were. There arrival was spectacular to say the least; they had marched forth out of the smoke fields, unharmed by the poisonous smoke that spread across its surface. They were resplendent in battle armory, with swords and spears being held in strong grips or hanging from belts. Then they had marched forth, the tramp of their boots making the very earth quake in fear of them. By the time the month was over, only one city was left. This was the city the Amastaities had taken to be their home. They had now lived there for many a year.
Back in the study, Sir Alban read through the letter again (His proper title was King Alban, but he did not like to be known as this. No one knew why he disliked the title, but it was his wish that he should be known simply as Sir Alban).
The letter went like this:

To King Alban, Leader of the Amastaities

I am writing to inform you that my kingdom is worried about your dominant power if you do not agree to ally yourself with my people and me. If you do not reply within 78hours I will assume that you have declined my generous offer. If that is the case then action may be taken against you.
Yours sincerely
Cassius
Leader of the ******

P.S. I have not shown the name of my Kingdom, as it would risk compromising our situation if we are to be at war.


And that was all. In a way it was to be expected, after all, the Amastaities were renowned for their prowess in battle, and showed this skill often when the need for a new city arose. But this message was still troubling nonetheless, for if they did have allies then it may be possible that they may overthrow them.
Sir Alban stood up, decided on his next move.
Standing up exposed the fact that he was extremely tall, also the fact that he was not by any means thin. He was a huge, imposing figure, the ultimate warrior. Many in battle had fled before a single sword had been swung, a single arrow fired, when they saw what they were dealing with.
Out of the shadows a man stepped. He was the opposite of Sir Alban, small thin and tired looking. But his power lay in his mind, his amazing mind. He was the kings most highly regarded tactician, who went by the name of Genero.
‘You have reached a decision Sir?’ he said, looking respectfully up at him
‘Indeed I have Genero’ replied the king, looking fondly at him.
‘What course of action may I take?’ questioned Genero, mentally preparing for yet another strange decision. Sir Alban had been making strange decisions of late, the reason of which no one knew why. But then nothing bad had ever happened as a result of these decisions, so no one worried about them.
‘No message is to be sent. No one threatens my nation’ Genero bowed. And left the room. He had other things to attend to.
Once Genero had left, Alban slumped in his seat. He was tired; it had been a long day. He looked fondly around his study once more, then left for his living quarters. Once he got there he got into bed, then getting up again as the fire sputtered and died. He did not bother to call a servant in. It would be pointless now, he could light it again himself. Once that was done he sat back, and began to look through the reports that had been written by the last set of scouts to return. Even now his day was not over.







[[That is only the first draft, so it may be changed around, added to, that kind of thing. same goes for the other chapters.]]

All right, first of all, on the history of the Amastaities: the way you presented it is very dry. For one thing, where they came from doesn't seem to be relevant to their current situation. For another, you just kind of stopped the narration midway in order to tell us this. Show it in bits and pieces, at least. Integrate it into the story.

Another thing, is the letter. No sane negotiator would directly state that another country is a dominate power; when you want someone to do something, you approach them as either equals or as if you are superior. This is common-sense diplomacy. Also, it seems rather pointless that Cassius mentioned his own name but not the name of is kingdom; Sir Alban can just look up what kingdom is ruled by a man named Cassius now.

On the other hand, your grammar is near-perfect.

*goes bright red, and mutters that it is the first draft.....*

I don't know how leaders and powers go divided among them, but I believe this is a good piece of work and would make an interesting story. It is well put together and has me wanting to read more. But, I have this strange feeling that Abalan just might eat his words. MIGHT. Big MIGHT. Anyways, very well done.

*smiles at artist, and sowls at village alchemist*

thanks. and I dont mind the critisism, only you could be a little less blunt about it. anyway, second chapter.

Chapter two: The Council’s outrage

A meeting had been scheduled on short notice, and every member of the high council, the group of powerful people throughout the Amastaities many cities. Sir Alban had decided that he needed the thoughts of his most loyal advisors on this issue.
They came from every corner of their empire; the way they looked was varied. Some arrived in carriages, some arrived on horseback alone, and some had walked with a battalion of soldiers. But the most important thing was that they were all there.
The way they dressed also varied in many ways. Some came from high in the mountains, and were therefore clad in warm winter clothes, while others had come from warm areas and wore nothing but very basic armor and a simple tunic. It was as if no-one who came was dressed as appropriate to the climate at the meeting place, except Sir Alban, who had of course called the meeting in the place he was situated at.
Once it was confirmed that everyone was there, they went into the chamber that had been built to the exact specifications of Sir Alban. It was a simple room, roughly circular in shape and with no adornment of any kind. There were several wooden benches in regular rows, and at the front a raised platform from which Sir Alban would speak, and at the end of each row there were two candles. This was the council meetings location.
As everyone walked in they were taken to their seats, then once seated were left alone to take in their surroundings, or fine-tune a certain part of something they had been preparing to say.
Sir Alban, King of the Amastaities walked forward into the room. Everyone who saw him had his or her breath taken away, for he had come decked out in full battle amour. A gleaming helm adorned his head, while a chain mail shirt glistened in the candlelight. Large boots with steel toecaps were encasing his feet. It was an amazing sight. Sir Alban took his place on the podium and began to speak.
‘Two days ago I received a message from a kingdom who refuse to name themselves. This message was in effect, a declaration of war. If we do not ally ourselves with this kingdom, they and their allies will march upon us. I have spent much time in contemplation of this message and came to a conclusion’.
At this point he paused, staring around at everyone in the room. Expectant faces gazed back at him.
‘We are at war’
This statement rang in the ears of everyone there. For a moment there was silence. Then the madness began
WAR?! WE CAN’T BE A- WHY DID YOU DO THI- YOU DIDN-This went on and on, and on.
The room was full of these raised voices; no one seemed to be able to restore order. But Sir Alban was a fierce figure. He drew a spear, and calmly banged it against the ground. Hard. Silence was instant.
‘Thank you. Now, my reasons were these: we have had no allies throughout our history. We are very strong, and I for one believe we can hold them off. Also I was approached in a rude manner, he basically said ally yourself with me or I will kill you. Now, I believe this is enough to warrant warring them.’
Everyone in the room was suddenly with Sir Alban. Smiling, Sir Alban turned round and beckoned to several figures that were standing silently in the gloom behind the podium.
‘But I still would not have done this is I did not have these men on my side. These are the Warriors of the Realm





[[After that one, The chapters start getting longer.

Oh goodness. Everything just blew up for everyone right there. I like this so far. EEP! I want to read more. The very description of the king walking into the room and the soldiers and the king's words, I can picture it all. Gosh, makes me wanna draw. Okay, continue with the posting. This is amazing stuff. XD

Once again, it's still so so. Not trying to be rude, honestly.

If you google up how to write fiction you may find some help. I have found one site for you.
http://www.write-and-publish-fiction.com/creative-writing-prompts.html

I completely understand that these are just drafts and ideas before you actually fine tune everything. However I feel the story is a bit rushed. Maybe slow the events down a bit. ^^

Good job though.

thanks for your comments vexar. things do slow down slightlyas it goes on, from about the point I joined this website actually I will take a look at that link you have gotten for me. I think I will stop writing the story for now and focus on improving what I already have, it will improve where the plot goes later on I think.

ok, next chapter!

Chapter three: Warriors of the realm

The men stepped forward, walking in perfect unison. Then they stood there doing nothing, just letting their appearance do the talking for them.
They were clothed in armour, but that wasn’t exactly surprising. What was surprising was the weaponry that hung from every limb. The weaponry was not any special type, it was swords and spears and bows and such things. But they seemed to glow with their own light, and when they moved shimmered slightly.
Everyone in the room was silent for a long time, until Sir Alban decided to break it.
‘As you can see, they are armed with very precious weapons. And though the armour looks average, it is twice as strong as your normal armour. They have also undergone intensive training, and are prepared to die for our kingdom. Their mission for now is to find out who this man who sent the message is, and to what end is he preparing to attack us. I now call this meeting to a close. Any questions?
No one said a thing. They simply sat there, staring at the men.
‘Eeermm…well, if there are no questions, then good day to you all, I hope you found this meeting of much worth.’
At that moment a man slowly put up his hand.
‘I don’t suppose we could know their names?’
‘Aye, you can. They are, from left to right:
Bonaventure, Korbin and Quade.’
Bonaventure was tall and muscular, looking like Sir Alban. Korbin was thin, and raven-haired. Quade was built the same as Bonaventure, except being slightly shorter. He also has a scar going down his left cheek.
As the council finally filed out, the three men stepped back into the shadows. They stood there muttering to each other. Sir Alban left the room also. He went straight to his study once more, lit the lamps, and got out a map.
The map looked extremely old, as it was. It was another family heirloom, just as the desk was. Sir Alban ran his hands over the map, spreading it out over the desk, and weighed down the corners with smooth stones.
‘Now, I know you three have followed me in, so pay attention’
At this the warriors all stepped silently into view, and came round to look at the map.
‘As you know, our enemy refuses to be named. So we must find out who the enemy is and what is the purpose of this message. Clear so far?’
The warriors didn’t even bother nodding. Of course it was clear.
‘Right then. We need to scour the land for this kingdom. That is what I wish for you to do. Also there is the matter of you, Korbin; I know you are growing weak. A young boy has been chosen to replace you, but not straight away. You will train this boy in your secret ways; you will show him the fire that resides within you and him, in every one of us. You will help him release it.’
At that moment the door opened, and a boy was ushered inside.
‘This is Jovan, your new apprentice. Look after him and teach him well.’
Korbin walked over to the boy and held out his hand. It was shaken nervously. The boy was in no way remarkable, thin, average height, fair hair. But Korbin knew that it was not a mistake he had been chosen.
Once they had shook, Sir Alban took the boy away to equip him for the journey.
There were many weapons on display, but Sir Alban quickly picked what would be needed. There was a sword, with a thin blade that was razor sharp. The hilt gleamed golden, and Jovan soon realized it was gold leaf covering it. The next item was a spear, which was made with a single long wooden shaft with lengths of steel running down each side. These lengths of the strong metal reinforced the wooden shaft meaning that it was less likely to shatter. The tips of the arrows were metal, and shaped like a diamond. The next item to be brought out was a bow, which was made very simply, with wood, and horsehair for the string. The arrows had a wooden shaft, and like the spear had thin lengths of steel running down them, though thinner so as not to hamper the arrows flight through the air. The heads were simple, pieces of metal which hadn’t been shaped in any particular way, just so that they had the sharp end pointing in the right direction the feathers on the ends were from a goose, brilliant white in colour. All of the metal parts were steel, but felt strange and in the case of the warrior’s weapons glowed, but Jovan’s didn’t.
Next was his armour. First there was a chain mail vest made of the same strange metal. There were hundreds of tiny links, all fused together one by one. It must have taken at least a month to make, if not more! Thought Jovan as he examined the vest. Next he had some simple brown leather boots, with metal toecaps. This metal was ordinary. Then Sir Alban pulled out a helmet, and Jovan gasped. It was entirely made of the strange metal, and had a metal bridge of metal that came down to cover his nose and most of his face. But that wasn’t what had made him gasp. What had made him gasp was a gleaming spike on the top of it, looking razor sharp and glinting menacingly. The spike was the same metal, but was a jet-black version of it. Lastly came a pair leather trouser, which were a little big for him but would do. They had many pockets, which would be useful when collecting things on the road
Once Jovan was fully equipped he made his way back to the other warriors. He stood between two of them, looking tiny in comparison.
‘Ok, I have though about our situation and have come to a decision.’ Started Sir Alban, hoping that the plan would be favorable with the warriors
‘You will go ahead as planned out onto the plains looking for this enemy, but without Korbin and Jovan. This is because Jovan I feel should be trained before setting out. The method of search is that of a grid, and on one of them you come within ten miles of this city. Korbin and Jovan will join you then. I have marked out on this map the search method and the place in which you will join together to continue the search. Good luck to you all who are leaving now.’
They took the news without complaint. Jovan however, while he hid his face behind a mask of indifference, was disappointed. He longed to get away from the city, but could see the sense in him being left behind to be trained. Still, he was prepared to go through it if it meant he would get out of the city within the next six months.
Sir Alban said to the warriors, before they set off:
‘Please send one of you five days ahead of the rest of you as a messenger, you must search the last grid before joining up without one of you, whichever comes to say that you are close. That will give us time to prepare. But for now, farewell, and bring back your news safely.’
After that was said, the two remaining warriors slung their heavy packs over their backs mounted their stallions, and rode away.

It is better, I will give it that ^^.

Perhaps try telling the story as if you were speaking it to someone. Instead of using things like next was his armor. I'd probably use, He was donned in blah blah blah. Y'know.. It would make me want to read through it a bit more.

ok, I will take that into account when I am editing it. I will probaboly stop writing more for the time being, change things as people give me more feedback.

next chapter!

Chapter four: Bearing Hardships

Jovan attacked, swinging his sword. His enemy easily avoided his clumsy attack, and disarmed Jovan in a series of blows.
‘Ha! Once again the mighty Jovan loses!’ Said Vince, Jovan’s training partner
Jovan got back up, breathing heavily. This had been a daily part of his training for three weeks now, but he still couldn’t get the hang of it.
There were lots of different areas in the training department, and Jovan had been using them all.
There was the sparring ring, where Jovan had just been training. It was roughly circular in shape, and was surrounded by rope fencing. The floor was a deep layer of sand so that if you fell then it wouldn’t hurt too much, but if you are practicing moves that involve tripping someone, or falling over on purpose, then mats were available for use.
Then their was a shooting range, which was made up of twenty targets lined up in a row. Nets separated all the different targets from each other so it was clear which one to use. Beside were you stand to shoot there were racks, each one with two bows, an abundance of arrows and two leather finger guards to stop the bowstring from rubbing against your finger.
Away in the far left corner stood one of the largest training areas, the horse training area. To one side of it was simply made, with a sandy floor and nothing else around it. Piled in a corner are practice dummies, that could be made to stand in whatever position is wanted. These were so that mounted soldiers could practice moves they would perform on horseback, whether attacking an enemy or pulling a friend up into the saddle with you. The last part of the horse training area is littered with rocks and boulders that had been dragged in from the cities edge. These made a useful place to practice marshalling a horse through difficult terrain. Next to the training area for the horses are the stables which they are kept in, one horse per style. The slightly musty smell of straw and the animals forever hung over this area.
All these things were designed to make a soldier the best possible he could be.
But though Jovan knew this, it did not mean to say he enjoyed his training. Although he knew it was for the best, he did not enjoy his training. The people he had to train with had been around weapons and horse all their lives, while the closest he had ever got was seeing the army march through the city on parade day
He had found it hard right from the start, immediately starting a sparring match with the weapons master, who had screamed instructions to him the whole time. Jovan shuddered as he thought of that first training session. He had failed miserably, and left with a large collection of bruises. Even now he was not sword fighting well.
His fighting partner Vince smiled down at him, and offered a hand to help him up. Jovan took it, and pulled himself up.
‘Don’t worry Jovan; you’ll get there in the end’, Said Vince encouragingly. Jovan just grunted, and headed to his rooms
‘Don’t forget about the horseback training tonight Jovan!’
Called Vince over his shoulder as he walked away. Jovan smiled. He enjoyed riding; it was the only part of his training he had found a natural ability for. He entered his room and fell onto his bed. His training had taken its toll on him. He lay there, feeling wonderfully comfortable, until he eventually fell asleep.

He was standing in the middle of a mist that covered the entire surrounding area, and could only see a few feet in front of him. Ahead he saw a shape and headed towards it. It was a hill, and he climbed its sides, sometimes reduced to crawling up its steep sides. Finally he reached the top. Squinting into the distance, a small boulder could just be seen. As he got closer he realized the boulder was in fact a creature of some sort. As he came closer, more of these creatures came into view. As he opened his mouth to speak, one of them came up close, and his breath was taken away. It looked like one of the huge mountain bears that lived way up north, but it stood on two feet. As it came closer, he could see it had razor sharp teeth, and was wearing armour. It roared, and He reeled back in shock. It wasn’t the roar that had shocked him; it was the fact that he UNDERSTOOD it. Somehow in his mind, the roaring was translated. It came out as
‘WHO DARES ENTER OUR SACRED LANDS?!’
He tried to answer, but his words caught in his throat. With a terrible roar the bear leapt towards him……….

Jovan woke up screaming. The dream had scared him, and now as he lay still he listened, the slightest sound making him jump. But there was no roaring, no bears. He sighed with relief; it had just been a dream. He then heard someone knocking on his door. He jumped, banged his head on the low ceiling that was over his bed, and fell on the floor in a tangled heap.
As he picked himself up Vince burst through the door.
‘Are you ok? I heard a sound like someone falling over’
As he said this Vince scanned the room, and his eyes finally rested on Jovan
‘What happened, you looked terribly pale. And why are you still wearing your gear from sparring?’
Jovan smiled weakly, and stood up, swaying slightly. Vince steadied him and Jovan nodded his thanks.
‘You can let go now, I need to get ready’
Vince let go without complaint, and watched as Jovan hurried round the room getting his kit. Once he had got it all they left for horse riding. They had been told they would be practicing combat from horseback this evening, so wear padded clothing as they may fall off when attempting a particularly tricky move. Though they wouldn’t be practicing against each other, it was still all too easy to fall off when trying an advanced combat move, even though the dummies they would practice on would not move. But Jovan was a confident rider, and rarely fell, so as he put on extra padding he couldn’t see the point. For someone like Adrian, who would consider it a great achievement not to fall off while trying to mount his horse. But he knew that the ‘horse master’ as the trainees has named the vicious old man who looked after the horses would shout at him if he didn’t put any extra padding on.
The padding itself was pieces of leather that had been sown into Jovan and the other trainees clothes. They would do no good in a real battle, but were the perfect lightweight training equivalent to battle armour.
Once Jovan had all his armour on he and Vince made their way to training. Once they got there they immediately got there horses. Then their training instructor, a young man who was in the process of, being trained as the replacement instructor, told us to take our horses over to where some practice dummies were positioned. Then the instructor showed how to do a particularly tricky looking move which involved charging the enemy, pulling up violently as soon as you got to it, then driving a pike through its head. This was made harder by the fact that while you were attacking the horse would inevitably rear up to slow down, and so you had to lean over the horses’ side to get low enough to attack.
The trainees took it in turns to try and complete the move, and some succeeded, some didn’t. Then it was Jovan’s turn. With a deep breath he charged at the practice dummy. He was completely relaxed; he loved riding and was confident he would pull it off. After all, he had never failed to complete the task he had with the first try. But this time something went wrong. As he slid his hand down the side of his horse in preparation for the abrupt stop he would soon make, his feet slipped out of the stirrups, and he was suddenly lying on his back.
His head was on fire, having hit it hard on the ground when falling. A trainee was calming his horse, while the rest gathered round him. The training instructor pushed his way through, and said something to Jovan. He didn’t hear it, as there was a strange buzzing noise in his head. His system decided it was all too much, and shut down for repairs. Jovan’s last view before he was out cold was of the training instructor standing over him, slowly fading into a perpetual darkness.


[[Ok, there will be a delay before I post the next chapter, as I am not happy with it, even though it is a draft.]]

I like it. I can't WAIT TO read the revisions.

ok, I will put the revision of the first chapter up soon. I am stopping and editing them all now, so your first views of all later chapters after no.4 will be revised. they will by no means be the last versions I imagine, but it is a working progress. edting the first chapter now.

It's alrights, I'd like to see some more description on the 'creatures', since they seem to be foreshadowning something

I don't think you should do the revisions before you finish. I've heard in a lot of different places (and from personal experience) that after writing a chapter, you shouldn't go back and fix everything you don't like about it--you should keep pressing onward until you finish, and THEN go back and make the revisions.

I think a big part of this is that you'll grow as a writer through the story. Even if you make revisions now, by the end of the story you will go back to the beginning, to the revisions you've already made, and realize that you can still improve them dramatically.

Putting off revisions until the end will help you get your story done more quickly and efficiently and will help you to not get sidetracked. But that's just my personal opinion. I wouldn't worry totally about what the people on the site say--just keep writing and revise when it's over! I think you're doing quite well for only thirteen.