Return to dragon…

[chrispenycate]

Since nobody seems to react to the SF progression.

Am I getting too many characters? (Though these are going to meet up with the princess and Hoopy in another page or so) And does the POV shift shock?

The second rock-rabbit went down the way of the first and Hrasif sighed. Almost not worth crunching, except for the taste.

The beasts were multiplying since he had eaten the foxes and snakes that would normally have culled them, but hunting them still cost nearly more effort than eating replaced. This area was about hunted out, but what to do about it?

Behind the hill there, there was a big, blue female who would not appreciate his encroaching on her territory one little bit, and, sharing his stream behind that ridge was the human enclave; Enghians, whose strait-laced religion classed him as a demon, and who had studiously pretended he didn't exist, even while he was doing the same for them, an arrangement which had been mutually satisfactory for some fifty years.

And over there, and round there was desert, and even dragons need some water, even if it's only so there will be some prey, so going that way would involve following the stream, and a practical certainty of being seen as everybody else took the same route, which ran close to the village, or stealing one of the humans' sheep and flying out. He'd protected them against enough predators that they shouldn't begrudge him that; still, of course, they would.

As the thoughts followed their well-worn path through his brain, a movement. Not a rock rabbit, nor a crow. His head snapped round to see – a human? How were they going to work this out?

Bluff self confidence to start with. "Hello, didn't they tell you there was a monster round here?"

He stepped out, not in formal desert robes, but tanned hide tubes round each limb that looked much more practical for this broken terrain.

"Yes, or at least they implied it. I was hoping you were a dragon, not just a story to scare kids away from a dangerous cliff or something" Were all human voices that light? A quick sweep of hitherto unused lore in memory led him to study at the small being in front of him again. No facial hair, twinned lumps on the torso and he – no, she – had had better luck hunting, three race of rock rabbits hung from her shoulder.

"Hoping? Why would anyone, even another dragon, want to find a dragon?"
"You wouldn't have heard out here in the wilds, would you? Lots of dragons teaming up with humans these days. But, to answer your question, you're my ticket out of here."

"And why, may I ask, would you want to leave? Not that I'm averse to moving, but it seems to me your pack is here."

"My pack? Oh, the villagers. There isn't one I can talk to, and I am owned, like a slave, like a dog. If my uncle dies before selling me to a husband, I'll be inherited like – like furniture. Would you like another rock-rabbit?"

"I would; but won't you be needing them yourself?"

"Nobody cares. I hunt them as much for the skins and to save the vegetables as for the pot. You won't mind if I skin them, will you?

As she was already well advanced in this operation, this required no answer, and he swallowed the morsels as she disappeared the way she had come.

#################################################
It was two days later that she reappeared, and I was surprised to discover pleasure in seeing her again. This was intensified when she gave me a bagful of snares. (No, I am not stupid, and I know what a snare is, it's just that dragon claws are not good at making fiddley things like that. They can set them all right, though, and I foresaw a marked reduction in rock-rabbit population in the following days.

"Good bribe. Now, what have you to tell me about your harebrained schemes to escape your owners?"

"My plans are developing. You are male, aren't you?"

"Yes, actually I am, although – you don't think they'd try and apply their stupid property standards to a female dragon, do you? That sounds to me like a good recipe for no more village."

"Fortunately we won't have to find out. I admit, I don't dislike them that much; it's not my uncle's fault that he's forced to try and marry me off, or that my reputation gets to potential suitors faster than I do.

So, what would you need to leave?"

"Nothing much. Oh, I'll need to eat to build up my strength, and a few days of exercise to warm up my muscles, and some more magic if I need to fly, but don't have any great stocks of gold or anything. I would very much appreciate a lack of anyone trying to kill me, if that were an option."

"We'll see about that. How about very few?"

"That might be possible, if they run slower than I do. Having to kill humans has been shown a bad choice for dragons"

I was almost sad when the bossy little human left me to my snares, and my privacy. Not quite, though.

It was another seven days before she returned, and I handed over enough rock-rabbit skins to make a tent.

"So, how many villagers am I going to have to run from or kill?

"You really have been out of touch, haven't you? I suppose you wouldn't have any objection to eating me?"

"No moral objection, no. If I've understood the significance of the word 'moral', which I suspect might not be the case. You are meat, after all, as am I. On a practical basis, we surviving dragons have learnt that certain meat is to be avoided, especially human meat, but also that of domestic animals, unless one is genuinely dying of hunger, or leaving the region for good.
Were you intending to be eaten, then?"

"Not exactly, no, although it did seem a slight improvement over staying another six months in that sh… in the village. But there are less painful ways of committing suicide. I was hoping to talk to you, about why dragons and people are co-operating now, rather than eating each other, and how to get a regular steak dinner" she shrugged "I could very easily have been wrong, in which case, the results wouldn't have been pretty – for me, at least."

There are reputed to be many routes to a man's heart, but talk of regular food is a good way to a dragon's

"And, since you've found your ignorant dragon, and avoided being eaten, what exactly was your plan"

"We are going to get out of here, and travel together. Since I'm with you, you won't be taken for a savage beast – certainly, people have heard about co-operative dragons, but mistrust goes deep."

"With good reason"

"Just so. And since you're with me, I'll be protected against humans and most wild animals, till we get where we're going"

"And where might that be, may I ask? And just what are we going to do when we get there?"

"We're going to the Empire, and you're signing on as a soldier. Then I will take half the sign-on bonus as a finder's fee, which I'm allowed to own in the Empire, while you go into training and are fed twice a week."

She's obviously been thinking it through, and when a female does that, a wise male of any species only brings up refutable arguments.

"The Empire is the other side of that mountain range, days away even if I could fly. Which I won't be able to without at least two big meals, a week spent getting into form, and more magic than this region can deliver in a season. Just behind that ridge is a female dragon who is unlikely to appreciate my encroaching on her territory. Anything else? Oh, yes, I've never been to the Empire, and don't know the way, and mountains aren't the easiest of territories to navigate."

And I haven't even mentioned my opinions as regard joining an army, or what her uncle will think of her journeying with me as a companion – or journeying at all, for that matter. She seems utterly undeterred by the list, and ticks off on her fingers: "Food, map, magic artefact, warm clothing?"

"Definitely warm, yes. Those are mountains, and they get cold. And stocks of food and gold for you. Just how were you intending to obtain all this? While I'm expecting to be chased by a selection of furious fanatics convinced I'm their devil in person, it would probably be just as well if my companion was not being pursued as a thief as well."

"No risk of that; or the other, really. We're not going to be doing anything illegal, and they won't be able to do anything against you – legally, that is."

"So, I just walk into the village, a personification of evil, and they'll give me a manweight of meat, and a magic-imbued object, and let me walk out again with you, and your uncle will just pay for everything and let us leave, is that right? From what I've heard of humans, it doesn't seem that likely."

"My father was not a poor man when he died, and his money was held in trust for me – well, my husband, to be exact – when I married. My uncle can't touch it without a verdict from the village council, which would have to be justified at the great temple. He has totally failed to find anyone who would marry me, even with the money. If I get the council to agree to me paying him board and lodging for the time I've been there he comes out ahead.

There are those on the council who would do anything to get rid of me, and I think I can persuade others it's a good idea." she smiled, and for an instant I felt a most undraconian sentiment of sympathy toward the council humans.

"All I need to do is marry you, and you'll become responsible for me and my money"

The pity withdrew from the council, and returned where it belonged, with me.

Frankly, I don't think they'll be in the least bit disturbed that you might be the incarnation of evil – half of them will be hoping you'll eat me up as soon as we're out of sight.But they'll be able to claim that I insisted, that it wasn't their fault, and there's a lot of precedent with sacrificial maidens. Everyone gains."

"Except perhaps me. I end up married to a domineering, egocentric human, vow-bound to cherish and protect."

"when we're well clear of Engh, somewhere a female can own property, we'll get a divorce for non-consumation, and you'll be free, and so will I. Until then you're hardly likely to find another dragon you want to team up with."

[mactavish]

<Does the POV shift shock?>

Is it this bit?

He stepped out, not in formal desert robes, but tanned hide tubes round each limb that looked much more practical for this broken terrain.

"Yes, or at least they implied it. I was hoping you were a dragon, not just a story to scare kids away from a dangerous cliff or something" Were all human voices that light? A quick sweep of hitherto unused lore in memory led him to study at the small being in front of him again. No facial hair, twinned lumps on the torso and he – no, she – had had better luck hunting, three race of rock rabbits hung from her shoulder.

It does - it confuses. I'm unsure exactly whose POV we're now in. Who is 'she'? Are we still in Hrasif's head, or the chap who stepped out of the bush? Hrasif can't be a she, 'cos the text says 'well-worn path through _his_ brain'. I'm a bit lost now.....

Interesting leap into 1st person. Not sure whether 'the rules' allow this.

mactavish

[Nesacat]

Yes the POV shift is confusing; but I don't know whether its because I'm reading this out of context of its surroundings. If it is a part of a larger chapter then perhaps it would make sense.

I don't think there are too many characters so long as they are all fleshed out and not left by the wayside for us to wonder about.

Do like the use of first person though. It becomes much more personal and you get a better picture of the characters when speaking in their own voices.

[chrispenycate]

What walks out from behind the rock is a woman (female human) The confusion is all on the part of the dragon, who just assumes it will be a male before recognising the symptoms of mammalian feminity. He gets this far into the excerpt without noticing that half her face is deformed, and only asks her name when they're going down to the village to get married. It's not that he's unobservant, as such, but humans are important as threats, not as individuals.

If "the rules" state I can't start outside and zoom into his head, I can always rewrite the beginning in first person, but I wanted to give an impartial view of his predicament before squeezing into that somewhat self-pitying, fatalistic, small-being ego.
On the other hand, I don't think I dare get into her head – she's more likely to eat me alive than he is.

Yes, to those of you who didn't say it; they were supposed to be three brace of rock-rabbits, and there are some quotation marks missing. And I should probably put in some "he said, she said, I said"s. Why does one always spot these details after having posted?

[ctg]

This piece gets confusing from the beginning, as the reader cannot associate itself straight away in ones head, and even after it becomes vaguely clear, that it is the dragon, which doing the narrative, you stop using his voice. Then you do a terrible mistake with dialogue (as you noticed), when stop using the narrative with it. The reader cannot possibly understand who is saying what.

My recommendation, if I can give one, is that you go back, and start to narrate from the dragon perspective (which of course is alien to us) and you keep using his thoughts and observations to round up the story. Do not derivate your path on moving to someone else head, and using their observations. First person is all about one character being fleshed out to the fullest (if that makes any sense).

[The Ace]

I wasn't confused, and apart from the 'Brace,' I liked it.

[mactavish]

IMO - the only line that needs changing is 'He stepped out' - this forces the reader into the assumption that we have changed POV.

If you distanced it - 'A figure emerged from' (or something) that would solve the confusion.

mactavish

[chrispenycate]

A bit of combat – no, a bit from earlier, so you have an idea as to what's going on:

There were now twenty-seven humans, two dragon specialists, seven crack mountain troops from the capital, three local scouts who knew as well as anybody the rocky, crevassed landscape and the rest soldiers from the local forts.
Not many, you might say, against an enemy force estimated at sixty, but we now had five dragons, and one of them…

You could have raised sheep on Melchior. It seemed impossible for something that size to fly, but he'd lowered his load of men and material without a bump, and landed next to it with never a judder of their flying cage.

Quentillian glittered in the last rays of the setting sun, jewelled elegance. He had been one of Hoopy's professors, making every movement a dance.

It is fortunate dragons don't feel jealousy like humans (fierce, dracocidal rages, yes, but triggered by the presence of the rival, not his attributes) for he would have awoken it.

The last was a trainee from the academy, barely bigger than me but far better taught.

Now the combat. Do you feel I should use shorter sentences to speed up the action, or does this give enough tension (I'm not good at conflict, and try and avoid it, but this is essential)

Splitting our tiny force might seem foolish, but we were confident we could defeat them in combat; the important thing was to prevent them melting away into the broken terrain, to return some later time.

So, each group had a dragon, and four of us put ourselves on potential escape routes, while Melchior's group prepared a frontal assault. Melchior had also been flying the other groups into position, but didn't show any signs of weariness.

I have no idea if the outlaws had scouted out the weakest group or it was luck, but in the cold, black predawn they attempted a breakout through my position. Twenty-eight of them, all humans (they knew we could have detected their dragon moving)

With civilians, the villagers they were used to terrorising, they might well have succeeded in sneaking up to the camp, massacring us and escaping. These professional soldiers had surrounded the camp with tripwires and bells, and slept with one hand on their weapons dispersing the advantage of surprise before it had begun.
Darkness was complete, the valley received almost no sun even at noon, and occasional trees shaded even the stars, so distance weapons were useless. Deciding this was probably more of a hindrance for us than them I prepared my fire and charged at them. Getting to where I estimated they would be, by now festooned with bells and sounding like a stampeding herd of goats. I let out a tiny wisp of flame, just enough to see to convert two of the attackers into torches.
This was possibly a bad idea; a series of clicks terminated in the sharp pains of crossbow bolts. Fortunately, these were released without accurate aiming, penetrating me in various inessential (I hoped) places.

Remember, an angry dragon is a vulnerable dragon.

A paw smash flattens a helmet, and the skull inside, then I turn tail. Mot to run, but that member gives me extra range, breaking arms and ribs, and friendly crossbow fire whistles past as I move back to the rest of my force.

The enemy are close behind, charging silhouettes against the dying flames. As I turn back to face them swords, spears and weapons improvised from agricultural implements become briefly visible; this is no elite force. Still, a desperate, half-aimed stab can kill you as dead as the most technically proficient duellist, and these are desperate people.

One, a female I believe, spotted our weakest point and grabbed Menuil, threatening her with a sudden stream of arterial blood from the stump of the arm that I now held, complete with dagger, between my jaws. A dragon's neck, even a small dragon, extends further than anyone expects. First time I'd ever tasted human – not bad at all.

Dropping the limb, I flung back my head and shouted. It wasn't a shout of challenge, though there was aggression in it aplenty, nor a scream of agony though doubtless it contained pain. Mostly, it was the cry of someone who'd been talking quietly for most of a lifetime, living in concealment, finally celebrating his visibility. It echoed off the mountain slopes, silencing the birds who were just starting to sing the lightening sky.

And from the outlaw camp the old male answered. This was challenge, pure boast, territory and experience, containing his true name and his past victories.

Finally, this strange dawn chorus was completed by the lighter challenge of Hoopy, incredibly incorporating "Houprintia" as her true name, her self image. Smaller, infinitely younger, she still roared total confidence.

The echoes died away, and the stunned humans remembered they'd been fighting, and got back to the business. The outlaws had started with twenty seven against our five humans and me, nine still stood. Stay cool, yes. I'd still got half my fire, and I don't need to save it for anything. Any untrained dragon would have blasted it all off in the first seconds – thank you, Hoopy. Careful targeting gets three more before I ran dry, without damaging any of mine, and then it's tooth and claw time.

Disciplined soldiers stood either side of me, against fighters who have despised such, and trusted their personal combat skills, always more than adequate against the villagers and other bands they'd come in contact with. Exiled city scum and village bullies, mainly – the royal hand rested lightly enough on this region that there were few vengeance cases. They all knew that if they surrendered, it would be the death penalty in the trial, so fought on even when it was obvious they were outmatched.


My jaws were bound up, and each limb ended in a padded bag, masking the claws. Menuil held my head while they removed sixteen crossbow bolts from me – of all of us, she was the least damaged. One of the local soldiers had died, there were several broken bones and everyone was bruised and cut, but there had been no limbs hacked off, eyes put out. We had been lucky, but we'd also been good.
No crossbow bolts had been loosed at anyone but me, whilst all from my troop had struck the enemy. There had been confidence, instilled by training, and effective co-operation, man to man and man to dragon. I would have been proud of them, except that I wasn't feeling over proud. all that discipline, and I'd charged down there like – like a dragon.
Like that old, unreformed dragon in the outlaw camp, who had charged out against Hoopy. Half again as big as her, he'd known he couldn't lose. Experienced, strong, muscles already warm from the previous days' of exercise, she hadn't stood a chance. And he was carved up for the butcher's block, while she had lost a few scales and torn one of her front claws.

Not that she was accusing me of stupidity, she'd bought me a block of ribs (we'd neither tasted dragon before, but the desire was imprinted deep within us) and praised my results, if not the techniques used to get them. My wife was treating me as some kind of hero; she wasn't used to being rescued, it seemed.

All in all I was being treated much better than I really deserved.

"Hold still. Hrasif dear, she's got almost all of them. If they make souvenirs of this battle, you'll be a pincushion" crooned Menuil.

"You're not going to be flying for a fifteenday, but there's nothing that won't heal." The surgeon looked very clean and neat relative to our group, but she seemed almost jealous of having missed the fun "I think we can release his jaws now"

[Peter Graham]

Hi Chris,

I'm afraid I found this rather hard to follow. The piece is excellent on explanation and depth (as are all of your pieces), but sometimes I feel that you are much happier world building than plot building. You seem to like knowing how things work and how they fit together. As a result, you have a tendency to explain the rationale behind every action and I'm not sure it's always necessary to do that, especially when your world is as colourful and credible as it is.

Or, to put it another way, I have no doubt that the biology and physiology of your dragons is consistent and entirely cohesive down to the last scale, but I'm afraid the action falls a bit flat by comparison.

By way of a poor analogy, it's as though the painter responsible for the huge, panoramic "Death of Nelson" which hangs in the lobby at the House of Commons had forgotten to put Nelson in the picture.

I think you need to tighten the action up. We need to smell the fear and the burning, hear the screams of the losers and the excitement of the victors and sense the immediacy of battle. Short sentences, punchy imagery and a total focus on the battle itself. Lose the asides, the virtual footnotes and the explanatory dialogue, at least while the fight is unfolding.

If at all possible, it should read as though it is written in "real time".

Regards,

Peter

[ctg]

Hello Chris,

I am afraid I have to agree on Peter. The action is flat as a pancake. From underneath you can find my first try on first person perspective. I'm sorry about the grammatical mistakes, but hopefully it illustrates you on how to write action.

... I guess humans believed splitting our tiny force seemed foolish, but for us Dragons it was different case. We could defeat the enemy in combat. Our plan depended on humans remaining in their defensive positions, while we were going to cause hell and mayhem among the charging enemy troops ... and hopefully live for another day.

The first wave of assault came in the hour of wolf. In the darkest time when most of the humans were sleeping and the guards were snoozing in their position, the fools - bless them - trusted that few of us remained alert, flying above them.

I saw a group of fighters wearing wolf skins sneaking out from the woods, towards position on our left flank. I raised my head towards the Gods in heaven, cried out, while I prepared the flame on my chest. With one swoop, I plunged down, flatting wings on my side, gaining speed while tiny spittle of flame spluttered in the wind.

“Whirr”, first arrow flew past my head, it was the first one in the swarm that flew out from the woods. Luckily their aim was bad, as the cloud of arrows flew way too high. At the below, I could see the enemy swords were raising their shields and hiding under them. I opened wings on my side, at the same as I opened my mouth. The flame poured out, while I corrected my fly. The fire turned the field underneath into a hellish inferno, while I rushed towards the woods and swooped towards the sky again. It was an error. Another cloud of arrows flew out from the woods, this time the arrows tearing through my wings, making me to scream in agony.

‘My Gods that hurts’, I thought as I rose back to the sky, ‘they… I swear they are going to pay for this.’ I circled above the battlefield, taking another aim for the woods. The camp had woken up. The leaders were shouting commands to the form up their ranks, while other dragons dived from the sky. Here and there they light up grassy fields, creating walls of fire around the camp.

‘Good,’ I thought as I rose higher, gathering a mighty flame in my chest, ‘The brave fool enemies should have stayed in their stony huts with their wives...’

It was easy to locate the woods where the arrows had flown out. Even though the night was moonless, it didn’t limit my vision. The heat from the archers was as easy to locate as it was find a goat grazing on a sunny grassy knoll. One last swoop and I flattened my wings and dived towards the woods. My attack wasn't surprise to the archers, but they didn't match on my speeds. The arrows whirr past me, as I dived from the sky, like a chicken hawk chasing a prey.

As I flew past the burning forest, I saw the sparks in the darkness, the heat engulfing the flaming boulders that hurled through the air. The enemy, they had decided to end the destiny of our guards one way, or another.
...

[chrispenycate]

The trouble with that is it's not the same incident, not the same scale of conflict (you've practically a war, this is a police action) but, above all, not the same dragon. Oh, I'm sure that this would fit the Imperial forces to the East, where there are multiple dragons in planned military action, and I'm sure some of the younger ones are as gung ho and enthusiastic (although when flying they'll get too hot for infra-red vision) but Hrasif isn't. He's definitely not stupid enough to fly through mountains in the dark, so this entire engagement was done on foot, and the only reason it wasn't done through a mist of total terror is that he never had time to get scared.

Perhaps the first person does lead to some problems in this case - he definitely doesn't think of himself as anything heroic - but I'm having fun trying to work it out.

[ctg]

I hope it does illustrate you as an example for what kind of action a dragon could take. It's your story Chris, and I would like to see it.

You say you are weak in action, therefore I try to help you and nudge you on the right direction. I'm not the best writer there is. Far from it.The one thing I am good at, is the creation of an action ... memorable action.

The way I see an dragon, that it is an ancient magical tank-buster. It loiters over the battlefield, waiting for a right moment to dive in and burst enemy ranks in flames. The flame is what causes terror in the enemy. A sight of an company of soldiers, bursting suddenly in flames, can drive any fighter in such a mental state that it would ultimately disband the unit. (Your humans would need a strong leader to keep the units from routing out from the battlefield.)

In close combat, when a dragon is down on the ground, it would bite, slash, tear and bash with anything that the opponent can throw on them. On that situation, a dragon would behave like an cornered animal, knowing that if the enemy doesn't go down, then he or she will gets it. (Do not be afraid of taking your dragon in that situation, as it will show your audience of what your dragon is made from.)

When I write tension in the story, I start to build it up from long way before the action comes into the picture. I use anything I can to make it happen. Anything can be flashbacks, memories, observations, conclusions, hints in the dialogue ... anything.

When the action begins, I am not afraid of hurting my characters, make them feel the pain, and become as hurt as they can, without killing them ... unless I need them to die. When they die, if they need them to go down in epic way, they go down in epic way.

From the beginning we humans has been thriving in the combat, and it has become a pleasure to watch it. Use that on your advantage. The battle is not nice, and it has never been. Do not be afraid of writing in the horrors. Let us the audience to read what it is to go into the combat like a dragon. Make us feel it.