Origins of Fantasy Chpt 2

May 4, 1857, London
Oliver Dewitt

You have got to be kidding me. The noble's rapier swung wildly without aim. The boy dodged another predictable slash.

How did this bafoon get himself into the London fencing tournament? Swordplay is reckless, footwork is terrible, he's like a little child holding his brand new toy. I don't even have to use my sword to kill this man!. The boy's foil was still down in a stand-by position.

I won't kill him. It's just a friendly sport. This man is clearly incompetent. It would be cowardly of me to kill him. Plus he is a noble. I must show discipline.

SWISH, black pieces of hair fell to the ground. Okay enough games. The nobleman came in for another thrust.

With blinding speed the boy slashed upwards, deflecting the attack and nearly knocking the sword out of the noble's hand. He came down for another strike. The noble barely dodged the downward slash, suffering a small tear in his jacket. The sword hit the ground with the force of a hammer. The boy then thrust his sword with the speed of a swordfish towards the nobleman. The nobleman was still recovering from the previous strike and braced himself for the blow.

The sword stopped dead as the tip touched the nobleman's sternum. A small drop of blood dripped from the sword and onto the ground.

"That settles it! The winner is Oliver Dewitt!", the judge cried. The spectators applauded.

The nobleman fell to the ground immediately after Oliver withdrew the sword, obviously ashamed of himself. Hmmm, maybe I shouldn't have been so harsh on him. Tears fell to the ground from the Nobleman's face.

Ehh, now I feel bad. I stuck my hand out. "Oliver Dewitt. you played a good match. Your swordplay was very good". I guess it's okay to lie if it makes him feel better.

"Good match my ass, you beat me with only three blows", the nobleman said catching the lie.

Geez just take the compliment. "Hey at least you made it to semifinals".

The Nobleman shook his head. "The other contendors were probably scared to strike because I was a noble. You're the only one who even bothered to block any of my attacks. I'm pathetic, using my status as leverage". The tears increased.

I'd say something, except it's probably true. "Now come on don't be so harsh on yourself it's just a sport. Maybe you just weren't fit for fencing.".

The Nobleman looked at me angrily. Yikes. Don't eat me. I can still beat your ass in fencing. "Whatever. Good luck in the final match." The Noble got up, ignoring my hand. Touche. Obviously still intimidated, he headed out of the plaza.

"Wait I still didn't catch your name!", I cried.

The nobleman responded with a subtle wave without looking back. Ouch. Talk about harsh. I don't feel bad about demolishing you at all anymore.

I turned to go to the next match when an old Asian man approached me. He had long black hair, a sort of hangbar mustache-beard thing, and had definite wrinkles above his eyes and on his cheeks. His garment consisted of a solid green jacket with gold linings among the edge and solid green pants. "Good Job out there" he said with a heavy accent.

"Thanks Master", I said with a slight bow. His real name was Liu Qiangniu, which he says means "powerful ox"- and honestly, even if he made the name up it suits him. He came to England from China in 1842 after he fell in love with an english woman who visited his martial arts school in Hong Kong. After he came here he became a fencing teacher and now he's the most famous swordsman in the UK. In fact he can split a flying bullet with his sword still in the sheath. And he doesn't use conventional European swordplay. He doesn't even use a standard fencing sword. He still has his jian from Hong Kong.

"Oh please, you don't have to be so formal with me. I'm actually sort of liking this English lifestyle", My master said. Huh well from the look of it I would never have thought you left Hong Kong. You have a bamboo tree in a pot inside your home and you still have scrolls of Chinese calligraphy hanging on your walls. He continued. "Well better prepare for your next match."

"Yes Master-", I cut off master as soon as I realized I said it. He looked at me sternly and then smiled. "Yes Qiangniu". Having been embarrassed twice I decided the conversation was over and turned around to the final match.

"Hey", Master called. I was startled and looked back hesitantly. "Don't let your past get the better of you." He stopped smiling. His look was now very serious.

I froze for a second. I knew what he was talking about but I didn't know how to react to it. After all my past was the reason I started fencing in the first place.

Hey-oh! Continuing on from the last chapter!

Same thing here as with the last chapter: when your character is thinking something that is specifically thought, go ahead and italicize it. For instance:

The Nobleman looked at me angrily. Yikes. Don't eat me. I can still beat your ass in fencing. "Whatever. Good luck in the final match." The Noble got up, ignoring my hand. Touche. Obviously still intimidated, he headed out of the plaza.

Those bits I italicized were obviously inner thoughts. Put this way, we get a clear delineation between narration and the character's current thoughts. It just reads a bit smoother and clears up any confusion about what a character is thinking vs. explaining in narration.

For quite a long time in the beginning, I wasn't sure which one was Oliver. You start off in first person, then switch to third person, then back to first. I wasn't sure which it was supposed to be, who was supposed to be the first person narrator, or which one was Oliver. Stay consistent with your viewpoints and it will be much clearer.

He came to England from China in 1842 after he fell in love with an english woman who visited his martial arts school in Hong Kong. After he came here he became a fencing teacher and now he's the most famous swordsman in the UK. In fact he can split a flying bullet with his sword still in the sheath. And he doesn't use conventional European swordplay. He doesn't even use a standard fencing sword. He still has his jian from Hong Kong.

This right here is a bit of an info-dump. Oodles of information that isn't really important just yet. All we really need to know is that this guy is Oliver's sword instructor and maybe that he's foreign. If the rest of this stuff really is important, work it in elsewhere. Perhaps have someone come up and congratulate him on Oliver's accomplishment, pointing out that it is only natural he would win with such a famous swordsman as a teacher. Something like that, to make it a bit more natural. Perhaps show a bit more interaction between the two, in which it would make more sense to have some of this explained.

Also, how could he be a fencing teacher if he doesn't fence himself? Not that one can't be trained in more than one style, but conventional European fencing and Asian schools of swordplay are a bit different. Perhaps explain this a little more?

I'm curious to see how all these characters are going to end up interacting with one another, but be careful. Too many characters being introduced too quickly and the reader can easily lose track of who they are supposed to care about or simply can stop caring. Too little focus on a central character to identify with and the reader can just get lost in the story's happenings.

I look forward to seeing where you go with this! Feel free to PM if you have any questions! Good luck!

~GryphonFledgling

Hai!

First off, I very much agree with GryphonFledgling about italics and viewpoints cos reading this the first time round was confusing... I needed to reread some parts to get what was happening.

Your fight scene was well written! I find fight scenes really difficult to make interesting and visual without them turning into “he hit him then the other guy hit back and then he hit him again and then the other guy swiped at him and the he slashed back and...” Yours was easy to read and easy to visualise as well, so kudos on a stick for that. ^_^

One point, though... Why does the noble have a rapier and the boy a foil? Wouldn’t they both be using the same type of sword to make it fair? The styles of fighting that you can do with a foil and a sabre (you use sabres, not rapiers). And if the boy’s using a foil, he wouldn’t be able to slash, cos with a foil it’s all in the point, you tap people with the button, and it’s a fault to slash. And it’s a contest, so surely they wouldn’t be using swords that could draw blood, because otherwise how do they have any guarantee that the opponents aren’t going to kill each other?


However, my main problem with this chapter is the setting. You said in the first chapter that it was Final Fantasy or something, and I’m not familiar with Final Fantasy, but unless that means that Victorian London is the same as modern American, you really need to make some changes. All of the dialogue is anachronistic. If you read Victorian literature, you’ll be able to see that back then people didn’t say things like “okay” or “good match, my ass” or “hey” or “yikes” or “beat your ass” or “whatever”.

I know this is in fantasy so the same rules for Historical fiction don’t necessarily apply, but it seems pointless to set a story in Victorian London and then have the characters act like modern Americans.

I hope this helps you!

-twit