Warning: This work has been rated 18+ for language and mature content.
Welcome to the Badlands. A place where chaos is prevalent, and order is nearly nonexistent. Once it was home to a mighty empire brimming with magic that kept everything and everyone happy and civil but had collapse because of political and economic turmoil and corruption. Born from the ashes was the Kingdom of Anacreon that have taken up much of the former territories while the remaining regions of the lands have descended into lawlessness and ruled by tribes of bandits and thieves who dabble in blood feuds and trial by combat. Relics of the past have resurfaced and are either being excavated by the Anacreons themselves or being stolen and monopolized by roaring tribes. However, the only thing that can bring order back into a world gone mad is by a broken sword and the one true king who could hold it firmly.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The swordsman wonders the badlands, his hand gripping the hilt of his blade on his side always.
He strutted across the sand while the wind blew. He made sure his face was covered by the red scarf around his face out of fear of being blown away by the strong winds. However, he couldn’t fix the sand going into his boots. The Axiom Desert of the Badlands was a never-ending landscape that looked like it would go on for eternity in all directions. The sand was white and bland with no sign of moisture in sight and the only form of vegetation were the strange scarlet lilies. The occasional coaches and carriages were passed by, suffering the same cruel treatment the desert provided them as they corroded and withered away. Living in such a place would bring nothing but the feeling of death and hopelessness. A land where God had forsaken, even more so than the rest of the Badlands.
The swordsman never thought of himself as a holy man. He did hold onto the possibility of god and remembered the hymns and prayers he learned in church. Being in the badlands, having faith was a bit of a fickle concept with people having given into the meaninglessness of their endeavor or still finding comfort in the idea of a deity bringing divine protection in their journey. However, that did not stop him from praying out of desperation for some god to come and rescue him.
The sandstorm was growing heavier while the white sun’s rays were beating down hard. The swordsman’s red eyes darted back and forth for any sign of a cave or an oasis. He pulled out his water skin and tried taking a sip only to discover that it was completely bone dry before tossing it into the sand. He was struck by a moment of dizziness with his vision of the world around him blurring. Fortunately, it passed, and he continued moving on. However, the fear of such a spell happening again was imminent and he didn’t want to pass out for the buzzards to peck at his flesh. However, that wasn’t what scared him for when he looked over his shoulder, his heart almost stopped as it became overwhelmed with fear when he thought he saw a large shadow approaching in the distance while the sandy winds blew.
He needed to find shelter quick. Suddenly, it seemed his prayers were answered. He looked overhead and spotted something in the distance. What the hell is that?The closer he got, the more visible it became. Is that a house? In a desert? He heard stories of people settling in such a hostile location but never had he thought he would come across such a dwelling. The Hinn race were a primary example of such a nomadic lifestyle.
However, the confusion passed, and he immediately pressed onward. He needed to get out of the heat and sand as soon as possible. So, he dashed as best as he could across the sandy dunes until he reached the two-story wooden house. he saw that there were no windows, seeing no sign if anyone was living saved for the couple of desert goats that roamed the premises. Even with the harsh winds, these little creatures with their reddish-brown fur and curly golden horns acted like everything was normal. Since they lived in the desert, they were more adjustable to the harsh conditions. Nevertheless, he knocked anyway. He waited for a couple of seconds but nothing. He had a feeling it was a longshot and was about to barge right into the house. just then, he heard footsteps from behind the door. It opened and behind it was a man. He was a Hinn and an old one at that with a long gray beard and dressed in rags.
“Yes? Who is it? Who is out there at such an ungodly time?” Said the old man with a scowl. He examined the swordsman with his yellow eyes and patiently waited for a reply.
“Please, I require some shelter and some food. I really need to get out of this storm.”
The old man didn’t respond. He continued staring at the swordsman with suspicion in his gaze. The very thought appeared after seeing the sword that was over his shoulder. Such a thing made him nervous for his own wellbeing. This unnerved the swordsman as a droplet of sweat formed on his temple. Then the old man nodded and allowed the swordsman entrance into his home and once he was in the house, the old man shut the door before the sand started blowing in. The swordsman examined and took notice the inside of the house was well-structured with thick walls that was strong enough to keep the sand from entering.
The old man pointed at the hook hanging on the wall. “Come. Take off your coat. Your shoes also.”
The swordsman complied. He removed his tattered brown jacket and scarf, and hung them up, showing his blue shirt and brown trousers that were underneath. Then he took off his boots as he tapped them against the wall to rattle the sand out of the soles. Such an outfit wouldn’t be necessary for a hot day but would be as protection against the sand. He looked back to the old man who didn’t seem to mind him doing so. Walking on the cold wooden floor on his bare feet, he moseyed around and found the old man at the end of the room. He was crouched down and stirred a small cauldron underneath the fireplace. A delicious smell flowing in the air entered the swordsman’s nostrils, making his mouth watered as he hadn’t eaten in a while.
“So, tell me, stranger. What is your name?” the old man questioned. He turned away from the pot and faced the young man. “Mine is Elmund, by the way.”
The swordsman was hesitant in giving out his identity. However, the old man had already let him into his house and so it would be polite to provide his name. “Anya! Dinner is ready!”
The sound of prattling footsteps ran from the second floor and began climbing down the stairs. Staggering over to the table was a woman who looked to be a few years younger than the swordsman. She had brown skin just like the old man with spikey black hair and yellow eyes. She was even dressed in a tanned dress that accentuated her curves. She was taken aback from the sight of a stranger in her home as she stepped away.
The old man walked over and told her calmly, “Anya. Do not be rude. This man is our guest.”
The young woman walked up to the man and bowed. Then she smiled weakly. “Hello. I’m Anya. I’m Elmund’s granddaughter. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure is all mine. I’m Silas Dunkirk of New Hanover.”
The old man’s eyes grew wide. Anya didn’t understand his reaction and just proceeded to sit down and it her dinner. New Hanover was such a long way down south and people rarely left such a place apart from trading with neighboring towns. Meeting someone from such a place would be a surprise to anyone from up north.
“The people of New Hanover are very private.” The old man poured three bowls and placed them on opposite sides on the table. On the side of each were wooden cups filled to the brim with cactus-beer. Silas sat down and was about explain but was interrupted by Elmund. “Wait. Before we eat, we must give grace.”
Anya and her grandfather cupped their hands and prayed. Silas, on the other hand, grimace but complied and followed. The old man didn’t spoke but sang, “~Diyas, God of the Earth. We give thanks to the food you have provided for us from your bounty. May you forever give us your protection and warmth. Amen.” Once that was over, they proceeded to dine and drink.
“Tell me, what would someone like you being doing here?” the old man questioned.
Silas trailed a hand through his silver hair. Taking a deep breath, he stared vacantly at the stew before him while watching the goat meat floating in the broth. The old man sat in front of him as he waited for a response.
“There were some problems back home and I’m just trying to get away from them,” he answered. Grabbing the spoon, he took a bite, savoring the meat and spices before taking another.
“What did you do? Did you kill a man?” Anya interjected. Her lips up against her cup as she took a sip. The bittersweet taste of the liquor tickling her tongue as her cheeks turned red in an instant.
“No! No! it was nothing that ghoulish! But…” Silas’s voice trailed. He stirred his spoon within the bowl in an absent-minded manner. “…it was something serious enough to get me in trouble with the authorities.”
Elmund mentally sighed in relief. However, another question appeared “What was it?”
“Let’s just say I stole something…valuable, and now I’m wanted in the city.” The young woman’s eyes sparkled while her grandfather remained somewhat distressed. Luckily, such a feeling passed and from looking into his eyes, seeing no sense of malice within them. The Hinn had such a sixth sense, especially the elders who are more experience and wisdom. He could see that Silas imposes no threat to him or his daughter.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Dinner was done, and it was time to head to bed. Elmund prepared a room in the guestroom on the second floor for Silas and right when he settled in, the old man called him over to have a little talk. They sat back at the table. The fireplace was already extinguished with the amber still flickering while smoke festered from the ashes. He tapped his fingers against the surface as he waited for the Elmund to speak.
“So, how long will you be staying with us?”
Silas shrugged. He answered: “I’ll probably be staying for about a day. That is usually how long it take for the sandstorms to end. However, I am not sure which way to get out of the desert and back onto the plains.”
“Unfortunately, the sandstorms last for three days, or even longer, and if you keep down your current route, the skin of your body would be shredded in a matter of minutes. Luckily, I know a safe way out.” the swordsman’s face lit up. that did not last long when the old man continued. “There is just one thing that you must do for me.”
“What is it that you need?” Silas inquired.
What the old man demanded brought chills down the young swordsman’s spine. “I want you to sleep with my granddaughter and give her your child.”
Silas’s face turned white. He stumbled and was about to get out of his chair, glaring at the old man in disgust. “What? Are you insane? Why would I ever…”
“Please, hear me out. this area used to be filled with hundreds of my people but when the sandstorms grew worse, they left one-by-one and headed up north. It is just me and my granddaughter left.”
“Then why didn’t you go with the rest of your people? Why do you insist to stay in such a horrid place?”
“Being an old man, I guess I was unable to leave my ancestral home. As for my granddaughter, ever since her parents past 10 years ago, I took it upon myself to raise her, but I am not long for this world. She is of marriable age and that is why I want her to experience motherhood and continue our bloodline, and once Anya is older, she and her child will be capable of leaving this hell and start a new life somewhere more…prosperous.”
Silas paused and took it into deep thought. Being in his mid-twenties, he didn’t find it ethical to lay with a woman that was in her late teens but on the other hand, he was desperate to get out of the desert and straight to the plains and would do anything for a means to do so.
There was no other option.
“Alright. I’ll do it.”
“Excellent. Go back upstairs. I will have everything arranged.”
Points:
Time spent:
Canary word: Present
Possible AI signals:
Original Text:
Are you sure you want to delete this comment? This cannot be undone.
Mark this comment as a review? Points will be awarded to the poster.
Your comment was posted, but it wasn’t long enough to count as a review. Reviews need about four complete sentences (at least 250 characters). Try writing another review that explains your thoughts in more detail — the author will appreciate it, and you’ll earn points for it.
125,013 Literary Works • 672,842 Reviews
Hi.
Now, is Anya of the age of consent by the laws of your world? Most probably; most feudal or otherwise fantastical societies tend to have laxer laws than the developed world. Here's the problem: Your audience doesn't live in your fantasy world. Your audience lives in the here and now. And in the here and now, at least in the United States, the legal age of consent is the same as the legal age of adulthood -- which is 18. Anya is a minor. She cannot consent to this act.Let's jump into the deep end.
I opened this story looking for what the genres promise: a fantasy adventure. I love fantasy, and I love adventures. A Song of Ice and Fire (or Game of Thrones) is one of my favorite book series, especially when it comes to this kind of darker, more serious fantasy. I was initially curious as to what Silas was doing in this desolate landscape.
And then I read the chapter.
I'd hate to say it, but I would put this book down. No book needs to open up with sex in chapter 1 unless it's completely pornographic. No matter how necessary you feel this sex scene is -- couldn't it wait until a later chapter, when we've better met Silas, formed our opinions on him, and gotten to know what kind of person he is?
You threw us into a vague fantasy apocalypse, kind of established the culture of the area. We don't really know what kind of person Silas is. You haven't actually showed us his character or actions, really. You haven't enforced that he's desperate. He's got a dry water-skin, but you'd think this would be an issue he would've solved before the story began (or he would've known it was empty). While you do a good job setting up the environment, your character remains a blank canvas.
And then he has sex with a sixteen-year-old girl.
Let me correct myself: He rapes a sixteen-year-old girl.
Before you come at me by claiming it's consensual, I'd like to point you to a definition of statutory rape that I snagged from Wikipedia:
Media doesn't exist in a vacuum. What you write, no matter where or when it is set, is being interpreted in a modern way -- because it's being read by modern people. And in a modern context, this is rape. This is a 28-year-old man taking advantage of a 16-year-old girl who expresses hesitation. The intercourse itself is described in "erotic" detail, continuously reminding us that Anya is consenting and she wants this to happen, while Silas feels nothing bad whatsoever about using her like this.
This is effectively child pornography.
I hope you understand this. I am speaking from a place as an adult in a consenting dom/sub relationship with another adult, as a reader of fantasy and, yes, certain "depraved" genres of such, and as a concerned citizen. To put it simply, this is child pornography that has been posted on a website full of minors.
I'm not telling you to make it non-sexual. I'm telling you to make Anya an adult, or not describe it in such detail, especially in chapter 1. There is no reason to have such lurid, blatant sex in chapter 1 unless you are meaning to write something completely pornographic.
Thank you for listening.
thank you. you gave a much better insight than certain people. the last person who talked about the sex just kept bashing me, telling me I'm fetishizing child pornography.
Also, I come from North Carolina and 16 is the age of consent for women.
It's federally illegal in the United States to create pornographic material with an actor or other person involved who is under the age of 18. While I understand your age of consent differs from mine (18, in both the place I have lived), we're both beholden to federal regulations. If you wanted to escape that, liked GRR Martin, you'd have to make it a lot less sexual to the point where basically no one would call it pornographic or erotic. (If it's supposed to be erotic, then it's pornographic by definition.)
As is, the age of adulthood in the US is 18, and that is the legal age for such things. So be it.
Besides, the human brain and body are still very impressionable until they hit 25 or so. And if Anya is malnourished, she probably hasn't even had her first period yet (many people don't start until 16 or 17 anyway, especially in the presence of health and environmental factors such as malnutrition and stress. I'd imagine living in the badlands is pretty stressful.)
Alright. I%u2019ll change it.
Hey Kman
This is pure exposition. While I get a clear sense that you have spent a lot of time thinking about this world and developing a rich history for it, I strongly advise against opening your story with a large, explain-y paragraph, because it feels like I am reading a textbook rather than an actual story.
The second sentence is a fragment and feels like it should be joined with the first via a comma instead.
Trotted isn’t a great word choice here, because it makes me think of a horse rather than a mighty swordsman. Be extra careful with word choice especially at the beginning of a story or chapter, because this is when you are setting the tone and atmosphere, which one single word can either make or break.
This sentence is phrased oddly, if the scarf is already around his face then he doesn’t need to make sure it is?
You repeat a very similar thought here, and you do it much better with the latter idea about going on for eternity. This creates a better tone.
What I am going to advise here is to use the reader’s ability to make easy assumptions to your advantage. That is to say, you don’t always need to state the obvious. In this sentence, we don’t need the parts I striked because this is pretty much how everyone will imagine a desert. Instead, the sand being white and the strange lillies are way more interesting, focus on those details that we might not expect. We can fill in the rest ourselves.
Another example of unnecessary words. I won’t point these out now FYI, just thought a few examples would help you find the rest.
So he’s . . . agnostic? I’m unsure what this paragraph is trying to tell us. Which of the last two sentences related to him? If you’re going to throw in a massive topic such as religion then you will need to convince us how it relates strongly to the protagonist in some way, or how it doesn’t relate to him and how that is also meaningful.
But but but you just said he isn’t religious of any sort. Even if this is figurative speech, it definitely doesn’t belong.
What kind of stories? This might’ve been a good way to inject a sentence or two of world building.
What was visibly obvious about him that makes him a “Hinn”? We don’t know what a Hinn is.
Occasionally you don’t start sentences with a capital letter, FYI. A question mark ends a sentence.
He’s wearing a jacket in a burning hot desert? I get the scarf needs to cover his face but a jacket?!
No I think she has the right idea, and I don’t understand why Elmund is being so naïve here, considering a swordsman just arrived from nowhere and demanded refuge in his home. Why is he so easily accommodating?
People rarely speak without using contractions, so not using them sounds robotic and unnatural. Read edited versions below out loud and you might hear what I mean.
“Hello. I’m Anya. I’m Elmund’s granddaughter. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“The pleasure’s all mine. I’m Silas Dunkirk of New Hanover.”
Would an old man really say “anyways” – sounds more like a teenage girl. Or me.
This reaction is a little too late? He was clearly carrying a longsword when he entered. The time for caution has passed.
That’s quite forthcoming. How can he expect them to provide refuge whilst openly admitting to thievery?
This is a bit unbelievable. You’ll have to be way more convincing if you want us to buy that the old man can just look into Silas’s eyes and know he poses no threat.
Both of these characters are now named. Seems cumbersome to keep using titles such as “the old man” and “the swordsman”.
Holy F this story took a turn! I like the sudden intensity here. At this point I was waiting for something to kick off so this is a great way to inject excitement. Totally wasn’t expecting this!
This is a petty nitpick, but something can’t be barely readable. It’s either readable or not. I get that you mean that the writing is incomplete, as in actual words are missing, but this implies that the words are faded and if they were just slightly clearer, he could read them, which isn’t really possible.
Why the surprise? He already deduced that the knock was light and therefore had to by Anya. And it was.
I’m so glad he asked this. Obviously this topic is a bit controversial, but what better way to tell us what kind of person Silas is. He obviously has a goal, having stolen some kind of mysterious item, and it is now clear that he is willing to shut off his moral compass somewhat to complete this goal. But the fact that he asked this question shows that he isn’t entirely cutthroat, we can see that layer of respect shining through. Great job here. This is a really good way show a three dimensional character.
***
Overall comments:
I liked this a lot more than I thought I would going into it. There were a lot of typos and silly mistakes, but disregarding those, not a bad piece at all.
There are a few elements I wanted to provide overall thoughts on:
Pace:
The pace was nice and slow, just how I like it at the start of a story. You really gave me a chance to settle into the story and get a sense of what Silas is about. I like the simplicity of this opening. What I like is that you have a great sense of how much information you need to provide your readers (disregarding the exposition wall at the beginning), nothing felt too forced or clumsy. The dialog did get a bit “exposition-y” but this is very forgivable in the first chapter, especially since you did such a good job not forcing it anywhere else in the story.
Setting:
This reminds me a lot of The Gunslinger, it’s very similar, a lone man walking through a desert with a clear purpose ahead and a dark past behind, who comes across a strange house. There are obviously massive differences so I’m not worried about the similarities, just suggesting you should check this book out if you haven’t already.
As I mentioned before I think you could have done a better job highlighting was makes the desert different to what we already expect, such as the lilies. But you could also play around more with the atmosphere and the harsh sandstorms the old man mentioned. It’s very shocking that Silas is being so risky crossing the desert in the first place, so you could drum up a sense of danger by showing us how volatile the desert is, which will also raise the question: why is he crossing it in the first place?
Characters:
I like Silas. Not so much at first, because there was a lack of purpose and I was struggling to find something to latch on to. I had no reason to root for him. But then that turned around towards the end - it was mostly the way he asked Anya if she was comfortable with what they were about to do. This was really satisfying because it not only cemented that he has some level of respect and good intention, but at the same time that he was ruthless and was prepared to do anything it takes to continue his request. I love a good inner conflict and you have captured this quite well.
I also like the little storyline you have implanted regarding the old man, the justification he had for staying in the desert. I like that it wasn’t overbearing on the main story, but it was necessary to create that little hint of realism and also solidify his request of Silas. I think his dialogue needs some work to properly set him apart as his own character, but the motivations etc were strong.
With Anya, I wish she had a little more going for her. I wish her motivations were stronger than “I’m just trying to make my father happy.” What does SHE want? I couldn’t tell if she genuinely wanted to follow through with the deed or if there was any hesitation. She seemed eager based on how quickly she “readied” herself haha but idk, I feel like there is a little three-dimensional-ness missing with her.
Hook
You’ve raised a really good question that has hooked me in. What item was so important to steal that he would then risk his life traversing a harsh desert, which he seems really unprepared to navigate. It’s good that I don’t have these answers yet. Like I said, you’ve done a great job balancing how much information to divulge, which in turn has created a lovely sense of mystery.
***
That’s all I have for now. I genuinely enjoyed this and would love a tag when chapter 2 comes out.
-Zoom
Hey, Zoom. took your comments and have edited the first chapter. here's to answer your questions. the problem with Microsoft word is that it never informs you perfectly of the mistake and grammatical typos in your works, which you have to find on your own and can be a pain in the ass sometimes.
yes. Silas is agnostic but still believes in a god of sorts (should have explained that better, especially remarking that he's been praying for some divine intervention in the axiom desert.)
the Hinn are a desert dwelling race of humans with reddish-brown skin and yellow eyes. they possess some form of sixth sense and can sense it by looking into people's eyes. they resemble people of Arabic and/or North American origin, and have some familiarity with magic in the form of animism.
while the tattered jacket is not meant for the heat, it is meant to protect Silas from the harsh sandy winds of the Axiom desert. we don't want him to hav his skin torn off from the sands.
While the sword is a piece of the puzzle, there is something he is looking for with the sword but is running from something that is also after the sword and it is not the authorities.
Thanks for the reply
will you continue to post the chapters?
yes.