Death in the Shadows.

[zelda12]

This is a short story about an assassin.

The wind howled outside the vast citadel. The moon was hidden beneath clouds casting eyrie shadows over the battlements as the Guards walked their sections of the wall. When the guard's paths intersected they huddled together and exchanged conversation in the icy wind.
Below the wall a man dressed in dark green stood almost invisible against the dark wall watching the guards icy breath up above. Once their breath stopped to cloud the air above the battlements the man uncoiled a rope and flung it upward to one of the crenelations. Once, twice three times he missed, on the third attempt it caught. The man grabbed hold and tugged hard to check that the rope would hold his weight. Then with practised ease he quickly and quietly shimmied up the rope and over the battlements.

Inside the citadel his lordship the duke of Normandy sipped wine in his fur lined chair as he listened to his chamberlains excuses.
B...but my lord I thought that I had caught the last of the rebels on your orders and had them put to death.
Do you think I would do that? Do you think I am stupid? Cried the Duke his voice rising to a crescendo. Do you think that I would order those men to be killed when the king has told me specifically to have them questioned to find out who sponsored them to rebel
As he raged at his chamberlain he arose from his chair throwing his Goblet to the floor.
Nnno sir, Replied the man, it will never happen again. as the Duke turned his back on him.
I know. The Duke answered softly. Then with a speed unusual for one so large of girth he grabbed his chamberlain by the lapels and spoke. I know this will never happen again because you will never see another sunrise ever again. With that the Duke threw the man bodily out of the window.
As the guards illuminated by the moonlight to seem like the demons of the nether as they ran forward torches held aloft to see what had happened. Then they turned their faces upward towards their lord's window where they saw the Dukes rapidly retreating form.

Whilst this was happening the man in the dressed in dark green was stealthily making his way towards the citadel. Padding around the courtyard like a cat keeping to the shadows as he progressed towards the entrance of the citadel. Suddenly he heard a noise of a group of men as they spilled out of the tavern the whole courtyard was filled with light from the tavern as well as with the raucous laughter and merriment from inside. Dashing into the shadows the man stared at the drunken men at arms as they lurched of into the night. After waiting for a few minutes he set of again towards the entrance. Upon seeing it he started to hug the walls till he got to the scaffold stairway that led to the doorway. Outside off which stood a pair of guards. The man jumped up and caught hold of one of the pieces of lumber. Then he quickly climbed up through the scaffolding towards the deck where the guards stood. Drawing two knives as he jumped up over the side he slashed out at the first guard, slicing through his neck, splashing his dark red blood. Then he spins around behind the second guard ducking down and slicing through the back of his legs, bringing him to his knees. Standing up the man walked round to face the Guard who looked up at the mans face which was shadowed by his hood. With a quick slash the man slit the guard's throat who fell to the floor as his blood gurgled to the floor, staining the planks with his blood.

As the duke turned away from the window he saw the door was slightly ajar. He walked over to it and slammed it shut. Muttering to himself he turned around to be confronted by a tall figure clothed all in dark green. Hooded with a dark knife in his hand. To his horror the Duke saw it was dripping with blood. His voiced iced with fear the duke spoke up. Who the hell are you?
The man pulled back his hood to reveal a tanned and windswept face. It was criss-crossed with scars one, a long ugly one from his eyebrow to mouth, had obviously lost him the sight in one eye as it was a clouded over and lifeless. He had the look of a man who had seen and committed many crimes.
I, I am your imminent demise. As the man spoke he lunged out catching the Duke in the stomach. Slicing across he exposed his intestines to the moonlight. Then the man walked over to the sword by the chair. Drawing it from its scabbard he walked over to the Duke. With a thunk the Dukes head came from his shoulders, the man stooped down and picked it up and stuffed it into the leather bag at his hip.

The serving girl walked into the Dukes bedchamber upon seeing her lord's body she let out a blood-curdling scream that woke the whole castle.

Off in the distance the man saw lights spring to life all over the castle. Chuckling he rode off away from the castle. The pouch that had contained the erstwhile duke's head was now filled with the reassuring weight of a king's ransom in florins.

Okay thats it please give me some comments and or ideas for the mans next client/victim.

[scooter_the_shooter]

i like it this is the first one i saw of an assasin

[katank]

how charming...

another one bites the dust muwahahaha.

excellent more

[The Sword of Cao Cao]

I LOVED this thing m8 Go on I have plebty of sake on me, and a taste for assassination. Whats our man in green next victim?

[zelda12]

Heres the next installment
Death in the Shadows part two

The three men walked down the mud-slicked streets of Bologna. The constant stream of horse and oxen drawn carts and wagons churned the streets into a quagmire that sucked at their boots as they crossed over to the tavern from which the raucous laughter was emerging onto the cold and wet street.

As the men entered the tavern they were assailed with the smells and sights common in most of the most disreputable bars in town. A combination of beer, vomit and burnt food assailed their noses. From up above in the rooms they could hear rhythmic bumping sounds from the beds up stairs. The roaring hearth appeared to be blocked because as well as the blast furnace heat it gave out billows of smoke that gave the entire tavern a smoky and hellish atmosphere.

In the far corner sat a man dressed in a black leather jacket which only just covered his blacked out chainmail. Combined with his black cloak and trousers he looked as if he was a member of the clergy. However what distinguished him from a Dominican monk was his face. It bore the look of a man who had seen, and caused, many premature deaths. It was tanned and scared after many years of hardship and work. His eyes, or eye as one of his most prominent scars ran from his right eyebrow to his nose had taken the sight in one of his eyes which now sat lifeless, however was always moving analysing and evaluating the area around him.

The man watched as the three men entered the tavern and began to look around. His eye met that of the tallest of the three whom immediately leaned over and talked into the ear of the shortest one. The three then made a beeline towards his table. The two tall ones jostling anyone out of the way. Just before they reached the table the tall ones split apart from the short to take up station around the table that the man was sitting at. The shortest of the three came over to the man.
May I sit down?
The man waved his hand and answered with a short. Yes.
What may I call you? Asked the man as he helped himself to some of the man's cheese. With snake like speed the man's hand shot out grabbing the short mans hand in a vice like grip. Shaking the short man dropped the cheese onto the table and haltingly spoke. My name is Guy of Brisbonne.
You may call me Diablo. Replied the man in fluent French.
I did not no you spoke French my English friend. Exclaimed Guy.
I am not your friend and neither am I English. Diablo calmly replied in Arabic. Guy's face became wreathed in miscomprehension. Sighing Diablo repeated himself in French.
Of course. Said Guy. However you might say we are in the same sort of profession.
Snorting Diablo looked Guy up and down, he was short and podgy and had the look of a man who had not done very much in his life. His eyes however, his eyes, they shone with rare intelligence within his fat face. I doubt that you are in my particular profession. Guy begins to interrupt but Diablo raises his finger to stop him. But you do appear to have the look of a purveyor of information. I shall get straight to the point what do your employers want me to see to and when by?
Direct and to the point I like that. He pauses to take a drink from a bottle he had in his robes. There is a certain Bishop who has been rather outspoken of his condemnation of his majesty these past few months. His preaching is causing quite some unrest in the countryside among the peasants and a certain amount of the lords. He is at the moment on his way to Rome on a pilgrimage. It would be most unfortunate if he had an accident on the way. A two thousand florin accident maybe, when his head is delivered here to me at this time in two months time. As he spoke a broad grin cracked on Guy's face.
Two months it is then. With that Diablo got up and walked out of the tavern into the now driving rain.

The sun beat down on the dusty road in Provence as the procession of monks and guards marched down the hot and dusty road. In the middle of the procession was a curtained carriage with a large ornate cross of gold and silver on top of it. As the procession of ten guards and twenty monks wound it's way into the wooded valley that the road went through. The observant guard would of seen a brief glimpse of a man dressed in dark green fleeing deeper into the forest. Unfortunately for the men in the procession none of them were being very observant.

Diablo watched as the column of men meandered through the valley. Selecting an arrow he drew his bow back and sighted along the arrow.

The lead guard had just reached the edge of the valley as an arrow streaked out of the woods catching the horse for the carriage through the throat. The horse went down thrashing, kicking two monks causing them to fall to the ground in agony. Three arrows followed in quick succession one taking a guard in the neck and another hit a glancing blow to a monks head while the final one pierced the chainmail vest a guard was wearing, throwing him back against the carriage.One of the guards cried out. Protect his grace Quickly the guards and monks formed a circle of human bodies around the carriage that contained the Bishop.

Diablo quickly fired of three arrows in secession taking down two guards and a monk. Pulling another arrow out of his holder he drew his bow and let fly. The arrow hit a monk in the shoulder pitching him backwards. Another of his arrows caught a guard in the eye causing him to fall backwards clutching his profusely bleeding face. By this time only three of the original guards were still standing.

Diablo dropped his bow and started to run towards the remnants of the Bishops retinue. As he pounded towards them he drew two swords that gleamed unnaturally in the twilight. As he crashed into them he slashed rights slicing open the belly of one of the monks whilst parrying a blow from one of the guards with his other sword. Quickly he ducked under the blade of the guard, which he had just parried, twirling around behind the guard Diablo slashed through the mans lower back cutting his spine and causing him to collapse to the ground dead. As he did the Diablo stabbed backward catching a monk through the throat. Twirling around, he was confronted by the two remaining guards. Diablo slid the first guards slash whilst driving upward with his other sword through the guards stomach and up through his ribcage.

A sudden pain sliced through Diablo's back as the second guards sword carved through his back. Staggering round Diablo fell to his knees. The one remaining guard stepped over to him and raised his sword for the killing blow. Diablo looked up into his eyes and with snake like speed reached into his robes and drew a dagger and plunged it up through the guard's ribs to pierce his heart. The guard let out a short sigh before he fell to the floor.

Inside the curtained carriage the Bishop was fervently praying as he heard the screams as his monks were hunted down and killed by what seemed to him like a demon from hell, from what he had seen through the curtains. As he kneeled down and clasped his bible to his chest. With a great rip the curtain was ripped back confronting him with a one eyed monster covered in blood dressed all in dark green.
I shall pray for your soul my son. Was the serene response to Diablos raising of a longsword taken from one of the guards.
Soul, I had a soul. Unfortunately for you I lost mine long ago. With that he raised the sword high and brought it down. With a dull plop the Bishops head hit the ground.

The band of traveller's wound its way through the wooded valley road. Suddenly one of the horses reared up and refused to go any further. Grumbling the driver got down to see what had spooked the horse. Come on old girl. Wonder what's got you so spooked all of a sudden? With that he walked ahead for a few meters until he had rounded the bend in the road. What met his eyes mad him retch, the half eaten rotting bloated bodies of monks and soldiers lay all about the section of the road. The stench made him go over to the bushes and be sick. Once he was done he noticed the decapitated body of the bishop crossing himself the man ran stumbling away from the scene of slaughter.

On the outskirts of Bologna a man dressed all in a dark green rode away from the city in his saddlebags was two thousand florins and some pieces of paper. The spy had sung like a bird before he died, reflected the man as he wondered who would pay the highest price for them.

Right that's assassination number two. Give me your thoughts.

[katank]

pretty good. so the assasin killed the fella after getting paid?

[Ludens]

Very good. But who is this diablo guy, actually? Perhaps you could tell more about him?

[zelda12]

Diablo is the assasin character from the first one. He is the main character, for those of you who don't know El Diablo, means the Devil. Even I don't know everything about him I expect that as I write he will develop and his true story will come out.

[Ludens]

Quote[/b] (zelda12 @ June 18 2004,18:26)]Diablo is the assasin character from the first one. He is the main character, for those of you who don't know El Diablo, means the Devil. Even I don't know everything about him I expect that as I write he will develop and his true story will come out.

I am sorry, I should have clarified. What I meant was that you should tell the reader more about diablo. If you can slowly reveal his past, it would make a very good story element.
I would like to read more. Keep it up, zelda12.

[zelda12]

This story is set in Marseilles and involves one of the many gangs that controls much of the smuggling in the city. The Gang in question being the La mort têtes. Or the death heads. (Please correct my French if I'm wrong as I'm doing it at school still. So any help would be welcome in my spelling and tense and stuff, in French that is.)

Chapter one
As Diablo walked through the great trading city of Marseilles even he could not feel some awe at the greatness and wealth of the place. A wealth born of trade and extortion and off death and conquest. Although competing with Genoa, Marseilles had helped to furnish the crusade that marched to the Holy Land to drive the infidels from the birthplace of Christ. Snorting at the thought of those great failures he continued walking toward the docks, where his next client was waiting.

As he reached the docks his senses were battered. The smell of salt and fish was all pervasive. Men cried their wares to the great throngs of people. The sailors unloaded all manner of objects from the ships tied up on the wharf. The entire scene had an air of organised chaos as the merchants counted up their profits and handed out the wages to the sailors and dock men who then had their money taken by the many harlots and cardsharps that haunted the docks or put their sovereigns in the tavernkeepers hands. Along the fronts of the Dockside stood the huge warehouses of the large trading houses and of the smaller independent merchants. It was here that the small warehouse of an independent merchant by the name of Pierre Douches. It was also here that Diablo set his beggar bowl and wrapped himself in the dirty rags of someone who did not require them anymore.

For three days Diablo watched the house cataloguing the routine of Mr Douches. Making the plan of his demise. So it was that on the fourth night when all the staff had left the warehouse but Pierre, seizing his moment Diablo threw off the stinking robes that he had disguised himself with and began to nimbly scale one of the buildings bordering Douches' warehouse. Jumping up Diablo grabbed one of the beams jutting out of the front wall. Heaving himself up onto it, he drew two long knives and plunged them into the wall above his head. Pulling himself up Diablo wedged his foot into one of the cracks in the bleached plaster that covered the building. Diablo then brought his other foot so it was resting on one of the knives. Precariously Diablo reached behind his back under his Dark green cloak to pull out a rope. Looking upwards he flung it up over one of the protruding decorative gargoyles As the end of the rope fell down to earth, over the gargoyle, the knife that Diablo was standing on gave way pitching him downwards.

Chapter Two
Pierre was hunched over the large ledger totalling up the takings for today. Then the candle, by which flickering light he was writing, was blown out by a sudden gust of wind. Muttering to him self and vowing that he would get an assistant to do this for him he bumbled around in the dark to find the flint and tinder to re light the candle. Pierre finally achieved it when he heard a large splintering sound resounded from downstairs. Jumping Pierre ran to the door and dropped the bar.

The four muscle of La mort têtes walked along the mist strewn dock side towards Douches' warehouse. The tallest of the three, Jacque, spoke up. So we go there and collect the money this Douches owes right. The shortest and incidentally the smartest, having more Brain cells than the number of pair's shoes the number of pairs of shoes being one, Jean replied. Did you not listen to the boss, we go in trash the place then take anything of value, then we collect what he owes the boss.
But what if he doesn't want to pay? Asked Pascal. The final of the four, Charles, drew one of his many knives. Well then we practise our aim with our throwing knives. He said setting of raucous laughter among his companions.
Through the mist they made out Pierre's warehouse. Through unspoken agreement they all broke into a trot towards the door. By the time they reached it they represented a speeding Juggernaut and the door gave little resistance as they crashed into it.

Cowering behind his desk Pierre listened to the bar on his door start to splinter from the rhythmic pounding that it was receiving from his would be killers. Sitting behind his desk quivered Pierre, as the bar finally gave way a wet patch could be seen spreading across his trousers. Four heavily tattooed and muscled mort têtes that seemed to be barely able fit through the door. The largest of them whose knuckles seemed to drag along the floor behind him walked over and bodily grabbed Pierre. Mr Ranceu wants a word with you.

The next parts coming up soon.

[frogbeastegg]

Finally got time to read this; the first part reminds me of the old shogun: total war ninja movies. I always thought it was a shame MTW didn't have those :sigh:

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (frogbeastegg @ June 19 2004,21:33)]Finally got time to read this; the first part reminds me of the old shogun: total war ninja movies. I always thought it was a shame MTW didn't have those :sigh:

Same here. I loved those, especially the priest ones. The bomb one was fantastic, as were the geisha assassinations

Nice story, you do action and fight scenes very well. As said before, I'm looking for more exploration of Diablo, but so far this has been good

[zelda12]

Such high praise from such mead hall celebs. About developing Diablo's character I've already planned out his past and his destiny and I'm dieing to tell you all but if I did it would ruin the story.

[Axeknight]

Quote[/b] (zelda12 @ June 19 2004,23:33)]Such high praise from such mead hall celebs.

Ludens is unofficial mead hall critic, and the Frog is reigning queen of the mead hall...

[The Sword of Cao Cao]

LOVE it m8. Really reminds me of the ninja movies from STW. Cant wait to here more on Diablo

[zelda12]

Chapter Three
The blazing sun beat down as the troop of horsemen in chainmail rose a cloud of dust as they rode down the dusty animal track through the plain of golden corn that was gently waving in the breeze. All of a sudden a man broke cover from the corn by the side of the track and started running to the barely distinguishable smoke that rose over the small hamlet in the distance. The leader, distinguishable by his ornate helm that he wore, shouted at the lead rider in Arabic. Yelling the man shouted and dug his spurs into his horse's flank. The running man ran as he had never run before he could feel his legs turn from jelly to lead weights as he pounded along the dirt track. He could hear the pounding of hoofs growing behind him. Suddenly his foot caught in a pothole sending him tumbling forward head of heels. Then lying there he saw the horsemen drop his lance. Closing his eyes he awaited the punch as the lance pierced his chest. The horseman watched as the man he was chasing fell, seizing his opportunity he dropped his lance and drove it through the mans neck impaling him to the ground.

The village was a hive of activity preparing for the upcoming harvest. The villagers were all busy doing the various jobs. Out side the blacksmith, the blacksmiths assistant was sharpening the sickle's and scythes. Inside the blacksmith could be heard shooing the horses that would be drawing the wagons. One of the young women could be heard shouting for her child. Spotting one of the other boys she cried out to him. Miguel have you seen my boy. He replied by shaking his head.

A young boy of about five years old was playing in the corn with a stick slashing about him like the knights and men at arms that passed through the village. When the yells began. Moors, Moors. Hearing the screams and yells of his elders the boy began running towards the village when he reached the edge he stopped dead in his tracks. What greeted his young eyes was chaos the Moorish horsemen were riding down the men of the village slicing off heads and spearing them with their lances wherever they found them. Two of the horsemen dismounted and ran towards the blacksmith. Just as they were about to burst in the boy's father came out wielding two of the forge hammers.

He struck out with his first hammer catching the fist Moor straight in the head crumpling his skull. His next swing caught the second Moors upraised sword arm shattering it causing it to hang limply by his side. Then with a huge cry the boy's father brought both hammers together on the Moors head crushing it with a sickening crunch. He then ran forward to smash down wards on another dismounted Moor who was chasing some of the women of the village. Turning around his father caught sight of the leader of the raiders who drew his sword and pointed it at his father and dug his spurs into the flank of his horse. Dropping one of his hammers the boy's father took it two handed and awaited the charging horse. Just as it was upon him he side stepped to the right, away from the Moor's sword arm, and brought the hammer down onto the back of the horses head. With a cry the Moor was somersaulted of his dying horse, hitting the dirt heavily, winding him. As the Moor was lying there the boys father walked over to him and raised his hammer, but before he could strike a Moorish horsemen plunged his spear through his fathers back before riding back and slashing open his throat. As his father hit the dirt the boys eyes welled with tears and he began to cry. Father, Father.

Chapter Four
Diablo woke with a start to find that he was not, as he had thought he would be, lying on the hard wet cobblestones off the Dock front. But instead was lying on a mattress in a bed, and to his horror that his clothes were draped over a nearby stool along with his weapons. Before he could get out of bed a young woman walked in, she was tall with black hair and green eyes with a lightly tanned skin. So you're awake then? She asked coldly. Yes I am awake. Answered Diablo. Good. As she spoke she drew a long dagger and lunged at Diablo. Reacting quickly Diablo's hands shot out one grabbing the wrist that held the dagger the other hand grabbed her shoulder and pulled her over so he was lying on top of her on the floor.
Let go of me. She cried out.
I will release you when you tell me two things. One, who you are and two, why did you just try to kill you. Was Diablos reply. She returned the favour by spitting in his eye.
That was the wrong answer, I'm wearing no clothes I've just woken up to find an attractive lady trying to kill me in a place I know nothing about for a thing I know nothing about, so could you please oblige me by answering my questions? Lamented Diablo.
My name is Marie Douches, you are in what used to be my fathers house, the reason I want to kill you was that two days ago my fathers body was found outside his burnt out warehouse. With that her grip on the knife slipped and she slowly began to sob. Levering himself of her he sat down on the bed and felt the back of his head. With a hiss of pain he quickly with drew his fingers, he then gingerly felt again and was rewarded by finding a huge swollen and sore bump on his head.
How long have I been unconscious. Wiping the tears from her eyes Marie answered Three days.
Three days Exclaimed Diablo. Shaking his head he spoke up. Why would you kill me, I didn't kill you're father I was unconscious at the time as you may of noticed and by the way who undresses me
I wasn't trying to kill you, I was trying to stop you killing me.
Why would I try to kill you.
Hah. You the great assassin, you were sent to kill my father, I know that much.
If you know I was sent to kill your father why didn't you just kill me when you found me. Replied Diablo.
I didn't kill you when I found you because you're the only chance I have of catching and killing my fathers killers. As she spoke Diablo looked into her eyes and saw the deep burning desire and hatred that lurked within her soul. But at the same time their was great pain and sorrow their.
I shall help you find your fathers killers and I will provide my services when I do.
I have no money to pay you. burst out Marie. Holding his index finger out Diablo continued. I was going to say, in thanks for looking after me these past days.
Nodding Marie said. I'll leave you to get changed and then we'll start our search.
We? Asked Diablo a quizzical look on his face.
We. She answered then made to walk out of the room. At the door she turned round and said. By the way I undressed you and by the way I've seen bigger.
Bigger? Stuttered Diablo.
Yes bigger scars. Explained Marie barely concealing her grin.


Right more coming soon. Enjoy

[zelda12]

This story is gonna be a long hall job. But, please please please give me creative critiscm as I'm still a noob at writing so if you veterans could give me pointers I will include them in my work.






Plus if no one replys I have commitment issues if I know someone likes it then I carry on if no one does then I go into a corner and cry.

[scooter_the_shooter]

your a better wruter than me. read my story and it wont even make sense lol

[zelda12]

Heres the next chapter

Chapter Five
Diablo turned to Marie, You're sure he'll know. He said looking at the man that was walking through the busy market place buzzing with the activity of the sellers buyers and bystanders all shouting with each other, hawking their wares to the passers, haggling over the prices of their wares, or just standing there in the large groups of women gossiping. The man in question was a short man dressed in expensive velvet cloak with gold rings on his fingers and a large chain around his neck.
Of course I'm sure. She said putting her hands on her hips and glaring at Diablo. Sighing Diablo put up his hood and walked into the thronging mass of people that pervaded the Market place. Muttering under his breath Diablo said, Like she was sure about the other six.

Diablo slipped through the crowds towards the man. As he neared one of the alleys Diablo grabbed him, putting his hand on the man's mouth and his arm round his neck, then dragged him into the alley. Drawing a dagger Diablo grabbed the man by the neck and pushed him up against the wall. What do you know about the murder of Pierre Douches?
Who? Stammered the man.
The trader who was found in his burnt out warehouse. As Diablo is talking Marie walks into the alley and slowly draws a long thin dagger.
I don't know who you're talking about. Answered the man quivering.
You see I think that you do know some thing, as he berates the man, the man could see Marie leaning against the wall sliding her finger along the knife. Diablo leaned forward and spoke into the man's ear. You better talk to me, or else I'll let her do the questioning and the last person she questioned was singing soprano in the cathedral choir. Then Diablo leaned back and asked the man again. What do you know. The man looked into Marie's eyes and then back into the shadowed face of Diablo.
Okay I'll talk, I'll talk. I heard something about it, okay. Just before his body turned up two men turned up and told me not too chase any murders by the docks for a few days.
Who were they.
They didn't say. With that Diablo drew back his knife threateningly. But I think I know who it was, burst out the man, One of the men had a tattoo, It was of a skull wreathed in flames.
Gasping Marie said, That's what we need. and walked out of the alley back into the Market.
Diablo relaxed his grip on the man. Thank you for your help. He said to the man. Quickly with striking snake speed he brought his dagger up and across the man's throat. Diablo stepped back and watched as the man fell to his knees clutching at his throat, as if to keep the blood in that was gushing over his coat and rings and chains turning it all into an off red colour. The man slowly toppled over onto the duty alley surface, almost immediately a pool of blood began spread out from where he had fallen.

On the edge of the market Marie was walking away when Diablo materialised beside her as if from nowhere. They walked along the side streets to wards Marie's home for a way until Diablo spoke up. So what did the tattoo mean?
That tattoo meant that it was La mort têtes that killed my father. She answered in resignation.
What's La mort têtes mean?
La mort têtes is one of the largest gangs in the city they control most of the smuggling in and out of the city.
So?
So, so. That means that you wouldn't be going against one man as I thought you would but a virtual army. Not even you would do that without being paid.
This gang is very large?
Yes of course it is. Replied Marie in exasperation.
So it's likely to be rich?
Well yes, of course it is. But...
But nothing, I will get my pay from them and return your fathers fortune.
With that Diablo turned round And started back towards the market place. Soon Marie lost sight of him so sighing with resignation started walking back to her house.

I really don't care if people think I can't write. Iknow I can't. I can't punctuate I know of grammar but generally just ignore it. But I enjoy writing so this story will endure untill its finished then I'll fix all the little mistakes and parts that don't make sense. The reason why I post these is so that the powers that be in the mead hall can comment and help me improve.

[scooter_the_shooter]

this story very well might make you one of the powers in the mead hall

[frogbeastegg]

Quote[/b] (zelda12 @ June 22 2004,16:10)]I really don't care if people think I can't write. Iknow I can't. I can't punctuate I know of grammar but generally just ignore it. But I enjoy writing so this story will endure untill its finished then I'll fix all the little mistakes and parts that don't make sense. The reason why I post these is so that the powers that be in the mead hall can comment and help me improve.

That is a contradiction - you say you want to improve, but immediately pass over one of the most important areas of writing. You have to start at the foundations, with the boring bits like punctuation.

This is coming from a frog still learning proper punctuation.

Punctuation sets the tone, the pace, it gives the words meaning and if you get it wrong you can pervert your meaning something terrible. Without good punctuation and grammar wiring is harder to read and understand; if you write something that is a chore to read people will avoid it. As we have many non-native English speakers on these forums correct grammar and punctuation becomes even more important.

As you gain understanding of how punctuation works you can wrote more complex things; my discovery of the semi colon around page 80 of Red Hand lead to a revolution in how I wrote, it become possible to add more detail to my world without breaking things down into several sentences, or creating long, run on sentences.

If you post a story with confusing parts by the time you come back and fix them it is too late, you have already confused your readers. I know the eagerness to post your latest part, I’m the same, but you have to post a part that is the best you can make it; this is the only way to due justice to your vision, and to your readers.

[zelda12]

I bow to your superior knoledge.

The point I was trying to make was that I do need help at points so that the powers that be can help as you just did.

Ha Ha worked see. Thanks for the tips I do understand that but the rashness of youth can some times get the better of me. Those times, being all the time.

[frogbeastegg]

Ah yes, the rashness of youth; at 21 I am an old, cool head all the time myself

[zelda12]

Thanks to Frogbeasteggs advice I hev decided to re-do the first chapters after I have finished sixth one which ends Diablos tour in Marseilles and leads on to... well yuo'll just have to see.
Once again thankyou milady Frog

[zelda12]

As I do earlier posts I have been told I do fight scenes well. So when I finish chapter six+seven any blood lust any of you denizins of the mead hall are feeling will beeasily satisfied.

I've done a quick check and the count is 40 dead and counting and I'm about a qaurter of the way through the chapter.

I may ask for a new topic for this as I'm in the process of some serious re-checks and changes and have even changed the chapter order in one place so it makes more sense. I've estimated diablos Kill count in the last two chapters and suffice to say the grave diggers are gonna need graves themselves cos they're gonna die of exhaustion.

[zelda12]

Finished chapter six and seven or chapters five and six in the new order. However I'm going through all I've done so far to check it for mistakes. (And there are a hell of a lot of them, so I very sorry for those who had to sit through and read it.) Exspect the whole chunk posted in a new topic about thursday if not next saturday. That is if anyone is gonna bother too read any of this or any of my other ones.
*sigh*