ilovemigz wrote:POSING A QUESTION HERE TO MY FANS
What's your opinion on an actual book or series out here in the real world based on this series? I can't say I will follow the spore series to the letter as they have their own flaws which must be addressed, BUT I could write a book series following their plot developments and make similar characters and such.
For instance this story I'm working on called "Elvira's Wolf."
Even kinda has a similar plot and quirks to The Sword and the Staff if you pay attention.
The Black Wolf of Orthos
There are few girls that can cast a spell as wonderfully as Elvira, and even fewer try. Only fourteen and already she was up to the level of the grand masters in the history of spellcasters and sorcerers; truly a prodigy of her time. Though only if it helped her now to think it were true…
‘Cast the spell, Elvira.’ Mr. Colbert stood impatiently behind the stone pillar. ‘You’ve held us up with your babble for ten whole minutes – please, even if just for the sake of your grades – cast a spell. Any spell will do. Just cast it now, please.’
Elvira looked back at her giggling peers. All smug in their new blue journeymen robes they acquired by going first. Everyone looked like they passed their tests, now it was up to Elvira to try. Once she had succeeded she could finally discard her brown apprentice robes and join the ranks of the middle levels of The Tower, amongst all those who were in their middling years of moving on out into the free world with their magic to do as they pleased. For Elvira, however…
‘Cast Mortem!’ she said pointing wand. There was an unnatural golden glow emanating from the tip of her caster as a ball of light hit the surface of the pillar; spreading a branching tendril of light on the face of the stone. Everyone stood back awhile, surprisingly amazed that this little oddball finally managed to cast something that didn’t blow up in their faces.
‘Well done!’ Mr. Colbert was clapping; a resounding smile on his face that Elvira didn’t expect to see after all those years of shameful performances and blown-up classroom demonstrations.
In that moment, perhaps, Elvira was, at last, a made woman. She turned to Mary Tuffet, a fellow classmate and rival and, with one closed eye, resoundingly poked her tongue out. Mary would’ve done it too, but then she saw what was happening behind Elvira, to the stone. ‘What’s that?’ She pointed.
All the class was halted for a moment as they turned attention to the strange shift of golden light to a foreboding red on the surface of the stone pillar. Mr. Colbert himself stunned at the unexpected change. He approached the column slowly, raising his staff to touch it first to make sure it was magically-safe. ‘What the?’ was all he managed to say before it exploded on him, sending forth a burst of hornets into the air. The entire classroom went into screaming flight as the hornets chased them into the nearby woods, under open gnarls and rocks, and even all the way to the nearby pond where they’d dared not enter. It was nothing short of chaos, and all Elvira could hope to say was – ‘Oops.’
‘Everyone!’ Colbert got up. ‘Everyone don’t panic or you’ll make it worse!’
‘Mr. Colbert!’ Elvira said. ‘I – I didn’t mean to! I thought I said it right! I-It’s because of this stupid elvish language!’
‘Elvira…’ Mr Colbert restrained himself from shouting at her. He knew by now that only made things worse, the delicate being that she was and all; and not to mention her raw magical potential was an explosive chemical ignited by certain emotions. ‘Just – Just let me calm your spell down, okay honey?’
‘No!’ she said. ‘This isn’t my fault! This... This...’ Elvira teared up and made a run for the forests.
‘Elvira!’ Colbert tried waving her back amongst the sea of hornets. ‘Elvira come back! Ow!’
Elvira knew she was never going to be worth anything in this world. In fact by this failure alone she would have to re-take apprenticeship all over again for another three years. She’s never known her parents, seeing as she was taken from them at a young age as most mages are by law, but even she knew they would’ve been nothing short of disappointed with her for this scandal. They probably would’ve been happy to not have such a pathetic excuse of a daughter by their side; in fact Elvira thought of them right then, living happy, care-free lives, presumably in a mansion or a humble little cottage in the woods, surrounded by strong young boys and girls prettier and smarter than her. Oh how happier they must be to not have me! She constantly thought, the world stoning her as she fled. ‘She’ll never do it. You’ll see. It’ll be just like another one of her little “demonstrations” in enchantments class. Boom! Boom!’ Mary’s words rang true. ‘If you would just give her a chance. Some students are a little faster than others and some… need more help.’ Mr. Colbert’s words to the higher ups in detention came back to haunt her. The fact was – she was a failure, and that’s what she’ll only be from now till forever onwards – a failure, a nobody, a mistake, and everybody, including her parents, would be ten times happier for it, and she just knew they would be.
In her veil of tears Elvira tripped over a gnarled root on the forest floor. She stumbled, and stumbled hard down a hill and to a little embankment by a shallow river.
When she came to she was reminded again of who she was – the failure, the regret of life itself, and shuffled herself miserably to the little river in hopes to see her worthless self one more time before drowning her face into the water. It was worth a try, at least.
Elvira approached the surface of the water. Her face – drenched in tears and mascara she had applied for just this special occasion, streamed down her face like a clown’s makeup; which was fitting, for she in her own eyes was just that: a clown. She dunked her face.
In a flashing moment she saw what little of what life she had lived at the Tower: a little girl, struggling to get to the next class, books always shelfing up to her nose as she carried them; the teasing, name-calling of her peers as she went. She had a rare disease, you see? Something most women don’t carry around them their whole lives till near the grave – and that was white hair. She was born with hair the colour off a polar bear’s butt, and the girls of the tower constantly made sure to generously remind her so. Some days it’s would be ‘polar-kin’, other days it would be ‘coconut-head’, but the worst of these insults came from Marry Tuffet herself: ‘Miss Colourless’. As if her entire existence; her entire worth was just that – bland, boring, and pointless; and the worst of what made that hurt wasn’t in the name itself, it was rather lame – it was because it was true: and Elvira knew it was, and in that; Elvira was lame. And she knew that, too.
She came up for air. Coughing and spitting cold water onto the damp sand about her, she fell on one side and started to cry again. Not that she wasn’t pathetic – she was – but because she was so pathetic she didn’t even have the will to kill herself properly; and now she would have to face her angry classmates later on and live this life as an apprentice forever, and that, to her, was worse than death.
‘It went this way!’ She heard a cry. Elvira crawled on over to some nearby brushes only to spy out a contingent of black-coated men passing by the woods, their outfits unfamiliar to her. Some carried swords, others torches; which she found strange as even in the thickness of the brushes of this forest the sun found no steady resistance above the leaves of the trees to break through to the forest floor. They were obliviously looking for someone, or maybe something. Only hunters use fire in the most extreme of hunts. On their backs was a red symbol of a sword passing up through a jagged crown, and on the guard of the sword was a cross of two thorned roses; one red and the other white. It stumped Elvira as she, in all her geography classes, had never seen such a symbol on the island of Orthos, much less any of the kingdoms in mainland Colovia. Perhaps they were a private clan or house native to these woods, though she certainly wasn’t informed about others living near the school ground, and neither did she understand why she was hiding from them. But something about them seemed kind of – off.
There was a gunshot in the distance, and Elvira knew right away that today wasn’t going to be another regular Monday… The men startled as she, bunched together and made a run for the other side of the woods towards the shot. Soon more gunshots started ringing in the distance, mixed with screams and shouts and curses. Elvira could swear she heard spell-chanting amongst them. She backed down from the brushes and back to the little river in hopes to find cover. Something was going on, and she had a feeling it was best to stay hidden. Nothing like this had happened before, and she certainly wasn’t eager to go out and see for herself why.
Suddenly a moan rasped beside her. Elvira turned her head shaking, eye bludging; hoping not to see. And right there – facing up from the riverbed – was the corpse, or supposed corpse – of a giant – ten-foot – black wolf. It moaned again.
Elvira squealed and back-peddled to some nearby bushes, foaming at the mouth, eyes popped; she drew her wand to make sure it was thoroughly fixed on the strange black, hairy thing still disgustingly breathing out with its big, black hairy breast, tail wriggling about like a worm on a wet day.
Suddenly she pieced it together – those men, this monster – they were all connected somehow. The puzzle was, how? She took little shuffles towards the beast. Little scuttles like a crab on the sand. ‘Hello?’ she called out to it carefully, making sure not to be too loud so that those black-coated men could hear and yet neither too soft so that it couldn’t hear her. For all the while her wand was fixed, making sure not to lose its mark while she drew breath. She would kill it with hornets long before she would let it touch her. If she could take out one classroom at a time, then so mores the pity for one wolf, she thought.
It moaned again, this time saying something strangely coherent: ‘Verona…’
Elvira paused. Startled at the discovery, it was miracle enough to see a wolf this size, but to hear it talk? This was definitely no ordinary Monday. ‘A-Are you okay?’ she called.
She came up to the wolf’s body, her feet almost a kick away from his fur. She couldn’t see his face from his backside, so she slowly circled around him, taking little scuttles as she shuffled. ‘Hello?’
She snapped a twig underfoot.
The wolf’s eyes opened wide; gold and black intertwined, much like a reptile’s or a cat’s. Fangs baring for the world to see; large and dagger-sharp, polished white with little red for where the gums should be. He stretched out his arms quick as a flash, her arms felt like twigs in his grasp. Elvira cried in pain as the wolf, or wolf-man, struggling to stand on two bent legs, much like a man, got up as his size had advertised: ten-foot tall. She dangled like a monkey on a tree in comparison. ‘Who are you?’ he said.
‘Please don’t hurt me!’ Elvira struggled to speak, still reeling from the pain; that and the utter terror she felt certainly didn’t help her, as the wolf brought his face up to hers; his heavy breath bearing down on her, bringing forth a smell of many meats and other things she would not rather have thought of right there and then that close to his razor-sharp teeth.
The wolf looked down at her broken wand that she had dropped when he had grabbed her, and justly bore his fangs. ‘You tried to kill me.’
‘I was only making sure you weren’t going to hurt me!’
‘Well you should’ve tried harder…’
‘I’m sorry! Just please don’t eat me!’ Elvira cowered into a ball; which the wolf found surprising, seeing as how high she was off the ground to curl as such in midair. He dropped her. And then it was he felt a sudden push…
They both keeled over on the ground.
‘Who did that?!’ The wolf raised his head up to see; but no one was there for him to find. He looked back at the strange, white-haired girl recovering from her fall, rubbing her face-in from the sting. The wolf also noticed his entire front feeling a little sore, especially his cheeks. Then he wondered…
‘Little cub,’ he said, approaching slowly. Elvira back-peddled herself to a little rock, not knowing it was there. ‘Did you cast a spell on me while I was asleep?’
‘No!’ she said, stuttering to speak.
The wolf wondered again, then looked at her once more. ‘Hit yourself,’ he said.
‘Slap yourself on the sore cheek.’
‘B-but it hurts,’ she whined.
His voice, as course and rough as it was already, suddenly deepened to something sinister. ‘I said – do it.’
Elvira batted her eyes in confusion and then slapped herself on the red side, reeling again from the sting. When she looked back up she could see the wolf gritting his teeth in similar pain… Then she figured it out. ‘You’re connected to me…’
‘What?’ he said, recovering.
‘You and I… we’ve been bonded somehow.’
‘What are you on about?’
‘When I feel pain – you feel pain. And when you…’ She stopped to think suddenly.
‘When I what?’
‘Slap yourself,’ she said.
‘Trust me it’s not a trick! You don’t even have to do it very hard I swear! Just – just slap yourself lightly on one cheek, preferably on your left.’
Elvira gestured towards her red cheek.
The wolf slapped himself hard on his right. And at that – Elvira almost felt like she was slapped to the core of the earth as her physical pain actually forced her to the ground.
‘I said – I said your left!’ Elvira holding back tears.
The wolf reeled then returned. ‘The best way to know something’s purity is by its potency.’
‘Do I look like a ten-foot wolf to you!’ she said.
‘No. And that’s why you’re the perfect experiment.’
Another gunshot rang out in the distance. The wolf – sensing no more danger in the little girl, turned his head quickly to what could’ve been legitimate dangers lurking in the woods; then he sniffed.
He turned back to her. ‘Where did you find me?’
‘Why did you bring me here? Where did you originally find my body?’
‘I found you exactly where you woke up.’
‘You lie,’ he said.
‘I do not! As I was hiding away from those weirdos I fell back down the riverbank and saw you from the corner of my eye.’
The wolf then gazed into the distance. ‘Strange… I had thought to remember a – palace of some kind. But… it feels so long ago now, I’m not quite – Wait.’ He looked back at her. ‘What do you mean by weirdos?’
‘A bunch of men in black coats came looking around for something – or someone.’ She glowered at him. ‘It wasn’t long before I heard the gunshots.’
‘What banner did they carry?’
Elvira scrunched her face trying to remember. ‘Umm, it was a symbol of a sword – all red, by the way – and two roses: one red and one white. And atop the blade of the sword–’
A jagged crown – the wolf thought of the word before it came out her mouth. A hazy picture of it in his head, and some petite figure on a throne was wearing it, cloaked in shadow.
‘I don’t quite remember what it is,’ he interrupted her babbling. ‘But I have a feeling those men didn’t come here for a noble reason.’
‘What do you mean?’
‘I mean, do you know somewhere we can take shelter, or find weapons, perhaps?’
‘W–What?’ Elvira was baffled. ‘No; we’re in academy grounds. It’s illegal to bare arms here.’
‘A school for mages and spell casters,’ she said. ‘None of us are allowed to use destructive magics until we graduate and only for self-defence; unless of course you decided to sign up for the militar–’
‘That will not do,’ he interrupted her again. ‘We must find a shelter or perhaps somewhere to get out of this–’ he looked around, now just noticing all the mountains encircling all about them, ‘valley.’
‘Well we can’t,’ she said. ‘We’re on an island! Unless you plan on falling to your death, there’s no way out of Orthos.’
Elvira sighed. ‘Just how much of your memory did you recover?’
The wolf decided to think awhile – until Elvira grabbed him by the fur of his wrist. ‘I was being sarcastic! Let’s just get going, already!’ She dragged him into the woods.
Their faces popped out of the brushes, eyeing up the old site for which Elvira had once filled with hornets; now strangely just another clear and silent glade; no sign of any of her class.
‘Where are we going?’ he said.
‘I’m taking you to Mr. Colbert. He should know what to do about this.’
‘Is he your teacher?’
She paused for a moment. ‘Yeah, yeah he is.’
The wolf was a little surprised by her gap. ‘Is he also your family?’
Elvira blushed. ‘What?! No! No he’s not that, not that at all!’ She paused again, and then sighed. ‘But I guess – he might as well be.’ The wolf stared once more.
There was a sudden clutter of activity as the black-coated men walked into the scene; a long line of mages in chains behind them. Elvira gasped as the two quickly hid behind the brushes, only eyes peeking through.
‘Is that him?’ The wolf gestured towards the balding mage with the round spectacles and long chin goatee.
Elvira nodded her head in concern, fighting back tears. The wolf was confused how she could see such a pathetic figure as family, but understood enough she was upset. He sighed tiredly.
‘Right,’ said the wolf. He got up and made a start towards them, Elvira holding him back for nought. ‘Where are you going?!’ she whispered, staying in her place.
The black-coated men noticed him immediately. ‘Halt!’ one called out. They formed into what disorganized ranks they could in the sudden rush. Some lined with their muskets, others formed a circle around the wolf with their halberds, swords, and pikes; leaving the line of chained mages unguarded. Elvira saw they were all, mage and black-coat alike, visibly shaken by him as she was (though it would be a rare thing not to when seeing a two-legged, black wolf standing ten-feet tall above you). Elvira took her chance and circled around the clearing through the dense brushes. The attention of all the black-coats centred on the wolf in the open. ‘B–by his majesty’s decree!’ The Captain called out; he was the only one with a feathered cocked hat in the sea of sallet helmets. ‘This island and all that is in it now belongs to her eminence! And by rule of law, as the highest authoritative figure settled on this newly owned land; I hereby command you to surrender!’
‘A lot of words,’ said the wolf. ‘For a dead man.’
‘I’m warning you! Any show of resistance will be met with a just use of force in her majesty’s nam–’
The wolf grabbed the nearest pike of his left and used the withdrawal of the panicking soldier behind it to pull himself out of the circle – slashing him with his dagger-length claws as he lunged. The soldier fell to the ground and turned into dust, ash scattering to the wind. Elvira saw it for only a brief moment but she had a feeling she was right when she thought they looked a little off.
‘Open fire!’ the Captain said. The line of muskets behind him struggled to hit the wolf. The wolf – almost as one with the wind itself on that particularly breezy day – ran circles around the soldiers, forming as if a cyclone around them; only ever so coming into the centre to pick off those who had split formation one at a time.
Elvira made her way around at last and found Mary first – to her distaste, of course – as she started working on a little fire spell to melt off the binds; but to her surprise – found them magic-proof; and thus why the mages could’ve have done it themselves.
‘What now genius?’ said Mary. Elvira wanted to slap her face so badly; partly because she was ungrateful, and partly because her own face had been done-in so badly.
The contingent of black-coats, which started at twenty, now went down to three very quickly. ‘You two!’ the Captain said, prepping his horse. ‘You stay here and recover my retreat!’
The two men turned, one of them raised a hand. ‘Hey but what about–!’
The wolf appeared behind them and slashed them down where they stood, ashes bursting to the air. The Captain’s horse jumped in panic and threw off his rider, galloping away in fear. The Captain, fumbling about the ground, found his sabre to make a stance, shaking as he pointed at the wolf.
The wolf looked at him like target practise, a thing to be toyed with; experimented on. He looked down at one of the swords of the two men he had destroyed and grabbed one for himself.
The weight of the steel was like a toothpick in his hands. If he wanted, he could’ve swung a claymore with the same tenacity of a knife. In the silver mirror of the blade he found his reflection staring back at him; golden eyes like amber amongst the sea of black fur; he was ferocious, something beyond human, and even he – waking up just now – had a feeling he was always somewhat like this.
In his mind flashed a thousand visions; a picture of a warrior drabbed in silver and black, and stretching all across him were a hundred battlefields; each one no fiercer or more destructive than the next. Men of all colours and creeds were falling before his hand; others shrieking, wailing in terror as he approached. He was a curse upon the warfields, a harbinger of death and darkness, a reaver, a slayer; and all he fought, all whom witnessed him; gave testament to his destruction wherever he went.
The visions faded and the wolf looked back at the Captain, shaking something fierce with legs more like rickety stilts than bone. Even these vile creatures, so unnaturally ashen-pale of their skins, with eyes surrounded in what seemed like fogs of black vein and colour, were in visible protest of the normalcy of what they were facing up against – in complete and utter terror despite being avatars of terror themselves. The wolf was convinced he wasn’t just a creature of flesh and bone – he was nightmare itself; a creature of death and darkness; and the wolf? He simply revelled in the fact, smiling for the first time in his life.
‘I-I’m warning you!’ the Captain said, still quivering to his boots. ‘You get rid of me and you’ll bring legion upon yourself, sir! The Empirium will never stop sending more men until this land is conquered; they’ll never stop – till they get you.’
The wolf stepped up to him. ‘Then hither come legion,’ he said looking down at the tiny man; ten-feet tall from his sight.
The Captain stabbed at him – the wolf dogged the blow and went around the soldier’s unguarded left, the monster’s sword slung around his neck ready to swing.
‘You were dead the moment you saw me,’ the wolf whispered. And for one dreadful moment – the Captain remembered he was once human.
Chains broke off with ease as the wolf made rounds for each mage’s bond. Elvira’s magic couldn’t melt through them, but it seemed the sheer might of this fell beast was more than enough to turn this impossible metal into clay and putty. ‘Done,’ he said after the last one.
Elvira gathered the last of her classmates and did a count of them with Mr. Colbert.
‘There were twenty of us at roll call this morning,’ said Elvira, ‘but I can only count sixteen.’
‘The rest went ahead of us,’ said Mary. ‘I caught a peek of when they took me. They’re probably somewhere in the Briewood by now.’
‘Then that’s where I’m going next,’ said the wolf strapping what swords and halberds he could onto himself. ‘Where that?’
Mary found her tongue tied at that moment when she remembered she was facing a giant, talking, black wolf; and shakily pointed with what courage she could at the direction of the slim white trees: a sylvan wall of pearl birches with multi-coloured tuft hairs of fiery expressions ranging from red, green, and yellow gold. ‘That way,’ she squealed. And so the wolf made a start.
‘Hey! Wait!’ Elvira went up to catch him, Mr. Colbert having failed to hold her back in fear of the creature. ‘Elvira!’ he hissed.
Elvira tried tugging at the creature’s tail, but at that moment the Wolf somewhat already knew she was going to and turned around quickly. ‘Yes?’ he said.
‘I’m coming with you!’
‘Oh?’ he said; she, almost hinting smugness in his dry, dead expression of constant disgust or disapproval. ‘Since when did you grow a spine?’
‘Since I brought you out here in the first place, dummy!’ she said. ‘Look: those are my classmates they got. And, yeah, they may be kinda jerks on the occasion – well, many occasions; they’re still my people. Mages – for all the crap we get for being born different – we still got each other; even if it ain’t perfect.’ She looked back at her class, and they looked back with SPORE-eyed stares; surprised to hear such words from a doofus like her. A silent curtain between them both, as if two worlds had split all of a sudden in this ironic attempt to unite it together. Elvira knew things would never be the same again after what she had just said, and perhaps, in that moment of clarity; she found peace at last.
The wolf stared her down for a moment, checking for weakness. He unstrapped a small sword and threw it to her. ‘Then carry your weight,’ he said, and then turned for the woods. ‘Because we’re going hunting...’
That's all I got right now as I post this. The first chapter. Sorry if it's terrible, I consider myself a terrible writer whom on occasion
gets something good or decent, well, according to the opinions I get on 4chan's /lit/ Critique threads. I'm just wondering if this would be a good idea, or if you, the audience, having just read this piece, think I've got what it takes to write something decent.