The Humorless Princess

[Huey]

This is a work in progress. I find myself enjoying to write lately. Please post to let me know you're reading, to discourage me from procrastination. Much appreciated. I hope you enjoy the story.

[Huey]

The Humorless Princess


Prologue

Versilia was an ordinary kingdom, with an ordinary king. It had a grand castle with cheerful towers and a moat circling its base in a typical, inoffensive fashion. Situated at the tip of the continent, like a stray whisker protruding from an old man's chin, Versilia offered a beautiful scenic view of the vast sea that bordered three sides, attracting tourists of all ages. Not exactly tourist, per say, unless one considers vagabonds, and homeless beggars seeking a cozy spot on the beach, tourists. All in all, the residents of Versilia generally agreed that it was a good place to raise livestock and children, because to disagree would leave you headless at the local guillotine.

However, a slight peculiarity in the kingdom inspired gossips and whispered convesations on rainy nights at the neighborhood taverns. King Versil the Third, son of Versil the Second, grandson of the first king in the royal lineage of Versilia, king Porkus the Fifty Eighth, birthed, or rather, his wife the queen, birthed a daughter at age fifty and promptly died of old age. The peculiarity, as mentioned before the narrative went on a tangent, was this princess. The princess had not breath a laughter or formed a smile all through the last of her teenage years, bringing a gloomy atmosphere to this otherwise perfectly ordinary kingdom.

Princess Jasper was a joyful child. She won the hearts of all the court officials with her bright eyes and cheerful laughter, prancing through the cold stone halls of the castle. At age five she learned to read and was often found alone in the royal garden, frolicking among daffodils with a book in her hand. At age ten she surprised her father and his subjects by memorizing the entire history of the kingdom by heart. The King, who originally wanted a son, eventually forgave his long dead wife when he saw his daughter growing up to be such a fine specimen of a lady. One often wondered how this carefree, joyous flower of a child grew up to be so cold and humorless. If a stranger to the kingdom were to ask, he would not find an answer. The king had declared the tragic event, the cause of Princess Jasper's present state, a royal secret.

The secret, only declared as so, is a sad tale of love and love lost. Jasper had met the new court jester at age 14, a dashing young man beneath the layers of mascara and colorful garments, and found his antics charming. A fast friendship formed as laughter filled the corridors of the castle. The two would sneak off every night to her favorite spot in the royal garden, underneath a weeping willow ten times her age, to entertain each other. Rumors spread and eventually reached the ears of Versil the Third, of his beloved daughter falling for the royal clown. He took action almost immediately. The bewildered boy was yanked from his room in the tower in the middle of the night, and was beheaded. The princess spent the following month locked in her chamber, crying silently for the boy who made her laugh. When she emerged, her hair in disarray, the glint in her eyes was gone and replaced with an anger too powerful to behold. No one dared to look into them for longer than a few seconds. From that day forth she was no longer the carefree Jasper loved by all, but a cruel, indifferent princess with a stone face, smiles forgotten.



[This message has been edited by Huey (edited 01-25-2004 02:34 PM).]

[The Ktulu]

It seems a bit condensed (though I shouldn't talk; I tend to do the same) but I enjoyed reading it. And then again, prologues can be condensed and still get away with it. That just tends to be the style of many prologues.

Anyway, I love how you show us this princess, but leave us little idea on what's going to happen. You kinda think you know but you know that you don't know, because the story doesn't say. It only says things that make us think of later events.

Whoa...did I just say that out loud?

[Huey]

I know what you're saying. First chapter is well on its way, I already have the thing planned out. Unlike some writers I know, who probably start writing on a whim and has no idea where his story is headed.

[The Ktulu]

Hey, lots of writers do that. And I'm only about half in the dark on mine...

But carry on. I can't wait to see where this is headed.

[Huey]

Okay, let's get this thing started. Grab a drink, pull up a chair, then sit back and enjoy ...

Chapter 1

Although he didn't appear so, Marcus Silversteed was nervous. Square shouldered but slim, Marcus was by no means considered tall for his age. But he made up for it with his nimble feet and quick reflexes. He was a good fighter, ranked 589th by the Association of Swordsmanship and Tobacco, and could hold his own well enough in battle. But what he was about to face was altogether daunting and unnerving. He was about to partake in a play, a comedy no less! He was a warrior, not an actor! What did he know about comedies and plays and such silliness?

"Marcus, stop fidgeting. Perhaps you need to go relieve yourself," said a strong articulate voice. "But I doubt you can take off that armor and put it back on in time for the show."

The voice belonged to Virgil, fellow actor, friend since childhood. Virgil knew all about comedies, and acting, and was the sole reason they're stuck in this mess in the first place. With his boyish good looks and a demeanor of lightheartedness, Virgil could mock a king straight-faced and get away with it. He sat on his make shift bed at the far end of the tent, a straw nonchalantly stuck between his lips.

"In what way, dear friend, was I fidgeting?" said Marcus, straightening himself in his chair. "I am calm as a corpse, and impatient to get this over with."

Virgil replied "Your mind is all a flutter. It is annoying and altogether unwholesome, I can practically hear your brain rattle."

Marcus had momentarily forgot his friend's gift. Virgil possessed the ability to read people, or more accurately, people's emotions. Perhaps it was a skill he picked up, or a talent he was born with, Virgil could easily pick out a man's psyche and manipulate it to his needs. He could make the mildest of men crazy with rage, the happiest of men cry, or cheer up a melancholy child before the first teardrop even reached the ground.

Empathy, as reported by the great scholar Argus the Wise, was a rare phenomenon. Only four out of every six hundred fifty thousand and one people possessed it, and of those four only one was aware of it enough to utilize it. Argus spent three years searching for those possessing this gift, studying their behaviors and social interactions. He also spent half of the University's research funds, on the account that he was more productive when intoxicated. His extensive reports described the gift as follow:

... The empather is not afraid to put himself in others' shoes. He is able to forsake his own perceptions of the world and take on someone else's. Ones possessing the gift are born with the ability to detect emotional energy, but are also observant in physical cues from those he is empathic to. Empathy is both a gift and a curse, as those not in control of his own moods are prone to be overwhelmed by the emotions he takes in. Half the subjects I mentioned in this report are suicidal, while the other half prefer the quiet company of solitude, unable to cope with the amount of emotions he comes in contact with ... and so on and so forth for hundreds of pages, after which Argus concluded that he needed more funding to continue researching this interesting topic, and also that he was still single if any maiden were interested. It was a well written report.

Back to the story at hand, the narrative found Marcus standing up and paced the length of tent impatiently. He said in a half angry tone, "Do not mock me Virgil. This is absolutely the last time I am doing this! We've made enough for next year's tuition, after tonight I am high-tailing out of here, with or without you."

"As you wish my fidgety friend," said Virgil, getting up as well. "We will head back to the University tomorrow. Hopefully old man Betgon keeps his promise and pay us what he owes us."

"Ha! I wouldn't be surprised if that greedy old miser keeps some for himself. His neck to my sword if I count a copper less."

The flaps to the tent opened. The greedy miser, old man Betgon, for indeed he was greedy and miserly, stuck his little head in and said, "What are you two still doing in here? We were asked to be in the chieftain's tent five minutes ago!"

"And no one bothered to come get us?" answered Marcus. But Betgon's little head had disappeared.




[This message has been edited by Huey (edited 01-25-2004 05:10 PM).]

[Vinny]

More! More! More!

[Huey]

Posting too much at a time discourages ppl, or so I've learned. I got more on the harddrive.

[Vinny]

don't bother. Nobody is reading this but me and Ktulu anyway. Haha!

[Mackay]

*is reading*

*and enjoying*

Do you want me to go through with a more critical approach? I'm not the literary critic that Stirrer is, but I'm good with grammar and phrasing. It seems good to me though. But I haven't been reading critically.

[Huey]

Mackay, your editing skills would be greatly appreciated. My grammar isn't up to par, I still find this language dumb and stupid at times. Whenever you're free I'd welcome and criticism and writing errors in the story. Thanks!

[Huey]

..continuing chapter 1

Virgil and Marcus stepped out of the tent into the chilly mountain air of Beren, the land north of Versilia. They are in the midst of a large encampment, with huge tents sprawling the grassy plain. As far as Marcus can tell, they were the only humans in the vicinity. Betgon had thought it was a good idea to entertain the wandering tribe of Merihoof, a tribe of orcs without a permanent land to call home. Too much competition in the city, he said. Marcus scanned the encampment and saw drunken orcs surrounding campfires, grunting and behaving in ungentlemanly manners. A few staggered into a huge pavilion at the center of the encampment, with banners flapping, bearing the mark of the chieftain's tent. Marcus inhaled deeply and followed them, with Virgil close behind still chewing on his straw.

It was warm and noisy inside the pavilion. The rest of the Betgon's Marvelous Company was already there, in positions at the center of the large tent. Lining the walls of the pavilion were tables after tables of half eaten food and spilt ale. Behind these sat the rowdiest group of orcs Marcus had ever seen. Green skinned figures with jaws too big and lower tusks jabbing at the upper lips. Orcs were assumed to be descendants of malformed elves, or humans, or a mixture of both. This group was particular ugly, with mouths dripping of grease, grunting and snorting and picking teeth with gnawed bones. They paid the company little attention.

At the sight of Marcus and Virgil, Betgon flashed an annoyed look. "Glad you two decided to join us. That will be noted in your pay." Before Marcus could protest, the little old man made a quick half turn, all smiles, and approached a large orc seated at the center of the far wall. The orc was huge, appropriately menacing, with a masked face glaring solemnly at the humans. The eye patch over his right eye was equally disturbing. Betgon made a humble bow and said, "My lord. We are ready to start the performance."

"Huh, no pay if me no like," grunted the chieftain.

Betgon stood a minute, then realizing that the chieftain wasn't going to say anything else, he turned awkwardly to the actors and announced: "Ladies and Gentleman, shall I present you my Marvelous Company of actors, performing the greatest comedy of all time! In your places men!" He clapped.

Virgil and Marcus took their places. Jonus, a fellow actor dressed in robes, as usual were playing the role of the narrator. He stepped to the front and made a bow.

"If music be the food of love, play on!" he spoke, and so commenced the comedy.




[This message has been edited by Huey (edited 01-25-2004 02:38 PM).]

[Huey]

The actors spoke their all too familiar lines, as they'd done this play numerous times. But all during the first act, the audience was unforgiving, only paying enough attention to yell out rude remarks before collapsing into fits of drunken laughter.

"These orcs have no interest in our performance," whispered Virgil to Marcus, when they were close enough to each other. In front of them Jonus jabbered his lines away nervously.

"Yes," replied Marcus. "This is humiliating."

"I know exactly what they want," Virgil said, a mischievous smile forming. "I know what would humor these fools."

"Don't try anything stupid," whispered Marcus hoarsely, but Virgil was already moving out of his spot, waving his hands ordering the actors to stop.

"You sir!" he called to the nearest orc, who was conversing loudly with another next to him. "Do you mind not sitting upside-down while we're performing?" Jonas stopped his narration. The orc turned from his companion, bewildered, and Virgil feinted surprise.

"Oh sorry. That's your head."

Everyone in the pavilion became silent. Betgon was shocked and made to grab Virgil by the scruff.

Then the other orcs roared with laughter.

Virgil then turned to the orc seated next to him, "What is the meaning of that hairstyle, mind I ask? Are you trying to impersonate a bean sprout?"

Another wave of laughter filled the tent, shaking the walls. Betgon, realizing Virgil's stunt was entertaining the orcs, stepped back.

"Why are you laughing at him, sir!" Virgil turned to yet another audience member. "You look as if your mother dropped you as a child. ...Twice! ... On purpose!"

At this the orcs banged at the tables and grabbed their stomachs. The chieftain sneered. Virgil moved from one end of the tent to the other, eyes flashing, having a grand time. He sensed the state of intoxication in each orc, and judged the level of intelligence by their demeanors, his empathetic nerves sensing the moods of his victims. He saw some getting angry, but he did not care, blurting out the first thing that came to mind. Only when he came to the orc with a slight mustache sitting to the left of the chieftain did he stopped. Somehow this orc didn't seem right, there was far too much sensitivity emanating from his body to be an orc. He hesitated to speak for a brief second, but decided to continue regardless.

"Pardon me for noticing sir, but it appears a colony of ants are gathering to feast on your lips."

The orcs all fell silent, abruptly. Virgil sensed a heaviness in the air, he had made a blunder. The orc he had insulted, laughing loudly a second ago, was silent, lips quivering. He made a slight noise, high pitched for an orc. Then the orc got up from his chair, ran the length of the table and out of the tent, carrying a stream of sobs with him. Betgon, eyes wide, gasped and scuffled over next to Virgil.

"Forgive the boy my lord," he said quickly to the chieftain, bowing feverishly. He then turned to Virgil, "How dare you insult the Chieftain's wife!"




[This message has been edited by Huey (edited 01-25-2004 02:42 PM).]

[Buzzsaw]

I saw a couple of minor corrections to suggest, that's all. I like Huey's style of writing this creative tale.

More, please.

[The Ktulu]

Terrific job!

I second what Buzz said.

[Vinny]

note to huey, work on dialogues.

[The Ktulu]

Hmmm, maybe I didn't pay much attention or something, but what's wrong with the dialogues?

[Vinny]

I am just being overly critical. If he wants this to be publishable material, he needs to work on the dialogues. I already told him my comments. That was just a note so he won't forget.

[Mackay]

Sorry I haven't gone through it yet, my attention span has been short of late. I'll re-read in the next few days, Huey.

[Buzzsaw]

Just a suggestion here...

[Buzzsaw]

Take out the "Were" (no offense to Werebear, of course)
...or use "was" instead of "were" for correct grammar.

Maybe I was wrong on this. ~is now confused~
~needs...um..doesn't really know anymore~

[Huey]

Buzz ... when can I come over and make love to you?

[Huey]

Thank you for taking the time to do that. It is very helpful. I agree with all your suggestions, and will make changes accordingly. I'm falling behind on hobbies as work is kicking my butt, but the story is getting better and better (in my head), as I daydream about it every chance I get.

[Mackay]

I disagree with a few of Buzz' corrections. However, I'm too sleep deprived atm to say anything just yet... guh, I suck.

[Buzzsaw]

Let's wait for Mackay's opinion, eh?

Anyone else?

I can learn a lot here too...but only if someone disagrees, etc.

I'm going to read more now.

[Buzzsaw]

[Buzzsaw]

[Vinny]

I gotta jump on the "its / it's" thing. This is why English is such a difficult language to learn correctly.

I believe Huey used it correctly. I am willing to bet $5 on it.

It's = It is.
Its = possesive of it.

But otherwise, nothing else denotes Noun + 's' for possessive. Why is It so special?

And that's another rule that use to get me all the time. Everything (and Nothing) is singular, so verb ending for everything ends in 's'. This is because "everything", although it's a unit of multiple items, are a single unit. Similar to "family", which is a singular noun represents multiple person(s). But "all things" is not singular, as in "all things are tangible". And neither is "people", or "children". The children like to play. People are stupid. Also, why are there different verb endings for present tense, but none for past tense? Such as, "my baby ate my dingo", and the "children and I ate the dingo". Is it because once something has already happened, we don't need to know its precise context anymore? Why? Why? Why? Why in the world is this so?

~cries

Excuse me why I do my stress relieving exercise.



bang bang



[This message has been edited by Vinny (edited 01-25-2004 02:06 AM).]

[Buzzsaw]

Attempting to critique Huey's story brings out several questions I have and have considered starting an English usage thread in which to pose them.

[Mackay]

Vinny is right about the "its". That was one of Buzz' corrections I didn't agree with. I think I might start reading now before I fall too far behind.

[Mackay]

First I'm going to look at Buzz' corrections.

[Mackay]

I'm gonna go do some shallow stuff and then come back and read through of my own accord.

[The Ktulu]

Yes, I know, it's true that it's means it is and its shows possessive. But why? You know what reason--the only reason--I've heard? When I first learned the rule of thumb on its and it's, I was in third or fourth grade. The teacher said, "When we say it is, we put an apostrophe between the s and the t. When we show possesive, we don't use an apostrophe. Because if we did that, we'd be saying it is apple, which just doesn't make any sense."
BAH!
That doesn't make any sense, either. If that's the case, wouldn't it work for all nouns, and not just that one pronoun? Instead of Kt's keyboard it'd be Kt is keyboard. Or Huey's grammar would be Huey is grammar. Yer bugger. And that's my two cents.

[Mackay]

Yeah, I don't get it either. I just know it's the case.

[Buzzsaw]

I'd better leave apostrophes and commas out of comment until going 'back to school'.

Good work, Mackay.

[Buzzsaw]

[Huey]

Mackay ... can I have your baby?

[Mackay]

LOL, Buzz.

*impregnates Huey with Mackay-spawn* Bwahahahaha! Two GLers down, lots to go! *starts drawing up plans for world domination*

[The Ktulu]

Bah. I asked to be impregnated with Mackay-spawn but I haven't been. You have other plans for me? *-looks hopeful-*

[Buzzsaw]

Gee! I sure am hungry now!

Let's eat!