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“Over my dead body,” it might have been ironic, but the traitor had taken Amaz literally. Damn him to Tartarus! “Brother King or not, sick bastard is older than I am, and he wants my daughter.” He laughed bitterly, but it just came out as a gurgle. His lifeblood already stained the earth, and he sprawled just as he had fallen from that last sword stroke. He grieved as his consciousness slowly faded. His nation lay in twisted heaps all around him, there were no men left to defend her. His beloved Diana, so much like her mother, what would happen to his bright star now? Yet it was neither her life nor her freedom that he feared for. That the women were even more skilled in the arts of war than their men was the Amazon’s greatest secret. He recalled her fierce grin the first time she
[This message has been edited by Kathleen Dalton Woodbury (edited January 25, 2011).]
I do think that the scene you chose might not be the right place to start your story. The father dying so early in the story makes it so there is little groundwork for me to care about him or the fate of his daughter. This seems like a preamble of what is to come - a story about the daughter. I do want to stress that I did enjoy the scene, and if you keep it, it just feels as if it should come later in the story when the emotional stakes are high enough for me as a reader to lament his death. Otherwise, you could perhaps shift PoV to the daughter so that the father's death becomes the inciting incident for her story and start from there.
[This message has been edited by redux (edited January 25, 2011).]
An example:
"His beloved Diana, so much like her mother, what would happen to his bright star now?"
I believe it would read better as:
His beloved Diana, so much like her mother; what would happen to his bright star now?
OR
His beloved Diana was so much like her mother; what would happen to his bright star now?
Lis
Though the comment above was correct in that we don't really care enough about the characters yet to be really emotionally affected by the death, I do think it's the place where the daughter's life changes, and that's often a good place to start. If you cleared the confusion up and drew it out a little (we're talking a few sentences, not pages), so we get a touch more of the father's character, I think it would work.
I think if you tighten up POV (or just specify the actor a bit more clearly) that issue would go away and readers would be focused on the content.
Good luck with this!
[This message has been edited by Josephine Kait (edited January 31, 2011).]
And your second write is only a little better than the original, in my opinion. I would write something more like this:
quote:
“Over my dead body.” It might have been ironic, but the traitor Mytil had taken him literally. Now Amaz lay sprawled where he had fallen, his lifeblood staining the earth. "Damn him to Tartarus! That fool of a king may have been an ally, but that doesn't mean he deserves my daughter. The sick bastard is older than I am!” He laughed bitterly, but all that came out was a gurgle. His consciousness slowly fading, the dying king grieved. His nation lay in twisted heaps around him, and no man was left to defend his beloved Diana. His bright star was so much like her mother. What would happen to her now? He did not fear for her life or her freedom. She was a true Amazon woman, and could take care of herself. He recalled with pride her fierce grin the first time she had won a sparring match with him. Gods, how he loved her!
It's not perfect, but maybe you can get some ideas out of it. Brother/Neighbor/Fellow are all a little awkward. I don't know a good way to phrase that. Also, why is he grieving that no men are left to defend his daughter when she is such a skilled warrior? Her life and freedom are not his fears. What are? Her future? You don't really say.
And redux has a point. It's a good scene, but where you go from here might be a problem.
Hope it helped.
-Fahrion
[This message has been edited by Fahrion Kryptov (edited February 01, 2011).]
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Diana’s blade dripped red. A metallic tang filled the air mixed with the fouler stench of bowels released. The rage pounding in her head all but blinded her. Her vision tinged with red she searched among the heaps of broken bodies and tattered cloth. All that moved or groaned she dispatched without prejudice. She shivered, though the day’s heat was still baked into the stained marble beneath her feet. The columns rising around her echoed with the approaching sound of running feet. She bared her teeth, wiped the sweat from her eyes, and readied her sword once more. She sagged with weary relief at the sight of Amazon armor.
“Diana! You must come. Your father…” Her frozen heart shattered at the messenger’s words. She knew. The sons of dogs would not have gotten through if the king lived.
Keep it up! Hope to see more!