Story

[Jack_Karverboy]

A story I wrote. And it is art, even if it isn't good! I guess I'll just post the first chapter for now

Chapter One: The Fields of Torrence

Planes. Planes are areas; areas of the universe that are separate from each other and to the Prime Material Plane, the plane which holds galaxies and solar systems, and Fularia, one of the largest. It is said in parts of Fularia that when the gods were first creating the universe, they needed testing grounds to test their ideas of gravity, time, physics, biology… and so they created the planes. Each one different and diverse. After this, they created Fularia, with the most successful and non-stagnant planes being updated and warped and crafted into one, the Material Plane. The Material Plane is where the gods created the best forms of physics, life, time and space, the four main ingredients to a world or plane. Planes are different dimensions to Fularia, the main world.

Tall grass blew from side to side in the breeze, brushing against a boy’s legs. He looked strange to Dallin Maleka, like someone from a distant land. Unknown to Dallin at the time, the boy was from a different world.
Dallin approached the boy slowly, watching him. The boy just stood watching him.
Then Dallin noticed something strange about the boy. His clothes were not blowing in the wind. Dallin was just a foot away from the boy when he collided with something invisible. Or clear. There was glass surrounding the boy from all sides. Dallin slammed on it with his hands. It was definitely glass. For some reason Dallin desperately wanted to break the glass.
That was when the boy said two words that penetrated the glass.
“Plane Walker.” The boy said, and Dallin sat up in his bed.
It was nighttime and Dallin’s hands were still clenched into fists. He relaxed them and got out of bed.
The second he got out from under the blanket he felt the cold. He shivered. He got on his fur slippers and brought his hands up into his sleeves, before walking through the door.
His house was different. The chill from the stone floor permeated even his bear-fur slippers, stone that should have been wood. He looked around. It looked like he was inside of a castle, that he thought, by the temperature, was way up north. He took a step and instantly the air felt even colder. He took another step, and another. It was so cold by now that he felt like running back to try and find his bed. But he kept going.
He reached a circular room. There were three huge plants arranged in a triangle in the middle. He looked up. The ceiling looked like it went up for hundreds of feet, but then he saw something more amazing; there were thousands of doors all along the walls, going up until he could no longer see them. He saw a door directly across from him, and he walked to it, opened it, and went in.
He found himself in a hallway. It was so dark that he could see only two feet in front of him, but he was sure no one was there so he kept walking.
It took a little less than ten minutes for Dallin to realize he was totally lost. He would’ve turned and went back to the circular room, but he wasn’t sure which way he was facing. He took a guess and turned ninety degrees, and began walking.
A minute later he bumped into the wall. He felt around and found a doorknob. He turned it and walked in. The sudden light blinded him
The room was well lit, with windows on every wall. Outside the windows Dallin saw nice weather. The grass looked similar to the grass in his dream, and the land was flat. The room he was in had a small stage with two stairs going up to it. There was a throne on top, and an old man sat slightly forward on it.
“Hello,” the old man said. “Welcome to the Plane Walker academy. Well, the building you were just in was the Plane Walker Academy, this isn’t anywhere near the Academy.”
“Um, okay,” Dallin said. “Where exactly am I?”
“You are on the plane of Torrence.” The Old man said. “But just in your mind. Your body lies back in your bed.”
“Who are you?”
“I don’t really have a name.” The old man said. “And you are…. Dallin Maleka, correct?”
Dallin nodded. “Now, what is a Plane Walker?”
“Surely you’ve heard myths of different planes? Human’s reach all of the Plane’s of Existence through one thing; The Ball. A Plane walker is someone who has a natural ability to travel to the Ball in his or her mind, or go directly to a Plane. You’ve had this ability since you were born, even before that, when fate made it so. They’ve been talking of you for a long while now, Maleka. You are special, even for a Plane Walker. Now, let me show you how to use your power.”
Dallin stood still as the man directed him to open his eyes as wide as he could and to imagine the world outside of the room. Then he had to close his eyes and keep imagining. Soon, he felt a breeze around his legs.
When he opened his eyes, he recognized the land immediately. It was totally flat and had tall grass. A boy was standing feet away. He also looked familiar. He was in my dream! Dallin thought.
But the boy wasn’t doing what he had been in the dream. It looked like he was searching the ground for something.
“Hello?” Dallin asked.
The boy stood up. “Hello. Who are you? You don’t look anything like anyone here. Except for Kaliska. She’s from the Plane of-“ the boy stopped.
“It’s ok, I know about Planes. A little bit.”
“She’s from the Plane of Utopia,” the boy said. “My name is Balendin.”
“I’m Dallin,” Dallin said. “Dallin Maleka.”
“Nice to meet you,” said the boy. “I would love to tell you about Torrence but I have much work to do. See you later, Dallin Maleka.” He then began searching the ground again.
“See you.” Dallin walked off, not knowing what he was supposed to do. He could have gone back to his home but he actually wanted to explore this strange land. What was the worst that could happen anyway? Torrence looked safe.
He stepped across the fields of Torrence, and looked all around. It was all flat, but a shimmer in the air, like a heat wave, could be seen in the distance, even though the day was cool. Dallin accepted that there was more to this strange world than he would probably ever know. At least he hoped it would be that way. He sat down in the tall grass and though. The combination of the soft breeze and warm sun made his eyes soon close and he fell asleep in the strange new world.
And when he woke up he sleepily noticed that the breeze he could see blowing the grass was not hitting him. He began to get nervous, and realized it must have been a dream. He took a step and another, and collided with something. Surprised, reached out. What was blocking him from the wind seemed to be a clear glass cage. His foot bumped something, and looked down to see a flesh colored pipe poking up from the ground. He stepped back and bumped the other wall, and realized that the creatures on Torrence were nasty. This had to be some kind of animal.

After ten minutes in the glass cage he was panicking. He was sometimes slamming his fists into the glass half hoping it would shatter and half hoping someone would throw a rock through and free him. A rock, he thought. A rock. He dropped to the ground and started digging frantically through the soil, coming up with only roots and small pebbles that would do him no good.
After admitting defeat to himself he sat back. He thought about the past days, the strange dream and his mental visit to a Plane Walker Academy. Of course, he thought, slapping his head.
He got to his feet and opened his eyes as wide as he could, and imagined his home….
And he didn’t go anywhere.
He opened his eyes after trying four times and saw some sort of white gas floating out of the pink pipe. That couldn’t be good. He backed as far as he could from the strange thing and held his breath and closed his eyes.
A moment later his skin was struck with something that felt like acid. He yelled and fell down. His eyes were now vulnerable to the gas and they burned terribly. He could do nothing but lie there in agony while the liquid on the surface of his eyes boiled and his skin was being slowly burned away. In seconds he was soaked with sweat and managed the heave himself up and trip again over something jutting out of the ground. A rock. A bomb went off in Dallin’s mind and he clawed the dirt away around it to get it out. He kicked it up and picked it up. He took a big step towards the wall and let the rock fly.
But the “glass” did not break like glass.
The wall conformed around the rock and it stretched and stretched, finally snapping the rock back so it flew right through the opposite side of the wall, making a hole big enough for Dallin.
He didn’t waste any time and was through the hole in a second. In five seconds he was safely away from the prison and he collapsed to the ground. He was glad that his skin hadn’t even burned, but his eyes had some problems, but he thought they would heal up.
He got up and immediately went back home.

 

[DeusExMachina]

Oh we can post original stories here? Awesome. I'll have to post some of mine.


I like your story, do hurry and post more.

 

[Jack_Karverboy]

I'll post chapter 2 and 3, but 3 isnt finished yet

Chapter Two: Kaliska

Dallin woke up and saw that he was in the Plane Walker Academy again, but it was warm and other people were walking around, all wearing pendants. They were circular and three fourths of a golden circle was on it, and the rest was silver. To Dallin the silver part looked like a keyhole.
Many of the Plane Walkers gave him a hello as they walked past. Once he asked for directions to the circular room and the Plane Walker he had asked gave him the correct directions. He was in The Room of Doors, as the Plane Walker had referred to it, in a short time and he was face to face with the old man from yesterday in a few minutes, standing in the room where he had learned of Plane Walkers.
He spent the next few minutes telling the man about the adventure he had had.
“Dallin,” said the old man. “Why don’t you go spend some time with your fellow Plane Walkers? I swear you will be wanting to have another adventure after hearing their stories.”
So Dallin went back to the circular room, only to be intimidated by the hundreds of men and woman and the thousands of doors.
Then someone tapped his shoulder. He looked around and down a bit at the woman standing by him. She had shoulder length orange hair that was purple at the ends, and she had light blue eyes. “Lost?”
“Not exactly,” Dallin said. “I just don’t know what to do now.”
“Well I am,” the woman said. “I just thought you might know the way around. I’m Kaliska, from Utopia.”
“I’m Dallin Maleka,” he said. “From Fularia.”
Kaliska looked impressed. “The Material Plane. In Volxa, my village, they say people from Fularia are extremely handsome and tall, not to mention brave and intelligent.”
Dallin laughed. “Do you have any idea where I should go now?” Then Dallin remembered something. “Wait…. do you know Balandin?”
“Yes, but not much.” She said. “I don’t go to Torrence much. I don’t like those Callibella much. You know, the things that imprison you in glass, but it’s not really glass.”
Dallin shuddered. “Well, I’ll see you later.” He shook hands with Kaliska and went off into the Plane Walker Academy.
He went up to one of the doors and stuck his head in, and saw a huge city below him. It was dark and slightly depressing to look at, and he heard metal clanking, and some giant wheel turning. There was a wall around it made out of stone, but the top was some purple substance that was roiling around like gas. He closed the door and saw something carved into it. The Clockwork City. He went to the next door.
Here he found himself looking down upon a mountain, split down the middle, and with a path going through the crack. He looked at the other side of the door. Norat.
He was enjoying this so he went to another door, looking at the name first. Utopia. That’s where Kaliska is from, he remembered. He opened the door and could only think of one word for Utopia: Paradise. He was so enchanted by its beauty that he stepped through the door and into the bright green forest. He continued to walk for a while until he reached a clearing in the woods. The land here sloped down slightly to a wide river that was slow flowing, and the land on the other side of the river sloped up into magnificent mountains, capped with snow.
He laid back and stared up at the sky.

When Dallin re-entered the Academy using his Plane Walker powers, he felt like going back to Fularia by using one of the doors, and went in search for the right one.
He was surprised at how many doors there were yet again. And they all went to different Planes. So far he had seen a lot of doors but none with Fularia on them so far. He had seen Zumadhi all the way to Aratha, and Saethu, Spinzaria, and Shenzei.
Finally he gave up and left using his Plane Walker ability.

Dallin woke up and wasn’t as surprised as the day before yesterday at finding himself in the Academy.
And as he walked through the place he heard a voice that he shouldn’t listen to. It was a voice at the back of his mind, saying he should turn back and go home, and stay there for the rest of his life. And he didn’t listen to it, and that’s the only reason the universe is still here today.

Chapter Three

Balandin trudged through the now slightly muddy grass, for it had just rained on Torrence.
The memory of the Plane Walker that had been there the day before yesterday made him long to leave his field work and travel the Planes. But he was an important part of life on Torrence, along with the other field workers. They searched the ground for possible spots where Callibella waited beneath the ground without being killed by them. He decided he would have to stay.
He continued his work and when it was dark he went back to his home. It was a grass hut, with one room. The ceiling was open at the moment but when it rained a tarp of tightly woven grass was spread over the top of the hut. A fire was in the middle and Balandin’s family sat around the fire, and an elderly woman, Balandin’s grandmother, was stirring a pot of soup hanging over he fire.
The hut was fairly large and housed seventeen living things, all of them Balandin’s relatives. There were his three brothers, his two sisters, his mother and father, uncle and three aunts, and his grandparents on both sides, and of course Balandin himself. There was also the watchdog.
As Balandin walked in he looked to the food stockpile. He was starting to worry about the supply. The cold and snowy season on Torrence was fast coming, but only three loves of bread were piled there. In the Ice box Balandin saw only four legs of meat.
Balandin knew what had to happen. He would have to go hunting and risk being stuck in the cold weather. But he had to go or else his family wouldn’t survive.
He went to the fire and told his mother and father what he planned. They agreed with what he said and he told them he would like to go alone. He would leave that same day.
Balandin dressed in his warmest clothes, packed enough food for the trip, and went outside, anticipating the hunt. He walked to the grass shed where tools and things were kept and equipped a hunting bow along with a quiver of arrows and a knife. He said his goodbyes and set off in the direction of food.

By sundown Balandin had to have walked ten miles at least and he was tired. He sat down in the grass and started a small fire using a type of leafy plant. He cooked up a portion of meat and put it on a slice of bread, and happily tucked into his meal.
A minute went by and Balandin sat back, his arms behind him for support. He wasn’t very full but not hungry and the warmth of the fire was putting him to sleep. He began to look around and was surprised to see a dark shape looming over the grass.
He Jumped up with a yell and realized that there wasn’t anything there, but there was something there, in the distance.
It was a tall skinny slightly cone like shape. It went up and up until the top where a big ball was and after the ball was a skinny spike stretching into the sky. It was a tower.
Not a tower like I’ve ever seen, Balandin thought. It looks like it could be four times taller than the watchtowers back home.
And then a very strong sense of wonder and curiosity spread over Balandin. I’ll go there. I’ll go there tomorrow.
So he laid back and went to sleep, dreaming of the tower.

When he woke up the next morning the tower was still there, and he saw its color. It was purple. He felt the same sense of curiosity that he had last night upon looking at the tower and he hastily packed up and walked in the direction of the tower. It looked to be a mile away and Balandin could get there fast if he wanted too; and he did.
The grass on the way to the tower was tall and Balandin could no longer see the tower, but he kept heading in the same direction and he knew he’d be there soon.
And an hour later Balandin came out into a clearing and saw the tower just hundreds of yards away. It stretched and stretched and stretched into the sky and Balandin saw it could be twenty times the size of the towers back home.
He took off at a run and that’s when it happened.

 

[JellyWorld]

shouldn't this be under fan fiction?

 

[SimonomiS]

shouldn't this be under fan fiction?

Fan Fiction
Create new and exciting fan fiction based in the Half-Life universe.

Strangely we don't actually have a literature/books/original writing section. Guess there isn't really a demand for one.

Sorry, haven't read the story so I can't comment.

 

[DeusExMachina]

We really should. Surely there are others who read and write.

I'll read chapter 2 and 3 in a bit.

 

[TheSomeone]

20 cliches in the first few paragraphs. Looks promising, but not that intresting. I don't understand newbie writer's obsessions with wierd names.

 

[DeusExMachina]

Weird names? You mean original names? I don't know about you, but I find it quite boring reading about "John", "Mark", "Kyle", and "Jake".

 

[Ennui]

Weird names? You mean original names? I don't know about you, but I find it quite boring reading about "John", "Mark", "Kyle", and "Jake".

Writing needs to be somewhat believable even if it's rooted in fantasticness. Using familiar and normal names is part of that. Decent writing, keep practicing.

 

[Jack_Karverboy]

Writing needs to be somewhat believable even if it's rooted in fantasticness. Using familiar and normal names is part of that. Decent writing, keep practicing.

I will, I want to be a writer but I still have a long way to go.

 

[Ames]

Basically what you want to do is too much telling and not enough showing. You're giving random arbitrary details that don't really give the basis of an actual place/setting/landscape.

Also try to adopt a particular style of writing. I find that people seem to find fantasy stories to be harder to write because of its many cliched elements. The writing style will make or break whatever you're trying to write. You can write like you're a storyteller telling an epic tale of adventure and excitement to a curious children. Or a common drunk explaining his various adventures to an ignorant bartender.

Or whatever.

 

[DeusExMachina]

And of course, you want the epic tale of adventure, Odyessy style .

 

[TheSomeone]

Weird names? You mean original names? I don't know about you, but I find it quite boring reading about "John", "Mark", "Kyle", and "Jake".

Even if "John" is out prancing in multiple dimensions? Wierd names are so cliched. Especilaly since they all sound the same. If your going to come up with a wierd name, make it original and catchy. If you're trying to come up with names from another world, I find it's best taking names from other cultures rather than making up your own, because your own will always be affected by a cliched game, movie, or Lord of the Rings names.

Oh, and Deus Ex Machinima is probably the most overused and cliched phrase on the planet. So maybe it's just me, but you don't seem to be the good person to point out wether cliches belong anywhere.

Ask any english teacher, and they'll tell you to avoid cliches at all cost.

Just trying to help out.

<3

 

[DeusExMachina]

Tool of the Gods
God of the Machine...

They're cliches in plays/books/movies/videogames and people don't like when they're used. I don't see what that has to do with names. The Deus Ex Machina was lowered on strings in plays and saved the protagonist from doom. In modern times, they pull the protagonist out of situations, such as Half Life 2, G-Man is a Deus Ex Machina. So don't start telling me what I can and cannot do. And there's no reason to try and attack me just because I don't agree with you. There's nothing wrong with normal names, but they're hella overused. And, let's not forget, sometimes, writers are trying to put cliches in their stories to make a point, symbolize, or get their message across. It all depends on the writer.