- Joined
- May 25, 2013
- Messages
- 52
Welcome Hive, to...
Gyllie Co-operations is the latest novel I'm working on. It has absolutely nothing to do with Warcraft III, Starcraft, Diablo, or any other Blizzard game. However, it is purely fiction and I'd like the Hive to read what I've got, give me feedback and help me out.
First of all, I have a few (one at the moment, but I'll be adding more later) other threads that you might want to visit. First off, I don't want you guys thinking I'm multi-threading the same thing. Each of these threads have massive differences in what they are about.
Here I will contain samples of my work. You are free to provide feedback and especially criticism to the works below.
These people have provided help, whether it has been feedback, criticism, a character, or anything else I ask for in the future. They will each be asked if they require credit in the story, in which I will happily comply.
Gyllie Co-operations
Main Thread
Main Thread
Gyllie Co-operations is the latest novel I'm working on. It has absolutely nothing to do with Warcraft III, Starcraft, Diablo, or any other Blizzard game. However, it is purely fiction and I'd like the Hive to read what I've got, give me feedback and help me out.
First of all, I have a few (one at the moment, but I'll be adding more later) other threads that you might want to visit. First off, I don't want you guys thinking I'm multi-threading the same thing. Each of these threads have massive differences in what they are about.
- Create A Character: Help me by creating your own character for the story. There is a sample character (the main character of the story) and a template there for you to use and work off.
"Revenge is driven by pain. Physical pain, mental pain, all contribute
to the vengeance that one feels within one's heart..."
Varn Richards, engineer and simple citizen of Washington D.C, lives
in emotional turmoil. At the age of 21, his younger brother died by
assassins unknown. After moving from his hometown, leaving his
father and mother to answer the questions about his brother, Varn
drinks away the sorrow.
In the dawn of a new era, Earth is about to explode in a new world
war. America have developed a supertrooper organization known
as the PeaceKeep United, in essence the heart of the American
armies. As they march on towards Russia, the American government
employ several teams to bring down the political and military
blockade of Europe and Asia. They called, and the Gyllie Cooperations
answered.
Once scientists, the Gyllie Co are now a band of assassins and
murderers. Their goal is simple, and their payment is large. Kill the
leaders, and you bring the country crashing down. Varn is employed
as a simple vehicle engineer, but finds himself becoming involved
in the Gyllie's mission to weaken the enemy country.
In all the confusion, Varn's realization implodes upon him as he
uncovers the mysterious assassin of his brother.
"...and in one's heart is love. And love is the most powerful force
in the world."
to the vengeance that one feels within one's heart..."
Varn Richards, engineer and simple citizen of Washington D.C, lives
in emotional turmoil. At the age of 21, his younger brother died by
assassins unknown. After moving from his hometown, leaving his
father and mother to answer the questions about his brother, Varn
drinks away the sorrow.
In the dawn of a new era, Earth is about to explode in a new world
war. America have developed a supertrooper organization known
as the PeaceKeep United, in essence the heart of the American
armies. As they march on towards Russia, the American government
employ several teams to bring down the political and military
blockade of Europe and Asia. They called, and the Gyllie Cooperations
answered.
Once scientists, the Gyllie Co are now a band of assassins and
murderers. Their goal is simple, and their payment is large. Kill the
leaders, and you bring the country crashing down. Varn is employed
as a simple vehicle engineer, but finds himself becoming involved
in the Gyllie's mission to weaken the enemy country.
In all the confusion, Varn's realization implodes upon him as he
uncovers the mysterious assassin of his brother.
"...and in one's heart is love. And love is the most powerful force
in the world."
Here I will contain samples of my work. You are free to provide feedback and especially criticism to the works below.
1
"We stand here today in memory of Jacob Lucus Richards, aged 16 at his death last week. We give our final respects to this young man: may he rest forever peacefully."
The words were still etched into Varn's mind like rock. His brother's funeral was horrible: raining, storming, lightning. Hardly anybody showed up, and the people that did left early. Varn and his parents, Jacob's parents, stayed though. Of course he had to, otherwise he would have nobody else to blame.
Varn stacked the last box onto the truck. It had been a day since the unwelcoming funeral. Varn was tormented by the death, stung a hundred times over and over again. He tried to drink the sorrows away, but stopped after he saw what it had begun to do to his fit, athletic body. He had halted the destruction of his physical body, but his mind was still deteriating from last week.
He banged against the side and lifted the truck's back shut. In the front, his father Dantine heard the signal and the door closing, then drove off towards Washington.
It wasn't his father who was moving, nor his mother. They would stay in Boston, with it's smoke-ridden streets, the heavily polluted air, the thick chemicals that the everyday citizens breathed in. After his father had flooded the city with his PowerCo oil rigs and power plants, the city had become, literally, an apocalypsal town: half-abandoned, dark, and isolated from the outside world except for it's the rare train that drove through, or the trucks that dropped off supplies for the city.
No, it was Varn, Jacob's 23 year old brother. Varn Richards with his guilt. How could he live in the very city his closest friend and brother had died? His father had no choice: the U.S.A was getting tougher to live in everyday. Population growth had overcrowded some areas, and supplies were being distributed unevenly across the continent. And worst of all, prices for oil and electricity had gone right up, which meant overtime work for Dantine who ran the PowerCo facilities. Some people would see this as a oppurtunity, but Dantine barely got paid a quarter of the profit made. He had to have it distributed throughout his many workers, and was still sending money over to Joseph Farrow.
Varn watched the truck leave in the distance, then round a clump of hills and disappear out of the city. His mind was working slowly, he needed sleep. Automatically, he began walking towards his house but remembered that it was empty. Still, he went inside.
The rooms were spotless. Not a mark on the carpet, nor a crack in the roof or walls, unlike thousands of other houses in Boston. His father was fairly wealthy, after all, and he could pay to have what he needed to live off. But the house was still old, and that was something you couldn't hide. It was an old couple that bought the house off him, and since it was just out of the city, away from all the traffic and noise, they paid full price for it.
He noticed a large piece of paper stuck on the inside of the window. It was facing outwards, so he couldn't actually see what was written on it. But he knew, and he couldn't be bothered pulling it down right now. He'd either do it later, or the newcomers would afterwards.
It was probably time to leave, he thought. He'd need to be out of the city by six o'clock at least, so that he could make it to Washington. He wanted to travel at night, though. There was less cameramen, less interviews, at night. But he still had a bit of time to spend in Boston, so he got in his car and drove off. He'd head to his mother's and father's house, they'd welcome him without asking him questions. He hoped.
THIS CHAPTER IS INCOMPLETE AS OF NOW
"We stand here today in memory of Jacob Lucus Richards, aged 16 at his death last week. We give our final respects to this young man: may he rest forever peacefully."
The words were still etched into Varn's mind like rock. His brother's funeral was horrible: raining, storming, lightning. Hardly anybody showed up, and the people that did left early. Varn and his parents, Jacob's parents, stayed though. Of course he had to, otherwise he would have nobody else to blame.
Varn stacked the last box onto the truck. It had been a day since the unwelcoming funeral. Varn was tormented by the death, stung a hundred times over and over again. He tried to drink the sorrows away, but stopped after he saw what it had begun to do to his fit, athletic body. He had halted the destruction of his physical body, but his mind was still deteriating from last week.
He banged against the side and lifted the truck's back shut. In the front, his father Dantine heard the signal and the door closing, then drove off towards Washington.
It wasn't his father who was moving, nor his mother. They would stay in Boston, with it's smoke-ridden streets, the heavily polluted air, the thick chemicals that the everyday citizens breathed in. After his father had flooded the city with his PowerCo oil rigs and power plants, the city had become, literally, an apocalypsal town: half-abandoned, dark, and isolated from the outside world except for it's the rare train that drove through, or the trucks that dropped off supplies for the city.
No, it was Varn, Jacob's 23 year old brother. Varn Richards with his guilt. How could he live in the very city his closest friend and brother had died? His father had no choice: the U.S.A was getting tougher to live in everyday. Population growth had overcrowded some areas, and supplies were being distributed unevenly across the continent. And worst of all, prices for oil and electricity had gone right up, which meant overtime work for Dantine who ran the PowerCo facilities. Some people would see this as a oppurtunity, but Dantine barely got paid a quarter of the profit made. He had to have it distributed throughout his many workers, and was still sending money over to Joseph Farrow.
Varn watched the truck leave in the distance, then round a clump of hills and disappear out of the city. His mind was working slowly, he needed sleep. Automatically, he began walking towards his house but remembered that it was empty. Still, he went inside.
The rooms were spotless. Not a mark on the carpet, nor a crack in the roof or walls, unlike thousands of other houses in Boston. His father was fairly wealthy, after all, and he could pay to have what he needed to live off. But the house was still old, and that was something you couldn't hide. It was an old couple that bought the house off him, and since it was just out of the city, away from all the traffic and noise, they paid full price for it.
He noticed a large piece of paper stuck on the inside of the window. It was facing outwards, so he couldn't actually see what was written on it. But he knew, and he couldn't be bothered pulling it down right now. He'd either do it later, or the newcomers would afterwards.
It was probably time to leave, he thought. He'd need to be out of the city by six o'clock at least, so that he could make it to Washington. He wanted to travel at night, though. There was less cameramen, less interviews, at night. But he still had a bit of time to spend in Boston, so he got in his car and drove off. He'd head to his mother's and father's house, they'd welcome him without asking him questions. He hoped.
THIS CHAPTER IS INCOMPLETE AS OF NOW
These people have provided help, whether it has been feedback, criticism, a character, or anything else I ask for in the future. They will each be asked if they require credit in the story, in which I will happily comply.
- Hera_: Provided the character Lily Smiths, who will be making an appearance in chapters 5 to 9.
