Zap's Novel - Would Love Some Feedback

Zappit

Staff member
I've been toying with a fantasy comic lately, and it's a story I've been working on for a few years. However, doing that and Supervillainous just isn't feasible, and I realized that the story would work as a novel as well. So I'm taking a swing at it, and would love a bit of feedback. It's still a bit skeletal, but here's the prologue and first chapter:

Vol

Many of the countless realms and kingdoms of the world have been touched by the presence of magic, some more than others. The realm of Arvalest was particularly blessed, as it was practically saturated with the stuff. This was due in large part to the continent of Vol, which had the unique distinction of floating several miles in the air. It was suspended in place by the Great Wellspring, a powerful flow of magic that ran from the ground up through the center of Vol, which also spread its magical essence across the entirety of Arvalest and its surrounding territories. Vol had never actually been explored, but it was widely assumed the entire continent was a miserable, dismal place that held countless dangers to any soul foolish enough to try to reach its mysterious landscape.

The Great Wellspring itself was the most powerful source of magic in the world, and could grant any mage worth his salt - which actually wasn't much given the price of salt at this time - incredible power if they only got close enough to tap it. However, those same mages had the good sense not to interrupt a magical flow that just so happened to be holding a billion tons of rock above their head. As such, the only mages foolish enough to try were not exactly what one would call mages. They could be more accurately described as the clinically insane. They rarely had any actual understanding of real magic. Mostly they just tended to sacrifice cats by throwing them into the magical flow. That didn't really bother anyone - save for the cats - but it never warranted intervention by the Archmagi, who governed and police the use of magic in Arvalest.

Vol was incredibly tempting to the scientists, explorers, adventurers, and brigands of Arvalest, all of whom thought there would be a wealth of information and riches for anyone who could reach the floating land. There had been no successful expeditions yet. The airship, long considered a fever dream by the learned engineers of the Academy, remained an elusive reality, and most attempts to build one almost invariably ended with an explosion. Other attempts included launching balloons filled with heated air, but those were almost always pierced by the flying lizards that coast near the rim of Vol. The only reason that there is any information about the flying lizards is because one of the beasts became entangled in the balloon after piercing it. causing both balloon, crew, and lizard to plunged their doom. The support crew on the ground was careful to document the lizard's size: big, its weight: pretty heavy: and its appearance: mostly flat after impact. That information quickly spread, and all balloon ventures were promptly abandoned. The Academy later determined the lizards were Lesser Drakoviles, a comparatively small cousin of the dragons long believed to be extinct. Suffice to say, it came as a shock to the Academy researchers, who suddenly had to update the Drake Bestiary tomes, which had gone untouched for generations.

There were many theories about Vol. It was possible that the Great Wellspring was a naturally occurring phenomenon that lifted the continent up eons ago. A widespread theory among the religious sects and many common folk was that the very earth itself rejected the inhabitants of Vol for their wickedness and banished them to the sky. While there was never any real record of the actual level of wickedness of the people of Vol - or if they even existed - it was a popular theory and did quite a good job of keeping all but the boldest explorers from trying to reach the skyward land. Another theory, which emerged after the discovery of the Lesser Dracoviles, told that Vol was a dragon kingdom, forever separate from the mortal races. Still, others thought the continent was home to the Gods, and believed it was not the place of mortal beings to seek to stand with them on what was holy ground. One of the more obscure schools of thought surmised that Vol wasn't banished to the sky; it was attempting to escape the earth because of some inevitable disaster. They were laughed at, derided, and largely excluded from decent society. It would eventually be revealed that those rare subscribers to the Fleeing Vol Theory were, in fact, minor seers, and were actually glimpsing future events. Some of them would even survive the coming disaster to brag about being correct.

But this story is not about those seers, or the lunatics hurling felines into a fiery column of raw magical power, or even the daring yet foolish balloon jockeys. It is about the unfortunate and unlikely group of heroes that would become the first people to set foot on the soil of Vol, and right now, they were just past the distant southern border of Arvalest.




Victus Mane and the Mage in Blue

It has been thoroughly documented in Arvalest that the elemental folk were quiet, passive, peaceful beings that seek a quiet, passive, peaceful existence away from the human populations. They typically made good neighbors on those rare occasions when one might get curious and mingle with the other races - except for the fire elementals, of course, which had a reputation for accidental arson. They were actually very friendly and polite, but, unfortunately, they were especially combustible, and had a difficult time fitting in in a flammable world.

This made the rock elemental aggressively bearing down on Golgas village quite the unusual spectacle. The exceedingly large creature, mostly granite with flecks of Fool's Gold, had very recently made a habit of attacking the village the past few nights, and was showing a level of violent consistency the inhabitants of Golgas found to be absolutely exhausting. They had been unable to harm the elemental with their crude iron weapons and tools, and had seen a number of their young men injured trying to drive the gargantuan away. The few swords in the village had been shattered, the arrows split upon its craggy hide, and random shoes thrown at the creature were particularly ineffective. The elemental always seemed to target the buildings and homes in the village, and appeared entirely disinterested in the people of Golgas.

Nearing the point of despair, and contemplating moving the entire village out the the rock elemental's territory, the elders decided to seek out assistance to fight the rock man and rebuild. They had heard of a wandering hero several villages over defeating another raging elemental, and promptly sought him out and hired him. The elementals in the area had become very territorial and ill-tempered as of late, and during difficult times, rumors and untruths can be easily spread, and people are far more likely to believe them. Even the potential that there might exist a hero capable of fending off the elementals was enough to convince nearly all in the village to find and hire that hero. The gamble was all they had left.

Victus Mane, the aforementioned hero, was in reality a talented con artist and mage, and had raised false elemental folk with basic life-weaver magic. He would then hire himself out to defeat the beasts, destroying his creations by simply dismissing the spell when he struck them. He was always rewarded fairly well for his efforts. The villages that contracted him might not have had much, but Mane made sure to get as much of that not much as he could.

The Golgas job was going as well as all the others. He raised the rock beast days earlier, gave it basic instructions to attack the buildings in the town - not the people, though, and especially not Mane himself - and to retreat to the Crusted Hills at the base of the nearby Scarborne Mountains during the day. When Mane finally arrived, he would strike his creation down with a blunt mace, which in actuality was imbued with the dispersal magic necessary to return the best back to its original state, enjoy the celebration feast, and collect his fee. No one was the wiser; he always created his puppets miles away from the targeted village, and hiding the dismissal spell in his weapon prevented anyone from actually seeing it cast. It was a fine, if not completely honest living.

The entire village of Golgas turned out to watch their new champion face down the monster. Mane certainly looked like a hero. Dressed in a long black and red tunic, a chainmail shirt, and heavy leather boots and gloves, he appeared as if he was built for combat. But most striking about him was his mask, a surprisingly light ichor-metal mask with gold filigree. It gave him a dark, almost regal appearance, and it was a real crowd-pleaser, too. Women especially loved the mysterious air the mask gave him, and Mane enjoyed taking full advantage of that fact.

He put on a good show, boldly announcing his presence to his puppet, challenging the rock man directly, and after several skillful swings, shattered the creature. As the cheers erupted from the grateful crowd and Mane raised his weapon high in victory, an old woman stepped out from the mass of revelers. She was a little thing, bent over, frail, and dressed in a ragged, dirty hooded robe. At first glance, one would think her a poor beggar woman. She carefully approached Mane, holding a single, brilliant gold coin. Mane generally paid no attention to the old women, but this time, he decided to break that habit.

"My father brought me to this village when I was just a little girl, and it has been my home for all these years.", said the old woman in a weak voice. "I was afraid it would be lost, and my family with it. Tell me, how did you best that rock monster with little more than an iron mace?"

Mane had been asked this before, and had prepared an answer. "Every elemental has a weakness. In the case of the rock folk, when you look carefully, you can find an entire web of small cracks and crevices. If one hits those spots just right, it can cleave the creature apart." He smiled at the old woman, sure that she would be mollified by his answer.

She touched her chin, scratched a small growth, and straightened her back, which suddenly made her nearly as tall as Mane himself. It took the so-called-hero by surprise, and he very noticeably flinched. "I suppose that would make sense...", she said with a much stronger voice now, "...if that wasn't a bunch of bunk, and you weren't a fraud!"

That got the crowd's attention.

Mane was taken aback, but quickly regained his composure. He picked up a chunk of the former elemental imposter, and held it out to the old woman. "I am no fraud, good woman. Look at this. This crack on this piece of debris was near the rock man's heart. When I struck the crack right here...," he said, pointing to a random broken edge, "...it caused a split and that broke the entire creature apart." He held it out to the crowd, rising it high above his head. "The rock folk are strong, but every one of them - every single one of them - can be shattered if you only know where to look!"

The crowd cheered for Mane then, pacified by the bold, confident pronouncement. Why would they doubt him? He was the experienced hero, a slayer of elementals, and they had just witnessed him destroy a monster that the entire force of the village could not harm.

The old woman, however, pulled her hood back, seemed to stand up even straighter, and began to gently glow. The crowd and Mane took a large step back. She threw back her rags, revealing a blue cape, a blue vest, and shining blue armored boots and gauntlets. All of it was trimmed with gold. Mane could see she also wore a dark grey Groz-cloth undersuit beneath her armor. She also seemed to be rapidly growing younger, and Mane quickly realized the old woman had been using magic to hide her true appearance. This was an Archmage, and enforcer of ethical magic, and a constable empowered to enforce the laws governing magic. There wasn't really a word to describe exactly how Mane felt at that moment; the closest thing was an old gutter folk saying: "someone told the rats you've got cheese up your arse."

The suddenly much younger woman wasted no time in approaching Mane again, and just as the glow faded, she spoke in a booming voice.

"You are a fraud, using magic to fool innocent people, cause them harm, and rob them! They might not recognize life-weaver magic, but it does not fool an Archmage of the Arvalest Academy! You are guilty of abusing magic on Arvalestan soil, and in the name of the Arvalest Code of the Ethical Use of Magic, I place you under arrest!"

Mane suddenly felt a surge of confidence, and without any doubts in his mind, stepped right up to the Archmage. "You do realize that we are currently not on Arvalestan soil, right?"
"What?", the Archmage asked, incredulous.

"We are outside the borders of Arvalest, and therefore, you've got no right to arrest me or even throw out such slanderous accusations! People like this don't enjoy the protections like the Arvalestan folk in their grand cities! It takes skill and courage to volunteer to face the threats villages like Golgas face!" He struck a heroic pose, confident the villagers would side with him.

An elder spoke. "They're mages? Both of them!?! Heretics! Seize them!"

Mane heard the Archmage mutter under her breath, "Oh, by the Gods, this is one of those villages..."

The crowd began slowly advancing on the pair. The Archmage turned to them. "Good people of Golgas, I apologize for crossing the border into your village. I was merely following reports of rogue elementals, and I did not realize my investigation took me out of Arvalestan territory. Please allow me to bring this criminal back with me, and I shall try to offer some small recompense for this transgression.

"Trans...gressin'?", the elder mumbled. He clearly didn't understand half of the words the Archmage said. She took a moment to try to figure out how to say it again more...simply, but never got the chance.

"You defy the divine will of the Gods by using magic. There's only one way to make good with the Gods. We gotta execute ya!" The old man raised his walking stick, and the young men once again began their cautious advance. The Archmage put her hands up, trying to diffuse the situation. "There is no need for that. We will gladly take our leave with all due haste," she said, but it had no effect.

Victus Mane, the talented con artist, however, took the opposite approach. He stepped forward, hands raised as if he was preparing to cast a spell. "Very well! Yes, I am a mage, and I raised the rock man! Now, you will all stand back, if you please, or I shall raise a dozen of them right now!"

Their aggressors immediately stopped, frozen in place by the terrifying notion of an army of rock monsters tearing them apart. The elder was completely flummoxed, and could only sputter out his words.

"But...the will...the Gods want...we need ta...burn ya at the...stake! Please?"

Mane began to walk to the edge of the village, ready to make his escape, when the Archmage, disgusted by his display, grabbed his shoulder.

"He can't. He can't raise a whole army of those things. It takes hours to prepare even one. The Archmagi work to stop men like this from doing evil. I only ask you allow me to fulfill my duty. After that, we'll come right back, and you can burn us up then."

The elder, still a bit in shock, took a moment to consider the offer, but after a few seconds, elected to reject it. "Naw. Naw, we need ta do it now or the Gods will punish us fer toleratin' evil spellcasters in this village. The Gods - they don't want humans usin' magic, since it's their lifeblood. You mages try to play at bein' Gods, but you aren't, and you gotta be taught as much! Go get 'em, boys!"

Mane was stunned. He whipped around to the Archmage, who still held a tight grip on his shoulder. "Are you mad!?! These people are going to kill us!"

The Archmage calmly motioned him to shush, and created a small fireball in her free hand. It was tiny, glowing sphere in her palm, nothing that could do much damage. "Alright, fraudster, grab the bottom left corner of my cape and do not let go under any circumstances." He did so, his ability to form a reason not to obey lost in the fear of imminent, fiery death. The Archmage's fireball suddenly grew much larger, and she hurled it to the ground, creating an explosive force that launched them high into the air and far outside the village. Mane held on to the cape tightly, every muscle in his body frozen. The Archmage was controlling their direction, a blaze of burning smoke projecting from the gauntlet. She glanced over to the terrified con artist.

"I'm going to let go of you, but don't let go of the cape. I need to grab the other end or we will hit the ground with painful, lethal force. You ready?"

She never gave him a chance to answer. In an instant, Mane was loose, holding only the corner of the cape. The Archmage was gripping the other end, whispering quiet prayers. The cape suddenly stiffened and opened up, and they were gently gliding towards the ground. The con artist had never seen windcloth before, but had heard a few things about it, including how it tended to be pretty unreliable if the silky material was not made by a master weaver. So far, the cape was holding up pretty well, but every slight twist of the wind made Mane grip it even tighter. He did a poor job of hiding his fear, even giving a slight yelp when he heard the Archmage say, "Well, that's not a good situation."

In Arvalest, the mages say that nothing travels faster than ignorance, and the young men of the village of Golgas were providing an excellent example of that. They were in pursuit, tracking the cape and mages in the air, and were navigating the woods with great haste, weapons in hand. The airborne pair could occasionally spot them through the open spots in the canopy, and figured there had to be about thirty of them. The Archmage pulled hard on the cape, turning left with such force that both mages were tossed quite violently. Among the other facts Mane knew about windcloth was that those who used it might begin to suffer from a sickness of the belly from being tossed about in the air. He had always thought that to be funny, but now, having a deeper understanding of the condition, he changed his mind. His dinner also changed its mind about riding with Mane, and promptly evacuated itself to the ground. The Archmage either didn't notice his state, or did not care, because she remained highly focused on steering the cape over rough terrain, hoping to slow their pursuers down to the point they would no longer be able to keep up. She had little time remaining to accomplish that, though, as the ground continued to gradually approach.

"Any...Hurk!" - Mane choked - A...Any chance we could land on softer ground? I don't think we'll survive hitting the rocks below us!"

"Just hold on! I'm going to bring us down in that open meadow to the right!"

"They're gonna land in the meadow! Cut 'em off!", came a voice from down below. The pursuers veered off towards the landing point, and Mane felt his heart sink.

"They heard you! They're going to catch us, you idiot!", he roared. But just as he was about to unload all his negative feelings upon the mysterious blue Archmage who ruined his life, she veered hard to the left again, bringing upon Mane a new wave of nausea. They landed about two minutes later in another, much smaller clearing, and nearly collapsed from exhaustion.

"You...you...", Mane could barely get the words out. It wasn't until they were on the ground that his body realized how exerting and strenuous flying from the cape had been. Once it came to that realization, it decided that it needed rest immediately, right there and then. He very nearly fell over, and caught himself on a nearby tree limb. "You tricked them." He almost laughed, but again, remembered how cross he was with the Archmage.

"What business was it of yours!?!", he demanded.

"What?", the Archmage asked.

"What business was it of yours to just some along and ruin me? You were out of your territory. I know about you Archmagi. You're not supposed to leave Arvalest, and your laws don't apply out there! I grew up in Midia, and I went to the Youth Academy, so I know the laws!"

She smiled. "So you're a Arvalestan citizen, then? That means you know..."

"No! No!, he shouted. He realized what that little revelation would cost him. As an Arvalestan citizen, he was, in fact, subject to their laws no matter where he happened to be. However, outside the borders and far away from the prisons, he knew that the agents of the Academy had a bit more...leeway when it came to dispensing justice under such conditions. He panicked, and in a burst of violet light, raised a false elemental from the dirt under his feet. It was crude, mishapen - not at all like the works of art he had carefully crafted for his grifts, but it was big, heavy, strong, and, most importantly, obedient. The Archmage was shocked at the sight. It was her understanding, as it was at the Academy, that life-weaver magic required a significant investment in both time and concentration to perform even the most basic spells. Had this performer been focusing during the flight, building up the magical energy needed to create this hulking brute? She highly doubted that.

"Stop her! Don't let her get me!", shouted Victus, and he bolted into the woods, leaving the Archmage to face down his dirt puppet.

It was over before it started. With a wave of her hand, an arrow made of solid light exploded out of the Archmage's gauntlet, lodging itself into the dirt puppet's gut. The creature was not at all bothered by the impalement, and lumbered forward. She waved her hand again, and the arrow exploded, blasting soil over a wide radius. At this point, she was very frustrated with the con artist, and was far less clean than just a few moments earlier.

Mane had a small head-start, but was doing his best to make the most of it. He leapt over rock clusters, dived under tree limbs, and, for good measure, started running through a small stream to avoid leaving footprints. His flight was short lived. He heard a small explosion behind him, and saw the Archmage launching herself above him on another fiery blast, albeit a much, much smaller one this time. She landed gracefully ten feet in front of him, covered in dirt and dust, and noticeably upset.

"It's over. All this running, all this trickery - it's done.", she said. Nice cowardly shriek, by the way. That was very manly the way you fled into the woods screaming. Now, you have been judged an abuser of magic, and you will be punished for putting so many people in danger with the intent to rob them." Mane closed his eyes, prepared for the end, but when it did not come, he opened one eye just a little bit. The Archmage was preparing some sort of incantation, chanting very softly to herself. She raised her hand, and a soft, blue glow grew out of her palm, reached out to Mane, and gently enveloped his mask. He tried to pull it off, to get himself away from whatever the blue light would do, but he couldn't. The mask held firm to his face, and would not yield in the slightest. He struggled for a moment, then dropped his hands in resignation, finally understanding what the light had done. It cursed his mask. It was not going to come off by any physical means.

"This is your punishment.", she said. You will wear this mask, hide your face in shame, until you can demonstrate to me that you are a changed man, and changed for the better. The curse I placed upon you is an original creation of mine. I'm the only person in the world who knows the purification rite necessary to dispel the magic that now resides in your mask." She smiled. "You're free to leave, to seek out whatever life you wish to lead, but should you ever become a decent, honest human being, come and find me. I'm a field agent of the Academy, always on the move, so that may be troublesome and time-consuming. You should also hope I don't die, or someone will really have told the rats you've got cheese up your arse."

She started off, leaving the dumbstruck Victus Mane behind. He hesitated, considered his current situation, and, uttering a number of curses so vile they cannot be repeated in good company or even some bad company, sauntered off behind the Archmage.

"So what's your plan then, trickster?", the Archmage said. "Are you going to just follow me?"

He grunted, "I don't see what else I can do. If you leave, I'll probably never see you again, and I have no intention of staying stuck in this thing forever." he said, pointing to the mask. "What do I have to do to get you to lift this curse?"

She smiled, and said, with just a hint of smugness, "You can start by telling me your name, and maybe how you created that dirt creature so quickly."

"Make a promise to me right now that you won't arrest me for what I'm about to tell you.", he said.

She moved right in front of him. "Why? What are you going to confess?" She stopped, considered that she already cursed him for his other transgressions, and decided to make that promise, so long as it didn't involve murder. He promised her it didn't.

Without looking at her, he started, "I'm Victus Mane, though most people just called me Vic back in Avalest. I hated that. Out here, I had enough respect that they used my whole name. And that dirt man? I don't know - summoning a puppet that fast is just something I can do. When I was in the Youth Academy, I had a knack for life-weaver magic. I guess I just wanted to see how far I could go with that. The Academy always wants to hire decent life-weavers, so I thought I'd make that my future. But, uh...you ever hear of Grenta Gillberan?"

Of course the Archmage had heard of Grenta Gillberan. She was an instructor at the Academy, one of its oldest and most experienced, but she would often teach a semester at the Youth Academy as well. The magi-in-training would flock to her lectures, packing the larger learning halls. She also sat on the board of Magic Ethics, which laid out the legal uses of magic, and clarified any confusion regarding those rules. Grenta Gillberan had actually drafted several of the rules Victus Mane had been guilty of breaking.

"Mmm-hmm.", the Archmage replied. "Go on."

"Well, she came through the Youth Academy, and was giving a lesson on intermediate life-weaver spellcasting, so I signed up for it. Learned a bit, but... she had this book with her. I hadn't seen it in the libraries, and figured it was something advanced, something from the Academy itself. It looked very, very old. Practically ancient, I think. She kept looking through it during the lesson, and wouldn't let any of us so much as take a peek. She left it on the lectern after she went to get her midday meal, and put a protective spell on it so nobody could get at it. I...might have figured out how to break that spell, might have broken it, and might have taken a couple of the more...interesting pages for my own use. Seal-breaking was the only other kind of magic I was even halfway decent at. I always kept that to myself, since I could sneak into the kitchen at night and nip myself a snack. Nobody saw me near the book, and they never figured out it was me. Those pages...they taught me so much. So much, so, that I even figured out how to speed up the entire process of creating a puppet. It's not perfect, I'm still working on that, but I think I can get it to the point I can summon one at will, rather than after a charging period. I left the Youth Academy a few months later so I could work on my own ideas, and intentionally flunked out so I could stay unnoticed."

The Archmage was impressed. Life-weaver magic was dangerous stuff, and the Academy specifically taught its students to work slowly and precisely. While that was mostly due to the incredibly volatile nature of that type of magic, it was also to ingrain a sense of responsibility within the minds of the students. Victus Mane had obviously skipped those lessons. Keeping a puppet stable when summoned so quickly, even in a panic, was a feat few were capable of. The only other person she had seen create a puppet in an instant was Corridan Ganthrip, one of the elite instructors at the Academy.

"So what about you? You put this curse on me, and walk away, and you don't even tell me your name. How was I supposed to find you when you do something like that?" he protested. It was a fair point, and the Archmage obliged the request.

"I am Zephyr Azure, Archmage of the Academy and Class 3 Field Agent.", she said proudly and with authority. "I am..."

"That's a made-up name.", Mane interrupted. "That's not a real name at all."

"Yes. It's not the name I was born with. Once you ascend to the level of Archmage in service to the Academy, you are allowed to choose a new name. I chose to do just that.", she explained. That wasn't widely known information, but it allowed the Archmages a way to work with fewer interruptions. A minimal degree of anonymity kept their families safe from those that would hold grudges against the Academy officials.

"So...", said Mane, ...you go with Zephyr Azure. Both of those words mean blue. Your name is Blue Blue. You're dressed in blue, and, oh, by the Gods, even your hair is blue!" He hadn't noticed it before in the chaos of the chase and the darkness of the night, but Zephyr's hair was indeed quite blue - not tinted - but completely blue. Her eyebrows were still dark, though. Her eyes were also blue, but Mane doubted that was natural. She was obviously obsessed with the color, and Mane knew how dangerous obsession, even one that appeared harmless, could be. Avoiding and recognizing obsession was an early lesson at the Youth Academy, since once an individual became obsessed, they were more likely to abuse magic to satisfy that obsession. The only comfort Mane could take was that this woman answered directly to the Academy, and they would likely be aware of her activities. They would intervene if Azure went too far. He might end up in prison at the end of everything, but the Academy could at least get his mask off. He's go along with it all, and see how everything played out. He honestly couldn't think of any way an unnatural preoccupation with blue could result in danger, but he elected to remain cautious, nonetheless, and would try to get the curse removed as quickly as possible.

"Well..." said Zephyr Azure, the potentially cracked blue Archmage, "...we need to get back into Arvalestan territory. Since we don't have an elemental invasion brewing - thanks so much for causing that panic, Vic - I need to report back that it was a false alarm."

"You're going to turn me in, aren't you?", sighed Mane. He had said too much when he confessed to stealing from Grenta Gillberan.

"No, I don't think I will. I told you the deal, and if you're going to try to learn a bit of responsibility, then your best chance to do so won't happen in prison. So get a move on, Vic. We're off to The Bloated Hog, the best tavern in southern Arvalest."

"Why's it the best?", Mane asked.

"It's the one where you're least likely to get your entrails cut out.", said Azure.
 
I've been toying with a fantasy comic lately, and it's a story I've been working on for a few years. However, doing that and Supervillainous just isn't feasible, and I realized that the story would work as a novel as well. So I'm taking a swing at it, and would love a bit of feedback. It's still a bit skeletal, but here's the prologue and first chapter:

Vol

Many of the countless realms and kingdoms of the world have been touched by the presence of magic, some more than others. The realm of Arvalest was particularly blessed, as it was practically saturated with the stuff. This was due in large part to the continent of Vol, which had the unique distinction of floating several miles in the air. It was suspended in place by the Great Wellspring, a powerful flow of magic that ran from the ground up through the center of Vol, which also spread its magical essence across the entirety of Arvalest and its surrounding territories. Vol had never actually been explored, but it was widely assumed the entire continent was a miserable, dismal place that held countless dangers to any soul foolish enough to try to reach its mysterious landscape.

The Great Wellspring itself was the most powerful source of magic in the world, and could grant any mage worth his salt - which actually wasn't much given the price of salt at this time - incredible power if they only got close enough to tap it. However, those same mages had the good sense not to interrupt a magical flow that just so happened to be holding a billion tons of rock above their head. As such, the only mages foolish enough to try were not exactly what one would call mages. They could be more accurately described as the clinically insane. They rarely had any actual understanding of real magic. Mostly they just tended to sacrifice cats by throwing them into the magical flow. That didn't really bother anyone - save for the cats - but it never warranted intervention by the Archmagi, who governed and police the use of magic in Arvalest.

Vol was incredibly tempting to the scientists, explorers, adventurers, and brigands of Arvalest, all of whom thought there would be a wealth of information and riches for anyone who could reach the floating land. There had been no successful expeditions yet. The airship, long considered a fever dream by the learned engineers of the Academy, remained an elusive reality, and most attempts to build one almost invariably ended with an explosion. Other attempts included launching balloons filled with heated air, but those were almost always pierced by the flying lizards that coast near the rim of Vol. The only reason that there is any information about the flying lizards is because one of the beasts became entangled in the balloon after piercing it. causing both balloon, crew, and lizard to plunged their doom. The support crew on the ground was careful to document the lizard's size: big, its weight: pretty heavy: and its appearance: mostly flat after impact. That information quickly spread, and all balloon ventures were promptly abandoned. The Academy later determined the lizards were Lesser Drakoviles, a comparatively small cousin of the dragons long believed to be extinct. Suffice to say, it came as a shock to the Academy researchers, who suddenly had to update the Drake Bestiary tomes, which had gone untouched for generations.

There were many theories about Vol. It was possible that the Great Wellspring was a naturally occurring phenomenon that lifted the continent up eons ago. A widespread theory among the religious sects and many common folk was that the very earth itself rejected the inhabitants of Vol for their wickedness and banished them to the sky. While there was never any real record of the actual level of wickedness of the people of Vol - or if they even existed - it was a popular theory and did quite a good job of keeping all but the boldest explorers from trying to reach the skyward land. Another theory, which emerged after the discovery of the Lesser Dracoviles, told that Vol was a dragon kingdom, forever separate from the mortal races. Still, others thought the continent was home to the Gods, and believed it was not the place of mortal beings to seek to stand with them on what was holy ground. One of the more obscure schools of thought surmised that Vol wasn't banished to the sky; it was attempting to escape the earth because of some inevitable disaster. They were laughed at, derided, and largely excluded from decent society. It would eventually be revealed that those rare subscribers to the Fleeing Vol Theory were, in fact, minor seers, and were actually glimpsing future events. Some of them would even survive the coming disaster to brag about being correct.

But this story is not about those seers, or the lunatics hurling felines into a fiery column of raw magical power, or even the daring yet foolish balloon jockeys. It is about the unfortunate and unlikely group of heroes that would become the first people to set foot on the soil of Vol, and right now, they were just past the distant southern border of Arvalest.




Victus Mane and the Mage in Blue

It has been thoroughly documented in Arvalest that the elemental folk were quiet, passive, peaceful beings that seek a quiet, passive, peaceful existence away from the human populations. They typically made good neighbors on those rare occasions when one might get curious and mingle with the other races - except for the fire elementals, of course, which had a reputation for accidental arson. They were actually very friendly and polite, but, unfortunately, they were especially combustible, and had a difficult time fitting in in a flammable world.

This made the rock elemental aggressively bearing down on Golgas village quite the unusual spectacle. The exceedingly large creature, mostly granite with flecks of Fool's Gold, had very recently made a habit of attacking the village the past few nights, and was showing a level of violent consistency the inhabitants of Golgas found to be absolutely exhausting. They had been unable to harm the elemental with their crude iron weapons and tools, and had seen a number of their young men injured trying to drive the gargantuan away. The few swords in the village had been shattered, the arrows split upon its craggy hide, and random shoes thrown at the creature were particularly ineffective. The elemental always seemed to target the buildings and homes in the village, and appeared entirely disinterested in the people of Golgas.

Nearing the point of despair, and contemplating moving the entire village out the the rock elemental's territory, the elders decided to seek out assistance to fight the rock man and rebuild. They had heard of a wandering hero several villages over defeating another raging elemental, and promptly sought him out and hired him. The elementals in the area had become very territorial and ill-tempered as of late, and during difficult times, rumors and untruths can be easily spread, and people are far more likely to believe them. Even the potential that there might exist a hero capable of fending off the elementals was enough to convince nearly all in the village to find and hire that hero. The gamble was all they had left.

Victus Mane, the aforementioned hero, was in reality a talented con artist and mage, and had raised false elemental folk with basic life-weaver magic. He would then hire himself out to defeat the beasts, destroying his creations by simply dismissing the spell when he struck them. He was always rewarded fairly well for his efforts. The villages that contracted him might not have had much, but Mane made sure to get as much of that not much as he could.

The Golgas job was going as well as all the others. He raised the rock beast days earlier, gave it basic instructions to attack the buildings in the town - not the people, though, and especially not Mane himself - and to retreat to the Crusted Hills at the base of the nearby Scarborne Mountains during the day. When Mane finally arrived, he would strike his creation down with a blunt mace, which in actuality was imbued with the dispersal magic necessary to return the best back to its original state, enjoy the celebration feast, and collect his fee. No one was the wiser; he always created his puppets miles away from the targeted village, and hiding the dismissal spell in his weapon prevented anyone from actually seeing it cast. It was a fine, if not completely honest living.

The entire village of Golgas turned out to watch their new champion face down the monster. Mane certainly looked like a hero. Dressed in a long black and red tunic, a chainmail shirt, and heavy leather boots and gloves, he appeared as if he was built for combat. But most striking about him was his mask, a surprisingly light ichor-metal mask with gold filigree. It gave him a dark, almost regal appearance, and it was a real crowd-pleaser, too. Women especially loved the mysterious air the mask gave him, and Mane enjoyed taking full advantage of that fact.

He put on a good show, boldly announcing his presence to his puppet, challenging the rock man directly, and after several skillful swings, shattered the creature. As the cheers erupted from the grateful crowd and Mane raised his weapon high in victory, an old woman stepped out from the mass of revelers. She was a little thing, bent over, frail, and dressed in a ragged, dirty hooded robe. At first glance, one would think her a poor beggar woman. She carefully approached Mane, holding a single, brilliant gold coin. Mane generally paid no attention to the old women, but this time, he decided to break that habit.

"My father brought me to this village when I was just a little girl, and it has been my home for all these years.", said the old woman in a weak voice. "I was afraid it would be lost, and my family with it. Tell me, how did you best that rock monster with little more than an iron mace?"

Mane had been asked this before, and had prepared an answer. "Every elemental has a weakness. In the case of the rock folk, when you look carefully, you can find an entire web of small cracks and crevices. If one hits those spots just right, it can cleave the creature apart." He smiled at the old woman, sure that she would be mollified by his answer.

She touched her chin, scratched a small growth, and straightened her back, which suddenly made her nearly as tall as Mane himself. It took the so-called-hero by surprise, and he very noticeably flinched. "I suppose that would make sense...", she said with a much stronger voice now, "...if that wasn't a bunch of bunk, and you weren't a fraud!"

That got the crowd's attention.

Mane was taken aback, but quickly regained his composure. He picked up a chunk of the former elemental imposter, and held it out to the old woman. "I am no fraud, good woman. Look at this. This crack on this piece of debris was near the rock man's heart. When I struck the crack right here...," he said, pointing to a random broken edge, "...it caused a split and that broke the entire creature apart." He held it out to the crowd, rising it high above his head. "The rock folk are strong, but every one of them - every single one of them - can be shattered if you only know where to look!"

The crowd cheered for Mane then, pacified by the bold, confident pronouncement. Why would they doubt him? He was the experienced hero, a slayer of elementals, and they had just witnessed him destroy a monster that the entire force of the village could not harm.

The old woman, however, pulled her hood back, seemed to stand up even straighter, and began to gently glow. The crowd and Mane took a large step back. She threw back her rags, revealing a blue cape, a blue vest, and shining blue armored boots and gauntlets. All of it was trimmed with gold. Mane could see she also wore a dark grey Groz-cloth undersuit beneath her armor. She also seemed to be rapidly growing younger, and Mane quickly realized the old woman had been using magic to hide her true appearance. This was an Archmage, and enforcer of ethical magic, and a constable empowered to enforce the laws governing magic. There wasn't really a word to describe exactly how Mane felt at that moment; the closest thing was an old gutter folk saying: "someone told the rats you've got cheese up your arse."

The suddenly much younger woman wasted no time in approaching Mane again, and just as the glow faded, she spoke in a booming voice.

"You are a fraud, using magic to fool innocent people, cause them harm, and rob them! They might not recognize life-weaver magic, but it does not fool an Archmage of the Arvalest Academy! You are guilty of abusing magic on Arvalestan soil, and in the name of the Arvalest Code of the Ethical Use of Magic, I place you under arrest!"

Mane suddenly felt a surge of confidence, and without any doubts in his mind, stepped right up to the Archmage. "You do realize that we are currently not on Arvalestan soil, right?"
"What?", the Archmage asked, incredulous.

"We are outside the borders of Arvalest, and therefore, you've got no right to arrest me or even throw out such slanderous accusations! People like this don't enjoy the protections like the Arvalestan folk in their grand cities! It takes skill and courage to volunteer to face the threats villages like Golgas face!" He struck a heroic pose, confident the villagers would side with him.

An elder spoke. "They're mages? Both of them!?! Heretics! Seize them!"

Mane heard the Archmage mutter under her breath, "Oh, by the Gods, this is one of those villages..."

The crowd began slowly advancing on the pair. The Archmage turned to them. "Good people of Golgas, I apologize for crossing the border into your village. I was merely following reports of rogue elementals, and I did not realize my investigation took me out of Arvalestan territory. Please allow me to bring this criminal back with me, and I shall try to offer some small recompense for this transgression.

"Trans...gressin'?", the elder mumbled. He clearly didn't understand half of the words the Archmage said. She took a moment to try to figure out how to say it again more...simply, but never got the chance.

"You defy the divine will of the Gods by using magic. There's only one way to make good with the Gods. We gotta execute ya!" The old man raised his walking stick, and the young men once again began their cautious advance. The Archmage put her hands up, trying to diffuse the situation. "There is no need for that. We will gladly take our leave with all due haste," she said, but it had no effect.

Victus Mane, the talented con artist, however, took the opposite approach. He stepped forward, hands raised as if he was preparing to cast a spell. "Very well! Yes, I am a mage, and I raised the rock man! Now, you will all stand back, if you please, or I shall raise a dozen of them right now!"

Their aggressors immediately stopped, frozen in place by the terrifying notion of an army of rock monsters tearing them apart. The elder was completely flummoxed, and could only sputter out his words.

"But...the will...the Gods want...we need ta...burn ya at the...stake! Please?"

Mane began to walk to the edge of the village, ready to make his escape, when the Archmage, disgusted by his display, grabbed his shoulder.

"He can't. He can't raise a whole army of those things. It takes hours to prepare even one. The Archmagi work to stop men like this from doing evil. I only ask you allow me to fulfill my duty. After that, we'll come right back, and you can burn us up then."

The elder, still a bit in shock, took a moment to consider the offer, but after a few seconds, elected to reject it. "Naw. Naw, we need ta do it now or the Gods will punish us fer toleratin' evil spellcasters in this village. The Gods - they don't want humans usin' magic, since it's their lifeblood. You mages try to play at bein' Gods, but you aren't, and you gotta be taught as much! Go get 'em, boys!"

Mane was stunned. He whipped around to the Archmage, who still held a tight grip on his shoulder. "Are you mad!?! These people are going to kill us!"

The Archmage calmly motioned him to shush, and created a small fireball in her free hand. It was tiny, glowing sphere in her palm, nothing that could do much damage. "Alright, fraudster, grab the bottom left corner of my cape and do not let go under any circumstances." He did so, his ability to form a reason not to obey lost in the fear of imminent, fiery death. The Archmage's fireball suddenly grew much larger, and she hurled it to the ground, creating an explosive force that launched them high into the air and far outside the village. Mane held on to the cape tightly, every muscle in his body frozen. The Archmage was controlling their direction, a blaze of burning smoke projecting from the gauntlet. She glanced over to the terrified con artist.

"I'm going to let go of you, but don't let go of the cape. I need to grab the other end or we will hit the ground with painful, lethal force. You ready?"

She never gave him a chance to answer. In an instant, Mane was loose, holding only the corner of the cape. The Archmage was gripping the other end, whispering quiet prayers. The cape suddenly stiffened and opened up, and they were gently gliding towards the ground. The con artist had never seen windcloth before, but had heard a few things about it, including how it tended to be pretty unreliable if the silky material was not made by a master weaver. So far, the cape was holding up pretty well, but every slight twist of the wind made Mane grip it even tighter. He did a poor job of hiding his fear, even giving a slight yelp when he heard the Archmage say, "Well, that's not a good situation."

In Arvalest, the mages say that nothing travels faster than ignorance, and the young men of the village of Golgas were providing an excellent example of that. They were in pursuit, tracking the cape and mages in the air, and were navigating the woods with great haste, weapons in hand. The airborne pair could occasionally spot them through the open spots in the canopy, and figured there had to be about thirty of them. The Archmage pulled hard on the cape, turning left with such force that both mages were tossed quite violently. Among the other facts Mane knew about windcloth was that those who used it might begin to suffer from a sickness of the belly from being tossed about in the air. He had always thought that to be funny, but now, having a deeper understanding of the condition, he changed his mind. His dinner also changed its mind about riding with Mane, and promptly evacuated itself to the ground. The Archmage either didn't notice his state, or did not care, because she remained highly focused on steering the cape over rough terrain, hoping to slow their pursuers down to the point they would no longer be able to keep up. She had little time remaining to accomplish that, though, as the ground continued to gradually approach.

"Any...Hurk!" - Mane choked - A...Any chance we could land on softer ground? I don't think we'll survive hitting the rocks below us!"

"Just hold on! I'm going to bring us down in that open meadow to the right!"

"They're gonna land in the meadow! Cut 'em off!", came a voice from down below. The pursuers veered off towards the landing point, and Mane felt his heart sink.

"They heard you! They're going to catch us, you idiot!", he roared. But just as he was about to unload all his negative feelings upon the mysterious blue Archmage who ruined his life, she veered hard to the left again, bringing upon Mane a new wave of nausea. They landed about two minutes later in another, much smaller clearing, and nearly collapsed from exhaustion.

"You...you...", Mane could barely get the words out. It wasn't until they were on the ground that his body realized how exerting and strenuous flying from the cape had been. Once it came to that realization, it decided that it needed rest immediately, right there and then. He very nearly fell over, and caught himself on a nearby tree limb. "You tricked them." He almost laughed, but again, remembered how cross he was with the Archmage.

"What business was it of yours!?!", he demanded.

"What?", the Archmage asked.

"What business was it of yours to just some along and ruin me? You were out of your territory. I know about you Archmagi. You're not supposed to leave Arvalest, and your laws don't apply out there! I grew up in Midia, and I went to the Youth Academy, so I know the laws!"

She smiled. "So you're a Arvalestan citizen, then? That means you know..."

"No! No!, he shouted. He realized what that little revelation would cost him. As an Arvalestan citizen, he was, in fact, subject to their laws no matter where he happened to be. However, outside the borders and far away from the prisons, he knew that the agents of the Academy had a bit more...leeway when it came to dispensing justice under such conditions. He panicked, and in a burst of violet light, raised a false elemental from the dirt under his feet. It was crude, mishapen - not at all like the works of art he had carefully crafted for his grifts, but it was big, heavy, strong, and, most importantly, obedient. The Archmage was shocked at the sight. It was her understanding, as it was at the Academy, that life-weaver magic required a significant investment in both time and concentration to perform even the most basic spells. Had this performer been focusing during the flight, building up the magical energy needed to create this hulking brute? She highly doubted that.

"Stop her! Don't let her get me!", shouted Victus, and he bolted into the woods, leaving the Archmage to face down his dirt puppet.

It was over before it started. With a wave of her hand, an arrow made of solid light exploded out of the Archmage's gauntlet, lodging itself into the dirt puppet's gut. The creature was not at all bothered by the impalement, and lumbered forward. She waved her hand again, and the arrow exploded, blasting soil over a wide radius. At this point, she was very frustrated with the con artist, and was far less clean than just a few moments earlier.

Mane had a small head-start, but was doing his best to make the most of it. He leapt over rock clusters, dived under tree limbs, and, for good measure, started running through a small stream to avoid leaving footprints. His flight was short lived. He heard a small explosion behind him, and saw the Archmage launching herself above him on another fiery blast, albeit a much, much smaller one this time. She landed gracefully ten feet in front of him, covered in dirt and dust, and noticeably upset.

"It's over. All this running, all this trickery - it's done.", she said. Nice cowardly shriek, by the way. That was very manly the way you fled into the woods screaming. Now, you have been judged an abuser of magic, and you will be punished for putting so many people in danger with the intent to rob them." Mane closed his eyes, prepared for the end, but when it did not come, he opened one eye just a little bit. The Archmage was preparing some sort of incantation, chanting very softly to herself. She raised her hand, and a soft, blue glow grew out of her palm, reached out to Mane, and gently enveloped his mask. He tried to pull it off, to get himself away from whatever the blue light would do, but he couldn't. The mask held firm to his face, and would not yield in the slightest. He struggled for a moment, then dropped his hands in resignation, finally understanding what the light had done. It cursed his mask. It was not going to come off by any physical means.

"This is your punishment.", she said. You will wear this mask, hide your face in shame, until you can demonstrate to me that you are a changed man, and changed for the better. The curse I placed upon you is an original creation of mine. I'm the only person in the world who knows the purification rite necessary to dispel the magic that now resides in your mask." She smiled. "You're free to leave, to seek out whatever life you wish to lead, but should you ever become a decent, honest human being, come and find me. I'm a field agent of the Academy, always on the move, so that may be troublesome and time-consuming. You should also hope I don't die, or someone will really have told the rats you've got cheese up your arse."

She started off, leaving the dumbstruck Victus Mane behind. He hesitated, considered his current situation, and, uttering a number of curses so vile they cannot be repeated in good company or even some bad company, sauntered off behind the Archmage.

"So what's your plan then, trickster?", the Archmage said. "Are you going to just follow me?"

He grunted, "I don't see what else I can do. If you leave, I'll probably never see you again, and I have no intention of staying stuck in this thing forever." he said, pointing to the mask. "What do I have to do to get you to lift this curse?"

She smiled, and said, with just a hint of smugness, "You can start by telling me your name, and maybe how you created that dirt creature so quickly."

"Make a promise to me right now that you won't arrest me for what I'm about to tell you.", he said.

She moved right in front of him. "Why? What are you going to confess?" She stopped, considered that she already cursed him for his other transgressions, and decided to make that promise, so long as it didn't involve murder. He promised her it didn't.

Without looking at her, he started, "I'm Victus Mane, though most people just called me Vic back in Avalest. I hated that. Out here, I had enough respect that they used my whole name. And that dirt man? I don't know - summoning a puppet that fast is just something I can do. When I was in the Youth Academy, I had a knack for life-weaver magic. I guess I just wanted to see how far I could go with that. The Academy always wants to hire decent life-weavers, so I thought I'd make that my future. But, uh...you ever hear of Grenta Gillberan?"

Of course the Archmage had heard of Grenta Gillberan. She was an instructor at the Academy, one of its oldest and most experienced, but she would often teach a semester at the Youth Academy as well. The magi-in-training would flock to her lectures, packing the larger learning halls. She also sat on the board of Magic Ethics, which laid out the legal uses of magic, and clarified any confusion regarding those rules. Grenta Gillberan had actually drafted several of the rules Victus Mane had been guilty of breaking.

"Mmm-hmm.", the Archmage replied. "Go on."

"Well, she came through the Youth Academy, and was giving a lesson on intermediate life-weaver spellcasting, so I signed up for it. Learned a bit, but... she had this book with her. I hadn't seen it in the libraries, and figured it was something advanced, something from the Academy itself. It looked very, very old. Practically ancient, I think. She kept looking through it during the lesson, and wouldn't let any of us so much as take a peek. She left it on the lectern after she went to get her midday meal, and put a protective spell on it so nobody could get at it. I...might have figured out how to break that spell, might have broken it, and might have taken a couple of the more...interesting pages for my own use. Seal-breaking was the only other kind of magic I was even halfway decent at. I always kept that to myself, since I could sneak into the kitchen at night and nip myself a snack. Nobody saw me near the book, and they never figured out it was me. Those pages...they taught me so much. So much, so, that I even figured out how to speed up the entire process of creating a puppet. It's not perfect, I'm still working on that, but I think I can get it to the point I can summon one at will, rather than after a charging period. I left the Youth Academy a few months later so I could work on my own ideas, and intentionally flunked out so I could stay unnoticed."

The Archmage was impressed. Life-weaver magic was dangerous stuff, and the Academy specifically taught its students to work slowly and precisely. While that was mostly due to the incredibly volatile nature of that type of magic, it was also to ingrain a sense of responsibility within the minds of the students. Victus Mane had obviously skipped those lessons. Keeping a puppet stable when summoned so quickly, even in a panic, was a feat few were capable of. The only other person she had seen create a puppet in an instant was Corridan Ganthrip, one of the elite instructors at the Academy.

"So what about you? You put this curse on me, and walk away, and you don't even tell me your name. How was I supposed to find you when you do something like that?" he protested. It was a fair point, and the Archmage obliged the request.

"I am Zephyr Azure, Archmage of the Academy and Class 3 Field Agent.", she said proudly and with authority. "I am..."

"That's a made-up name.", Mane interrupted. "That's not a real name at all."

"Yes. It's not the name I was born with. Once you ascend to the level of Archmage in service to the Academy, you are allowed to choose a new name. I chose to do just that.", she explained. That wasn't widely known information, but it allowed the Archmages a way to work with fewer interruptions. A minimal degree of anonymity kept their families safe from those that would hold grudges against the Academy officials.

"So...", said Mane, ...you go with Zephyr Azure. Both of those words mean blue. Your name is Blue Blue. You're dressed in blue, and, oh, by the Gods, even your hair is blue!" He hadn't noticed it before in the chaos of the chase and the darkness of the night, but Zephyr's hair was indeed quite blue - not tinted - but completely blue. Her eyebrows were still dark, though. Her eyes were also blue, but Mane doubted that was natural. She was obviously obsessed with the color, and Mane knew how dangerous obsession, even one that appeared harmless, could be. Avoiding and recognizing obsession was an early lesson at the Youth Academy, since once an individual became obsessed, they were more likely to abuse magic to satisfy that obsession. The only comfort Mane could take was that this woman answered directly to the Academy, and they would likely be aware of her activities. They would intervene if Azure went too far. He might end up in prison at the end of everything, but the Academy could at least get his mask off. He's go along with it all, and see how everything played out. He honestly couldn't think of any way an unnatural preoccupation with blue could result in danger, but he elected to remain cautious, nonetheless, and would try to get the curse removed as quickly as possible.

"Well..." said Zephyr Azure, the potentially cracked blue Archmage, "...we need to get back into Arvalestan territory. Since we don't have an elemental invasion brewing - thanks so much for causing that panic, Vic - I need to report back that it was a false alarm."

"You're going to turn me in, aren't you?", sighed Mane. He had said too much when he confessed to stealing from Grenta Gillberan.

"No, I don't think I will. I told you the deal, and if you're going to try to learn a bit of responsibility, then your best chance to do so won't happen in prison. So get a move on, Vic. We're off to The Bloated Hog, the best tavern in southern Arvalest."

"Why's it the best?", Mane asked.

"Better Nate than lever", said Azure.
Some minor edits, think I really punched it up.

(I'm so sorry... I had to)
 
I only read it briefly and scanned through a lot more. Opening with a sentence in passive voice makes it seem like we are in for an overly dry, academic treatise. I highly recommend the Hemingway web app ( I believe it is hemingwayapp.com...google it if I am wrong.). That will catch some basic sentence construction issues and highlight where you might rest on some kinds of writing, such as passive voice.
 

Zappit

Staff member
Fed it through Hemingway. Had a few instances of passive voice, and I apparently use sentences that are too long. Damn that English degree, gettin' me to put clauses together!
 
Top