Camp Kasiera - A Bolt from Tybalt

[ArwingAce21]

Okay, I sprung this one on ya. Surprise, Ace has a story (heavily in progress, but a story nonetheless) that has absolutely NOTHING to do with Star Fox! Yup, I'm actually posting an original work in the Short Story section.

Here's a quick rundown of what to expect. This is a story about a summer camp, located next to Lake Kasiera. The main character will vary depending on the episode. I wrote this because I want to have my own set of characters I can use for whatever I need them for.

Benji: Arrgh, I told you we'd end up being slaves!!

Arrek: Meh, we're fictional characters. What do you expect?

Ace: Hush, I'm doing the introduction.

Anyway, I hope I have the drive to keep writing this. I really don't want this one to fall apart like 79% of my fics! This first episode is going to be a hint boring, seeing as it is the device to introduce most of the characters and begin characterization.

I have 2/3 of the first episode complete, so I'll post the first section. It'll be short.

Please review and focus on my characterization and imagery in your critiques. I have yet to figure what genre this is, as that will vary between episodes, but the overall theme I want to explore is the interaction between different kinds of people. Hopefully, this will bring back memories of summer camps...but all may not be as it seems at Camp Kasiera. Enjoy!!

---

Camp Kasiera

Episode 1 – A Bolt From Tybalt

The silver minivan pulled into a gravel parking lot next to the rustic camp office. The driver stopped the engine, pulled up the brake, and stepped out after adjusting his beret. He had to look nice for all the first impressions he’d be making today. The 17-year-old locked the door; he wouldn’t be going anywhere for a while. Now he gazed across the expansive Kasiera campus, trying to figure out where he needed to go to register. There were a bunch of people gathered around a picnic shelter near the lakeshore. The tall blonde in the brown leather jacket decided that was where he needed to be.

He meandered through the crowd and found the registration desk. After a short wait, he was up.

“Hello, what is your name?” asked a staff member.

“I’m Benji Valencia.”

“And how old are you?”

“Seventeen.”

“You are probably one of the oldest campers here. Did you drive here?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll need your keys, then.”

Benji handed over his key ring, somewhat reluctantly. He didn’t know why he suddenly became reticent.

“One last question, did you bring any weapons with you?”

“Just my hunting knife,” Benji said, patting the sheath on his belt. He produced a small plastic card and flashed it. “I have a license for it.”

“Okay then, here’s your nametag, and you are in cabin eight, up that hill.”

“Thank you,” replied Benji, putting on the nametag. He despised the various formalities that every camp has: the name tag, the hour-long orientation where they tell you every little behavioral infraction you can get punished for. Why don’t they just simply tell everyone to behave themselves?

Cabin eight was a fair ways up a hill; in actuality, he was in the second furthest cabin away from the main campus. ‘Typical Benji luck,’ the older teen thought to himself. It looked like some of his roommates were already there. Two of them were sitting on the pastoral cabin’s porch chatting away. One was wearing a western-style hat and blue-jean jacket, while the other had glasses and a white T-shirt.

“Hey thar!” hollered one of them. “What’s yer name?”

“Uh, I’m Benji.”

“Alright Benji. I’m Joseph Meyer. Call me Joe.”

“Nice to meet you, Joe. I’m just going to take a wild
guess and say you’re from the heartland.”

“And you’d be a-guessing right.”

“Let’s see, you are...?” said Benji, turning to the other kid sitting there.

“I’m Malcolm. Malcolm Beedles.”

“Nice to see you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to put my gear awa-” Benji suddenly noticed that a violin was playing somewhere. “Where’s that music coming from?”

“I dunno,” replied Joe. “I jus’ figured someone left their radio on.”

“Yeah,” added Malcolm. “It sounds like it’s coming from right above us, but there’s nothing there.”

“Weird,” muttered Benji as he entered the old cabin. Hmm…four cots. One central table. And a whopping two electrical plugs. Meh. The two cots nearest to the door were taken, by Joe and Malcolm, judging by the camouflage sheets on one and the notebooks and music player on the other. In the back, one cot was made neatly and had a small black book centered on the pillow.

“Haven’t seen him yet. Hmm…” Benji mumbled as he began to unpack near the fourth cot.

Outside, Malcolm and Joe were shooting the breeze, trying to kill time until the obligatory orientation program.

“So, Malcolm, yer trainin’ to be a wildlife biologist?” asked Joe, trying to make conversation.

“Yeah, I love anything outdoors and especially the animals. I could spend hours in a park just watching birds and squirrels,” replied Malcolm, staring dreamily off into space.

“I like to shoot squirrels,” said Joe rather bluntly.

Malcolm flinched at the thought. He was definitely not the hunting type. Why in blazes would someone want to purposely kill such beautiful creatures? He didn’t want to start a large argument this early, especially considering the large number of hunter-types he had seen so far, so he changed the subject.

“Yeah…umm…say, that violin is still going strong. Where is that coming from?” asked Malcolm.

“I dunno, but it’s getting louder,” answered Benji, coming out from the cabin. “Like the song is about to end and it’s getting to the finale.”

Sure enough, the sharp notes from the phantom violin became louder, faster, more intense. As the song reached its crescendo, the notes suddenly fell silent.

“Hm? I guess the radio ran out of batteries,” Malcolm thought aloud.

“And who the ‘eck listens to a violin on the radio?” asked Joe.

“Say, have any of you met that guy who set up shop in the back of the cabin?” asked Benji, changing the subject.

“Nope,” replied Joe.

“He was here long before I arrived,” said Malcolm. “Any idea who he is?”

“I have no clue,” said Joe.

A soft thud sounded at the bottom of the steps, not unlike the sound of a book being dropped onto soft dirt.

“He is me,” said a new figure.

“Wha-Where in blazes did you come from?” asked a startled Joe, looking up to see a person clad in black. He wore a midnight cape, which slowly fell in place after his drop from a tree above the porch. Mirrored sunglasses obscured his face, and a black hat further concealed his expressions. There appeared to be a scabbard of some sort clipped to his belt, but his cloak-like cape hid the majority of the weapon from view.

He was holding a violin in one hand and a bow in the other. Clearly, this person has been the source of the strange melodies.

“So you were making that music!” declared Malcolm.

“No, whatever gave you that idea?” responded the violinist sarcastically.

“So our fourth roommate is an eccentric smart-aleck, eh?” said Joe with just a hint of sharpness in his voice.

“Eccentric? That’s a rather large word for a bumpkin such as yourself, isn’t it?’ replied the dark figure in turn.

“Okay, behave yourselves,” said Benji trying to keep order. “What did you say your name was again?”

“My name is Arrek Tallow. You are…?”

“Benji Valencia, good to see you.”

The two shook hands. It looked like Arrek took kindly to one of his three roommates. Given his already apparent quirks, that was pretty good, or so thought Benji.

“I do believe orientation will begin shortly, so if you will excuse me, I shall be going,” Arrek said after putting his instrument away.

The other three habitants of cabin eight watched as the figure in black strode towards the amphitheatre, his black boots with metallic sheen kicking up dust and clinking. Benji wasn’t quite sure what to make of his new roommates – especially Arrek. The musician seemed to take well enough to him, but Benji was wary of those eccentric types. And Malcolm…he seemed to be a nature nut. Yay, a tree-hugger to put up with. Joe seemed to be a down-to-earth fellow. Dumb as a post, but decent nonetheless. This was going to be a fun stay.

The sound of a bell tolling snapped Benji back into reality. The orientation program was about to begin. “Let’s go see who else decided to come to beautiful Lake Kasiera,” said Benji aloud to no one in particular.

---

Ace: Thanks for reading the very first bit! I'd love to hear your comments, especially about characterization and the way I'm portraying everything.

Joe: Ain't cha gonna do the thing whar you joke around with the characters afta' the section ya posted?

Ace: Hmm? No, I usually do that on my fanfics. How'd you know I usually do that?

Joe: I read 'em. Millionaire is funny.

Arrek: You can actually read?

Joe: Of curse!

Arrek: *Shakes head* Ace, you'd make a shameless plug for one of your fics anywhere, wouldn't you?

Ace: Yup. Please read and review! Thanks!!

[ilikegreen]

sounds...interesting....if the mysterious weapon just happens to be a you-know-what...that I know that you know you simply adore....well, quite frankly im not surprised haha but yea good start just keep er going.

[Sabre]

*takes you by the shirt* NO STARFOX? WHO ARE YOU AND WHAT HAVE YOU DONE TO ACE *lets go* *cries in the corner*

[vulcan13]

OK Ace, I'm going to be honest with you because you want to get better right? Of coarse you do. You are over thinking! It doesn't matter what genre it is until you plan on submitting it somewhere personally I'd call it Misc. that covers everything.

You wanted comment on your imagery, and there wasn't much really. Adjectives you had, but nothing that really had much detail. Also the bits there were could have been more artful, like the tall blonde in the leather jacket (which could be a little more connected to the main character, it wasn't really clear who you were referring to) could have been done with a little more imagery. for example...

Benji (or the young man if you want to keep his name for later) slid his tall frame out of the cramped car and straightened his crumpled leather jacket. He removed his hat and slid his fingers through his blond hair.

Make it yours, but add details. The campus instead of simply calling it expansive describe it,

The expansive rolling hills of the campus stretched out for as far as Benji could see. Trees dotted the landscape and provided the only relief from the blistering June sun. The sun glistened of the large lake that lapped against a nearby shore. The quiet was almost too much for the city boy.

I don't know about that last part, but... The point is if you want critique on your imagery add some. Not to be rude.   

"looking up to see a person clad in black. He wore a midnight cape, which slowly fell in place after his drop from a tree above the porch. Mirrored sunglasses obscured his face, and a black hat further concealed his expressions. There appeared to be a scabbard of some sort clipped to his belt, but his cloak-like cape hid the majority of the weapon from view."

True this is imagery, but you have done just exactly what Jeanne has told me not to do. You have listed the description in a rather boring way with not actions or dialog to make it interesting. (P.S. Jeanne when you read this i know understand exactly what you meant.)

Also add some more details to the actions, like when he gets out of the car does he catch the knee of his jeans and tear them, or does he trip as he comes in the door. Does a girl flirt with him as he registers, give me more!!!


As far as characterization, all your characters are well characterized in their stereotypical-ness. You have a nature lover and a redneck in a cabin with you, 2 of you, your extreme side and your normal-ish side have just split apart.

"The musician seemed to take well enough to him, but Benji was wary of those eccentric types. And Malcolm…he seemed to be a nature nut. Yay, a tree-hugger to put up with. Joe seemed to be a down-to-earth fellow. Dumb as a post, but decent nonetheless."

Your characters can not be summarized in one paragraph unless you are relying on stereotypes to carry the rest of the description. I personally was expecting something cooler from you Ace, like the brilliant redneck, and the contemplative poet (who's a greaser) along with the stupid pre-med student, the alien who can't talk, and a white guy in a doo-rag. Be creative with your stereotypes! the only guy you have given a description of is Arrik, and the others you have left to the imagination with the example of a tall blond in a leather jacket and beret. Is his nose crooked? Does he have freckles? Are his fingers calloused from golf or guitar? Does he wear boots or sneakers? What's in his backpack? DETAILS MAN!!!!!!

I hope that helps (PS be careful with the fiddler on the roof, you don't want to turn this into a metaphor for early 1900's Jewish Russia!) Since you are new to the genre of non fan fic stuff I am giving you a run down, if you keep with it this piece (just this segment) could be 2 or 3 times as long as it is now. Trust me, my prologue went from 2 pages to 8!!! pages. thanks Jeanne!!!!!!  All the stuff i have said is in order to help you improve I am not being mean or trying to put you down. Just helping. I like the premise, just watch that it doesn't become stale. Happy writing, and rewriting!

[ArwingAce21]

That bit was just a start, and not really meant of that much critique, but the tips are really helpful. Thanks, Vul. I've done a lot more prewriting with the series, and instead of a bunch of separate but connected episodes, I'm going to have them more tightly related. Meh. I have the entire plot outlined in my head, and I think I know exactly where I want this to go. The first episode is finished, and the framework is up for the second.

The reason I was light in the description category is because that comes later. The lake and campus are described later. I'm sticking with lighter character descriptions for now because I'm still not entirely sure where they will be going yet. I am going to rely heavily on stereotypes because that is the main theme of this thing: human interaction. And what better place to find human nature at its worst than at a camp where no one knows anybody else and first impressions are all you have to go on?

This is kinda going to be a story about character interaction. The over-arching plot is fun, and it will seem a-la Boxcar Children or something once it gets going. It's not a canned plot, mind you, I am using some originality. But I'm not Pulitizer Prize material and I don't expect my first real bit of prose to be perfect. I want to get everything down, then hack away at it. Please keep the comments coming. I'm trying hard to accept the constructive critism and not fight back like I normally do. The next post should explain some of what I left out earlier, seeing as they finish out the episode. It gets decent, I promise. And don't focus on trying to figure out who the main character is, since I plan on switching the POVs as we go. Thanks for all the help so far!!

[vulcan13]

I usually swtitch point if views in my writting. One thing Ace, not to be mean I really am trying to help, but it really is a better idea to put a lot of the interesting detailed stuff in the beginning, because it makes it more interesting and gives it a bit more hook. Also try spicing up your first several paragraphs for the same reason. You can get by with a little less imagry later on once people are hooked. Also, be careful, because if you follow on the streiotypes too closely then the characters (assuming they live on our planet) will also know those steriotypes and you lose that "I don't know anything about you" element.



P.S. I appreciate your non defensiveness. It is very nice that as defensive as you usually are you can let it go when you know I just mean to help.

[ArwingAce21]

I know you're trying to help, Vul, and I think the remainder of this story will shed some light on the lightness of the first bit, which wasn't long at all. I haven't had a chance to edit this next bit as much as I wanted, but I'll have time to revise and rewrite later. Here are sections two and three! Goals: Introduce the majority of the major characters and set up the primary conflict!

---

All the campers were gathered in the central amphitheatre for orientation. A man in his mid-30s was on stage going over the myriad of rules that every camp had. Benji hated this section, as did Arrek, who he ended up being seated next to. So far, the only tidbit of information either of them had managed to pick up was that the camp director was named Jayson Fontain. He seemed to be a likeable fellow, but Arrek was bored to tears. Benji had passed the time by whispering funny observances to Arrek, who was only mildly receptive. Between the two, so far they had noticed Jayson was wearing mismatched socks, cannot properly pronounce the world “children,” and that the tall guy behind him was wearing comically short biker shorts.

Before too long (though you wouldn’t know it if you went by the looks on the campers’ faces) the initial speech was over and Mr. Short-shorts got up to speak.

“Good afternoooooon, campers!!” he said over-enthusiastically. Arrek rolled his eyes, but no one noticed, given his mirrored black shades. Several other campers began to giggle.

“Now that you know the rules, let’s get to know each other!” The counselor’s enthusiasm was met with deafening silence.

“Okay, say your name, age, and one of your hobbies. I’ll start! “My name is Xavier Duncan, I’m 46, and I love to ride my bicycle!”

Benji leaned over to Arrek and whispered, “No dip, Sherlock! I could see your neon orange shorts from the moon.” Benji stifled laughter, but Arrek merely raised one eyebrow. Meanwhile, the other side of the amphitheater began to introduce themselves.

A blonde girl stood up. “I’m Vikki Jennings, I’m 14, and I, like, totally love to text!”

Benji bit his tongue to avoid bringing up stereotypes.

Next, a girl with raven hair got up. “My name is Cathlyn Eron, 15, and I enjoy reading.”

Beside her, another blond girl rose. “I am Lily Francis. 13 years old, and, umm…”

‘Poor girl,’ thought Arrek. ‘She must be shy. Her hand is trembling like a leaf in a hurricane.’

“…I sort of enjoy writing sometimes.”

A red-headed girl stood up next. “I am Kari Monroe, I’m 16 years old, and I play the flute.

“Hey, Arrek, she looks like your type,” said Benji.

“Don’t think you know all about me based on a few minutes’ friendship,” Arrek snapped back, instinctively reaching into his cape. “You scarcely know me from Adam.”

“Sheesh,” replied Benji, taken aback by Arrek’s sudden coldness. “I didn’t mean anything by it.”

During this exchange, the rest of the girls finished introducing themselves and the guys had started. By the time Arrek began to pay attention, his cabin was up.

“I’m Malcolm Beedles, 14, and I love nature.”

“I’m Joseph Meyer, 14, and I love hunting. You name it, I’ll shoot it.”

Malcolm noticeably grimaced, but refrained from speaking out.

“I am Benji Valencia, 17, and I race karts.”

Arrek reluctantly stood up, giving his cloak a flourish as he did. “My name is Arrek Tallow. I am 16 years old, and I excel at playing violin and at swordsmanship.”

“Not cocky at all, are we?” said a voice in the next row audibly.

“No, not at all, my friend,” replied Arrek, turning around to face his dissenter. The expression on his face was incomprehensible, even if you could see past the sunglasses and low hat. It was a mix of curiosity and playful malice. “It is rare day indeed when I pronounce an untruth.”

“Heh, I look forward to seeing if you can back up your boasts, A-wreck,” said the athletically-built figure in beach shorts and a tank top.

“Arrek. My name is Arrek.”

“Sure thing, A-wreck,” responded Arrek’s heckler, who was doing a good job of getting under the midnight-clad musician’s skin.

“You-” Arrek started, but was cut off.

“Seeing as I’m already talking,” continued the athlete, “My name’s Tybalt Carter, I’m 16, and I can excel at any sport out there.”

“I’ll be seeing you at the world underwater basket weaving championships, then, Tybalt,” said Arrek, returning the heckling favor.

“Okay, you two,” broke in Xavier. “Who’s next?”

By now, no one was actively listening to the introductions. Benji was busy trying to figure out just what type of personality Arrek had. He could be seemingly-amiable one second, but livid the next. And the provocation varied: what he thought would set Arrek off, he’d merely laugh at; whereas little ribs would have the violinist jumping down your throat. And that expression he gave Tybalt – Benji knew he was upset, but that smile…it was as if he had identified a rival in the athlete and was looking forward to future skirmishes. Was Arrek right in the head? Benji certainly hoped so…he’d be living with the eccentric teen for the duration of the camp.

---


After the orientation ended, the campers filtered out to finish settling in to their cabins. Arrek had lost Benji in the crowd, and was lost in his own thoughts as he meandered somewhat aimlessly. He didn’t want to return to the cabin just yet, so he headed towards an overlook point near the lake he had seen earlier. As he approached the cliff, Arrek soon noticed there was another person already there. ‘Blast it,’ he muttered to himself. So much for solidarity. Nevertheless, Arrek would rather meet someone new than return to cabin eight. As he got closer, Arrek realized that the figure was female.

“Oh, hello there,” called the girl, turning around. “You are…don’t tell me…Arrek, right? I’m awful at names.”

“Yes, I am Arrek,” replied the violinist. “Judging by your flaming red hair, you must be Kari Monroe.”

“That’s me. I guess you noticed this overlook when you arrived too, huh?”

“I thought it would be a nice place to go if I get tired of being around people,” said Arrek.

“Well, looks like you’re going to have to put up with me for a while,” retorted Kari rather matter-of-factly.

“Heh, heh, I doubt that shall be a problem. You seem to be amiable enough,” said Arrek, showing a rare smile.

“How do you know when to be friendly and when not to? From what little I’ve seen so far, you don’t seem to be the type to make friends quickly. You certainly made an impression with Tybalt.”

“Ah, I am quick to judge character. However, my initial judgments are always subject to review and change based on further observation. The vast majority of the time, my first opinions hold strong,” stated the young man.

“I believe your ‘judgments’ shall change more than you anticipate here. Most of these campers seem to be quite the characters,” observed Kari.

“Perhaps,” Arrek said, changing the subject. “You said you play the flute, didn’t you?”

“I do,” she said, producing a small leather case. Kari opened it and quickly pieced the instrument together.

“What type of music do you play?”

“Almost everything a flute can do.” Before Arrek could say anything else, Kari began to play a soft melody. Its notes brought Arrek’s gaze down towards the lake’s shimmering blue waters. He hadn’t had a chance to look at his surroundings yet, so Arrek took this opportunity to study the lake. It appeared to be roughly “L” shaped, with the main camp grounds located in the crook of the “L.” Out in the water, there appeared to be an abandoned houseboat. Who leaves an expensive houseboat to rot in a remote lake? Odd… The camp side of the lake shore was below the overlook where he and Kari were standing. It made a nice fishing area, with white sand and a dock with a motorboat moored next to it. A girl with dark hair was already testing the water; Arrek observed her carrying a fishing rod and tackle box.

The camp itself had two rows of cabins, girls on one side and the boys on the other. In the center was a large field with a volleyball net, pits to play horseshoes, and a few scattered picnic tables. A building next to the volleyball field had a steel fan on top, similar to the ones on restaurants. That must be the dining hall, Arrek thought. Behind the dining hall, a two-story hangar-like building stood. A sign out front read “Donald J. Moore Athletic Facility.” Apparently, we have a gym here. A few smaller buildings were scattered about, probably the offices and administrative facilities. Beyond that was...

“Arrek? Arrek, are you listening to me?”

“Huh-oh! I’m sorry. I dazed a bit there. You music was excellent. It lulled my thoughts towards the lake and I zoned. My apologies,” admitted an embarrassed Arrek.

Kari rolled her eyes. “Did you even recognize what I was playing?”

“No, but the melody sounded remotely familiar.”

“Well, Mr. Oxymoron, any self-respecting violinist should have recognized that snippet of Tchaikovsky’s 5th Symphony. For one who excels at the violin, you don’t seem to study much.”

“Well, actually I-- What in blazes was that?” exclaimed Arrek. A blood-curdling scream cut Arrek off mid-sentence.

“It sounded like it came from the lakeshore,” observed Kari. “Let’s go!”

Kari took off with Arrek right behind. The teen in black reached inside his cape to ensure his weapon was still safely tucked away in case he needed it. As the two campers raced down the hill, the shore soon came into view. The same girl that was fishing earlier was cornered on the end of the dock by a wild bobcat. When Arrek and Kari arrived on the scene, Arrek hesitated.

“Arrek, do something! You’re armed!” Kari had seen the silver-tipped scabbard hanging on Arrek’s belt.

“How did you know I was-”

“Shut it and do something!”

Arrek ran towards the dock just as the bobcat let out a piercing yowl. The cat had reared back, ready to pounce. Just before Arrek reached the wooden dock, the bobcat leaped into the air, ready to attack. The girl’s eyes opened wide and she shrieked in horror.

Ka-Pow!

The bobcat recoiled in midair and fell limp at the raven-haired girl’s feet. Everyone turned to see the source of the sound and at the top of the path to the shore stood Tybalt, holding a smoking pistol. Everything then fell silent.

Arrek ran up to the girl to make sure she was okay.

“I-I’m fine. Scared to death, but…I’m okay,” she managed to say eventually. “Who fired that shot?”

Arrek pointed towards Tybalt, who had just stepped onto the dock himself.

“Are you alright, Cathlyn?” asked a concerned Tybalt.

Cathlyn quickly jumped up and hugged the marksman. “Yes, I’m fine. Thank you! That bobcat almost had me.”

“I wonder what a wild bobcat is doing in the middle of this campsite?” wondered Arrek audibly. “Don’t they normally stay away from humans?”

“Whatever they normally do, it’s still a good thing I showed up,” said Tybalt with some contempt. “You didn’t look like you were in any hurry to do anything, Mr. Swordsman.”

Arrek glared back, but didn’t give Tybalt the courtesy of an answer. He stalked away, but met Kari running to the dock.

“Why did you hesitate? If Tybalt hadn’t shown up, that girl would have been…” Kari’s voice trailed off.

“I didn’t hes-”

“You did too! You should’ve just drawn your little sword and ran up on the dock and scared the thing off!”

“But-”

“Or at least turned the bobcat’s attention away from Cathlyn! I expected more from one who makes such claims about himself! I’m going to check on the girl. Goodbye.”

“Bah…” Arrek turned on his heel and strode back to his cabin, dejected. As he walked, the violinist clenched the hilt of his blade and drew his cape tighter about his neck. When he arrived back at cabin eight, Joe was sitting on the porch.

“Hey, Arrek, what was that scream jus’ now?”

Arrek didn’t look up. He flung the screen door wide open, and retrieved his violin. Storming back out the door, Joe shied away from his roommate. The black figure wound his way into the woods that surrounded the row of cabins. Soon, the distant wailing of a violin came from deep within the viridian expanse.

---

Ace: Okay, it moved rather fast, but I am not going to let this story move at a snail's pace. The reader will do some of their own characterization as they read, drawing conclusions based on implied behavoir. When I rewrite it, I'll probably add more descriptions, but for now, I just want to get the basic story on paper. That's all I have written for now, but I have the pre-write for section 2 sitting next to me.

Arrek: "Playful malice?"

Ace: Yes, that was the best way I could think of to descibe your expression.

Arrek: No wonder Kari calls me Mr. Oxymoron.

Ace: Anyway, I know you're going to hit that description of the lake pretty hard, but I was describing it through Arrek's eyes. He is clearly much more of an analytical observer than a sight-seer, so he focused more on the terrain, what seemed out of place, and possible opportunities than simply seeing a "pristine azure lake, it's waters reflecting the sun's brilliant light with every wave and ripple, giving the expanse a soothing appearance that made the violinist want to sit and stare across the water for hours." Arrek would observe "Roughly in the shape of an "L," that cove in the upper section could conceal a boat quite effectively, what the heck is an abandoned houseboat doing right there?, a girl is fishing, the dock has one boat moored next to it, recently used considering the muddy condition of the floor panels..." and so on.

Arrek: Ace, shut up and let someone else tell you your mistakes. It's pitiful watching you predict the sections you need to work on.

Ace: Hush. 

[vulcan13]

I'll read it soon, when i have more time...

[ilikegreen]

It's good, I think you know just about everything you need to fix haha

Oh, and playful mailice was a very nice word choice if I may say so myself.

What kinda camp is this that has regular rules but allows guns and swords...?

[ArwingAce21]

Well, I needed those for some...uhh...plot points, so I have this society set up so that if you are licensed to carry a weapon, then you can carry it anywhere. But, usage is so strict that if you screw up, you can't even weild a butter knife. Kinda like Germany's driver's licenses. Sure, you can go 173mph on the Autobahn, but you have to be like 18, pay $1,000 something and change, and take a bajillion classes.

Thanks for reading and being curious. And I'm debating whether Arrek will have a Rapier or a true Sabre. A sabre has only one sharp edge, a simple hilt and wrist guard, but is sturdier. I think a Rapier has a double-edged blade, an elaborate handle/guard, but is quite flimsy. And, with the big handle, harder to conceal. I'm modeling Arrek in my head as dressed in primarily black and a few silver metal things. Like I mentioned his boots had metallic edges and such. If I go that route, I can model his blade after my German SS Officer's Sabre, which is black, silver, and somewhat easy to conceal from a distance.