Forum adverts like this one are shown to any user who is not logged in. Join us by filling out a tiny 3 field form and you will get your own, free, dakka user account which gives a good range of benefits to you: No adverts like this in the forums anymore. Times and dates in your local timezone. Full tracking of what you have read so you can skip to your first unread post, easily see what has changed since you last logged in, and easily see what is new at a glance. Email notifications for threads you want to watch closely. Being a part of the oldest wargaming community on the net. If you are already a member then feel free to login now.

Another quickie to compare narrative style and a possible way to guage what works (if anything) and what doesn't. So i thought i'd compete two fairely different stories against eachother and see which has more appeal. Whichever gets the most love will be the one that gets updated or possibly even completed (gasp). I'm hesitant to call them introductions, because i may very well back fill them to give more context and insight from the begining - as it is, i'm sort of throwing you in as if you've missed the first few pages.
Anyways, lemme know what you think. Which story (if any) would you prefer to see more of?
Enjoy.

Idol Fall
(extract)

The black portal-gate peeled open with theatrical slowness. Grey twilight pooled in from the growing opening, chasing away the gloomy darkness around Vadra as though a dim spotlight was expanding on her. The volume of the packed arena audience was no longer muffled by the seclusion of the antechamber; it was deafening.
The excitement around Fel’Kaya had reached fever pitch. The various blood spectacles and haemonculi presentations had awed and intoxicated the crowd. Many of the excessive displays could have been satisfying main events in their own right. Yet the audience knew that the best was still to come, and the visceral performances served to increase their appetite much more than it did anything to sate it.
Fel’Kaya had lavishly flirted with its massed spectators, teasing and exciting them to their absolute limit; now it would give them the event that they truly lusted for.
Vadra closed her eyes for a moment and let the swirling storm of emotions from the audience wash over her. The tidal wave of fervent passions was dizzying. Such rampant excitement and raw hunger; for her fight.
This was decidedly the peak of cult status. Vadra decided she liked it very much; it wasn’t a bad experience to have before she died.
It would be an addictive experience to repeat should she live.
She smiled at her own thoughts, amazed that anything at all was distracting her from her focus on the coming encounter with Maelith.
Stepping further into the light, Vadra made one last check of her equipment and of her presentation. She checked up and down her lithe body, making sure each plate of armour was fastened just so and each blade was positioned just right. Everything was perfectly ready; there was nothing else to be done.
She turned back to Lenaries one last time and made an elaborate curtsey.
‘Good enough?’
The older wych was leaning back against the wall, pushing her body as much out the way of the arena half-light as she could. She made an equally elaborate show of looking her up and down.
‘Tis all fine enough for dying,’ she chuckled indulgently, ‘not a one will be looking at you when Maelith steps to the fore. Now be away, and make sure to bleed well.’
Vadra laughed with genuine humour and walked out into the light of the arena, leaving Lenaries hiding in the shadow of the antechamber.
The enraptured audience of Fel-Kaya greeted her.
Up above the gladiatorial amphitheatre the stands of the spectators extended up nearly half a kilometre all around her, entirely encasing the arena in a cocoon of blood lust. The ancient stands were packed to capacity tonight, including all of the box chambers which were reserved for nobility and the truly influential. Even way up above the arena, low flying vessels circled overhead like carrion birds come for a feast.
The cheers increased dramatically as Vadra walked out. She was now very much in her element. Walking with absolute confidence, she strode towards the centre of the arena, stepping between the blood slicks and mangled bodies from the night’s previous sport. She made sure to look around at the crowd and show them the hunger and confidence in her face. Where she could, she caught the eye of some of the onlookers and held their gaze long enough for them to know it was they whom she regarded, then leaving them all desperate for her attention to return. In particular she looked for the most influential of all Fel’Kaya’s patrons; the archons. She would give each a predatory smile and a respectful bow of the head, both flirting with them and flattering them.
Nothing was more important than titillating the audience.
She arrived at the centre of the coliseum and did a sumptuous twirl of her body to announce her arrival. The display brought forth yet more exuberance from the gleeful crowd and Vadra basked in it.
Then the cheering ceased – completely.
As Vadra finished her twirl, she saw that the gate of the opposing antechamber to her own was sliding open. It fluidly and inexorably slid to the sides, revealing the darkness of the chamber within.
The very prospect of Maelith’s arrival had silenced the crowd. They had all – including Vadra – been frozen with anticipation that they were finally going to see her. Vadra imagined this sensation must be what lesser races feel when they expect to be in the presence of their feeble gods.
She stared into the dark opening, feeling tension in her chest and the exhilarating rush of fear up her spine.
Delicious.
How many times had she watched, in pure admiration, as Maelith dispatched numberless adversaries in this very arena? How many times had she been just one of the countless audience that Maelith had completely entranced? They were possibly Vadra’s earliest memories.
Now Maelith was coming for her.
All watched and waited with baited breath for the mistress to appear. The silent moment stretched on for what felt like forever, right up until the moment that they could bear it no more – then she arrived.
Her pale white form melted out of the antechamber’s darkness as though she was surfacing from a black liquid. It was like the darkness cloyed at her flesh, not wanting to let it go. She was already looking directly at Vadra; her face a mask of both amusement and attraction.
There was something else that Vadra saw in the face of her former mentor, something that few would have been able to notice even if they knew the mistress well. Vadra couldn’t distinguish it - was it pride?
Finally granted the presence of their idol, the stands erupted with an explosive outburst of jubilation. It utterly eclipsed the reception that Vadra received. The cacophony of noise and emotion was unbearable.
The high succubus of the wych cult of the vanishing knife stepped into the arena unmoved by the display of the audience. Her focus was locked entirely on her former protégé.



VERSUS:


Uninvited
(extract)

By the time first officer Lohman reached the secondary terminal, the mysterious vessel had already docked. The monitors either side of the gate showed blinking green icons indicating safe connection of the air-gate antechamber. The timer ticking next to the flashing icons showed that the connection had already been secure for seven minutes.
He found security chief Harice Renton waiting for him along with ten armed naval serfs. Renton had clearly come to impress, and Lohman wondered if the captain had contacted him to ask for the Rubicon’s security to make a commanding statement to the unwelcome guests. They were all dressed in full flak armour, including black-visor helmets and they each carried combat shotguns taken from the most recent stock updates for the security department. Lohman knew well enough that this display was a dishonest representation of security throughout the ship; few others were as well equipped or attired as Renton and his men now were. Whatever the desired effect was for this show of force, Lohman felt a cloying sense of fear in his stomach that it would merely serve to add yet more tension to what was already an agonisingly frightening encounter.
Renton saw the first officer coming and gave a respectful nod, which Lohman returned, and he could instantly see from the fidgety body language, that the security chief was just as riled by the events of the last thirty minutes as all the bridge crew were. This in itself added more concern for Lohman: he had never seen the gnarled security chief get especially nervous about anything before now, which was saying a lot considering how many difficult situations that Renton had needed to resolve in the past. Pirates, deck riots, criminal mafias; nothing had particularly fazed the big man.
Now he was positively quaking in his boots.
Lohman stepped up next to the security chief just in front of the terminal gate and took a second, once again, to make sure he was well presented.
‘They approach like a feggin lightning bolt, demand docking rights with minimal interest in opening a discourse, engage air-gate lockdown in record time – and then sit back and do nothing for nigh on ten minutes,’ Renton kept his voice low and spoke quickly, ‘What’s up with that? Why hurry like it’s the end of the galaxy and then suddenly decide you don’t mind taking your time?’
Lohman’s thoughts were much the same. He had very much expected their visitors to be on board before he had time to even reach the terminal. Such was the haste of their approach; he had been anticipating the same explosive speed as they came on board, almost like they would charge past him in the manner of a pack of hungry dogs.
Instead he was now wondering if the approach had not been done in as much haste as the staff of the Rubicon believed. Perhaps that had just been standard conduct for these people, who were in fact, in no rush at all.
‘I have no answers, Renton, I have no knowledge whatsoever of what to expect. Let’s just get through this with difference and respect. That’s a language and a conduct that I’m sure they will appreciate.’
He thought a moment before he added, ‘Be sure to let me do the conversing unless you are explicitly acknowledged.’
Renton gave a grunt of understanding and the group of men stood in silence, watching the timer ticking away on the display console in front of them. The experience reminded Lohman of when he was a child and his mother would send both him and his brother to be disciplined by their father if ever they had been especially mischievous. As bad as the punishment would be when their father came to them, the most unbearable part was standing outside his office waiting for him to open the door.
At the start of the eleventh minute, the terminal gate snapped open.
Lohman wasn’t entirely sure what he expected, but what came through the gates did nothing to put him at ease. There were nine, disparate figures standing in the air-gate, all clad in black.
Each of them frightened him.
Either side of the open gate stood big men in carapace armour. There were just three of them and yet they cowed Renton’s men. They moved with the assured confidence of the experienced veteran.
Between the storm troopers stood a tall, thin man in a long, close-fitting black jacket with a tall collar coming half way up his face. His skin was pale, pallid even, and his dark hair appeared greasy and unkempt. In many ways the man looked ill and yet his presence was undeniably, effortlessly strong. The man had piercing grey-blue eyes that seemed to bore into Lohman, making him feel like the sickly figure could know his entire life story just by looking at him.
The man took a step forwards onto the deck of the Rubicon.
‘First officer Jiralt Lohman,’ his voice was quiet and almost raspy as though he may have been a chain smoker of lho sticks. Despite the unassuming, unwell sound of the man’s voice, it still portrayed the surety of a formidable intellect. ‘Have you made the preparations that I asked of your captain?’
Why does he already know my name?
Lohman fought down a rising sense of panic and bowed to his guest.
‘We are honoured to receive you, lord inquisitor. The captain sends his apologies that he could not make a more fitting reception for a visit from such esteemed…’
‘First officer,’ the inquisitor raised his hand to interrupt Lohman, ‘I require no pleasantries or decorum. Have you made the preparations as I have asked? It is quite important.’
Lohman licked his lips. His throat was very dry.
‘We… did what we could, but if you could please explain what it is that you are doing here…’
‘I am here, first officer, because you have something very dangerous indeed on board your vessel.’

I think the Dark eldar piece is finished already. A long drawn out fight would probably end up just being a bit boring. It was largely well written and was nicely engaging. I would let that one lie.

The only thing that grated was the way it often read something like this:
'The Adjective Noun was Verbing Adjectively.'
Obviously this is an abstraction and arguably an over-simplification but for me The formula was too obvious and sometimes disrupted the flow. Everything doesnt need a descriptive word paired with it, exercising restraint is as important as vivid description.

I think the inquisitor story is more suitable for continuing with. The writing was also better imo, cant really fault it apart from the fact spaces between paragraphs would have been nice. (The inherent formatting of forum posts makes paragraphs wearisome to read (30+ words per line, compared with 10-15), so for me any spacing is appreciated)

One minor criticism: 'A chain smoker of lho sticks', the 'Of lho sticks' part is redundant. I know it's a cheap and easy 40k reference but for me it's unnecessary padding.

Yeah, totally take the point about the spacing. I'll be sure to add spaces between the paragraphs when they get updated and in anything else I do in future. I indented, but when it got posted up, it seemed to...un-indent me.

It might be a bit of an unfair contest as you say, since the dark eldar story seems to have alot less meat left on its bones. I suppose I was interested if people would want the one with impending action, or the one with a slower burn.

In both cases of unnecessary extra descriptives, I was kind of going there for the effect. In the case of the DE story, getting across that every feeling or sense is specifically something - often excessively so - to complicate or exagerate the atmosphere, though I might dilute it a touch if it grates. With the lho stick reference, I admit its totally redundant, but I kind of wanted to hover on the point to hammer it home. Adding redundant detail seemed more expediant than reiterating it.

Thanks very much for the feedback, thats very much the candid, well informed critique i'm looking for.