Post Reply Here are some premises I have come up with. Any suggestions?
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Project Divinity has resulted to be way too convoluted for me to progress in the story without finding plot holes left and right. Given this situation, I find myself scrambling to put the character I have idealized into other stories.

I have come up with two plots for which I would like commentary.


A) Undead Warmachine

A female super soldier, slave to a military corporation, suddenly becomes self-aware. Our A-Z3/N.A.I., her birth designation, realizes she doesn’t want to be a weapon of destruction. Left with no options and knowing the futility of her actions, she ends her own life many times… only to rise from the dead time and again.


B) The Forsaken Ark (Characters had their names removed.)

"Adventurous Boy", is young man from the Frigid Lands, whom with the help of an old man, deflects obligatory military service in the Legion to seek adventure. "The White Huntress" is a young huntress who, in company of her wolf, is in search for lost medical knowledge to cure an ailment that has befallen on the peoples of her homeland. When their paths cross a dangerous journey of discovery will begin.
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Undead Warmachines

Chapter 1

Warmongering


There she was, in the heat of battle that felt so familiar to her. A living weapon would be the best description, and yet a life not conceived but rather one created by science. She was relentless, like her siblings, a soldier without match. Bone and flesh the eye could see but a human being would have never been present in that body. Little she was for her creators other than a business, a slave to be sold, a puppet war machine. Though a child had been born, it had been a monster what had grown.

She was serial product with a corresponding serial designation; A-Z3/N.A.I. That was the name she was given at birth as a would-be product of the Nanotech Armaments International weapons company. However, she did have somewhat of a name... somewhat of a human name in any case. Red, red like her hair which some believed was really tainted with the blood of men brutally slain by her. It was just as she was doing now in that jungle. It was a place of wild and savage hues green like the ones found in her eyes.

It was savagery indeed, not like war has ever been any different but that was in the borderline of madness. The fight took scene in a village; a decent mining operation was settled there. Since the collapse of modern society, resources became scarse. The apocalypse, though killing billions, wasn’t humanity’s demise; and thus the high demand in prime materials had turned mining grounds into lucrative businesses. That was it, madness in a nutshell. Human nature at its finest: that bloody greed that turns men into monsters.

Red was not there for greed though, let’s remember she wasn’t even human. All she did, everything she ever knew was death and blood. The art of killing was to her not a second nature but a first. No normal men could stand against her inhuman strength. She severed bodies with or without the help of weapons. Her punches cracked skulls open, her kicks would brake bones every time; with her bare hands she could tore off a limb and pull out the guts of a man as he shrieked in agony. Did she do it for money? No. For glory? No, she had no greed. Did she ever feel remorse? Never once before.

For a slave of the likes of Red there is no such duality a good and evil, there is only a task to complete. Her task had always been the same and had always been fulfilled. She had been wounded in the past, but like the inhuman war machine she was, healing was beyond natural capability. In her veins she beared a perpetual curse, state of the art technology of human evolution. It was the major selling point of her kind, an ability of myth, the artifice of nightmares or a miracle of legends.

She was fierce. Many fell by her hand on that day. Swords clashed, bullets whistled, bombs thundered, men cried and men died. And it all happened in the name of the god named currency. In a time of need, brothers raised their arms as weapons against one another. Among that madness Red suffered a life changing wound. She was struck, a bullet of high caliber went through her right eye and out through the temporal bone. The impact from the shot twisted her neck beyond the breaking point and took a chunk of her face with it. The body collapsed on a puddle of blood, dead. However, as had happened many time before, the woman rose from the dead with black metal covering her once mutilated face. It was truly a sign of the end of times.
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-I think you are a little overly verbose, which can lead to sentences which flow strangely or that are confusing to read.
-Very...exposition heavy. I wonder, is this how the story will be written or is this an introduction before the writing style changes?
-Perhaps a little heavy handed at times.
-Some grammar stuff here and there, and in a few places you used the wrong form of a word (Brake vs break; tore vs tear)
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sundin13 wrote:

-I think you are a little overly verbose, which can lead to sentences which flow strangely or that are confusing to read.
-Very...exposition heavy. I wonder, is this how the story will be written or is this an introduction before the writing style changes?
-Perhaps a little heavy handed at times.
-Some grammar stuff here and there, and in a few places you used the wrong form of a word (Brake vs break; tore vs tear)


Thank you for the comments. I seem to have a natural tendency to make thing more complex than they should. The exposition was what I considered the minimal necessary for a reader to understand the setting. Perhaps the final paragraph I could make into a later scene. The aim of the text is to reveal the character and the rough life of the post-apocalyptic world.

Heavy handed can mean many things. I need to know which. Thanks again for the grammar warning.
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DViper15 wrote:


sundin13 wrote:

-I think you are a little overly verbose, which can lead to sentences which flow strangely or that are confusing to read.
-Very...exposition heavy. I wonder, is this how the story will be written or is this an introduction before the writing style changes?
-Perhaps a little heavy handed at times.
-Some grammar stuff here and there, and in a few places you used the wrong form of a word (Brake vs break; tore vs tear)


Thank you for the comments. I seem to have a natural tendency to make thing more complex than they should. The exposition was what I considered the minimal necessary for a reader to understand the setting. Perhaps the final paragraph I could make into a later scene. The aim of the text is to reveal the character and the rough life of the post-apocalyptic world.

Heavy handed can mean many things. I need to know which. Thanks again for the grammar warning.


I feel like the first two paragraphs were really the only ones that were truly necessary, and even those could be integrated into the story. Still, I know that not everyone feels the way I do about exposition. I'm a firm believer in "show don't tell", and this mostly feels like we are being told everything. I write in a way that leaves a lot in the dark and asks the reader to put together the pieces as I slowly leak light into the scene. I know there are plenty of people who would complain about that as well. Still, come back to it later after you've written more and really think about whether or not it is necessary to explain each of these things right here. Maybe it will be. Maybe it wont.

As for what I mean by heavy handed, I mean your social commentary ("greed") is a bit in your face. This was only a few paragraphs in an....expository tone so I'm not sure how this will change going forwards. I don't think its too bad here (although you do tell us that Red has no greed twice in the same paragraph), but I do think that its a thin line that you are walking.

Also, I'd assume after a sudden decrease in population, the price of goods would decrease due to a sudden plummet in demand, and our tendency to automate everything would prevent a matching decrease in supply. I'm certainly no economist so I'm not entirely sure though.
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Made rearrangements and continued the story.


The War Child

There she stood, in the heat of battle that felt so familiar to her. She was relentless, a living weapon, forged by science within glass casting. Like her siblings, she was a soldier without match. Hidden under the flesh there was more than meets the eye. Though a child had been born, a savage monster had grown.

Little she was for her creators other than a business, a slave to be sold, a puppet war machine. She was serial product with a corresponding serial designation; A-Z3/N.A.I. That was the name she was given at birth as a would-be product of the Nanotech Armaments International weapons company. However, she did have somewhat of a name... somewhat of a human name in any case. Red, red like her hair was. Some believed it was really tainted with the blood of slain men. It was precisely that what she was doing. She was a man slayer in that jungle, that place of wild and savage hues of green like the ones found in her eyes.

For a slave of the likes of Red, there is no such duality as good and evil, there is only a task to complete. Her task had always been the same and had always been fulfilled. All she did, everything she ever knew was death and blood. The art of killing was to her not a second nature but a first. No normal men could stand against her inhuman strength. She severed bodies with or without the help of weapons. Her punches cracked skulls open, her kicks would brake bones every time; with her bare hands she could tore off a limb and pull out the guts of a man as he shrieked in agony. Did she ever feel remorse? Never once before.

Many fell by her hand on that day. Swords clashed, bullets whistled, bombs thundered, men cried and men died. And it all happened in the name of the god named currency. In a time of need, brothers raised their arms as weapons against one another. It was truly a sight of the end of times. Then everything faded to pitch black.

Red woke up to familiar ceiling, or perhaps we should call it a familiar piece of cloth. Her senses slowly came to her. She felt herself strange; everything looked somehow odd and she kept seeing flashes of light. That was when she realized the right side of her body was missing… but no, she could feel it and touch it. It was something else and Red felt desperate to figure it out. Moving her head since waking up, she noticed she could see something in her face. She touched it with her left hand, it was her own nose. Then it finally struck her, her right eye was blind. Surprised, Red surveyed her own face as if searching for her eye. It was then when she felt the cloth of the bandages followed by a zapping sting throughout her head. “A wound” she muttered in realization.

Finally she was able to move and sit in the bed. She felt as if an immense burden had befallen of her head and she felt sick. It was the blood rushing down and settling itself to a sudden new posture. Red recognized this feeling as something that happens when one lies unconscious for too long. It took some time but she finally got her bearings straight and began to look around. Naturally her gaze was drawn first to the left; she saw many more wounded men, until then she hadn’t noticed their moaning and groaning. Then she turned her head to the right side and catched the medic staring at her. He was just there visibly in shock, even someone with a single eye could tell.

It took him long enough but he finally reacted; “Dear Lord all mighty…” he said as he approached. “Is something wrong doctor Baker?” asked Red as if none of that was surprising for her. Baker kneeled before her in order to examine her wounds. “Do you remember what happened to you Red? Can you tell me how you ended in sickbay this time?” She chuckled “I reckon it’s not your type of story doctor”. Baker was shocked even further; many times he had tended Red but not once had he known her to make anything reminiscent of a joke. Baker proceeded to remove the blood soaked bandages with the great care only a man of medicine and the most loving mothers would. Doctor Baker’s cares were the closest thing to human that Red had ever been treated. “You might feel a pinch” said baker as he was about to remove the part of the cloth that was sticking to the skin. “If he only knew…” Red though to herself while the zapping sting burst through her head once more. Baker brought a mirror and handed it to her; as the doctor rinsed the blood off the face, blackened scars were revealed. Some sort of metal it was, metal had grown instead of skin. Red wasn’t alarmed though not even by the fact that her face looked like a broken ceramic vase that had been glued back together.

Red had been wounded in the past, but like the war machine she was, her healing was beyond natural capability. In her veins she beared a perpetual curse, state of the art technology of human evolution. It was the major selling point of her kind, an ability of myth, the artifice of nightmares or a miracle of legends. Baker told her what had happened three days before.

She was fierce. Many fell by her hand on that day. Swords clashed, bullets whistled, bombs thundered, men cried and men died. And it all happened in the name of the god named currency. In a time of need, brothers raised their arms as weapons against one another. Among that madness Red suffered a life changing wound. She was struck, a bullet of high caliber went through her right eye and out through the temporal bone. The impact from the shot twisted her neck beyond the breaking point and took a chunk of her face with it. The body collapsed on a puddle of blood, dead. Yet there she was, alive. That was her curse, resurrection; the machines in her blood kept her enslaved to life.
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I've broken this into two sections. One is the exposition which is the first part of the chapter. Two is the story (for lack of a better word) which is the second part of the chapter.

Exposition:
-I think this doesn't feel like its dumping so much info on me which is an improvement
-Your train of thought could be a little more solid. Lets look at your first paragraph, sentence by sentence:

Sentence 1: There she stood, in the heat of battle that felt so familiar to her. Talking about the battle
Sentence 2: She was relentless, a living weapon, forged by science within glass casting. Talking about how she was made
Sentence 3: Like her siblings, she was a soldier without match. Talking about her siblings
Sentence 4: Hidden under the flesh there was more than meets the eye. Talking about her construction
Sentence 5: Though a child had been born, a savage monster had grown. Talking about her growth

It doesn't really pass from one sentence to the other naturally. They kind of all feel like you are stopping, and then starting again from square one. This isn't an issue with your story portions quite as much so its probably mostly a polishing thing.

-I feel the need to apologize before I say again that I think this would work better if it was presented in the moment instead of as exposition. Alternately, you could frame it as an in universe discussion of Red (enemy soldiers talking, scientists talking, tv commercial, etc). Sorry for repeating myself so much. I think the improvement shows at the end of the chapter as that incorporation felt so much more natural.

Story:
-Too much tell, not enough show. One thing I try to avoid is saying things like "she saw" or "she felt". Don't talk about senses. Show me that these things are part of the world and she is experiencing them. Also, I find removing the word "was" often forces sentences to be reworded in a more organic way.
-Not enough descriptions in general. I don't really have a feel for the setting, or the way battle in this universe works or much of anything.
- she could feel it and touch it Redundant... There are also plenty of places you use filler words like "Finally" and "in realization" and "[thought] to herself" which don't really add to anything but your word count.
-Work on using words to get across the flow of time instead of saying "it took a while" or things like that. If you say "She felt sick. It took a while, but when she was feeling fine, she got up." it doesn't sound believable. Words pass the time, so use this opportunity to describe the setting (although maintain focus on perspective), or give us a little glimpse into the character or something. That description will suffice for the passing of time.
-I use italics for thoughts. I suggest differentiating them in some way from dialogue if you are going to be giving them with any frequency.

I hope I'm helping. I'm starting to feel like a bit of a dick always jumping in and criticizing people's stories. Like, who am I to judge? I'm just some random guy with opinions and complaints. So while I'm a lot better at telling people what I don't like I would like to say that I do think you have a strong premise and the general story flow and the way you are writing the Red character seems interesting.
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LOL. There is no reason to feel like a dick. On the contrary, your reviews are welcome. There is much more to learn and gain from someone pointing one's weak points than there is from receiving praise.
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DViper15 wrote:

LOL. There is no reason to feel like a dick. On the contrary, your reviews are welcome. There is much more to learn and gain from someone pointing one's weak points than there is from receiving praise.


Haha, good to hear. I agree but some people don't take quite as well to criticism. I look forward to your future writing!
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MADE MORE ALTERATIONS AND ADDED THE BATTLE SCENE


The War Child mk.II

There she stood, in the heat of battle that felt so familiar to her. She was relentless, a living weapon, forged by science within glass casting. Like her siblings, she was a soldier without match. Hidden under the flesh there was more than meets the eye. Though a child had been born, a savage monster had grown.

Little she was for her creators other than a business, a slave to be sold, a puppet war machine. She was serial product with a corresponding serial designation; A-Z3/N.A.I. That was the name she was given at birth as a would-be product of the Nanotech Armaments International weapons company. However, she did have somewhat of a name... somewhat of a human name in any case. Red, red like her hair was. Some believed it was really tainted with the blood of slain men. It was precisely that what she was doing. She was a man slayer in those woods, that place of wild and savage hues of green like the ones found in her eyes.

For a slave of the likes of Red, there is no such duality as good and evil, there is only a task to complete. Her task had always been the same and had always been fulfilled. All she did, everything she ever knew was death and blood. The art of killing was to her not a second nature but a first. No normal men could stand against her inhuman strength. She severed bodies with or without the help of weapons. Her punches cracked skulls open, her kicks would brake bones every time; with her bare hands she could tear off a limb and pull out the guts of a man as he shrieked in agony. Did she ever feel remorse? Never once before.

Many fell by her hand on that day. Swords clashed, bullets whistled, bombs thundered, men cried and men died. And it all happened in the name of the god named currency. In a time of need, brothers raised their arms as weapons against one another. It was truly a sight of the end of times. Then everything faded to pitch black.

Red woke up to familiar ceiling, or perhaps we should call it a familiar piece of cloth. Her senses slowly came to her. She felt herself strange; everything looked somehow odd and she kept seeing flashes of light. That was when she realized the right side of her body was missing… but no, she could move and touch it. It was something else and Red felt desperate to figure it out. Moving her head for the first time since waking up, she noticed she could see something in her face. She touched it with her left hand, it was her own nose. Then it finally struck her, her right eye was blind. Surprised, Red surveyed her own face as if searching for her eye. It was then when she felt the cloth of the bandages followed by a zapping sting throughout her head. “A wound” she muttered in realization.

Slowly but surely, every muscle pulled her limp body until she was sitting in the bed. An immense burden had befallen on her head. It was the blood rushing down and settling itself to a sudden new posture. Red recognized this feeling as something that happens when one lies unconscious for too long. The world swayed around her and a pitched tone exploded in her ears. That tent was now to her a pendulum; she stared at the floor as the swing lost its momentum. It stopped, her bearings were now straight and so she began to look around. Naturally her gaze was drawn first to the left; many more wounded men lied in there. Until that moment, she hadn’t noticed their moaning and groaning. Then she turned her head to the right and catched the medic staring at her. He was just there visibly in shock, even someone with a single eye could tell.

He did not seem to notice Red looking back at him. It was as if his mind failed to comprehend something. He finally reacted; “Dear Lord all mighty…” he said on his approach. “Is something wrong doctor Baker?” asked Red as if none of that was surprising for her. Baker kneeled before her in order to examine her wounds. “Do you remember what happened to you Red? Can you tell me how you ended in sickbay this time?” She chuckled “I reckon it’s not your type of story doctor”. Baker was shocked even further; many times he had tended Red but not once had he known her to make anything reminiscent of a joke. Baker proceeded to remove the blood soaked bandages with the great care only a man of medicine and the most loving mothers would. Doctor Baker’s cares were the closest thing to human that Red had ever been treated. “You might feel a pinch” said baker as he was about to remove the part of the cloth that was sticking to the skin. “If he only knew…” Red though to herself while the zapping sting burst through her head once more. Baker brought a mirror and handed it to her; as the doctor rinsed the blood off the face, blackened scars were revealed. Some sort of metal it was, metal had grown instead of skin. Red wasn’t alarmed though not even by the fact that her face looked like a broken ceramic vase that had been glued back together.

Red had been wounded in the past, many times in fact. In her veins a perpetual curse, a state of the art technology of human evolution. It was the major selling point of her kin, an ability of myth, the artifice of nightmares or a miracle of legends. It gave her, among other things, superior healing capabilities. Never before had she experienced that particular thing though. Something different had happened this time; something she knew was a certainty of life. Alas for her, it would repeat. Baker told her what had happened three days before.

The carnage happened at Apocalypse Island, one of the land masses comprising the Juan Fernandez Islands. It is an archipelago, located 500 miles off the Valparaiso coastal region in Chile, South America. It used to be a warmer place but the effects of the nuclear winter where starting to take their toll even on this side of the planet.

The ground shook with thundering sounds but this was not another earthquake. With the break of dawn the raid began; a barrage of mortars took the encampment defenses by surprise. Red awaited the signal patiently blast after blast. Certainly not everyone shared her cool and collected attitude. The battalion breathed heavily, so anxiously on that hill; the sound of fear was only drowned by the loud clank the mortar made with every fired shell. The bombardment pressed on for at least 2 minutes. After the final distant blast, the scene became surprisingly silent. Everybody stood on their feet with their weapons in hand; not everyone ported firearms though, munitions were hard to get on the western world. Even on the 22nd century, melee weapons kept their utility and perhaps now more than ever.

A sudden flash of light signaled the men to begin the charge. The last shell fired had been an illumination flare; it was highly bright, enough so to out shine the early morning Sun light.

The war cry became a reverberant humming throughout the hills encircling the mining camp. A battalion came running down the hill. Red was faster than most, she sprinted down the slope with her rifle fast at her hand. Pine trees swooshed left and right as she ran past them at a high speed. Her short hair seemed more like a streaming tail at that moment.

She reached the foot of the hill and immediately came to a full stop. Red raised her rifle to her shoulder, quickly scanned the area in front of her and continued to move swiftly into the crater filled camp. Fire was spreading through the wooden structures and the smoke began to mix with the dust clouds. The enemy emerged from the smokes, they were suddenly everywhere. Some of them where caught by mortar strikes, other by the blazing fires; those that remained, made haste to take cover and repel the invaders. Red fired upon a group and took two of them on the spot. The other three holed up in one of the craters but soon after a grenade fell next to them, courtesy of Red. One of them was fast enough to make it out, only to be intercepted by a gun stock hit to the face. That left him on the ground with a dislocated jaw; Red did not allow him to attempt anything and stepped on his right arm, preventing him from reaching out to his machete. He gave Red a frightened look as if pleading for her mercy. She aimed at his face and he panicked, desperately trying to cover himself with the left hand and making futile attempts to speak. Unintelligible babbling were his last words.

From behind her, a combatant projected his murderous intent. He roared a simple and noble battle cry: “He was a good man!” Red barely managed to step back from the previous corpse and swung her right arm backwards in a horizontal motion, managing to parry the attack with her rifle. The collision occurred with immense opposing forces that transformed into a powerful wave of metallic sound. Red turned her head to face the attacker. She should have expected it from the force of the impact, but only as she slowly lifted her gaze she realized the proportions of that man. That was a shirtless-hulking-seven-foot-tall hombre who had just used God knows how many muscles to swing a pick-axe at her. Red did not falter though; she quickly stepped back and aimed at the giant. She pulled the trigger but the gun had been damaged and the barrel just exploded blowing a few fingers off. The trauma staggered her little for she quickly drew her side arm and emptied 8 rounds into the man’s chest. That was to no benefit, he did not seem to be even bothered and winded his weapon for an overhead attack. She evaded to the right as the pick-axe came crashing down and then kicked the handle from below to rip the weapon off the attacker’s hands. Red stepped leftwards, putting some distance between them both as she dropped her gun and made a move to grab the mining tool. This action was followed by a 360 degree clockwise arcing motion that ended with the pointed end of the pick inside the man’s torso. She pulled away once more, switched to the axe-ended side of the tool and went in for a second strike. With an upward swing she ripped his left hand off; the motion continued into a full spin, crashing the weapon on his right knee cap. The bone was surely pulverized and the hulk fell on his back.

Red dropped the weapon, approached the fallen titan and then sat on top of him with a leg on each side of his torso and grabbed him by the neck as he grabbed her face. Red punched him in the face with her right knuckle. She punched and punched until his head was beaten to a pulp. However, only dead men rest in battle so she made haste to be back on her feet. She found herself in there again; she stood there, in the heat of battle that was so familiar to her.
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DViper15 wrote:



MADE MORE ALTERATIONS AND ADDED THE BATTLE SCENE


The War Child mk.II

There she stood, in the heat of battle that felt so familiar to her. She was relentless, a living weapon, forged by science within glass casting. Like her siblings, she was a soldier without match. Hidden under the flesh there was more than meets the eye. Though a child had been born, a savage monster had grown.

Little she was for her creators other than a business, a slave to be sold, a puppet war machine. She was serial product with a corresponding serial designation; A-Z3/N.A.I. That was the name she was given at birth as a would-be product of the Nanotech Armaments International weapons company. However, she did have somewhat of a name... somewhat of a human name in any case. Red, red like her hair was. Some believed it was really tainted with the blood of slain men. It was precisely that what she was doing. She was a man slayer in those woods, that place of wild and savage hues of green like the ones found in her eyes.

For a slave of the likes of Red, there is no such duality as good and evil, there is only a task to complete. Her task had always been the same and had always been fulfilled. All she did, everything she ever knew was death and blood. The art of killing was to her not a second nature but a first. No normal men could stand against her inhuman strength. She severed bodies with or without the help of weapons. Her punches cracked skulls open, her kicks would brake bones every time; with her bare hands she could tear off a limb and pull out the guts of a man as he shrieked in agony. Did she ever feel remorse? Never once before.


Many fell by her hand on that day. Swords clashed, bullets whistled, bombs thundered, men cried and men died. And it all happened in the name of the god named currency. In a time of need, brothers raised their arms as weapons against one another. It was truly a sight of the end of times. Then everything faded to pitch black.

Red woke up to familiar ceiling, or perhaps we should call it a familiar piece of cloth. Her senses slowly came to her. She felt herself strange; everything looked somehow odd and she kept seeing flashes of light. That was when she realized the right side of her body was missing… but no, she could move and touch it. It was something else and Red felt desperate to figure it out. Moving her head for the first time since waking up, she noticed she could see something in her face. She touched it with her left hand, it was her own nose. Then it finally struck her, her right eye was blind. Surprised, Red surveyed her own face as if searching for her eye. It was then when she felt the cloth of the bandages followed by a zapping sting throughout her head. “A wound” she muttered in realization.

Slowly but surely, every muscle pulled her limp body until she was sitting in the bed. An immense burden had befallen on her head. It was the blood rushing down and settling itself to a sudden new posture. Red recognized this feeling as something that happens when one lies unconscious for too long. The world swayed around her and a pitched tone exploded in her ears. That tent was now to her a pendulum; she stared at the floor as the swing lost its momentum. It stopped, her bearings were now straight and so she began to look around. Naturally her gaze was drawn first to the left; many more wounded men lied in there. Until that moment, she hadn’t noticed their moaning and groaning. Then she turned her head to the right and catched the medic staring at her. He was just there visibly in shock, even someone with a single eye could tell.

He did not seem to notice Red looking back at him. It was as if his mind failed to comprehend something. He finally reacted; “Dear Lord all mighty…” he said on his approach. “Is something wrong doctor Baker?” asked Red as if none of that was surprising for her. Baker kneeled before her in order to examine her wounds. “Do you remember what happened to you Red? Can you tell me how you ended in sickbay this time?” She chuckled “I reckon it’s not your type of story doctor”. Baker was shocked even further; many times he had tended Red but not once had he known her to make anything reminiscent of a joke. Baker proceeded to remove the blood soaked bandages with the great care only a man of medicine and the most loving mothers would. Doctor Baker’s cares were the closest thing to human that Red had ever been treated. “You might feel a pinch” said baker as he was about to remove the part of the cloth that was sticking to the skin. “If he only knew…” Red though to herself while the zapping sting burst through her head once more. Baker brought a mirror and handed it to her; as the doctor rinsed the blood off the face, blackened scars were revealed. Some sort of metal it was, metal had grown instead of skin. Red wasn’t alarmed though not even by the fact that her face looked like a broken ceramic vase that had been glued back together.

Red had been wounded in the past, many times in fact. In her veins a perpetual curse, a state of the art technology of human evolution. It was the major selling point of her kin, an ability of myth, the artifice of nightmares or a miracle of legends. It gave her, among other things, superior healing capabilities. Never before had she experienced that particular thing though. Something different had happened this time; something she knew was a certainty of life. Alas for her, it would repeat. Baker told her what had happened three days before.

The carnage happened at Apocalypse Island, one of the land masses comprising the Juan Fernandez Islands. It is an archipelago, located 500 miles off the Valparaiso coastal region in Chile, South America. It used to be a warmer place but the effects of the nuclear winter where starting to take their toll even on this side of the planet.

The ground shook with thundering sounds but this was not another earthquake. With the break of dawn the raid began; a barrage of mortars took the encampment defenses by surprise. Red awaited the signal patiently blast after blast. Certainly not everyone shared her cool and collected attitude. The battalion breathed heavily, so anxiously on that hill; the sound of fear was only drowned by the loud clank the mortar made with every fired shell. The bombardment pressed on for at least 2 minutes. After the final distant blast, the scene became surprisingly silent. Everybody stood on their feet with their weapons in hand; not everyone ported firearms though, munitions were hard to get on the western world. Even on the 22nd century, melee weapons kept their utility and perhaps now more than ever.

A sudden flash of light signaled the men to begin the charge. The last shell fired had been an illumination flare; it was highly bright, enough so to out shine the early morning Sun light.

The war cry became a reverberant humming throughout the hills encircling the mining camp. A battalion came running down the hill. Red was faster than most, she sprinted down the slope with her rifle fast at her hand. Pine trees swooshed left and right as she ran past them at a high speed. Her short hair seemed more like a streaming tail at that moment.

She reached the foot of the hill and immediately came to a full stop. Red raised her rifle to her shoulder, quickly scanned the area in front of her and continued to move swiftly into the crater filled camp. Fire was spreading through the wooden structures and the smoke began to mix with the dust clouds. The enemy emerged from the smokes, they were suddenly everywhere. Some of them where caught by mortar strikes, other by the blazing fires; those that remained, made haste to take cover and repel the invaders. Red fired upon a group and took two of them on the spot. The other three holed up in one of the craters but soon after a grenade fell next to them, courtesy of Red. One of them was fast enough to make it out, only to be intercepted by a gun stock hit to the face. That left him on the ground with a dislocated jaw; Red did not allow him to attempt anything and stepped on his right arm, preventing him from reaching out to his machete. He gave Red a frightened look as if pleading for her mercy. She aimed at his face and he panicked, desperately trying to cover himself with the left hand and making futile attempts to speak. Unintelligible babbling were his last words.

From behind her, a combatant projected his murderous intent. He roared a simple and noble battle cry: “He was a good man!” Red barely managed to step back from the previous corpse and swung her right arm backwards in a horizontal motion, managing to parry the attack with her rifle. The collision occurred with immense opposing forces that transformed into a powerful wave of metallic sound. Red turned her head to face the attacker. She should have expected it from the force of the impact, but only as she slowly lifted her gaze she realized the proportions of that man. That was a shirtless-hulking-seven-foot-tall hombre who had just used God knows how many muscles to swing a pick-axe at her. Red did not falter though; she quickly stepped back and aimed at the giant. She pulled the trigger but the gun had been damaged and the barrel just exploded blowing a few fingers off. The trauma staggered her little for she quickly drew her side arm and emptied 8 rounds into the man’s chest. That was to no benefit, he did not seem to be even bothered and winded his weapon for an overhead attack. She evaded to the right as the pick-axe came crashing down and then kicked the handle from below to rip the weapon off the attacker’s hands. Red stepped leftwards, putting some distance between them both as she dropped her gun and made a move to grab the mining tool. This action was followed by a 360 degree clockwise arcing motion that ended with the pointed end of the pick inside the man’s torso. She pulled away once more, switched to the axe-ended side of the tool and went in for a second strike. With an upward swing she ripped his left hand off; the motion continued into a full spin, crashing the weapon on his right knee cap. The bone was surely pulverized and the hulk fell on his back.

Red dropped the weapon, approached the fallen titan and then sat on top of him with a leg on each side of his torso and grabbed him by the neck as he grabbed her face. Red punched him in the face with her right knuckle. She punched and punched until his head was beaten to a pulp. However, only dead men rest in battle so she made haste to be back on her feet. She found herself in there again; she stood there, in the heat of battle that was so familiar to her.

Like sundin13 said, it needs to flow a little better at the start, polish it. You have all the information, just review your work.

I know you wish to have it as exposition, but try to focus on keeping the info balanced, and not so much giving every little detail up in the air right away. IMO

(The section in red)This can easily be cut out, or trimmed to better transition into the showcase of her ability.

I understand this is an opener, but this much exposition will really take away from the story itself. For example, I understand you want to better explain this character, but you can do so with the simplicity of her standing in front of dead bodies she had left behind her, mutilated, brutilized, etc in the face of battle; whatever you feel like showing, then blacking out. She wakes up injured, maybe someone was working on her and she breaks their arm with ease unexpected as she leans up from her position with moderate or excruciating pain, feeling her body has changed her senses tell her to confirm her injuries, the doctor not surprised at all she has recovered knowing what she is (unless this is a more serious case or incident which made him skeptical), he would just check vitals, undress the wound, and send her back out to battle, unless she has no memory of the incident, so we begin to relive it, which is what you went into next, i assumed. This can allow you to tell the reader that this character is powerful, use to injuries, and having amazing recovery, instead of really spelling it out for readers, making her a very effective weapon.

After that, are you telling us what happend 3 days prior to her injury? I understand you want to introduce the character, but it's hard to determine what you are trying to do. Introduce the battle where she gets injured? Then retell the same battle from the beginning? If that's the case you should really consider rearranging where your chapter starts and leads up to.

This is purely my personal opinion. As far as what you have now, it's good, but it can use a little touch up to help carry the reader along with what you wish to write. looking forward to see where you take this

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