Here is the next scene, in the new style. Note that Maruk is much more sarcastic and flippant. He'll be like this all book (and I'll go back and rewrite the old stuff if this all works, each character will have their own thing of course) so this would normally not be such a sudden change. Here it is...does it work for you?
Maruk
My eyes opened. I wish they hadn’t. A blaze of incandescent light burned my retinas. I franticly cupped my hands over my eyes. I’d have to invent a new swearword for this occasion; this hurt in a new and unique way. Too. Bright.
“FUSSSHK!” I screamed incoherently.
Not very original, but it’d do for now. Rubbing my eyes tenderly, the raging throb slowly started to subside after a couple of moments. Sucking in a deep breath, I decided to give it another try.
I opened my eyes. I wish I hadn’t.
“SHIT!” I roared.
When swearword invention didn’t work, I went back to tried and tested originals. I rolled on the ground again, my head in new worlds of agony. I didn’t dare open my eyes again. I think I was learning.
Comfortable with not being able to see anything for the moment, I slid my hands on the ground. The floor felt smooth to the touch, with strange whorls and shapes present in the surface. My fingers ran along the patterns. I could smell no rust. Odd. I craned my ears to hear anything. There was just the faint sound of rain pattering somewhere far away.
I was out of options. Holding a hand to cover my eyes, I peered out cautiously.
I had never seen such a beautiful sight.
Dazzling bright white light played along the black iron surface of the giant room. A chandelier hung about my head, its crystal beads refracting the light in unusual angles. There was an aged and grainy round table in the center of the room. Was it made out of wood? I crawled a short distance and scratched it slightly gingerly with a fingernail. Yeah, it was wood.
The entire table was made of it. The amount of concentrated wealth that table contained evaded my imagination for a moment. I could buy a top end TU car with that. I could buy two. Then I could fill it with high grade steel weapons. I’d still have plenty left over.
This was bloody unbelievable.
The walls of the room where draped in majestic tapestries. Each one of them detailing a legend of the Goddess. I focused on the fabric in front of me, which contained every colour I could imagine, shimmering fabrics intertwined. The Goddess stood, holding an orb of Gathari in her hands, shining bright, a sea of inky darkness all around her. All the people of Narsis reached out to her, a savior.
The legend of the Long Dark, as it was called. I remembered the story well. My father had-
A sudden surge of violent emotion rose in me. I took it and buried it. It was gone.
My father had told me all the stories I knew about Narsis. I remembered the story of the Long Dark well. It was one of my favorites.
When the Goddess found Narsis, there was no electricity running through the streets. There was only a dark city. The people, who came from the Land of the Sun, wailed at the darkness. Their fear overtook them. They started to burn everything they could to produce precious light. Wood, then clothes, then…people. There was much bloodshed. The Goddess spent weeks searching for a solution to the Long Dark. Finally, after a long journey into the depths of the city, she found it. Gathari. With a prowess unmatched to this day, the Goddess used the powers of Gathari to flood the city with light forever. United once again, order was restored. The Goddess made a new society, and promised that till the end of time, the lights in Narsis would never go out.
It was a simple story, but it spoke to me. A savior, saving everyone from their own savage nature. It was noble and brave. How things should be.
Pity it was complete shit. Lies spread to reinforce the Faceless one’s rule. If there was any shred of truth to the legend, which I doubted, then things went really wrong after that. ‘Everyone uniting together in the light’ became ‘Stomping everyone weaker in the face until they obey you’. Figures.
There were many other stories lining the walls. All beautifully depicted. It was slightly unnerving. Like my Father’s tongue has just unrolled itself into a canvas, all his tales turned into images made from bright fabric.
Suddenly, I realized I was naked. A cool gust of wind alerted me to the fact. I stood up, turning to see the door to the room open. The raincoat woman stood there…without a raincoat. Instead she wore a soft robe of green, and useless, but pretty slippers. For the first time I took a good look at her.
Sharp face. Brown eyes. Small and thin. Cute, pouting mouth. Short, spiky black hair. All in all, not your typical female clad in a thick coat, biceps thicker than my arms and a sword raised violently in my direction.
I stared at her for a long moment. She quietly stared back. I wasn’t afraid. I hadn’t been since I was a child listening to Father’s old stories.
“Uh, let’s get you something to wear shall we?” she said hurriedly, blushing. She threw me a spare robe of hers that was draped over her arm. I slipped it on, surprisingly, it fit me fine. We were similar in size.
“Any lasting pain?” she asked. I stopped, running my hand along my chest. My ribs were intact. So was everything else in fact.
What the fuck?
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