I am amused. After all that long ramble a few entries ago about how I felt more comfortable writing in third person instead of first, I've ended up writing a story in first person. Of course the main character is an egotistical son of a bitch who really won't tolerate third person. Everything has to be from his
Anyway, for something a bit different, a look at the preview of chapter four of the fourth Eragon book. It was in the back of the soft cover Brisingr I got.
King Cat - A sneak peek at Untitled (could someone please help me name this? I rly need a name for this. plse?) R&R!!!!
We are given here chapter four, so there are about ... one hundred pages of text I'm missing (Okay, kidding, maybe more like fifty... ) so I'm going to do some guessing as we go. WILD MASS GUESSING IS A GO!
The chapter begins with Eragon having a waking dream -he's hallucinating Garrow yelling at him to get the horses brought in. First off, the long standing complaint that Eragon really wasn't that poor now was he if he could have multiple horses to be brought in? Now second thing. he's having a waking dream, and hasn't been sleeping. This is a fairly typical thing to happen to Heroes. They always go through their bout of Not Sleeping For Some Reason. Be it nightmares of all the deaths they caused, indigestion, can't sleep others need me to stay wake and save them all, I won't sleep until every last one of you is dead! the moment I close my eyes I am haunted by the villains telling me to join them, the angels will get me if I shut my eyes. Heroes usually have a lot of sleeping problems it seem like, doesn't it? Anyway, he hopes that no one notices how exhausted he is as he puts his hand on Brisingr's pommel - which for some reason it has to be pointed out that it's sheathed.
Does he often touch Brisingr's pommel while it is unsheathed?
And in public?
But seriously, there's no reason to mention that the sword is in its sheath. It's sort of a default setting for sword. You don't go swinging them around at people all bare steel, it's dangerous. People might mistake what you mean or why you have it pointing at them. People generally don't like having swords pointed at them. Sheathed or unsheathed. Mostly unsheathed though.
Jormundur is standing on the other side of Lord Bradburn's throne. I have no idea who he is. I'm going to assume he's some poor shmuck that Nasuada and the Varden kicked out of his house and took over the place. Also, why would a lord
have a throne? Isn't that what kings are supposed to have? Jormundur is bleeding from under one of his bracers. He must have been playing emo-chicken. He must currently be playing emo chicken because he's not noticing it. Or pretending not to notice it. He shows no sign of pain. Not that this is such a big thing.
I got scratched pretty good by my cat a few weeks ago, didn't even notice the blood until I was pulling out of the garage to go to work. Even then it didn't hurt.
Nasuada is sitting in poor kicked out of his house's Lord's throne, wearing a green and yellow dress. There apparently was a fight earlier - battle I'm guessing - not that dangerous I'm also getting because she only has a bandage around her hand. She is hoping that they can 'gain their support' whoever they are. I am going to assume that we'd know this from previous chapters. Jormundur says that they've got no money to offer "Them". And we know why that is, Nasuada gave it all away or spent it on clothing.
Eragon suggests they offer them cream.
They, it should be known, are werecats.
Then we see where all the money went.
Then a flaxen-haired page dressed in a tunic stitched with the Varden's standard - a white dragon holding a rose above a sword pointing downward on a purple field - marched through the open doorway at the far end of the hall, struck the floor with the ceremonial staff he carried, and, in a thin, warbling voice, announced, "His Most Exalted Royal Highness, Grimrr Halfpaw, King of the Werecats, Lord of the Lonely Places, Ruler of the Night Reaches, and He Who Walks Alone." White
cloth is very expensive, and hard to clean. Purple is supposed to be hard to make, though I will give a point to well maybe not in Eragon Land. Also - a quick thought - if they could make lace out of thin air, why couldn't they make gold?
But now to the kitty cat's name. Grimmr, how do you even pronounce that? King of the werecats. Okay, domestic cats do live in colonies. I don't think they have rulers though. Of course since they're were cats perhaps they take on some human qualities in their running of lives? Though if he's going to be walking alone, it's hard to be a king. Espeically since he comes in with four other cats.
Grimmr is a cat boy.
Grimmrr Halfpaw, however, looked unlike any person or creature Eragon had ever seen. At roughly four feet tall, he was the same height as a dwarf, but no one could have mistaken him for a dwarf, or even for a human. He had a small, pointed, chin, wide cheekbones, and, underneath upswept brows, slanted green eyes fringed with winglike eyelashes. In the front, his ragged black hair hunglow over his forehead, while on the sides and back, it fell to his shoulders, where it lay smooth and lustrous, much like the manes of his companions. His age was impossible to guess.
The only clothes that Grimmr wore were a rough leather vest and a rabbit-skin lioncloth. The skulls of a doze or so animals - birds, mice, and other small game - were tied to the frong of the vest, and they rattled against one another as he moved. A sheathed dagger protruded at an angle from under the belt of his loincloth.. Numerous scars, thin and white, marked his nut-brown skin, like scratches on a well-used chair or table. And, as his name indicated, he was missing two fingers on his left hand; they looked to have been bitten off.
Despite the delicacy of his features, there was no doubt that Grimmr was male, not given the hard, sinewy muscles of his arms and chest, the narrowness of his hips, and the coiled power of his stride as he sauntered down the length of the hall toward Nasuada.
YOU DO NOT HELP YOUR MAIN CHARACTER'S CASE OF HETROSEXUALITY BY GOING ON A PAGE LONG DESCRIPTION OF A MALE CHARACTER, INCLUDING THINGS LIKE NARROW HIPS, HARD SINEWY MUSCLES, NARROW CHEEKBONES, AND SHEATHED DAGGERS IN LOINCLOTHS. UNLESS YOUR POV CHARACTER IS A FEMALE THERE SHOULD BE PERFUNCTORY DESCRIPTIONS OF WHAT THEY LOOK LIKE.
PLEASE STOP LOOKING AT THE HAIRLESS GROINS AND LOOK BACK AT THE BOOBS OF THE WOMEN.
So... the cats notice Angela who has the ability to knit with six needles. Unless she grew two extra pairs of hands, I don't think that's possible. But since when has reality and logic ever started bothering Paolini? The cat's notice Angela and the king hisses at her. She cheeps back.
Obviously she has a history with them.
She has a history with everyone
it seems like.
Probably it has to do with whatever happened for her to gain the company of Serious Ass.
Or because she's Angela and annoying. God, I hope she dies.
I bet she turned someone into a bird.
Once that is done he gives Nasuada a tip of the head, displaying with his bearing the supreme confidence, even arrogance, that was the sole province of cats, dragons, and certain highborn women
. Can't really be sole if three types people can do it?
Nasuada wants to know why they have come to visit because they've remained neutral and secretive for all the other conflicts. Even more like a myth than anything else. OooOOO... they're like Jedi? Or Yoda? Yoda when he was younger?
Anyway, they say it's because of Eragon -of course- (who was busy hallucinating again. I mean having a waking dream, this time about a dwarf, an urgal and a pair of ice swords) at the time.
Because Galby won't kill him.
Apparently the Werecats also want to kill Galby. Though there have been no mentions of him ever going after them. But they want revenge for something and want to make him fear and hate them. So he doesn't even fear them. Probably doesn't even acknowledge their existence, which is is probably irksome for a cat. I think that it's too straight forward for a cat. Especially one who walks alone and things like that. He should say things like, "My reasons are my own and not for you to know. Know this, we will fight for you as free agents and we will help you achieve your goal to destroy Galbatorix but you shall not know why."
But, he doesn't. Instead he says, Long have we waited for this opportunity, and seize it we will. Galbatorix will learn to fear and hate us, and at the last, he will realize the extent of his mistake and now that we were the ones responsible for his undoing. And how sweet that revenge will taste, as sweet as the marrow of a tender young boar
Revenge. Revenge, revenge. Of course revenge. Might as well just go and hack a hairball up in the guy's shoe.
The werecats can also command regular cats or one-shapes, because cats admire the were-cats. Cats admire nothing but themselves.
As for Grimrr's terms for joining their army? They want a suit of armor for their cat and their human forms, a dagger to fight with if they don't have one, a bird to eat once per day and a bowl of chopped liver every other day, even if they don't eat it, they must be presented with it. When the war is over and if they win, they must keep a cushion by the throne for a werecat to sit on if they so wish.
Nasuada agrees to this, except saying that they can only have one set of armor. The potential waste of food? Nah, that's okay. She just wants to be sure they have enough liver for all the cats. (Depends on how big the bowl is).
No wonder the Varden is broke. Really. Broke and starving their men.
The final thing is that Nasuada wants their minds read to make sure they're not killers or spies. That's fine -foolish if the Varden didn't - as long as it's not Angela.
There is clapping and everyone is happy, except the cats who look bored.