[Mkguild] Enkindled Part 1

[C. Matthias]

Hello and welcome to Metamor Keep, Noir!  I will 
be providing running commentary as I read this so 
you can get my first reactions to everything.

At 07:17 PM 7/13/2016, bloodonthewinds at aol.com wrote:
>Standing outside the gates of Komley, William 
>Pernese shaded his cinnamon colored eyes from a 
>late March sun. The day was calm, making the sun 
>feel a little bit hotter, and even at this early 
>time in the morning one could feel that it would 
>be a beautiful day. It's too bad the eighteen year old man could not enjoy it.

A stylistic note: you used a contraction to start 
the last sentence but then did not contract 
'could not'.  I'd use "couldn't" to make the 
sentence flow better.  Contractions are 
introduced for a reason,  If you want to 
emphasize the sentence then avoid the 
contractions; otherwise use them as that's how we speak.

>In fact he was feeling almost mutinous, seeing 
>as he had been forced to join this trading 
>mission his cousin cooked up. His parents idea, 
>of course, to make him stop trying to join the 
>military. His one dream, to fight amazing 
>battles among his brothers-in-arms, like Captain 
>Kaltro in the town guard. His parents, though, 
>wanted him to become a glassblower.

At age eighteen, if they wanted him to be a 
glassblower, they would have long since 
apprenticed him off and he'd be a journeyman by 
now (or nearly so if he's been slacking off).

>Tradition, how he hated that word, for the 
>second son to uphold his father's honor and 
>become an apprentice. It didn't matter how much 
>pride his father showed when William proved to 
>have a knack for shaping glass, it was what he'd 
>wanted after all, it didn't matter how William felt.

Ah, so his father is already a glassblower!

>Looking moodily at his leather-clad feet in the 
>sandy brown dirt, William's sullen thoughts were 
>interrupted by his cousin's loud voice.
>
>“We begin, gentlemen!” Betan proclaimed, 
>spreading his arms in a grand gesture William 
>found over dramatic. “After planning this trip 
>for three months the time has come to make a 
>small journey for big profit! In just under five 
>days we will be in the cursed valley of the 
>demon-beasts.” He took a pause to meet the 
>gazes of them all, William last, “But fret 
>not, we will only stay long enough to make a 
>bargain. After that we will all be richer men.”
>
>William snorted quietly. A soldier didn't need 
>riches, he needed a blade, good boots, and a 
>strong arm. Patting his new iron knife, the 
>young man felt just a little better...And it 
>really was going to be a beautiful day.

Actually, it was very expensive to purchase good 
gear for fighting.  There is a reason that 
nobility dominated the mounted ranks for centuries.

>A large man, the largest in the group at a full 
>head above William, spoke up at this point with 
>a heavy accent. “Mister Pernese, what of this 
>curse? I have heard it turns grown men into 
>children, warriors into mad fanged demons, and goodly women into succubi.”
>
>Betan shook his head, “The curse transforms 
>people, but my father assures me that as long as 
>we don't stay inside the valley too long we will 
>be fine. The people there are godless monsters, 
>but they still need goods and trade to survive. 
>Apparently they can still reason like people.”

I guess in the first ten years since the Curses 
were cast it will take a very long time for people to think otherwise.

>“What about pay?” This from a pale thin man 
>in dark clothing and a hooded cloak to William's 
>left. He was standing away from the rest of the 
>group a little, he made the others uncomfortable.
>
>His cousin smiled, though it was clear he wasn't 
>very happy with the dark man's company, “I 
>have given you a stipend for supplies. As I 
>said, once the journey is complete you will 
>receive payment in full...plus any expenses for 
>a celebration when we return.”
>
>The dark man only nodded, William stared at him 
>until his black eyes raised, and William looked 
>away. The stranger made him uncomfortable.
>
>“Anything else? No?” With this Betan 
>gestured to their guide, a short fat man with a 
>small dark goatee, who bowed briefly and scooped 
>up his travel pack. He started away, Betan close 
>behind with a spring to his step, the rest filing behind.
>
>William scooped up his own pack with his right 
>hand and grasped the pack mule's lead with his 
>left. Trailing in the back of the group, he 
>watched the swish of the dark strangers cloak as 
>he walked, thinking forlornly of his room in Sorin and its lovely sea breezes.
>
>He hadn't wanted to come on this trip; it'd been 
>his parent's last-ditch effort to prevent him 
>from joining the militia. Ship him off with 
>Cousin Betan on his first solo trading mission. 
>Betan's father, Uncle Vince, had organized the trip and given them the idea.
>
>So here he was trudging through the countryside 
>with four strangers and his headstrong, 
>overconfident, butt-head of a cousin on a boring trading run.

So far so good with the setup.  William's 
annoyance is well portrayed.  I'm sure most of 
the trading missions to Metamor are uneventful 
and don't end up in TF; we only write about the ones that do. ;-)

>At least the two mercenaries Betan had hired were interesting.
>
>The tall one's name was Dorian, thick as an old 
>oak tree, but pleasant enough so far. He wore 
>only a simple cloth vest and pants, no shoes, 
>and a scary looking notched greatsword poked 
>over his left shoulder under his pack. His long 
>blond hair and beard were uncut, which give him 
>a wild looking face, but his easy smile sort-of 
>ruined the tough-guy he appeared to be at first.
>
>Walking beside him was his half-brother, 
>Haliard, who was a darker shorter mirror of 
>Dorian. Though the man didn't look half as wild, 
>with his hair pulled back into a braid and his 
>face shaven, he looked every bit the soldier. He 
>seemed a very observant man, only spoke when it 
>seemed important, and otherwise was apparently a decent man.

The last sentence is awkward.  The three phrases 
don't really go together very well; you also used 
'seemed' as an adjective twice and used 'was 
apparently' at the end.   I can tell you are 
stating it that way because you are talking about 
how Haliard seems to William.  You can make the 
sentence have more impact if you actually phrase 
it from William's perspective, like this: "He 
struck William as a decent man, very observant, 
and who preferred to keep quiet, only speaking when it was truly important."

>Then there was the dark man, known only to them 
>as Cal, and he was asked by Uncle Vince to be 
>Betan's bodyguard. He was a thin, pale man with 
>a pockmarked face and shifty black eyes. He'd 
>been the one who inspected the mercenaries 
>before allowing Betan to hire them. He was unpleasant but necessary.
>
>The last man in the brown robes was a guide 
>hired in Komley. William didn't know his name 
>yet, as he was only hired that morning, but he 
>belonged to a travelers guild who guided 
>explorers as well as merchants to various areas 
>of the country. He hadn't seemed happy to get 
>the job, though it appeared that his guildmaster 
>may have given him this assignment as a punishment.
>
>All of them had been given a choice to join this 
>expedition, for whatever reason, except for 
>William. Five days traveling with his cousin, 
>three heavily armed strangers, and an overweight 
>guide who clearly wished to have refused the position.

Other than that one sentence above, this makes 
for a nice introduction to the members of the group.

>With a long-suffering sigh, William pushed these 
>thoughts from his mind. It was looking to be a long trip.
>
>
>
> 
>***
>
>
>
>The last five days had passed far more 
>pleasantly and quickly then William had first 
>imagined. Cal had begun to scout ahead for the 
>group and had come back twice to warn them of 
>some danger. They had been forced to go around 
>it, costing the party almost a day's travel 
>time. He rejoined them at night where everything 
>was broken down and watches were chosen.

What sort of danger?

>Being the pack leader, a fancy way of saying 
>“the guy who watches after the food and cares 
>for the mule,” it was William's job to have 
>last watch, mainly so that things were packed, 
>quietly, before setting off that morning.

I'd write "before setting off each morning".  It 
just flows better.  But I like his aside about 
his role there.  He has a bit of a bitter sarcasm, this William.


>Fortunately, the mercenaries were much more fun 
>than it first appeared. After camp had been set 
>up they would share stories of their adventures 
>and the strange places they had visited. It had 
>almost made the trip worth it for William, who 
>Dorian had apparently taken a liking to, which 
>also made a great deal of difference.
>
>Haliard did not seem to care much about his 
>brother's new friend, though the man would often 
>interject to correct some of Dorian's wilder 
>claims or stories. The blond warrior took this 
>in stride, pretending to have forgotten or else 
>admitting he'd been “trying to spice things up,” and never did they fight.
>
>Betan, on the other hand, was constantly having 
>quiet arguments with Cal. Neither man seemed to 
>have much like for the other, so when he wasn't 
>arguing, Cal stayed cold and quiet. His cousin 
>had always been stubborn, it wasn't a surprise 
>to William that they had become lost somehow 
>when Betan had put his foot down. As 
>Tradesmaster he had the right to supersede the 
>others, so they had been forced to go east 
>around Midtown to avoid the crowds and market.
>
>None of the detours or the fights bothered the 
>youngest man, who had to grudgingly admit he was 
>having fun, but being lost so far from home was not sitting well with anyone.
>
>The goal was to approach a town called Jetta 
>from the southeast, without passing through 
>Midtown, and save a day from the trip. This did 
>make some sense, though Cal argued hard for a 
>stop in Midtown, and they continued on well into the night.

Jetta is a nice little farming community.  They 
were building a watch tower in my one story where I spent some time there.

>Just after a stop for supper, with the sun 
>already low on the horizon, they had spotted a 
>sign warning them that the boundary of this 
>valley's curse lay near. Discussing this 
>briefly, the guide (who went by Samual) spoke up 
>to let them know that Jetta is very close.
>
>They walked for about two hours, the sun had set 
>by now, and a light fog had settled on them. 
>With the torches lit they continued, met up with 
>Cal, then came upon the edge of a forest. Within 
>a few confused moments it was decided that they 
>should stop for the night while Samual checked his maps.
>
>With the mule settled for the night, at the edge 
>of the forest, William approached the brothers 
>for the customary story. As per usual all six 
>bedrolls were arranged in a protective circle 
>around the packs. With the warm spring night a 
>fire was both pointless as well as dangerous, so 
>the brothers and Betan were sitting on their 
>bedrolls, while Samual sat apart with a hooded 
>lantern and poured over his maps. The only 
>sounds in the creepy fog were Samual's muttering to himself.
>
>Cal stood a short distance away, gazing into the 
>tree line, arms crossed and tense-looking.
>
>Dorian looked up as William approached; he 
>smiled, though this time it didn't reach his 
>eyes, “Hey buddy. Sorry, but there won't be 
>any stories tonight.” He motioned towards the 
>bedroll and William sat down. Shortly the three 
>men were continuing a conversation they'd been 
>having all evening: How had they gotten lost?
>
>The conversation was fairly repetitive, not to 
>mention boring, and William's thoughts wandered 
>aimlessly. Though this had been an interesting 
>trip, he missed his bed at home, not to mention 
>the salty air from the docks. Being lost now 
>only made it worse and William realized how homesick he felt.
>
>Bittersweet thoughts of his family filled his 
>mind. He missed them all, from his stern but 
>loving mother, to his father's quite smiles, and 
>even his stupid little brother being so serious 
>all the time. He'd spent so much time dreaming 
>of being a great soldier that he had never 
>considered what it meant to leave home. It was 
>this sobering reflection that he drifted off on, frowning slightly.

I really like how these last two paragraphs turn 
William fully into that young man he is.  At 
first he is frustrated that he cannot be a 
soldier, and now he realizes how much he loves 
his family and does not want to leave him, only 
now recognizing what being a soldier would mean.  This is a nice touch!




> 
>***
>
>
>
>Soon enough something prodded William's side 
>hard, Cal's cold voice hissed from somewhere 
>above him, “Wake up you miserable piece of 
>dung! Arm yourself and keep your eyes up.”
>
>William rolled over blearily, removed his 
>hunting knife from the tangle of his bedroll, 
>and stood up rubbing his eyes. He blinked at the sight before him.
>
>The fog had thickened so that the trees were 
>barely perceptible; the mule looked like a 
>shadow in the white mist. By its motion beside 
>the tree to which it was tethered, and the small 
>noise it made, the animal was clearly upset about something.
>
>With the six of them standing around their gear 
>with weapons drawn, William came fully awake 
>with a trill of fear riding his spine. “What 
>is it?” He whispered to Haliard on his left, 
>watching the fog with wide eyes, “Bandits? Wolves?”
>
>Haliard shook his head, but Dorian answered 
>quietly from the other side, “There was a 
>strange noise just a moment ago...listen.”
>
>At first there wasn't anything to hear, then 
>through the white cover came a noise none of 
>them had ever heard before. It sounded like wood 
>or bone being banged together, except it came 
>very rapidly, a sound no human could hope to 
>recreate. Right as the first one died, an 
>answering clatter came from somewhere else, but 
>direction was hard to figure through the blanket of fog.
>
>“What is that horrible noise?!” Samual 
>asked, terror in his voice, “It gives me chills.”
>
>“...Chills?” Dorian spoke barely above a 
>whisper, just before another staccato burst 
>sounded, “Teeth...it's teeth banging together.”
>
>And it was, the mental image fit perfectly, but 
>it didn't take away the eeriness of the sound 
>that continued to increase in pitch and number 
>around them. Time seemed to carry on slowly as 
>the chattering quieted again, everyone shifted 
>nervously about for what felt like hours, then 
>they jumped as a loud scream split the air.

You've definitely got our attention now!


>“Look!” William pointed with his right hand 
>at where he'd tied the mule. It was now 
>thrashing on the ground as if fighting for it's 
>life, except there wasn't anything to fight. 
>They watched it, cringing slightly as it 
>struggled, completely transfixed. After a few 
>more seconds it made an awful noise and flopped 
>into stillness, a dark lump on the ground.
>
>'Clack-clack-clack-clack-clack!'
>
>The noise came from behind them, making them all 
>spin with a sharp intake of breath, but nothing appeared in the mist.
>
>“There!” Betan shouted, pointing off to the 
>right and making them spin again.
>
>“What?” Dorian asked tensely
>
>“I saw a shadow, in the mist,” Betan replied 
>in a choked voice. “It was some kind of animal, a big one.”
>
>Cal snorted, “It's the fog, makes things look 
>bigger the they are. It's probably just a pack of wolves, or wild dogs.”
>
>“Wild canines don't make that noise,” 
>Haliard stated calmly. He stood between Betan 
>and William, each hand holding a curved sword.
>
>“What does?” William ventured, his knees shaking.
>
>“I don't know,” came the reply from Haliard. 
>William didn't understand how he could stay so calm.
>
>“Daemons!” Samual squeaked, “Gods preserve 
>this mortal coil, if I should die let my soul be lifted into etern-”
>
>“Shut up, you sniveling coward!” Cal spat, 
>“No god wants to save your worthless hide.” 
>He then sheathed his short sword to ready his hunting bow, notching an arrow.
>
>“Okay, whoever you are, come forth so I can 
>kill you!” Cal snarled, “I want to see the whites of your eyes.”

You're doing an excellent job building the 
tension here!  The snivelling and the sneering both are perfect touches.

>Silence reigned for several long seconds before 
>the clacking started up, seemingly from all 
>around them. Shadows began to materialize from 
>the fog, a dozen shadows standing on four legs, 
>each one was at least the size of a large dog. 
>They began to growl menacingly between bursts of 
>clacking, the largest of them stood opposite 
>Cal, and they stopped right outside the group's 
>ability to make out any other details.
>
>“I told you,” Cal muttered, “cursed 
>dogs.” With this he drew back on his 
>bowstring, sighted down the arrow, and let fly.
>
>William heard the 'twang' as the bowstring 
>released, then almost immediately a meaty thud, 
>followed by a shallow hissing noise. He turned 
>in time to see the large shadow advance, to 
>Cal's shock, and come within easy (not to mention uncomfortably close) sight.
>
>The thing was the size of a mountain cat, though 
>it was shaped like a greyhound. That is where 
>the nightmare began. It was pitch black from 
>snout to tail with very little fur, the body was 
>bony and it's pitch black skin looked oily. 
>Where the bones weren't showing beneath its 
>glossy skin it had well defined sinewy muscle 
>bulging under the surface. Starting at the top 
>of its head was a ridge of long stiff hair that 
>stands up all the way to the base of it's tail, 
>which was long, ropy, and thin.

Watch your tense here.  Also, that's a pretty 
grisly looking beast there!  I'd definitely be 
scared out of my wits if I saw it!

>Its face was the most horrible.
>
>It looked to be canine in shape but it was as if 
>all the flesh had been burnt off, leaving a 
>blackened skull showing through. There were no 
>ears, just holes on the sides of its head, but 
>two luminescent white eyes peered at them with 
>cold hatred. The thing's maw had no lips, 
>letting the row of sharp, yellowed, fangs be 
>seen in all their terrible glory. Even as they 
>watched, transfixed, it let out a low snarl and 
>began clacking its teeth rapidly. An arrow 
>protruded from the side of its throat dripping a 
>thick black blood that seemed to smoke as it hit the air.
>
>“Hellhounds,” Samual breathed, barely containing his fear.
>
>Terror seized William, he almost dropped his blade, he couldn't do this.

The last phrase should be separated by a semi-colon or period.

>“Not a hellhound,” Cal said, shaking his 
>head without taking his eyes off of the monster.
>
>“What is it?” Dorian and Haliard asked in unison.
>
>“I don't know,” Cal returned through gritted teeth.
>
>Meanwhile, William's bowels felt like water, the 
>young man was shaking so bad he bumped into 
>Haliard. The mercenary caught his eye, nodding 
>encouragement, and Dorian spoke from the other side, “steady there.”
>
>Dorian's voice brought back memories of the 
>brief lessons William had learned about 
>knife-fighting. Though he still felt unsteady he 
>took a breath and shifted into a fighting 
>stance, blade held defensively before him.
>
>“'atta boy.” The large warrior said without looking.
>
>As if frustrated with the distraction, the 
>beasts advanced, they tightened the ring so the 
>companions had to stand almost shoulder-to 
>shoulder. Just to the left of the largest one 
>with the arrow in its neck, another one advanced 
>further with a snarl, only to be snapped at by 
>its brother. Then the large one made a noise 
>that sounded horrifyingly close to:
>
>“Mine!”
>
>Samual let out a whimpering cry of fear at this 
>and dropped his quarterstaff, instead opting to hide midst their belongings.
>
>Cal dropped his bow to draw the short sword 
>again, making a 'come get me' gesture with his 
>other hand at the beast. He was rewarded with a 
>low snarl followed by a chorus of clacking jaws.
>
>Suddenly the thing vanished, without making a 
>sound, and Cal had a few heartbeats of confusion 
>before the beast materialized right inside the 
>reach of his outstretched arm. He let out a 
>startled cry as it bore him to the ground.
>
>For William, time appeared to slow down to a 
>crawl. He watched as Cal struggled beneath the 
>evil hound thing, grunting, crying out in pain, 
>then watched the rest of the monsters begin 
>attacking as well. Many of the other 
>creatures...blinked like the first one, some of 
>them just charged. It felt like hours, fighting 
>the beasts, being bitten a dozen times, hearing 
>the others as if far away crying out. In reality 
>it was maybe two desperate minutes.
>
>The end of the fight found William alone, buried 
>beneath Dorian's bulk as he'd tried to shield 
>the young man from one of the larger beasts, and 
>fighting for his life with the same beast that 
>had just finished off his companion. Desperate, 
>tired, one arm trapped under the strangely 
>bloodless corpse atop him, William could only 
>gasp in the things fetid breath as it tried to 
>rip his face off. He had his only free hand 
>around the thing's throat to stop it from 
>killing him, the teeth snapping so close to his 
>face he could feel the concussion.

A nice way to move the action forward without 
showing everyone else dying.  Although given the 
investment we had in each earlier, it does seem a 
shame to see them all die so quickly.

>Just when a sob broke from William's throat, as 
>he prepared to let the monster end his struggle, 
>a bright flickering light washed over him. The 
>beast above him froze mid-snap, its pale eyes 
>looking at something he could not see from his 
>position, and it stopped trying to kill him for a span of several heartbeats.
>
>A roaring noise followed by a blast of 
>heat...then the thing was gone with a yelp. 
>There were several yelps, snarls, and other 
>noises, before the night fell quiet once more. 
>William let his hand fall into the wet grass, 
>suddenly aware how badly he hurt, and stared at a fog-free sky full of stars.
>
>The flickering light moved, washing out his view 
>of the sky, and something very bright forced him 
>to close his eyes for a moment. Squinting up, 
>William was unsure what he was seeing.
>
>At first it was just a bright wash of flame seen 
>through his eyelashes, then it...dimmed enough 
>that he could make out a vague human shape. It 
>appeared to be a man, made out of rolling 
>flames, the man was hard to look at directly, 
>but it had a definite human shape. There were no 
>features to the Pyre-man, but somehow William 
>knew it was looking at him, and he wasn't scared of it.
>
>Pyre-man kneeled in the grass beside him, the 
>damp grass hissing, then paused as it flickered 
>briefly, growing dimmer. It reached out one of 
>its hands, plunging it through Dorian's unmoving 
>chest, before William could cry out in weak protest.
>
>He felt the flame limb enter his chest, it 
>didn't hurt, and he looked at the Pyre-man's 
>face in confusion. The face was much easier to 
>gaze at, it had dimmed from a blaze to a 
>flicker, giving him his first glace at its 
>expression. It looked...scared? In pain? 
>Impossible to tell for sure, as the fires that 
>continually rolled over the features made them difficult to read.

I actually had an idea for a villain called The 
Burning Man one time.  The bit about the fire 
rolling over his features here reminded me of 
him, although I can see already this is not a villain per se.

>Briefly, William felt something tug inside him, 
>it wasn't a physical sensation, but he felt it 
>all the same. It was a very queer feeling, then 
>something spoke to him from inside. It was more 
>like listening to thoughts than hearing words, and also strangely intimate.
>
><=Do not fear me...=>
>
>“I...I don't,” William stammered, “You saved me.”
>
>There was a pause where the Pyre-man regarded 
>him, <=Drove them away...they will return...no 
>time=> The thoughts seemed weak somehow; they were getting harder to grasp.
>
>William nodded, “I don't think I can move.”
>
>Flickering, the thing dimmed again briefly, <=We 
>are...dying...wounded...together...survive=>

I am very curious why this Pyre-Man is dying; I 
suppose we will learn eventually why this bonding was necessary for him too.

>Swallowing hard past his dry throat, William 
>shook his head, he didn't want to die, “I don't understand.”
>
>It pointed first to him, then to itself, and 
>shook its head slowly, <=separate...dead.=> Next 
>it made a fist, <=together...strong.=>
>
>“How?” William asked in a whisper.
>
>Pyre-man leaned in close, dimming further so his 
>“flesh” became speckled with ashes, <=bond 
>with this one. Be one...not two.=>
>
>Whatever connection the flame creature had made 
>was weakening it further, causing blackened bits 
>to show through the flames of its body. Somehow, 
>through the connection, William felt its grip 
>slackening. Even so his body was cold and heavy 
>despite the proximity of the living fire, he 
>felt like sleep would be so blissful. He had to 
>fight to make his thoughts connect.
>
>“Please,” the weakness of his voice scared 
>him, “I don't want to d-.” William swallowed, unable to utter the word.
>
>The flame being appeared to sigh and collapse 
>inwards, giving William the frightened 
>impression that it had died, but as it collapsed 
>it grew brighter until a little ball of fire 
>drifted down the flame arm still inside him.
>
>He could feel it the instant it touched him, his 
>whole body warmed, then burned until he gasped 
>in agony. It felt as if his very self was being 
>burned away, but the burning subsided into a 
>comfortable feeling. He became acutely aware of 
>his body and the warmth spreading to every tinniest piece.
>
>Without knowing how long he lay there, absorbed 
>in a feeling of comfortable oblivion, eventually 
>he was forced to surface from the bonding. He 
>felt decidedly strange, sort of disconnected 
>from, yet still bound to, the waking world.
>
>He kept getting disparate flashes of memories, 
>both being his own somehow, and he could not 
>untangle them. Trying to puzzle them out gave 
>him a headache, he spent long seconds trying to 
>recall what a headache was and when he'd last 
>had one. With his mind foggy, putting the 
>wondering on hold, he turned his attention to his aching body.
>
>Vaguely, he remembered the man named Dorian atop 
>him. Images came to him, the blond man grinning 
>widely, stories shared by firelight. Sorrow 
>claimed him at the same time as curiosity as to 
>why this human had been so important. Wiping his 
>face, his fingers came away damp...how odd.
>
>He regretted having to shove and wiggle his way 
>out from under the corpse, then lay in the 
>scorched grass for a bit to gather his strength. 
>He felt this was very inefficient but, as there 
>was not a nice hot fire nearby, he stood up eventually to look around.
>
>He stood in a patch of burnt grass beside a dead 
>man, who was currently smoldering, and there 
>were three other corpses nearby as well. 
>Something about those four dead men bothered 
>him; he could not think what, though he supposed 
>if it had been important, he'd remember.
>
>Instead he searched through the trampled bags in 
>the center of the area to find a large bag of 
>trailfood, a handful of golden metal discs, a 
>small fragrant leather pouch that seemed 
>important, and a wooden chest slightly bigger 
>than his outstretched hand. These things he 
>gathered into a haphazard bundle, swung them 
>over his shoulder, and began to walk away into the woods.

The merging has left him disoriented and 
apparently unsure of who he even is anymore.  I 
wonder how closely the identities of the two 
beings have melded and how much the confusion in 
the mind reflects that.  Very disorienting for 
us; as a reader I hope that William will be able to remember himself in time.

>***
>
>
>Days passed in a sort of blurry fog. The man 
>didn't think he was particularly injured, but it 
>was as if he had two conflicting thoughts about 
>everything. Like catching himself staring at a 
>perfectly normal tree in complete confusion one 
>day. These moments were disturbing, to say the 
>least, so he did his best not to think about 
>them too much. Luckily time appeared to help his 
>condition, as these moments of conflict grew shorter in duration and strength.
>
>At one point he felt a strange...something 
>settle over him, causing him to panic. Running 
>didn't seem to make a difference; he didn't know 
>what it was, though it made him afraid as well 
>as uncomfortable. Whatever it was didn't ebb or 
>go away, it clung to him like cobwebs, and it was a constant presence.

The Curse strikes!!  I give you credit for 
subverting the usual 'visit to Metamor, get 
injured and so you have to stay and get Cursed' 
trope.  This disorientation and merged 
personality business is definitely a first!

>Over the next week he felt random pains, 
>particularly in his joints, as well as bouts of 
>itchy patches on his skin. He knew he was 
>transforming; he couldn't miss the thick soft 
>black hair on his arms, or the way the lower 
>half of his face slowly pushed out. He'd ditched 
>his damaged shoes a while back after they 
>stopped fitting properly; eventually his shirt 
>went, too, after it became more of a nuisance to wear.

This was a nice way to show the transformation 
and his befuddled shrug about the whole 
matter.  It's just this thing happening to him, 
not that he really knows who 'him' is anymore.

>Growing tired easily was also a problem; he was 
>running low on food despite the foraging he'd 
>done since starting this venture, so he often 
>had to take a seat for an afternoon doze. It was 
>in one of these dozes, lying with his back 
>against a tree, that he heard a voice. At first 
>he thought it was one of the nightmares he 
>suffered, before waking, but this voice sounded 
>way too polite for such a thing. Upon opening 
>his eyes he came face-to-face with a dark brown 
>reptilian head with copper colored eyes looking right at him.
>
>He let out a manly scream of shock, shoving the 
>packs, much lighter now, at the gargantuan snake.

I think we'd all be a bit startled too!

>Letting out a noticeably human scream of 
>surprise of its own, the snake reared back 
>itself, raising its arms to protect its face.
>
>Arms?
>
>The partially transformed man stared up from his 
>spot on the ground, leaning back on his hands 
>with his legs splayed before him, eyeing the 
>half-human half-serpent. It seemed to be doing the very same thing.
>
>“What?” He asked, intelligently, his voice a rasping croak from disuse.
>
>“What?” The snake lowers its arms, seemingly 
>confused. Fourteen feet long from nose to blunt 
>tail, it was mostly covered in small tightly 
>packed brown scales the color of milk chocolate, 
>with its broad under-scales a light creamy 
>yellow. It wore a skirt-like dark orange cloth 
>around its middle where the waist would be on a 
>person with a single strap holding it up over 
>one shoulder. Strapped around the top of the 
>garment was a medium sized pack resting against its spine.
>
>“I'm sorry if I scared you,” snake-man said, 
>”I was passing by and saw you lying here....I thought you might be hurt.”
>
>He stared up at the thing for a second before 
>responding, “Are you a cursed human?”
>
>It paused for a few seconds, a forked black 
>tongue popped from its mouth briefly, “Yes. I 
>was a cursed human, but I'd prefer the term 
>'morphed' to 'cursed.' It's more polite.” 
>Softening his posture, the snake morph offered a hand to help the man up.

I already like this snake man.  I loved him 
popping his forked tongue out briefly like 
that.  And I love him having that pack slung 
around one shoulder too.   He seems like a good 
sort to check on a guy who appeared hurt!

>A moment passed where he sighed, then took the 
>snake's cool, dry, hand and accepted help to his 
>feet. They both mutually, silently, gathered the 
>scattered items and replace them into a 
>manageable bundle. After that they stared at 
>each other in a sort of embarrassed moment of quiet.
>
>Breaking the moment by rubbing the back of his 
>scaled head, the snake spoke first, 
>“Listen...this is an awkward question but you 
>do know you're partially transformed yourself? 
>It looks like you've been out here for a while, 
>the cur-I mean transformation, is already pretty far along.”
>
>He looked down at himself with a frown.
>
>His legs and feet had already mostly finished 
>becoming digitigrade as well as being covered in 
>long black hair. All except for the bottom of 
>his feet, which were tipped with very bright 
>orange fur. His hands were mostly normal but 
>they, too, had begun showing signs of growing 
>thick black pads. His torso was in various 
>stages, sort of like a patchwork, of conversion 
>as there were places one could still see pale 
>skin beneath. A tiny tail-nub poked out over the 
>top of his breeches, covered in orange-tipped 
>fur duskier that that on his feet flowed all the 
>way up his back and across both shoulders.
>
>Strangest of all, his head had transformed in a 
>patchwork manner, giving him a sort of 
>frightening visage. The top right half of his 
>face still appeared human, with one cinnamon 
>colored eye, a shock of wheat hair, and an ear 
>still apparent. The rest of his face was in 
>transition, though. One triangular ear, somewhat 
>stunted, was almost to the top of his head. His 
>muzzle had already started showing itself. His 
>nose changed by flattening out, his teeth 
>becoming larger, and his left eye had gone a shocking shade of bright green.

Very nice description of his transformation not 
quite complete.  How exactly, though, did he see 
his own face or see his own eye colors?

>“It doesn't matter,” he gave a shuddering sigh.
>
>Concerned, the snake man reached out, patted his 
>shoulder, then looked curiously at his own hand. 
>He then placed his hand on the man's forehead, “You're burning up!”
>
>Confused, he put his own hand to his head, 
>“Really? I feel fine.” His stomach chose 
>this moment to growl very loudly. The blush 
>could still be seen on the human side of his face.
>
>The snake regarded him a moment, tongue flicking 
>out, “Here.” He reached behind him, his head 
>rotating inhumanly (if that word could even 
>apply anymore). He soon produced a package 
>wrapped in paper. Undoing the twine revealed a 
>sort of large meat pasty wrapped in cabbage leaves.
>
>Offering the food, the snake nodded, “I was 
>saving this for tomorrow's lunch but...I think I should get you to a healer.”
>
>Sheepishly taking the bundle, the young man dug 
>into the pasty before answering, “Thanks.”
>
>Regarding him curiously again, the snake placed 
>its hands on its hip-area, “Well maybe its 
>just me being cold-blooded but...I still think 
>you should come to the keep. I can tell you from 
>experience, it will be easier if you can see 
>others like us. It helps to know you can still 
>be happy. Besides, we're supposed to bring lost 
>morphs we find to the keep, to get them sorted.”
>
>“I suppose I don't have many other choices, do 
>I?” He asked, offering back the half-eaten 
>pasty, “You can finish it. I don't want to eat all of your lunch.”
>
>“No!” The snaked waved him off, “No, 
>you're fine! I'll go hunting tonight for us; you 
>can finish that while we walk.” With this he 
>turned swiftly and literally started to slither away.

I wrote a snake character one time who admitted 
he didn't even remember what it was like having 
legs anymore, so used to slithering he'd 
become.  I like this snake man too, and how 
helpful and generous he's being.  I also note 
that there does seem to be an internal heat to 
William-merged; the fire being is gaining its 
strength back, or is it their strength now.  I'm sure we'll learn more.

>Hustling a bit, the man catches up, careful not 
>to step on the snake's large tail. They made 
>steady pace through the trees, headed north, 
>both of them rather quiet for a time. It didn't 
>take too long before he was finished with the 
>pasty, unconsciously running a large tongue over his lips to sweep up crumbs.
>
>“So,” the snake asked suddenly, “What is 
>your name? Mine is Psylaphen.”

That seems an appropriately serpentine name.

>“I-” he paused, unsure, “I don't 
>remember.” This was only partially a lie, as 
>he could remember being called William, but he was also
>called something else, too. Trying to reconcile 
>both sets of memories often left him confused 
>and sad, so instead he'd chosen to be someone new.

This sort of thing makes me feel as if William 
has died and this other being with his memories 
has risen in his place.  Now I know why may folks 
felt saddened by my story "Under a Blessing of Ashes".

>“Hmm,” Psylaphen mused, eyeing him. “Well, 
>as most of the others come to the keep on a 
>stretcher, I guess you can count yourself 
>lucky.” As he spoke he slid right over a 
>fallen tree, which the former human had to walk 
>around. Upon seeing his crestfallen face on the 
>other side, the snake bowed its head slightly. 
>“Sorry. I don't mean to make fun of you.”
>
>The man shook his head.
>
>“Well,” Psylaphen began, rubbing the scales 
>at his throat, “would it be rude if I gave you 
>a name? At least until you remember yours,” he amended quickly.
>
>Meeting those slitted pupils, the former William gave a weak smile.
>
>“How about,” Psylaphen looked him up and 
>down a little, then pointed at him with a triumphant nod, “Noir?”
>
>“Nwar?” He scrunched up his brows.
>
>“N-O-I-R,” the serpent spelled out, “I 
>read it in a book at the keep once. It mean's 'black' in another language.”
>
>Looking down at himself, he let out half a 
>chuckle, “You'd literally name me for my 
>fur?” It was a strange thing, to have to 
>consider a name for yourself, but given 
>everything that had happened so far...maybe 
>something so simple and exotic was just what he needed.
>
>“It was a first attempt!” Psylaphen said, 
>somewhat defensively, “Give me-”
>
>“I like it,” he decided. “It fits.”
>
>Taken aback, the reptile reared up a bit, then 
>dipped down in a small bow. “Well, Noir,” he 
>says with amusement in his voice, “It's nice to meet you.”
>
>Bowing back stiffly, Noir matched the smile 
>heard in the snake's voice, “Nice to meet you, Psylaphen.”
>
>“You can call me Syl,” he explained. “Come 
>on. We have a long trail ahead.”
>
>As Syl the snake morph started to glide off, the 
>newly dubbed Noir took a deep breath of warm 
>air. Letting it out slowly, he allowed some of 
>the tension bleed away. He was alive, he wasn't 
>alone, and he didn't have to focus on things 
>before the bonding for a time. Starting anew 
>felt right, a new chapter to start...

He'll have to come to grips with who he was at 
some point.  I am sure we'll be interested to see 
how that turns out.  For your first Metamor Keep 
story I'd say you did a fine job.  You've 
captured the flavor of the setting, managed to 
create some interesting characters who we want to 
see more of, managed to put your readers through 
several different emotions as they read the 
story, and really only have a handful of places 
where an awkward sentence really stuck out at 
me.  Please, keep on writing and I look forward to more from you!

May He bless you and keep you in His grace and love,

Charles Matthias