Parrant leaned against the main mast of the ship in the crow’s nest and scanned the horizon for anything worth mentioning, bored as he had been the last few days, but then he spotted something that caught his interest. He could make out a pair of darker shapes in the water coming for the ship from opposite directions. He immediately called an alarm.

Parrant’s companions, Kylen, Felligan, and Welentia, walked out onto the deck, and the captain called for everyone to prepare for battle. Kylen, the heavy-plated warrioress, got out her rune-etched claymore for when the enemies got closer to the ship. Felligan, robe-clad and frail, went up near the captain and the wheel and cast an assortment of spells on the crew and his friends. The battle-priest Welentia went to the bow of the ship and spoke several prayers over the ship and crew. Parrant nocked an arrow and waited.

The first sea dragon head blasted out of the water only to receive a lightning arrow in each of its eyes, and Parrant nocked another arrow to wait for the second. The crew scrambled to ward off the first dragon, along with Kylen and Felligan. Welentia was waiting for the other with Parrant.

It came up on the other side, allowing the dragons to flank the ship. Parrant took out that one’s eyes with a pair of lightning bolt arrows. He knew it did no good, but he found something about it satisfying.

The battle was joined. Kylen and Welentia fought back to back, with Felligan chanting words of power from near the captain. Parrant frowned, as his arrows would do little against dragon scales. The first dragon had the majority of the crew fighting with it, trying to net the head so the adventuring group could get the killing blow. Parrant set his bow down and drew his longsword for the first time in as long as he could remember. He thought of what he was doing only after he was in the air.

The wild elf leaped from the crow’s nest with the longsword gripped underhanded with both hands and an Elven battle cry echoing across the water. The second dragon did not have time to register what was happening before the blade pierced the top of its snout. Parrant fell past to slam into the side of the dragon’s face. His feet caught on the bottom jaw, and he left the sword to climb around to the back of the massive lizard’s head. He gripped the horns like reins as the owner’s head swung wildly attempting to dislodge him.

Kylen and Felligan were finishing with the first attacker, and Wilentia used divine will to smite Parrant’s new mount with holy energies to end it. Parrant rode the failing dragon’s head down onto the deck then used the inertia to flip over it with a flourish. He smiled to his companions and said, “Smooth sailing from here on out, I’ll bet.”

The crew and party cheered at that and began tying down the dragons for butchering later. The party did have smooth sailing after that, but the start of the journey was a little rocky.

Parrant spat a curse out at the stone floor as he picked himself up from his fall. Traps were an unavoidable part of creeping through lairs, but he always hated when he failed to find one. Some were so crafty that even with his full attention, he would never spot them. His party was either in the same predicament or worse, so he dusted himself off and took stock of his surroundings.

He stood in a long stone hallway with very little light. He had enough light to see by, but he found no discernible source for it. Behind him was a nebulous cloud. He moved toward it thinking it was the way he had come. A wall of force shimmered up between him and the cloud before he got there, and he frowned. “Of course it is not that easy,” he said.

The sound of his voice echoed down the hall, but when it returned to his ears, the words were different. “Hail there traveler,” came the words from the other direction.

Parrant whirled around, but the gentleness of the greeting stilled him from reaching for a weapon. He found a copy of himself staring back at him, smiling. Such events were not unheard of, but rarely was it so calm. He nodded to his mimic and said, “Well, hello there. You are looking good. Have you been working out?”

The mirror laughed and said, “No, but you are looking good as well.”

Parrant asked, “Well, you obviously inherited my sense of humor as well. Are you in here looking for the cure for the dragon?”

“Why yes, I am. Have you had any luck?”

Parrant shook his head negatively and said, “Well, I’ve checked over here.” He gestured at the nebulous cloud without looking back at it. He asked, “How about you double check over here, and I check over there?” He pointed past the copy.

“I am afraid I cannot do that.”

“Why not?”

“I am not allowed to let you past.”

Parrant smiled at himself, in an eerily literal fashion, and reached back for a pouch firmly held against the small of his back and said, “Well then, perhaps you have met my friend, Mister Plat?” He withdrew a platinum coin and held it up for the mirror to see.

The copy tilted his head curiously then smirked and said, “Well, I’ll be, I think you are right, I have met him before. I should like to meet him again.” The fake elf held out a hand to receive the coin.

Parrant handed over the coin, and in the process, both elves touched hands. A bright light flared from the mimic, then faded along with the body into wisps of smoke that dissipated soon after.

Parrant looked around for a few moments, then looked at the coin. He glanced back to where the other elf had been. After another second of thought, Parrant dropped the coin for his ex-self and headed off down the hall to freedom. The mirror copy had earned his pay, and Parrant had long since learned that when opportunity is knocking, the price is best paid quickly.

Parrant pointed at the dragon tracks and told his companions, “Be ready, these tracks are fresh. It is also large.” His ranger training told him the dragon had to be an adult, which meant potential trouble.

Kylen shrugged a plate-covered shoulder and said, “The larger the better. Scales and horns are worth a fortune.” She stepped past the wild elf with plates clanking against chain mail. The noise grated on Parrant especially, as he valued silence for both safety and combat advantage. He let out a long sigh in time for Felligan to catch up.

The robed man with a wizard’s staff patted Parrant on the shoulder and said, “Worry not. Kylen is just cranky with having had to come this far.”

“Kylen is always cranky,” came the comment from Welentia, the chain-clad battle priestess. The three snickered for a moment, and Kylen told them to hurry up. When they did, they crested a rocky slope to see the cave further up the pass. Parrant scanned the opening of the cave and was able to make out the tell tale signs of a dragon near the entrance.

He nodded to the others, and they got their weapons of choice ready. Kylen drew a large claymore with arcane runes along the blade. Felligan took a double-handed grip of the staff, but stayed behind the others. Welentia got the shield off of her back strap and secured it to her left arm then pulled her spiked mace from her belt.

Lacking a crow’s nest to launch himself from, Parrant left his longsword at his hip.  He smirked in recollection of only time he remembered using the blade:  skewering a sea dragon from above. Instead, he readied his bow, as it was his real weapon. His bow converted any arrow shot from it into a bolt of lightning, and he cherished it more than most people. When he was ready, the group moved forward single-file: Kylen, Welentia, Parrant, Felligan.

As Kylen neared the cave opening, the dragon roared at them, and the sound reverberated and echoed over them like a tidal wave of sound. Parrant quickly broke ranks, sprinting left and around the entrance. No dragon he had ever fought would do so inside its home. They always came out when challenged. He nocked and drew an arrow, and the moment the dragon’s head cleared the threshold, he loosed the lightning bolt. The dragon was already prepared to breath fire at the elf’s companions, but the lightning bolt that exploded in its right eye made it reconsider.

Parrant loved starting fights with dragons like that, even if it did no good. Dragons could sense everyone around them without their eyes, but Parrant found that taking out their eyes annoyed them considerably. This dragon was no exception, and as it turned its head on the archer, he loosed another lightning bolt into its left eye. He gave a laugh that was an odd cross with a cackle, and finally the others started to move.

Kylen charged forward with her sword, hacking at the dragon’s chest. Welentia called on divine protection for everyone, and soft white light radiated from each of them for a brief second. Felligan pointed his staff at the dragon and spoke a word of power. An icy missile shimmered into existence and flew at the dragon.

Parrant found cover then frowned. The dragon should have breathed fire all over the area where he had been. He risked looking at the scene from behind his rocky cover, and confirmed his suspicion. The dragon was fake! He suspected it was not an illusion, as Kylen’s sword was connecting. He fired an arrow past the dragon into the cave, watching the illuminated area until the bolt dissipated. The roar from inside the cave confirmed his theory: the dragon was still in the cave and sent out a puppet of sorts.

The faux dragon evaporated, and the real dragon barreled out of the cave heralded by the screams of the assembled adventurers. This dragon was easily three times bigger than the other, and Parrant established the battle as being hopeless.

His companions must have thought the same thing, because all four sprinted back the way they had come. Kylen was weighed down slightly by her plate and fell behind. Parrant quickly passed her and thought back to his first dragon hunting lesson.

His teacher had said, “If you need to retreat, do not be the last.” Parrant made a quick calculation, then stopped, swept a leg out, and tripped the plate-wearing warrior. He shouted an apology and darted after the other two members of the party.

—–

Years later, Parrant was teaching a band of rangers and told them the story. At first, they were outraged, but then he explained, “We needed the Wizard to whisk us safely away. We needed me to find the warrior’s remains when we came back with reinforcements, and we needed the Priestess to revive the warrior once I did!”

“Yatta!” David cried gleefully while throwing his arms up in the air victoriously.

The three other people around him lowered then shook their heads in mock shame, but after a few moments, they burst into less somber giggles and patted David on the back in congratulations.

“Let’s get started,” David said, and the group quickly agreed. Phoenix had brought the table and his needed materials for the session. Milo had brought the chairs and some sustenance as well as his materials. Katie had brought her backpack which contained essentials beyond only her meager materials. David had supplied chairs and the place for the bi-weekly ritual.

This ritual was special though, being conducted on the special day of Samhain, or as most people referred to as Halloween. The group preferred the more archaic sounding name, as if the name changed their perspective of it to something beyond mere mortals.

Each person went about a task with a sense of duty and urgency. They did not have long, so they needed to begin as soon as possible. They wanted to be ready long before the witching hour. Thunder rumbled outside letting them know that a storm was brewing. The noise also loosened their nerves, and they began talking about little things to distract themselves from the current menial tasks that had to be done before the actual event.

Katie produced several small candles and distributed them around in windows and on shelves to provide mood lighting. Phoenix setup the table with David’s chairs. Milo got out a bag and a leathery mat, which he laid across the table with deliberate delicacy. The writing on the mat was valued by all present. Months of their work was easily evident on the surface that now covered the whole table.

Katie set up a pot on a counter and started bringing it up to temperature. David laid out all of the materials that would be needed on the table. He carefully arranged everything so that their tomes were holding down the corners of the mat that were trying to curl back together. Milo deposited the appropriate writing implements onto the tomes to be within easy reach then took a seat at the table. Phoenix followed suit opposite Milo and produced a folder from his supplies. He pulled small stack of papers from it and set them neatly atop the folder in front of his place.

Satisfied with the brewing pot, Katie took her seat across from David’s seat. David took his seat last and said, “Are you all prepared?”

The others nodded their agreement, and Katie and Milo quickly got out their own papers. David tried his best to give a sinister smirk before continuing, “Then let this session begin.”

The words had barely left his mouth before a closer rumble rattled the windows and door. Moments later, the room plunged into semi-darkness, lit only by Katie’s candles. Milo made a startled noise. Katie started glancing around as if to find a source of the power outage. Phoenix remained stoic and crossed his arms over his chest.

David lowered his voice and said, “This is perfect weather for this. Where were we?”

“About to attack the zombie leagions,” Phoenix said without looking at his notes.

“Ahh, yes,” David said. “Everyone roll initiative, and let The Treasure Box’s Samhain D&D session begin! What a great way to break in our new game store.”

While I did not pick this story out based on the same experimental guidelines as the previous book, I figure this is as good a place to expound on its virtues and vices. Before I left California to return to live in Oklahoma, I picked up a few books: a pair of Shadowrun books, Magic Bites, and Swordmage. Since I already had the books, I figured I would check to see if I would have bought them using the experiment method. It turns out that I would not have bought Swordmage based on the first line. I brought Swordmage with me to work on Thursday night, intending to read it. I am sad to say that that plan was halted in its tracks completely by a single line in the third paragraph.

Now, to be fair, I do not know Richard Baker. I have not emailed him to ask about posting a review of his book (published in 2008 through Wizards of the Coast as part of the Forgotten Realms books for Dungeons and Dragons). I do not suspect he would want to link back to what I am about to say either, so I figure I have saved myself the time.

I am an advocate of a prologue, so I do not immediately get a sour look on my face when I read the word. I know that I am being presented with some back story that may have far-reaching effects on the actual portion of the story. I appreciate Nathan Bransford’s view that this can also force the reader to start the story twice effectively. Still, if your reader does not make it to Chapter One, your prologue fails.

I do believe I have learned an important lesson in the “Show, don’t tell” philosophies, most recently expressed by Maria Schneider on Editor Unleashed. In that article, she explains that there is a currency of interest that an author accumulates that can be cashed in on small doses of telling instead of showing. She also explains that this form of telling should be less direct than straight narrative, instead using dialogue and a scene to tell the reader what they need to know.

Unfortunately, in a prologue, you have no such interest currency. I, as a reader, owe you nothing on page two. That is why the first lines are so important. It gives you a tiny deposit of interest currency that you can use LATER. This is not meant to be an immediate exchange.

So what line in paragraph three could have turned me off so badly to this book that I had already paid for? In my time gaming online in text-based environments, a universal rule for describing your character was to not include leading phrases or adjectives. Words like “beautiful” and “pretty” and “ugly” were frowned upon, as were phrases were so cliche as to be down right appalling. When my eyes came across the sentence, “She was beautiful beyond comparison,” I literally threw the book onto the desk and gagged.

Is that really so bad? Yes, yes it really is. Especially when Baker’s best-selling status is right on the front cover. Am I better than Baker? Probably not, as at least he has been published (albeit by a different beast than most authors wish to deal with). Have I made mistakes like that? Definitely, but I’m not a best selling author either. Will I be trying to correct my own mistakes like that? You bet your golden spectacles of reading +1, I will!

I am sure in 375 pages that Baker can tell a very nice story, so I will certainly try to get past paragraph three in the near future. In terms of the One-Liner Experiment though, it definitely failed. If it redeems itself in the other pages, I will certainly share.

Writers: whether you agree with me or not, take away from this that readers can be turned off at the drop of a hat. Not just me. Make sure you have enough interest currency to cash some in on a line like “She was beautiful beyond comparison” about half-way into the book, because in paragraph three is not where it belongs.

Baker: If you do happen to read this, please understand that I like D&D, and I will still try to give your book a fair shake by reading it all the way through. If I come across as unnecessarily harsh, it is because I expect more from a best-selling author.