Ok, time to dredge up this thread again, because I have a burning question; How much physical description of a character is desirable? In my previous story I avoided describing my characters altogether - its difficult to fit into the flow (because you have to stop describing the events to review the physical features) and I rather like the reader imagining the character from just their personality. However, in my last story, many of the people kind enough to review said that I had not done enough to describe the appearance of the characters. So, how general should one be? Should one be as brief as possible? Or do you prefer it when you have a more exact description?

A good set of questions... As for how I start my stories, lets have a look at some of the first lines at some of the pieces I've done: This is the intro from the piece I'm currently working on. It may stay or it may go: This is from the only piece currently published on here: This was for a writing competition I took part of outside this forum As you might be able to see there is no single way I start a story, as there is no single good way of doing so. I will depend on the story you're writing, and no doubt authorial whimsy at the time of writing. One thing I should say is that the writing should be arresting from the first line. There are 2 ways I can think to do this. In medias res is a fairly good way of doing it, although I would argue against doing it "jus' because". In essence what you're doing is cutting the unnecessary gumph, and starting where the story is getting interesting. People usually use this term to mean starting with an action sequence to hold the readers attention with something that has a bit of pace, but then again I'm not sure thats a good way to start most stories. I think the technique is more valuable when you can start with a line like "It was the third-hour of the celebration feast" or "He arose, sweat blinding his eyes from the exertion he used to kill her" or some such. In these examples that first sentence alone tells a story that sounds like its interesting. The other way is to start with a sentence which strongly evokes an image. It came be metaphorical or literal. It is important when doing so that the first sentence is arresting in its own right. There should be an element of poetry to it. To quote the start of one of my favourites. Good prose has more than a hint of poetry about it. Part of writing should be the pleasure of language as a series of sounds, and poetry is the embodiment of this. More generally, on you specific plight, I would suggest, something perhaps a little unorthodox. If you have a story you have a vague notion you want to write, sit on it for a few days. In those days be feeding your subconscious; with other writers, essays, song and music and the like. Then after a day or two, hopefully your subconscious will be so full with ideas that the first parts will write themselves. Hope my rant helps. (As a supplemental question, of the three beginnings that I posted above, which do you think is the strongest? I would be interested to know )

I was thinking something similar to Gestalt. Perhaps a Circle of Reviewers Lite to accompany this thread? For stories of <5000 words or some similar boundary or something? I think splitting it up in this way would make for more reviews: it can be a bit daunting to open something up to review it, and then just see a tsunami of text...

Well don't I feel stupid

Well, to start things off I reviewed Kalenath's first episode of the Love, Force and Everything: Shades of Grey Up for review my little piece Ducal

Space reserved for possible future additions

Important edit: Because I'm a moron I didn't realise there was already a circle of reviewers post which can be found here. This thread can be considered defunct and left to die You've written your story. You sit back to enjoy the praise. Then you watch with horror as it plummets to the bottom of the forums, with nary a comment. You see, the truth of the matter is is that there are an awful lot more people willing to write stories than comment on other peoples stories, and even then it tends to be a short "I really enjoyed, can't wait for the next one!". While such comments are a boost to ones ego, they don't do much in the way of improving the quality of later instalments. Reviews, and I mean proper reviews, are the life blood of little forums like this. And if you're not prepared to review others work, then you should be prepared for others not to review or comment upon yours. In order to encourage more in the way reviews, I would like to reintroduce: The Circle of Reviewers This is a nifty little thread that gets people reviewing others work. If you want your work to be reviewed, then you review the suggested piece by the last reviewer above you, and then post a link to your own story to be reviewed. Simple, no? However, it is important that it actually be a review, and not simply a comment. You're trying to get to the heart of what worked and didn't work, and how it can be improved. A solid review should take a good deal of thought and consideration. Feel free to phrase your review anyway you like, but try and keep it constructive; if you point out a flaw try and suggest some way of improving it. If you're stuck for what to say, think about some of the following things; Plot - Did the plot points string convincingly together? Did it suffer from any Deus Ex Machina? Did you care about what was happening? Was it well paced? Characters - Did the characters seem convincing? Interesting? Were they Mary Sues? Did they seem to have their own internal lives, thoughts, goals? Were you able to easily distinguish each character? Did you want to punch them in the face? Care about what happened about them afterwards? Did it seem like the characters were strapped onto the conveyor belt of the plot, or did the plot arise naturally from the action of the characters? Dialogue - Did the dialogue flow? Did each characters have their own unique voice or did all the characters sound the same? Did the characters who knew each other sound like they knew each other? Did the dialogue tick-tock between characters? Exposition - Did the wording of the prose flow? How was the use of language? Did you think the author appreciates the English language? Did the writing evoke the appropriate response - did the exciting bits feel exciting and the calm moments calm? World - Does the story evoke the Star Wars Universe? Does it do so convincingly or does it just seem like fan service? Is there a sense of history - of previous events having occurred to bring the character here? Do the characters have a sense of history about them? A cultural context? Theme - Is whatever theme the author is exploring seem well considered? Were there conspicuous gaps? Also, no cheating. No "I know I haven't written a review, but can you just look at my story?", or "I didn't review the last posters work, but I wrote this review one time, so maybe you can look at my stuff?" or anything like that. Ze rules vill be enforced! So good luck and getting reviewing!

“I.... I just need... a minute” Rettan said sagging against a wall Tenner turned back as the other soldiers heaped their way past him deeper into the building “Sorry, don’t have time for that Jedi. What’s the matter?” “Forgive me. Coming through all that fire was... taxing” “Do I need to leave you here?” “No, no, I’ll be fine. Let’s go.” Rettan staggered past Tenner towards the doorway through which the rest of the party had departed seconds before. “Hey” Tenner called out to Rettan who turned just in time to catch the tiny object that had been chucked his way. “Drink it” Rettan complied before following Tenner as he led him through the chaos and rubble of once ordered rooms. The savage sounds of war, from both within the building and beyond could still be heard as they made their way. Perhaps it was just a side effect of the stim that Rettan had just drunk which he could feel strengthening his body, but their journey through smoke filled air of the ruined rooms of the with their scattered contents and scattered bodies felt surreal, almost dream like; a dream Rettan wanted to wake up from. As they climbed the last stair well the sounds of fighting became more immediate. Emerging on to the top floor they caught up with the rest of the troop engaged in a fierce fire fight. Rettan threw himself into combat once more. Dispatching the last Imperial, Rettan looked around at the remaining troops who stood from their cover. Just over a dozen remained. “Tech!” came a shout from the far side of the room Two soldiers rushed forward to the source of the sound, a trooper standing in a small anteroom beside a security door whose solid presence suggested stern impregnability. They both started to examine the door and its terminal with strange devices. “I dunno” one called over his shoulder still typing away into a datapad “it’s a pretty stiff encryption...” “Should be able to work our magic” the other chirped in positively A claxon sound emitted from the terminal “Ok, so that didn’t work. Maybe what abou...” “Already bored” stated Tenner simply as he slid a non-descript looking device towards the door, right between the two technicians examining the door. “F*CKING HELL!” Everyone started running for the nearest cover, all except Tenner who calmly walked towards the door of the anteroom, closing it tight. “I f*cking hate you sometimes Tenner!” a soldier called as Tenner strode over to a safe spot. “Aaaaaw, you wound me Sticks” Tenner said before turning toward Rettan “Wouldn’t stand there, boss.” he said nonchalantly “Oh, and I would cover your ears if you ain’t got a helmet” Rettan moved anxiously along the wall to a place he hoped was safer. “No, I really mean it Tenner, sometimes you’re...” PAROOOSH! The entire room was rocked by the detonation! Rivets came lashing out with deadly speed as the wall itself bucked outward. Troopers were knocked to the floor as the door on the near side of the anteroom flew energetically among them. The room started to fill with thick pungent smoke. Quickly Tenner armed and threw the grenade in his hand. “Let’s go!” Tenner shouted mere fractions of a moment before the grenade exploded. As soon as it had the Republic troops rushed past the smoking gap where doors, a ceiling and a floor that had once made an anteroom and spread out into the room beyond in a hail of blaster fire. Rettan followed close behind. As he stepped through the acrid smoke he could see the fight unfolding among the scarred terminals of the control room. The Republic troops were more than a match for the outnumbered Imperial soldiers, but there were two strident Sith in the room turning the tide of battle. Rettan leapt at the nearest Sith, deflecting a blaster bolt back as he did so, spinning the officer who had fired it as it returned. The Sith met Rettan’s attack as best he could with his double bladed lightsaber, yet he was forced on to the back foot. Still around them the others fought, blaster fire filling the room. Rettan pressed on; blocking low right, ducking, quickly blocking another blow to the left as the Sith swung his blade in a deadly circle. But the Sith was being pushed back steadily by Rettan’s daring and skill, step by step. Rettan saw a chance for the killing blow as the Sith frantically retreated back but was denied it as he deflected a blast bolt from his right. Rettan sent a chair flying thunderously towards the soldier who fired on him before the Sith empowered by fear and rage reengaged him this time pushing Rettan back before Rettan halted his aggressive advance. The fire fight around them had lessened as soldiers died. Rettan made a thrust barely deflected by the Sith who was now fighting more desperately than ever. Another Imperial soldier fired at Rettan who cunningly deflected it towards his floundering Sith enemy. The Sith moved to block the blow but it was already far too late. The bolt hit him square on the right shoulder and Rettan launched a fiery thrust which struck with deadly precision at the centre of the Sith’s chest. As the Sith crumpled to the floor Rettan turned without pausing throwing his lightsaber at the Imperial soldier who had shot the blast decapitating him cleanly. Rettan called his lightsaber back to its master as he cast his eye quickly over the room. There was virtually no one left. Both imperial and republic soldiers lay around the room either dying or dead. All that was left was himself, the other Sith and Tenner who Rettan turned just in time to see on his knees, helmet away, roaring defiance, as the other Sith struck a fatal slash. As Tenner fell to the floor, the Sith turned to Rettan in the now derangedly quiet room. They exchanged no words, but for a long moment each assessed the other. She cast her eye towards the dead Sith at his feet and brought them back to Rettan with cold calculating furry, just as Rettan cast his eyes to Tenner and back to the Sith witch, her dark blue midnight skin covered by dark intricate robes. It was she who struck out first, pushing out and unleashing unnatural lightning from her clawed finger tips. But Rettan was prepared, sending the charred bent remains of the door out to shield himself before the storm, then pushing the door with the full might of the force towards her with deadly speed. She pushed back with her own dark side powers, overwhelming, sending it flying back. Rettan did not resisting in the slightest, flying gracefully over the accelerating door, down upon his foe. For barely a heart beat the Sith was off balanced, but quickly regained her poise. She was formidably skilled in the Sith battle arts forcing Rettan to fight to the very limits of his ability. Both combatants, empowered by their sides of the force, fought with preternatural speed and skill, their blades not once resting or stopping, seeking their opponent’s demise. Rettan was forced to spend more time defending than he did attacking as the fight progressed blocking, dodging and deflecting blow after savage blow. He made a desperate strike at her, a strike which she deftly caught then responded with her own blade to cut across him, a blow he narrowly dodged unbalancing him as he backed quickly away. Soon he was giving way again, and she steadily advanced on him, making him duck and weave, backing him towards the centre of the room where a battered bank of terminals lay. Reaching them, sensing them, Rettan somersaulted backwards. He could feel himself crushing the switches and dials beneath the tread if his boots as he landed, unbalancing him and leaving his legs vulnerable to the Sith’s vicious swipes. He jumped acrobatically back again, disengaging from the losing battle. Yet the Sith was not prepared to grant him any breathing space as she sent another deadly rain of lightning down upon him. She forced him to dive back behind the salvation of the row of computers, sliding slightly as he did so. He needed to reengage with his saber. His chances weren’t looking pretty either way, but it was the best chance he had. Thinking hard, looking around the room strewn with motionless forms he spotted a chair and sent it flying towards her. She was forced to repel it back, giving him the time he needed to close on her once more. The lightsaber fight continued more intense than before, Rettan swiping at her, blocking above, left, dodging right. Their lightsabers were an incandescent blur, their movements fluid. Rettan could once again feel the tide of battle swiftly close against him. In desperation, utter calculated desperation Rettan sent a last cut towards her raising lightsaber arm, consciously leaving himself open should his gambit fail. He swept for her hands, his throat closing thick with the anticipation of his last gamble. He missed his target, missed her hand but struck her lightsaber slashing clean through the hilt! It spluttered out, leaving her reeling back, cornered and defenceless. Quickly with revived determination he closed and swung for the finishing blow. Yet the Sith refusing to admit failure to a Jedi pawn rushed forward as well. Clutching out she caught his hand as it descended towards the end of her life in a vice like grip. She twisted his hand as his own momentum impelled it down before it was arrested ensnared in pain as the Sith raised her other hand and with its vile, claw like talons thrust swiftly down! Down between a join in his armour puncturing down deep into his vulnerable flesh! He screamed in pain! A scream she cut short as she kicked him hard in the chest. Rettan flew back hitting the wall with a solid thump! His lightsaber jangled as it fell across the other side of the room. Rettan, disorientated, drained, nauseous, only had time to stand before he was buffeted by a storm of dark side energy. Agony seared through him for an instant before he could marshal his defences, desperately deflect the coruscating lightning away harmlessly away from himself for as long as he could. But her power was strong, and her deathly will was stronger still. The lightning flowed without cease. He renewed his defences, one last burst in order to break her assault. But her assault did not break. Her assault held and intensified in return. All he could do now was to hold on for as long as possible until the bitter end. Her eyes were alight with anticipation, mocking him, saying in their hungry glance “This day you die” Rettan hung on for impossible seconds he didn’t believe he had within himself. But it was not enough, not enough. He felt himself failing, growing numb inside. Then... then... nothing. The Sith attack had let up! Stunned, Rettan opened his eyes to find the Sith screaming on her knees, knife sticking out her thigh, tumbling lightning impossible in it vehemence on a soldier at her feet. It was Tenner, who writhed back on forth on the floor in unimaginable suffering. This was the space the Jedi needed; summoning what was left of his will he began a lumbering run towards the screaming Sith, summoning his weapon to himself once again, clutching it with purpose in his undamaged hand. She turned only in time to see him bearing down upon her, only enough time to snarl her contempt before Rettan slashed down and she flopped down on the floor lifeless. Battle over, battle won, Rettan deactivated his lightsaber and stood racked by his lungs need for blissful air as tears of pain and exertion rolled down his check. He was unable to do anything else. Only once his breathing had slowed enough in its frenzy gulping of air was he able to hear Tenner’s own tortured and uneven rasping. Rettan sank quickly to his knees and examined the scarred face of friend. How Tenner had managed with the Sith wound nearly disembowelling him, to crawl across the room to attack the Sith was beyond Rettan’s comprehension. “Tenner ... I” Rettan implored, looking deep into eyes of his friend “All in a days work, sir” Tenner replied in a gurgling rush of air which didn’t sound much like laughter Rettan struggled past exhaustion and pain to find the right words to say, eventually settling for a simple “Thank you”. It was all he could think to say. But Tenner couldn’t hear Rettan’s earnest need to speak his gratitude and consolation because the soldier was already dead.

Rettan focused inward, calmed his mind. He closed his eyes and slowed his breathing. He felt the weight of the grenade pressing lightly in his right hand, that of his lightsaber in his left. He felt the eyes of the soldiers upon him, ready to leap out of the trench and die for the Republic at his signal. He felt the tension in the air. He felt it all, but none of it was a part of him. He existed distant, unconnected from that world. He was his own universe. He was become the calm before the storm. He would only get one chance at this, he thought to himself, or the surprise would be lost. He primed the grenade. One chance only. He felt the warm embrace of the Force taking him, washing through him, filling his being with the power it needed, lending keenness to his sight and strength to his arm. In a single fluid motion he stood-turned-flung the grenade clear the 300 metres towards the small opening of the bunker, before dropping back down into the trench with a soft thud. For long seconds he lay waiting, nervous, unsure. Bang! He heard the grenade go off, yet still he lay tense, unmoving, waiting. KABOOOOOOOOOSH!!! Mere fractions of a second later it came; the massive secondary detonation he’d be waiting for! The heavy repeater’s ammunition store had exploded! “Well” said an awed Tenner by his side “I’ll never say a bad word about a Jedi ever again” then regaining himself he turned to his troops “Right, let’s have at ‘em!” They all screamed, all save the Jedi, and vaulted themselves out of the trench. They ran towards electrically charged rolling green cloud that was still rising ominously. All at once blaster fire was streaming, catching any imperials unlucky enough to be caught outside. Rettan’s own Lightsaber was ablaze in his hand. One or two Imperial soldiers scampered out to see what had happened, most of who were cut down by the advancing Republic’s fire. They had crossed almost half the distance before there was any return fire, and they were almost at the gates before anything like a concerted force stepped out to meet them. The blaster fire had become a steady stream now, arcing back and forth, soldiers from both sides ducking desperately, seeking cover. Rettan continued his own running advance, deflecting blaster fire rhythmically with his lightsaber as he rushed on. As he approached the shattered gate, from the line out of the unfolding carnage and smoke stepped out a Sith. He cast off his black cloak and raised his red blade high, preparing to meet the oncoming Jedi. As he drew closer and closer Rettan could see the Sith steel himself for the coming duel. With a sharp flick of his free hand Rettan used the force to send grey dust at his face. He reeled back, hands to eyes, but too late. The Jedi reached him slashing through him, his momentum bowling him with a loud thud into the already dead Sith. Rettan tumbled, rolled, and regained his feet, managing to keep his momentum, speeding across the few feet between him and the nearest cluster of Imperials and brought both force and blade to bear upon them. In moments the Republic troop’s advance caught up with him, and together they made short work of the Imperial’s desperate attempts at survival. It wasn’t long before the Imperials broke and retreated as best they could, some running from the field of battle whilst others tried to fall back to the base, seeking to make a better defence there. “Rettan! Here!” Tenner’s voice called out across the battlefield as Rettan made his way towards what was left of the gate. The Corporal jogged towards him with his helmet off and a small retinue of a few dozen soldiers following him, whilst the other Republic troops surged on to clear up the rest of the enemy. Rettan waited, deactivating his lightsaber whilst he did so. “You’re coming with me. We’re going to clear the main building, take the control room” Tenner said breathlessly but with authority. It wasn’t an order; as a Jedi Rettan was under no obligation to obey even if it had been. But nonetheless Rettan nodded. “It’s going to be difficult crossing the court yard” Rettan had to half shout over the din “I can deflect some fire but I can’t do everything.” “Well” smiled Tenner “You weren’t here for a holiday were ya! You got us to support you anyhow. Even got one or two snipers, and” he added with a wink “a demolitions expert too.” “Good then. Try and keep as much fire off me as you can; Jedi tend to be magnets for the stuff.” “If you promise to do the same” Tenner said as he put his helmet back on. “Right, let’s go!” With that the group of them wheeled out through the ruined archway into the base. Rettan reignited his lightsaber as he entered the smoke laden air. It filled his eyes with tears, but he trusted the force to plant his footing surely as he headed towards the cacophony of screams. Bursting through on the other side he could see that the battle was already well in progress; knots of Republic soldiers firing from ever cover they could find in the court yard whilst the Imperials rained destruction from the rooves, windows, caved in holes or any other purchase available from the few sparse buildings. Across the entire scene bodies, or parts of them, lay in broken mournful heaps. Following in the wake of Tenner and his small group, Rettan began his charge to the building opposite him. As the Jedi had predicted he became a focus for the Imperial fire, forcing him to focus in turn. Closing his eyes he summoned the force, trusted to it, as he began to dodge and swerve, dancing his lightsaber as he wove a protective aegis of light about himself. Time shrunk, ceased to exist as he struggled with every fibre to stay one step ahead of the fire, to stay alive; so it was with some surprise that he suddenly found himself at the building he had seen from across the yard, with almost no perception of how he got there. They entered through a hole in the wall, provided courtesy of Tenner, with the lead troopers leaping in across the rubble past the blaster fire. By the time Rettan crossed into the room, walking backwards still deflecting blaster fire, the room had been cleared of Imperial soldiers. Finally Rettan felt himself enter temporary safety and within himself let go of his desperate hold on the Force.

Before the reset, I had been writing story, some of which I had posted. Now however I've decided to change fairly radically some of the story, and have been left with some bits that don't fit any more. The following one such bit. I've decided to post what was once the prologue here. In previous posts I had made I had people compliment me for my dialogue, but bemoan the lack of action. I wrote this specifically to be fast, tense and full of action. To what degree it succeeds in that I leave you. Anyway, I give this following short. Please leave compliments and critiques as appropriate, even if its just as short a simple 5 star rating. Enjoy Ducal “Bloody hell it’s good to see you again” The soldier marched exuberantly down the dusty slope towards the approaching Jedi before they clasped each other by the forearm. “Likewise” the Knight smiled back “You’ve come to join the assault?” asked the soldier with more hope and desperation written on his face than he would have liked to admit “We got word that there might be a few Sith you needed help with” replied easily “and I’m always willing to help out a friend” “Well Rettan, I’m glad it’s you. There ain’t many Jedi I like but I think I might like you” “Tactless as ever” Rettan chided with genuine warmth “Now, shall we Corporal?” “Certainly sir” said the soldier gesturing back up the way he came from. They turned together in the bright midday light towards the grey ridge where the soldier had come from. In fact the whole of the planet was grey. The plains were grey, the mountains were grey, the lakes were a lighter shade of blue-grey. If one didn’t include the horrific and bloody conflict being played out on its surface, Ducal was one of the dullest places Rettan had the misfortune of visiting. As it was Ducal happened to be one of those planets useful enough for the Republic and Empire to fight over, but not important enough to threaten the farce of a peace treaty between them. Rettan turned to his companion as they walked together into the hastily dug trench system cut deep into the ridge “Where’s Captain?” “Festral’s... Festral wont be joining us” “I’m sorry Tenner, I didn’t know.” Rettan intoned as he gently touched the corporal’s shoulder Tenner feigned indifference with a shrug “He went like a soldier. It’s just me leading now, sir.” “What’s the situation you’ve got?” “Well we were supposed to take the comm station over there” he said banging the side of the trench in the general direction “We attacked and they withdrew, but they got some heavy repeaters bunkered deep in there and they would have torn us to pieces. Decided it better to hunker down and wait for reinforcements. They tried to break out yesterday, but we beat ‘em back, tail between their legs. Took out their heavy armour when they made the push so it’s pretty much a stale mate right now.” “Good work.” Rettan said appreciatively “How many Sith up there?” “Four as far as we can tell. There was a fifth but managed to get ‘im yesterday with a Garanth rocket. Shredded him up pretty good.” Tenner said with distinct pride. “Pureblood an’ all.” “A Garanth munition? Isn’t that a bit... heavy handed?” “Don’t know the meaning of the word sir.” “They don’t call you Splodes for nothing do they...” “An’ right proud of the name I am too.” Turning left they came across a knot of soldiers, soldiers from all sorts of planets, genders and species. There were one or two humans (including Tenner), a few Twi’Leks, one or two Duros as well as a smattering of other species. They were all chatting and joking in quietened tones among themselves, preparing themselves and their weaponary for the coming assault. “Look what I found” Corporal Tenner announced. The soldiers looked up at the pair. Rettan’s arrival was met with nods of acknowledgement and a dry chorus of “Jedi”. Despite the lack of words it was difficult not to see the spirits of the wearied soldiers raise at his presence. “You wouldn’t happen to have a couple more of you hiding about?” asked one of the few humans in the group. “A tank or two, perhaps some artillery wouldn’t hurt either” chirped in another far enough down the line that Rettan couldn’t see who spoke. “It’s just me and my lightsaber today” Rettan smiled “but you do get my stunning charisma” “Oh, when’s that arriving?” “I heard it got lost on your way from Tython.” “Don’t worry sir. Just ask Kalshok here, you don’t need charisma, right?” “You don’t need my boot up your *ss either, but you that’s exactly what you’re going to get. Or whatever it is you Isthian’s have instead of *ssh*les” “Isthian’s have *ssh*les you ignorant jerk” “Figures. Spend’s enough time being one” “Enough” interjected Tenner with authority “And anyway, you don’t need charisma when you’ve got raw fire power” “Explosions aren’t the answer to everything, Splodes” said a voice full of exasperation “B*llsh*t. The bigger and more unnecessary the explosion the better.” Tenner said firmly “Well thanks to a certain someone we don’t have much in the way of fire power like that left” “You give me heavy ordinance, what you ‘specting?” “Well at least we got a Jedi now, that’s got to count for something?” a diplomatic voice interupted “Hey, Splodes,” began a human at the Corporals feet, voice full of repressed mirth “weren’t you saying earlier that all Jedi were a bunch of...” THUCK! The sound of armour on armour rang out loud as Tenner’s boot hit the soldier in the ribs. Hard. “Right you miserable lot” Tenner’s commanding voice boomed over the troop as the soldier doubled over beside him, groaning weakly “time to get ready. We got to take that comm’s station. Doesn’t look like we’re going to get anyone else coming to help us, so I say we smash at ‘em now. Are you in agreement master Jedi?” Rettan nodded once “Right, first we need to get past that repeater. Anyone got any ideas?” Tenner asked the group “How many have they got?” Rettan asked “They got five, but they don’t cover each other so we only need to take one out to get in and secure the station.” “Can I see?” Rettan said holding his hand out. Quickly enough one of the soldiers tossed him a pair of standard issue binoculars. Unfastening the latch at the side he extended it to make a periscope and peered over the lip of the trench. He quickly spotted the squarely built station about 300 metres distant. It was comprised of a perimeter wall that enclosed two or three squat buildings and a tall metallic mast. Sure enough like the rest of the planet, the whole complex was a shade of grey. Sighing he looked closer still. There, above the square arch entrance was a long vaguely triangular bunker, through which he could see the sinister barrel of a repeater. Thinking, he absently collapsed down and tossed the binoculars in the general direction of the soldier who had given them to him, without so much as looking in his direction. Silently the soldiers looked to him with expectation, but he did not return their gaze. Instead he sat looking intently into the wall in front of him whilst tension mounted. “Grenade” he stated flately after a long pause time, finally turning to meet everyone’s eyes once more. Rettan finally received his grenade “Right, I’m going to try and take out that heavy repeater. When it’s gone, be ready to go” “Sir” the soldiers intoned in solemn unison as they dourly raised the vaulting plates at the base of the trench. This done, they turned and waited on Rettan, praying silently for his success.

Would it be to much to hope for a Jawa and an Ewok? Both severely under-represented...

I hope you wont take any of my comments personally. While I have a fair amount of criticism to make, I have taken care to do so honestly and constructively. (Well ok maybe there is a slight egde to it at times, but I hope you will accept that this part of my passion for storytelling shinning through, but where I point out a flaw I will struggle to point out how this can be improved). And as always, take this critique for what its worth. If you enjoy writing this way, don't let me stop you. Firstly, I have to be honest, I couldn't finish reading this one. I got to reading Olana's back story in the Dxun mine before I stopped. Perhaps the following critique is only valid up until that point. However I suspect that some of the flaws I am about to point out persisted My main problem with the story would have to be the characters, especially Will. All of them have the whiff of Mary Sue about them. Take greater care to create more balanced characters - its the flaws that make people relatable and interesting. Will in particular. Seriously, I want to smack him. On the first page of posts alone, the word 'grin' appears 14 times. 14. Fourteen. Seriously. Aside from that he manages to fight like no one else can, and survive injuries that should of killed god knows how many time, even in the short few posts that I read. Whenever this sort of improbable thing happened I mentally yawned Beyond the Mary Sue issues, or perhaps because of them, the characters seemed a bit wooden. It seems like the characters are serving the plot, rather than the plot arising naturally from the characters. All the dialogue is so functional, with characters ping-poning information. I'd advise you to have a look here at in which he talks about how to create good dialogue There was also a fair bit of deus ex machina at times. I think the biggest example would be the artifact Will pulls out that stops all force powers working. What? Where did that come from? If you're going to pull such devices out on us, then you're going to have to foreshadow them a bit. If he seems to just pull it from nowhere it tends to make the reader feel like the author is cheating - isn't taking responsibility for their plot. Another important point is to show not tell. You do do this to some degree, but not a strongly as you could. You rattle off things happening, but dont care to explain what it feels like. I want you to tell me how the air feels in their lungs and what the grit feels like between their toes! Relatedly, think carefully about how you use language. Words don't just have meaning, but they are also sounds, and therefore they have the qualities of music. Good prose positively hums with the joy of language. Alas, I don't know how to give you practical advice in this regard. I can make no other suggestion that go and read some poetry, and to think when writing about the sheer joy of one word placed after another. Hope you find some of these comments illuminating. And as always, keep writing

YOu could have used the reset to retcon some ewoks into the story this time... jus' saying...

Greetings once again- I say once again as I had posted in this forum some time before it got rebooted. In the extremely rare case that you remember me, it'll probably before for my extremely long and detailed reviews, although I was contributing a story of my own before the shiny baubles of life attracted my magpie-like eye. But I have been working again on the same story. Will probably write most of it before I start publishing. So, yeah, might be some time before I get that thread going More often than not I expect I'll pop in here when some huge fit of procrastination guilt and boredom strike me, like now