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WEEK 2: Plotting Exercise
I think there are 3 main characters and 3 static/background characters that I would like to focus on. I’ll go with the MCs first.

Brit captain dude:
Young captain who has been in reserve for most of the war (little experienced) is asked to take command of a company of Indians soldier dudes. He starts a supreme racist pig but is a good commanding officer. When he sees the actual war, he freaks out, trying to micromanage everyone under him which (obviously) doesn’t turn out very well, but later on warms up (a little) towards the Indian fellows as they come to trust each other.

Indian lieutenant dude:
A middle-aged brown lieutenant who was the favourite of the previous captain and is one of the few in the company who can speak some broken English. He starts off not liking the new cap (at all) and is not happy with the way his fellows are being treated. Ends up (grudgingly) accepting him.

Indian sergeant dude:
A youth who has a sparky relationship with the lieutenant dude because of some family-feud ages ago. Idolizes the Brits and sees no fault with them. As the story progresses, he becomes increasingly fanatic (with the war having an adverse effect on his head) and goes a bit mental.
---

On to the static characters who may not show up much in the story but have a large effect on the actions of the main guys.

Brit dead captain:
The dead captain was, obviously, the previous captain of the company in question. He was an Anglo-Indian and was known for his higher-than-usual regard towards the natives. He was well liked amongst the natives but not so much by the higher up Brits, and especially the battalion-chief.

The battalion-chief guy:
He's the head of the battalion of which our company is a part. He's a hard headed racist who treats Indian soldiers as a 'resource' rather than people. Doesn't see much of the front line, but makes decisions of who lives and who dies.

The coward soldier:
He is terrified of the war by now, misses his home and family terribly, and would like to get out of this mess alive by any means possible, thank you very much.
---

Alright. These are the characters I came up with. Now on with the arcs. The sergeant dude doesn’t have much to do but go on being increasingly paranoid and scared but trying to show bravado in front of the new captain to try and impress him, so I didn’t go much in detail about him. Will do so if you think I should.

New Captains arc:
1. Is given the task to keep the ‘black cattle’ in line by the racist battalion-chief.
2. Takes command. Isn’t very happy with his soldiers and tries too hard to get discipline.
3. Gets in an argument with the lieutenant over the coward soldiers behaviour, comes to understand to treat them as people, not cattle.
4. Gets the order from the battalion-chief which effectively means that his company are going to be sacrificial fodder in the front line for the upcoming battle. Refuses the hint that he doesn’t have to lead this attack.
5. Action! Bang bang boom! He is badly wounded. Won’t be able to do anything in the war anymore.

The Lieutenants arc:
1. Extremely sad with the demise of the old captain.
2. Doesn’t like the new guy. Sees fault in everything he does. Gets in an argument and defends his subordinate the Coward soldier.
3. Tries to convince his fellows to commit mutiny. Nobody agrees to his schemes. They convince him to agree that he isn’t that bad.
4. When Cap tells them the attack plan, realises that it’s all madness. Tries to argue against it, but is impressed by the Cap being dead-set to lead them.
5. Action, bang bang boom, and he saves the Caps life but dies himself. Makes the coward guy promise to survive and take a message to his family.

Story Arc:
1. Battalion-chief dude hands command to the new Cap. The first uncomfortable encounters. Lieutenant doesn’t like him. Sergeant is determined to be the new guys favourite.
2. Argument between the Captain and the Lieutenant over disciplinary action against the coward guy. Cap realises not to behave so badly racist.
3. New orders received. Everyone convinced they won’t survive the next day.
4. Battle! Bang, bang boom! Flying skeletons! Drama unfolds as Cap is seriously wounded and Lieutenant dies. Sergeant takes command and does a good job at the start. But tries to be over brave and messes things up.
5. Battle over, Captain has to leave the frontline, sergeant has to face disciplinary action and the remaining guys now wait once again for a new captain to arrive or to be reassigned.
HFW: Plotting Exercise
Basic plot and MC arcs written for the Historical Fiction Workshop 2015.
Please leave comments about what you feel about it!
I have some concerns and doubts:
1. When talking to each other, the Indians won't be speaking in English. How do I write their conversations so that readers can understand what they are saying? (I have to write it in English, yes, but is there a method to doing this?)
2. I have to research battles on the western front and figure out a battle that is towards the end of the game, a costly affair, and involved both British and Indian expeditionary forces. Any ideas?

If you can think of anything else that should be watched for, please let me know!
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Setting:

During the First World War within one of the camps of Indian Army fighting for the British Empire.

Main Characters:

A British officer in command of a handful of soldiers from different origins.

Storyline:

The officer gets assigned a new role in a battlefield promotion in the middle of a campaign to manage a company of soldiers who have just lost their previous commanding officer. The story develops as the men grow to bond with each other as brothers despite their many differences.

Why:

1. To touch upon the feelings that might have been felt by the Indian soldiers fighting a war that was not theirs, in an unknown land, against an unknown enemy and for the benefit of their foreign overlords, the British Sahibs.
2. To show brotherhood that develops among the soldiers who serve together.

Concerns/Doubts/Research points:

1. How were the Indian soldiers treated by their British commanders in general? How were they treated by the fellow companies from different countries? Were there instances of racial discrimination?
2. How did the British Army in WW1 function? What were the living conditions like? What weapons were they using? How were the campaigns run? How was communication relayed?
3. Decide on which campaign (of the several in which the Indian army participated) to place the heroes in. (As the environment of an African battlefield will be far different than the one in Belgium.)
HFW: Plot outline
Basic plot written for the Historical Fiction Workshop 2015.
Please leave comments about what you feel!
I have written some concerns and doubts that I have, but I'm sure I've missed many points which I should give thought to. If you can think of anything that should be watched for, please let me know!
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This is a call for all mystics, magi, semi-humans and general seekers of adventure to find the long lost Heart of civilization before we are all doomed.

For the uninitiated, the Heart of civilization (commonly known as the Heart) is a mythical object which symbolizes the entire human civilization, magical and non-magical. The possessor of the Heart controls the very destiny of our society. Analogically, it is the hive mind of humanity, capable of controlling the tide of public opinion and morality. According to legends, it was entrusted to men by gods themselves. However, several high alchemists have speculated that it is more likely that it is a powerful hereditary binding magic capable of affecting the subconscious created by some ancient magi which, through hundreds of generations, has been inherited by most of us. In recent years, many adventurers and magi alike have quested to find the Heart, but none have found it for the simple reason that we do not know what it looks like.

The Heart is indeed a physical object, but its form is given to it by its true owner. Every time it accepts a new owner, the Heart will take up residence in an inanimate object which is dearest to him/her at that instant. Conspiracy theories suggest than even humans can be vessels for the Heart, but no evidence proving it has ever been discovered. From what we know, the Heart will remain in the chosen object until it passes to a new owner. This may happen when the current owner willingly gives it away to a successor. There is, however, no mention in any texts as to what happens when the owner dies without passing it on. Now that you understand its significance, let us give you a brief history of its existence.

There is almost no doubt that the Heart originated, or was first recorded, in ancient India nearly 5000 years ago. Its progress has been mapped for nearly three millennia since then, passing on from one king or emperor to another throughout India, Mongolia, Persia, Greece, China and other empires. The civilization to hold the Heart thrived on its possession and reached new heights in wealth, knowledge, and often unforeseen capabilities of destruction were all the results of the gifts bestowed by the Heart upon them.

This cycle was first broken when the Heart went into the hands of scientists and inquirers instead of the warlords. With the foundation of the Royal Society 4 centuries ago, rapid technological and magical development was observed in the middle ages. The gifts of the Heart were utilized to their fullest by practitioners in science and magic alike, as the fundamentals of modern science and that of modern arcana were laid down in this period, as any scholar will know. We consider it to be the golden era, when the gift truly was used, for the first time, for the benefit of all the mankind. But like all golden ages, this was not to last.

Eventually, the Heart went back to those who desired to use it to gain power. Since then, the long line of warmongers to hold the Heart range widely from political leaders, extremist organisations, monarchies of semi-humans and merchants eyeing profitable wars. Last confirmed appearance of the Heart was during the Second World War in the hands of Joseph Goebbels, a black alchemist of high renown, working for Adolph Hitler. After the struggle had ended, what happened to the Heart amongst all the treasures collected by the Nazi War Machine is a mystery. You will find all the required details of this in the 18th section in the Library of Alexandria. This is the point where you must start your quest. To aid you, we would like to mention some of the prominent theories regarding its current whereabouts.

First one is that the Heart was stolen from the alchemist by one his henchmen and sold to the magic underground. Second speculation is that it was taken either by the American forces or the Red army, which would explain the struggle of the cold war. Another theory is that it was sold to a private collector during the last days of the war and now is in the hands of a group of businessmen bent on creating a new empire based on commerce. And although improbable, there is another theory suggesting that it was lost when its last owner died in the late 20th century without passing it to another.

The worrying rise of corruption, tyranny, intolerance and ruthless destruction suggest that we are very close to the precipice and will reach the point of no return by the end of this decade, heading towards certain destruction. You must find the Heart is located and restore it to its rightful place, the Royal Society for the sake of the future of both Magic and Science, and we will do our utmost to bring back the golden age of triumph. Work with us, bring back the Heart and you will go down in the history as the savior of all mankind.

Call to action.
Out of an idea rolling around my head for a long time.
Made for the Flash Fiction Month 2015
Please let me know what you think!!!
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I was standing in the kitchen door to my grandma's house. The aged wooden floor creaked as I took a step in the outer room of the old structure built with bricks, wood and tiled roof. The familiar dusty, mouldy smell hung in the air. The tiny room looked just like I remember seeing as a child, dimly lit with the yellow light of a kerosene lantern which gave every piece of the ancient wooden furniture a golden sheen. This was my second clue that I was dreaming, since the house in question was demolished decades ago.

The first, of course, was the hooded figure sitting in front of the grand piano.

Dreams are interesting. It's very difficult to hold a conscious thought like "OMG! I am dreaming!" for over a second but it’s very easy to just know things without a shadow of a doubt. Kind of the way I knew that I was staring at the back of Death herself.

As I approached her cautiously, the piano had changed into a big black machine with slots all over it. Playing cards were popping out of random slots. Death was rapidly catching and feeding them back in the machine with dozens of wrinkled bony hands, filling the room with the soft clinking of glass bangles.

"You humans breed like rabbits nowadays," she rasped aloud just as I was about to try and creep close enough to see what was under the hood. She turned, shadows oozing out of her black robes and dancing on the discoloured walls with the frantic activity of her hands. Under the shadow of her hood, all I could see were two eyes shining like red hot coals. Cards kept flying all around the room.

Terror gripped me like it only can in a nightmare.

"Wh-wh-wh-what are th-those?" I managed to stutter. The room spun as she put the machine between us. Suddenly, she was a casino dealer, complete with a white shirt, black tie and orange waistcoat. She was now dealing cards over the machine, or was it the grand piano again?
"Souls, boyo, souls of your kind, overrunning the world." Despite the changed appearance, the voice was the same. Old, tired and raspy.

"I have a limited number of cards for every kind. These days I have to fill some openings in your department from the unused stock from the animal kind that you are bent on exterminating. Don't blame me if you have some wolves and hyenas running in human skins. We are only trying to maximize the utilization of available resources. Standard company policy, you know," she was explaining it to me, now as a typical HR employee, sitting in a meeting room just like the ones in my office, handing me some documents over the piano. They looked awfully like the notes we used to take in school.

"So I'm a card too?" Curiosity had replaced my fear by now. She started chalking equations on the blackboard in my old school classroom. "You are of the most common ones of the pack. The probability of..." She started explaining it like my maths teacher. My mother had once told someone that math scares me more than death. I don't think she thought I'd have an opportunity to do a direct comparison. Proving her right, I interrupted Death and asked, "Excuse me ma'am, but what card am I?" She scowled at me just the way my grandmother used to when I asked a silly question.

And we were back in the old house once more, with Death leaning over me as the machine hummed behind me. She was now as tall as the ceiling, only her blazing eyes visible in the darkness surrounding her. I took a step back involuntarily and heard glass crunching beneath my feet. I looked down to find the whole floor covered with jet black bangles broken in a million pieces. There wasn't any pain. Just the cold, dark fear gripping you in your chest till you can feel your heart hammering in your throat. Till you're suffocated. Till you're paralyzed.

She reached in the depth of her robe with one of those hands as I backed into the machine and pulled out a card and held it in front of me, face down. "This isn't you, boy," she rasped," You are in the machine now. This one is a housewife who recently... shuffled out." I pulled the card, turning it as I did.

It was the ace of spades.

I asked, confused," Didn't you say this was a housewife? Shouldn't an ace be for maybe, I don't know, presidents and kings and CEOs?" Death chuckled in her throat. "That's the potential of the card. But only if played right in the right game. In some, ace is the highest there is. In others, it’s just a lowly one, lowest of them all," she explained while taking the card and, with a flick of a wrist, tossing it behind me. The machine hummed and clicked as it dropped right into a slot. As I looked back at it, I realized that I could barely make it out with all the haze in the room. Or was the lantern giving out? The shadows lengthened around me, till I could barely see anything but the sparkling red eyes. The jingling of glass was so loud now that it was deafening. It started to sound a lot like my alarm clock.

"What does this all mean? What am I supposed to do?" I shouted over the din, struggling to keep the incoherent dream from falling apart.

The last thing I heard was her voice whispering to me, "Stop playing the wrong game."
A deathly chat
Inspired by, believe it or not, a half forgotten dream that I managed to jot down before I forgot it completely.
Written for FFM 2. Yes, I'm running late.
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"What do you think Watson?" Sherlock Holmes asked me with a sideways glance while lighting his pipe.
We were called to the Humfree estate at the edge of the gloomy reaches of Dartmoor by Lestrade very early on a Wednesday morning. Upon witnessing the number of constables in present at the manor, I rightly guessed that the Lady Humfree must have been murdered. Lestrade took us immediately to the dining room which was indeed the crime scene. The corpse of the lady was sitting at the table, as if waiting for the food to be served. In front of her, a square piece of cardboard lay on the table with five different coloured pawns scattered around it. Nothing else of interest was present on the table. The cause of death was definitely the dagger that was protruding from her chest. My medical experience told me that the her sitting posture was very unnatural, which meant that the corpse was staged at the table after death. Her peacock blue ball gown shone strangely in the early morning sunlight streaming through the high windows of the stately manor.
As I was making these observations, my friend was employing his own unique and extraordinary methods to look for evidence. His question, as he was lighting his pipe, brought me back from my musings.
"I cannot make any sense of it!" I exclaimed,"There is too little blood here for a wound of that size, and it looks like the murder put her in that position intentionally after killing her. Am I right so far?"
"Oh yes, it's definitely a prop for delivering a message."
"A message? Are you sure the murderer has left a message for the police, Holmes?"
"My dear Watson," my friend replied, eyes glittering with a strange intensity, "the message is for me."
"For you?" Lestrade asked, brows furrowed," Who would do something like that? And why?"
"Oh, I'm sure you have read the recent news on the lady in the newspapers."
It was impossible for a Londoner to not know Lady Humfree or, as the tabloids had recently dubbed her for her love of exotic birds, Mrs. Peacock. She was a politically active woman and had recently taken a stand against the drug cartel supplying narcotics to the country. Her petition for better control of the narcotic import  had, no doubt, made her quite a few enemies.
"You think this murder is a message from the drug cartel?" Asked Lestrade, unconvinced.
"Oh no no no, it has come from an authority much higher than that. I assume that you're familiar with the board game called Cluedo?"
Suddenly, all the pieces fell into place. "Of course! Why didn't I see it before?" I exclaimed," Mrs. Peacock has been killed with a dagger in the dining room!"
"By thunder! You're right doctor Watson!" Said Lestrade, leaning to get a closer look at the pawns and board on the table, "But look here Holmes, the board is completely blank and isn't there supposed to be a  purple pawn too which is missing?"
"Not just the purple, the blue one is missing as well." I observed, joining the Inspector at the table," And there is a black one here which shouldn't be. What's the meaning of that?"
"Well, if you are looking for the blue piece, it's sitting in a chair in front of you. She's the Mrs. Peacock, isn't she?" Sherlock moved at edge of the dining room window, his thoughtful gaze wandering somewhere outside, "As for the blank board, I think it signifies that the known rules are all useless. We already know who killed who, where and with what. We must play this game as per the rules set by our adversary."
"But who is this adversary Holmes? And what about the black piece?"
Sherlock picked up the black piece and held it in his piercing gaze.
"The black piece substituting the purple one means that we have, instead of professor plum, another professor in the game. A professor who owns not just the drug cartel, but also the entire London underworld. The spider at the centre of the net is finally stirring. Professor Moriarty has just made his first move!"
The final battle
Written for the FFM day one.
The prompt is actually one that came up during the chat yesterday, 'CLUEDO'.
I have always felt that we need a better, firmer backstory for professor Moriarty than the bare few chapter given to us by sir ACD. (of course, given the fact that Moriarty was made out of frustration and desperation to kill off Sherlock meant that he wasn't made very convincingly) So here is my feeble attempt to add a beginning of a story in the mix.
I hope you like it! :)
Please leave remarks and suggestions!
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:iconfotografka:
fotografka Featured By Owner Nov 17, 2011  Hobbyist Photographer
Thanks for :+fav::tighthug::happybounce:
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:iconanupdin:
AnuPdin Featured By Owner Nov 18, 2011
you are very welcome! :)
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Brian-B-Photography Featured By Owner Nov 12, 2011  Hobbyist Photographer
Thank you for Faveing
Heres a:iconllamajumpplz:in return
Wanna Trade-em?
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:iconanupdin:
AnuPdin Featured By Owner Nov 13, 2011
lol what do u mean? im kinda a noob so dont know all the secrects of deviatart yet ;P
for instance i cant make the jumping llama like u can :(
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:iconbrian-b-photography:
Brian-B-Photography Featured By Owner Nov 13, 2011  Hobbyist Photographer
All I mean is that if you would like to you could give me a llama as well
They are free to give
and the jumper is easy Place a : before and after iconllamajumpplz :iconllamajumpplz:
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AnuPdin Featured By Owner Nov 13, 2011
:iconllamajumpplz:
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CumbriaCam Featured By Owner Oct 27, 2011   Photographer
Tnx for the :+fav:! :)
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NarutoPants Featured By Owner Oct 27, 2011  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thank you for all your comments! heres a Llama for ya :)
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:iconanupdin:
AnuPdin Featured By Owner Oct 27, 2011
lol thanx a lot!!
your painting style is awesome! tips plz!! :D
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:iconnarutopants:
NarutoPants Featured By Owner Oct 27, 2011  Hobbyist Digital Artist
haha np... and I am terrible at tips and tutorials and stuff like that, but tell me what you wish to know specifically and I shall try my best to explain :)
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