Let us continue the "Writing samples" thread here, because I don''t want to post my samples to the "Ufferfluss" -thread, its name will scare people away. Post your amateur writing stuff here. A third poem I dare to show, again in Finnish, again with literal translation: Kaunis katse, kylmät kädet, lämmin poski, julma mieli, muuta en hänestä muista Beautiful look, cold hands, warm cheek, cruel mind, that''s all I remember of her Note: There''s no "he" and "she" in Finnish, "hän" can mean either sex. I put "she" there only because I''m male. -Jussi

Now I understand why Tolkien has got so much finnish in his elfic languages It just looks sweet. Could actually do a very nice language for spells (except of course for finnish speakers, but I guess that would be part of the fun).

Is this short poetry your own style, or is it something that you learnt ? I mean, do you do those 2 words sentences because it''s the finnish poetry style, or just because it''s the way you do it ?

now I just got to find a finnish pronunciation guide to tell you it sounds as good as it reads

quote: Original post by ahw

Is this short poetry your own style, or is it something that you learnt ? I mean, do you do those 2 words sentences because it''s the finnish poetry style, or just because it''s the way you do it ?

It''s my own style. I don''t think there is such thing as "Finnish poetry style", as there probably isn''t one for any language.

quote: now I just got to find a finnish pronunciation guide to tell you it sounds as good as it reads

I can give you a quick, short guide:

Words are pronounced as they are written (I really don''t know if English-speakers understand this concept, or do they naturally pronounce words "in English"). ''ä'' is pronounced like ''a'' in "hat" (ae). I can''t think of an example of how ''ö'' is pronounced, but it''s something like "oe."

-Jussi

Sweetness, now i can restart my Ninja story. The one I started in the other thread of story posts kinda sucked in my opinion, it wasn''t as good as the one I was trying to copy off of from memory i did a while ago, anyway, here''s segment #1. Sorry about the length of it, but as i was reading it to find a good spot to cut off, I realized i did too good of a job in transitioning from paragraph to paragraph, so here it all is up to the only part I could find to stop, sorry bout the length, but I think its very well written:

It was beginning to get dark outside the house resting on the bluff of the cliff facing the raging ocean hundreds of feet below. Guards roamed the lawn outside and many could be seen at posts atop the wall surrounding the house and up in the tall trees in the yard. Those not in motion wore a quiver on their backs, chock full of sharp pointed arrows. Their long bows rested not far from their hands. For all that could be seen of the house behind a screen of trees and bushes, it looked just as well protected as the outside perimeter. The roaming guards all wore heavy armor and carried swords strapped horizontally at their sides, not down along their thighs as the knights of Europe did.
But for all the apparent force of security, one thing was lacking. One might not notice it upon first glance, but a repeated study of the guards would bring out the fatal flaw. They were bored. Bored of endless routine. Their master had hired them for the sole purpose of protection, yet he had no enemies. Their jobs required the use of none of their superb skills, which were being paid in full by their boss. There were no training drills, no false alarms, no visitors of any kind. None of the guards had ever been let into the house. They were all totally baffled as to why they were being paid so much to protect what seemed to be nothing of value. But due to the amount of money being doled out, they of course had no objection.
Still, their lack of knowledge of what they were truly guarding against was yet another face of the tragic flaw in the defense of the house. Granted, if they had known the full details they would not have been anywhere near as calm and complacent. They would have been skittery, jittery and worthless. So a balance of information had to be maintained, but the amount given out was nonetheless unbalanced by the amount still held back, and so when the time came, not one of the guards stood a chance of surviving.
The one to bring about that fate was none other than the black clothed figure clinging to the sheer cliff wall, about 200 feet above the ocean. He blended in perfectly with the surrounding terrain, so that if looked on from above, he would seem a part of the ocean, looked on from either side, he would seem a part of the cliff, a shadow within a shadow. And if seen from below, he would disappear into the dark night sky. From all outward appearances, his thin, wiry build could only lead one to believe his musculature to be none too fitting for a man. But the ease at which he held onto the rock face, effortlessly hanging on the edge of death, would lead one to wonder what this mysterious figure was.
The answer to that nagging question would come from the sword strapped to his back, worn in such a fashion that only one answer could fit: Ninja. Of all the classes of Martial Arts, Ninjitsu was one of the most demanding and secret. It taught not only a way to a sound body and mind, but a way to seek concealment where there was none, a way out where none existed, and a way in where none was possible. A true Ninja was a master of his world. He made extreme use of all his senses, and combined them to learn precisely what was going on around him, whether his eyes functioned or not. His body and mind were transformed into tools of his razor-sharp will, capable of things no ordinary person would feel comfortable doing. His many weapons were all nothing but bodily extensions, his precise and utter technique wielding them in an extremely lethal and efficient way. But all this information was indiscernible from anyone looking at him, and so his greatest weapon lay hidden beneath his very being.
Clinging to the rock, he carefully assessed his position. Night was falling, and that was when he would strike, silently and effectively. Already the sky was all but black, and so he began to warm his body back up to continue his climb. He began by releasing the control he had held over his limbs, and letting himself feel his outer extremities once again. The pain was a welcome feeling to the numbness that had been there before. Slowly he flexed the muscles in his legs to get the blood flowing smoothly once again after being held in that position for hours. Next came his arms, which were harder due to the force of gravity holding the blood back from getting to his upraised hands. But finally he could move his limbs without hindrance, and so continued his ascent.
The first step was to move his foot. He chose the left leg first, and lifted it from the cliff face. Attached to his feet was a leather band with spikes on the bottom, which were used to grip rock, wood, or any other surface. He lifted his foot almost above the level of his waist, his dexterity allowing the move without any resistance. He let it slide slowly until it caught in the rock. Using his arms now in combination with that leg, he pulled himself up until his hands rested against his chest. Holding that position with almost no sign of physical strain, he reached up with his opposite arm, his right, and searched for a possible handhold. On his hands were strapped similar spike grips to allow him the freedom of climbing extremely sheer rock faces. Upon finding a good ledge, he allowed his body to relax slightly, testing out the new position. Satisfied that it would hold his weight, he brought his right leg up just as he had his left, and repeated the process, starting this time with the opposite side of his body.
It was hours before he had finished ascending the cliff, and upon reaching the top he was no more tired than he had been starting out. He knelt by the edge and scanned the area. He was still outside the house’s perimeter, but there was a quarter moon out, and no clouds in the sky. His silhouette would be too visible against the backdrop of clear, moonlit sky. And his outfit, although black, was actually too dark to blend in well in the open. Moving slowly and carefully, the Ninja crawled over to a stand of low bushes. Upon reaching them, he knelt and began a quick inventory of his weapons and devices.
Attached to his back was his trusty Katana blade, sharpened and honed to perfection by his own hands. He dared not draw it for checking, however, for fear of a glint of moonlight catching on its surface. Attached to the belt circling his waist were various other items. A short knife, or assassin’s blade, was sheathed by his left arm. He was right handed, and positioning it on his left side was essential for a quick draw and, if need be, a quick throw. Next to the blade was a small pouch containing metal spikes and stars, known as shuriken, or throwing weapons. On his right side was a three-pronged grappling hook with a long, thin-coiled rope. The metal was treated in the forge so as not to make as much of a clinking sound upon striking objects. Next to that was another small pouch containing incendiary powder and spark flints.
Satisfied by his cursory inspection, the Ninja removed his spiked attire and attached them to his belt, spikes out, two in front and two in the rear. Both would serve as extra weapons in extremely close combat situations. Rising slowly, he gave the area another careful scan. His eyes saw nothing but blackness, but his eyes were not the limit of his senses, though other humans foolishly thought so. His ears told him that a guard stood not more than ten feet away to his right, his breath barely audible over the sound of the ocean breeze. His nose could discern a sight tinge of human sweat from the salty ocean air, and his fingers felt the trodden earth the guard had walked on no more than ten minutes ago.
But the Ninja did not act. He did not move. He allowed the guard to move on, his heavy footsteps receding into the darkness. Only then did the Ninja rise and begin making his way towards the high outer wall. As he meandered across the open lawn before the wall, he used a variety of positions to remain undetected from the sentries on the wall itself. When he stomach-crawled, he did so slowly. His head remained level with the rest of his body, never popping higher to scan the area. He would not be moving if not assured that he could make it to his next hiding spot without being detected. His motions along the ground on his stomach were similar to those when he was climbing the cliff and his body never raised more than a few inches up off the ground with every move. He appeared to be a large black snake slithering along the ground. When he crawled, he did so with both his kneecaps and his toes, his hands splayed out in front for support. He moved opposite hands and feet, at once, pushing off with his toes and landing knee first. His back did not bump up and down, but remained straight and level. When walking, he did so toe first. By putting all his weight on such a small area of surface, he reduced the amount of impact upon the ground, thus reducing any noise made, making his footsteps barely audible even to his own ears. After the toe came the heel, brought down gently before being used to push him forward again.
Swiftly and silently he approached the wall, a formidable edifice just begging to be conquered by his able skills. The Ninja had no objection, but was forced to resist the temptation. Instead he chose a sturdy tree to climb, and began his ascent. He clambered up with extreme caution, wary of the wall sentries and the danger they posed to him. One slight ruffle, one small twig being broken, was all it would take to make himself known to them. And so, with a skilled eye he picked out the sturdiest branches, avoiding those too thin to support his weight or those to short to keep from bending slightly. Finally he reached the level of the wall’s top and rested on a thick branch that overhung it. He let his eyes readjust and soon picked out a guard looking down towards the cliff edge, unaware of the presence just above him. He carried a long bow in one hand and a full quiver on his back. No sword was present at his side, which was good. He was also currently leaning over the wall, which was even better.
Reaching down to his left belt pouch, the Ninja extracted a small shuriken and rested it in the groove of his pointer finger and middle finger, his thumb resting on the base of the pointed single-pronged throwing weapon. He took a second to judge the distance before flicking his wrist almost casually. The deadly projectile flew out of his hand, right along the groove of his two fingers after being released by the thumb. It quickly traveled the short distance to the guard and embedded itself neatly into his neck. The sentry reached up in vain to grab at the object before realizing that in doing so he had begun to lose his balance. It was too late for him to recover and he toppled, arms wind milling as he fell through the air to land on the ground with a dull thud.
The Ninja waited a minute before moving again. He quickly climbed down and disposed of the body behind a few bushes lining the wall. He grabbed the guard’s fallen bow and quiver and slung them over his back before ascending the tree once again and leaping onto the wall. He landed on the stone surface with barely a sound and padded across, hunched over, until he was above a few bushes lining the wall on the inside. He dropped down and landed behind them in a crouch. He took a moment to once again survey his surroundings. It took him three passes to spot the guard resting in one of the trees. His upper back and shoulders could be seen as he watched the house. A mistake the Ninja was all too eager to exploit.
He unlimbered the bow and reached back to pull and arrow out of the quiver. The long bow was too big to set on the ground, but that posed no problem for the Ninja at all. He took another moment to judge the distance and the height of his target. The kill would have to be clean; he would only have one shot. He stilled his nerves and stood. In one smooth motion, he brought the arrow up to the string, pulled back, and let fly when the bow was at the top of its rising arc. The arrow sailed away as the Ninja dropped back below the bushes. It had taken no longer than three seconds. The arrow flew through the air and planted itself right between the guard’s shoulder blades. There was a soft cry of surprise before he fell from the tree.
The Ninja rose and ran for the body. He was almost there when a roaming guard crossed his path suddenly. The guard’s eyes went wide at seeing an intruder inside the wall, and his momentary surprise was all the Ninja needed. Still running, he leaped up and extended his right foot, heel out, the rest of his foot bent back towards his leg. The heel struck the man just under the chin. His eyes glazed over and he began to wobble. The Ninja landed and delivered two lightning-fast blows, one to the man’s chest, forcing the air out of his lungs, and the next to his throat, collapsing his larynx. The man’s fish-like motions denoted his apparent asphyxiation as he clawed at his throat before collapsing on the ground. The Ninja glanced around quickly, all senses alert, but detected no near threat. Aware that the more guards he killed, the easier it was to be detected, he grabbed both the bodies and deposited them high up in the tree.
He looped the longbow over his back with the string across his chest. Crouching low, he ran across the yard towards the house, sitting silently at the center, all the windows blackened by heavy drapes. A soft sound to his left caused him to drop and roll to his right, so his was within the shadow of a tree. He lay on the ground, his head only slightly elevated as he peered slowly around for the cause of the sound. Suddenly he was lifted up off the ground, arms wrapped around his neck in a chokehold. Any normal person would let his fear muddle his senses, but a Ninja must always remain calm, and that calmness allowed him to act quickly, instinctively, and with no hesitation. Dipping down his right shoulder, he brought his right arm around and up outside his attacker''s arms, effectively breaking the hold. Before the guard could react, he reached up and stuck his palm against the man''s chin, forcing back his head. At the same time, he stepped back with his right foot and placed it behind the man''s legs. Using the backward momentum induced by the palm against the chin, he swept the man off his feet. As the sentry fell, the Ninja knelt with him, his hand still below his chin, so that he landed across his knee. The snapping of the spine was barely audible as the guards'' body went limp.
Gathering up the body, he tossed it into yet another stand of bushes surrounding the house. Things were beginning to get touchy. He had killed four guards already, and surely they were to be missed soon. He made the decision, and made a blind run towards the house. Whether by luck or design, he made it undetected, and hugged the foundation as he glanced around yet again. His acute vision picked out a guard walking down a path away from him, and two more up in trees, both staring out towards the wall. He shook his head. Too easy. He took another quick survey, this time of the house. He was, he figured, only a few dozen feet from the nearest point of entry, a window about five feet off the ground. His back to the wall, he slowly began to make his way towards the target, keeping within the shadows. He moved by putting his right heel against the wall and crossing it with his left leg. He then brought his right leg out from behind and once again placed it in front to repeat the process. Quickly and silently he moved along the wall until he was under the sill. He extracted his small blade and reached up. Without looking, he found the crack between the two panes and eased up the catch. Taking on last quick look to make sure no guards were watching, he sheathed his knife then leaped straight up and twisted around. His hands shot out and grasped the ledge, his arms levering him up to a support position. Without pausing, he leaned forward and fell against the windows, pushing them in and rolling into the room. He came up in a crouch, sword already drawn. It wasn''t needed.
He slowly stood and resealed the window. Sheathing his sword, he moved to the door and pressed himself against the wall next to the jamb. Placing his left hand at waist-level against the frame, and his right across his shoulders and higher up on the frame, he leaned over to peer out into the hall. Nothing. He glanced the other way to see a thin sliver of light escaping from behind a closed door. The Ninja padded down the hall and stopped near the door. He listened for sounds of guards in the house, but he heard none. Knowing that his target was beyond this door, he reached down for the handle and slid the rice panel to the side. Inside the room sat a small old wizened man, sitting cross-legged in front of a sacrificial altar, candles burning around him. He seemed deep in meditation, but when the Ninja stepped into the room, he spoke.
"Much time has passed."
The Ninja bowed his head.
"I know, Sensei"
The old man got up and turned to face his student. His hands were clasped behind his back as he regarded his most promising pupil.
"How many did you kill?"
"Four, Sensei" replied the Ninja.
The old man seemed only slightly pleased.
"How many did you avoid?"
"Six."
This time the man''s nod was a bit more appreciative.
"The bodies?"
"Were disposed of by the best concealment possible", replied the Ninja.
The old man nodded and seemed to consider this. Then he again nodded his head.
"Very well. The first part is done. You must still get out. Remember your training. Remember the Code. Do not attack unless provoked. Move swiftly, silently. Strike quickly, efficiently. Act, do not react. Make use of your environment. Judge not others by their appearance." The words seemed to bore into the Ninja’s very soul as his master said them. "Remember, my student, a Ninja is not a warrior, he is a shadow. He does not show himself, but remains in darkness. Heed these words, and I will see you when I return to camp. Go. Now."
With that, he turned and resumed his previous position. All outward appearances told that he had totally forgotten the presence of his student behind him. With only a minimal boost of confidence to his credit, the Ninja turned to leave. He had just reached the door when a scream pierced the air.


Ironically, it wasn''t the bodies behind the bushes that were found. It was the fault of a guard who had chosen to pause beneath the tree in which hung the two dead bodies killed by the Ninja earlier. One of them had been pierced in the back with an arrow, and the blood still flowed freely from the dead man''s back. It was that small trickle that happened to land upon the lone guard''s head as he stood beneath the branches. Glancing up, the guard could vaguely make out the outlines of two of his fellows draped over a branch. Caught in a sudden fit of hysteria, he could only manage to get out one blood-curling scream before running off gagging to report to his commanding officer.

Oh yes, it gets better. Now he has to escape. Will he fight his way out? You may be surprised......

tell me what you think. That''s what we created this forum for anyways. I''m thinking of making a mini-game just to test out my skills that follows this storyline.


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\\// live long and prosper; \||/ die short and rot.
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it would be simpler if you start a thread for your own text, otherwise we are gonna get endless threads, and it''s much more annoying to comment. (I ahve to read your text later)

jsut to answer selkrank .Well, there ARE styles of poetry depending on the languages ... jsut look at Haiku in japanese (I don''t remembe the exact structure, but it''s purely based on the number of syllables).
In french there is a number of various structure. Alexandrin is a line of 15 syllables (oooh, not sure of the number), a sonnet is made of a number of lines organised in different ways, rhymes are usually grouped by 4 and the way the rhymes are organised are given names (AABB or ABAB, or ABBA have different names).
As well, in Latin, you have I don''t remember how many different types of poems, and lines, it''s all about the lenght of a syllable. it''s almost like morse, but I used to kick major ass at it Dactyle, spondee, trochee, are some of the names you give to the different styles of long/short gathering of syllables...

of course, nowadays, the emphasis is more on prose. t''s the same thing that is happening in Painting with the emergence of abstract art... but it doesn''t mean the old style is bad. Look at rap, it''s a new form of poetry that uses old elements (the importance of rythm, the rhyming, etc)

quote: jsut to answer selkrank .Well, there ARE styles of poetry depending on the languages ... jsut look at Haiku in japanese (I don''t remembe the exact structure, but it''s purely based on the number of syllables).
In french there is a number of various structure. Alexandrin is a line of 15 syllables (oooh, not sure of the number), a sonnet is made of a number of lines organised in different ways, rhymes are usually grouped by 4 and the way the rhymes are organised are given names (AABB or ABAB, or ABBA have different names).
As well, in Latin, you have I don''t remember how many different types of poems, and lines, it''s all about the lenght of a syllable. it''s almost like morse, but I used to kick major ass at it Dactyle, spondee, trochee, are some of the names you give to the different styles of long/short gathering of syllables...

Ah, you meant THAT. Sorry, yes, there is that kind of traditional poetry style in Finland, it''s called "Kalevalanmitta." Kalevala is the Finnish national epic, "mitta" means "verse" here, so it would translate as "Kalevala verse." As you said, it practically isn''t used in modern poetry.

BTW. Haiku sounds like Finnish, probably because there''s a traditional singing style called "joiku" in Lapland.

Yet still BTW. Shouldn''t this thread be called Poetry and the Ninja story removed?

-Jussi

Selkrank''s stupid little poems and stupid literal translations continue, part 4.

Lennän, kädessäni lämmin käsi,
viima painaa kasvojani, en piittaa,
taivas on tyhjä, pilvet kuin saaria,
rantaudumme ja nautimme hiljaisuudesta

I''m flying, a warm hand in my hand,
wind presses my face, i don''t care,
the sky is empty, clouds like islands,
we come ashore and enjoy the silence

-Jussi

I like your poetry Selkrank. I didn''t read the ninja story, sorry, but perhaps you should start a thread for it, if you''re still here Gaiiden. Well, so long for now.

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official Necromancer of GameDev forums Game Writing section

I think, if you''re going to do poetry, you should put it in a poetry forum. Especially romantic poetry, such as that. I mean, at least the ninja story has more of a game-like signifigance, since it could do more to influence the story of a game. That is, if anyone read it. I didn''t. ^_^

quote: Original post by ahw
Now I understand why Tolkien has got so much finnish in his elfic languages It just looks sweet. Could actually do a very nice language for spells (except of course for finnish speakers, but I guess that would be part of the fun).

I think that if you were to use a certain language for spells or whatnot, you should use one that''s not used by an entire country of people. I''ve thought about doing something like this: Taking the nouns of Alpha, the verbs of Beta, the adjectives and adverbs of Gamma, the articles of Delta, and so on, to create Theta, a new language comprised of old ones.