So I'm sort of in the process writing a novel series right now but I just recently started the book in the series that uses FPPoV. Now, I don't usually write in this format (usually some form of third person), so I would appreciate if you readers out there would give this little excerpt from chapter 1 a read through and tell me your thoughts! Is there something I'm doing wrong that I shouldn't been in my writing or maybe there's a better way I can go about explaining events unfolding? Or should I put more emphasis on using pronouns more to better translate that this is a first person story and not a third person? Your advice is appreciated in this little open-proofreading (I guess you could call it lol) session on Bnet. Thanks for helping out if you decide to and I hope you like what little I picked out for you to read! [i] [/i] Chapter 1 [i]Life As It Is In Basin[/i] "Hurry up an' take these papers to Sharno, Garren," shouted my uncle from the seat of his work room of our small house. "Take'em 'cross town to the First Mates Majesty. Talk to the bartender an' tell him 'The cap'ain calls for all hands on deck'. That'll getcha in to Sharno." Sharno is Uncle Tarlow's cousin or distant relative or something. He's been running from the law for eleven years now, and just finally ended up in my home-city of Version. Tarlow agreed to keep his location a secret so long as he paid some kind of "convenience payment." It's always sounded like extortion to me, no matter what his past crimes were. But I'm in no place to say anything while under his roof. I hoped my parents came home soon so I could finally leave. Living with him is such a misery, and he does little to lessen it. I just buttoned up my tunic, grabbed the papers and headed down the street for the illustrious pub, and the most well known in all of Basin, the First Mates Majesty. I passed by many people and sights on my way there, squishing my feet into the wet dirt paths with every step, moistened from the recent rainfall. I knew most of these sights by simple glance now. There was little Tolgan, who's the son of Houlk and Dana Osmin, always running around after the rainfall to splash in the newly formed puddles that littered the ground. I've even seen him escape his chore duties at times to frolic along the north beach before his father catches up with him, making him return to those same chores. Adventurous child, he is. Reminds me of myself at times. Or at least my younger self, before I became the cursed messenger boy for my "wise" uncle and his criminal family. There's also the statue of the towns original creator, Xaxun, on the north side facing the sea, and a memorial to the people killed in the original invasion that sparked the First Movement, right across the road on the south side. So many things to see, but all boring to the regular eye like mine. But there's always one or two things that catch you off guard. Ones that really stand out, even to other commoners of the town. Except today, it wasn't just one or two people. It wasn't just an abnormal gust of wind that could have whipped up a tornado, or a ton of trees falling in the forest nearby, all at once. Or even a simple merchant caravan coming from one of the other cities of the west; rarely coming from the east. Before I reached the pub, a small convoy came waltzing down the road with its royal soldiers on all sides, decked out in their elaborately-crafted royal armor with crown emblems placed on the purple capes that hung from their right shoulder down their backside; their spears at the ready. They guided a steel carriage being pulled by horses in the center of the formation, knocking everything out of their way as they went by. They even pushed over Aelena, who was six months pregnant with her first child. I rushed over as quick as I could to help her up. "Are you all right?" I asked, taking care not to somehow hurt her or the baby in my efforts. "Yes, I'm fine. Thank you, Garren. If it wasn't for these filthy pigs here, I'd be even better. But... fine now." Her husband soon ran up to us to check on her for himself before leading her back to their stone house. I looked at the soldiers as they passed, practically lurching over me with disgruntled and annoyed faces. Some laughing at our fragile appearances. Some acting as if they were going to stab us with their spears, then quickly pull away to make us out as idiots if we scamper back. I can't believe these are the people who protect our nations. They certainly don't act like it. Not a single noise was emitted from the crowds of people that gathered around me and all along on the sides of the road to witness their special guests' arrival. Only the pitter-patter of the horses hooves as they continued through the city met the ear, and even those sounded like delicate whispers compared to the surrealism the moment brought on to these good people. The convoy suddenly came to a stop in the center of town. By now, everyones eyes were fixed on the carriage, waiting for its doors to prop open and reveal yet another tremble from the quakes being caused from the capital city itself, Testament, during these trying times. Everyone knew of the ongoing war within the Muntarian race between the Menarin faction and the Jenerit faction. Maybe these Menarins came here looking for rebels to snatch up and make examples of to all who would oppose our new leaders. I knew of what happened in the other cities before they fell to the Menarins, and none of it is good. Hopefully these men were only here to grant a fair warning and not wreak havoc. The guard finally formed up on the doors and they eventually creaked open, everyone simultaneously holding their breath, praying to the gods this isn't the end for them. Soon after, out came a lavished, fair-looking man in his early thirties sporting a thick beard, wearing vibrant purple attire only the wealthiest of nobles were seen in, with a large cape that draped from his shoulders down to his ankles. He stood at the ground just below the doors for a moment, glancing around at all of his subjects, observing their look and the look of the city. He took his hat off before walking away to the rear of the convoy, allowing his long hair to flow freely in the cold wind that began to strangely pick up and stir about, sending chills up and down my spine as I struggled to stay warm in my light shirt; the clouds still lingered from the early storm of the day. Maybe another one was fast approaching. The noble began to speak, gesturing to all who could see and hear him. "Fair people of Version, it is with great honor that I stand before you, here, now, as the new Sovereign of the Vaian Empire. I am truly humbled by the great presence the people here have taken to greet me and my trusted friend and advisor, General K." The man gestured to the carriage, which nobody payed any attention to after he started talking, and another person came walking out of the doors. This man was more rugged-looking, with a similar beard to the noble but his long hair was wrapped and tied to the back of his head instead of flowing freely. He himself wore a less fashionable and less colorful brown fur and wool overcoat with thick brown wool trousers, accompanied by a similar, yet red cape that also traveled to his ankles; his sword was stashed in its scabbard and hung nicely on his belt, allowing his hand to rest delicately on its hilt. The one feature though that really caught my eye was the large scar that was planted across his entire face, from the top of his left eye down to his cheekbone on the right side of his face. The man was definitely grizzled and grumpy. I could tell just by looking at him.