General Art The Odyssey

[Ganondork]

Hey guys. I'm still going to continue with The Holy War, but my teacher offered me extra credit if I could turn my project on a female version of The Odyssey into a short story. I couldn't turn it up. I hope you enjoy it.

***

Chapter 1​

Constantinople was a city of strife. With the new Arabic presence, unrest was amidst within the European section of the city. Still, Muslim influence spread rapidly through the city, a disease to the Europeans, but a blessing to the Arabs. Dome-shaped Mosques sprang through the city seemingly overnight. Christian symbols were taken down, replaced by the Crescent.

A single woman walked down the narrow streets, her head down. She wore a long, white robe. When she let her dark brown eyes look forward, one could see a long strip of white cloth covering her mouth, the hood of her cowl reaching down to her nose. Underneath the article of clothing laid wiry muscles.

She made her way to a large building, its steeple nearly touching the sky. The woman looked up at the top, the storm clouds gathering around it. No rain fell from the black pieces of cotton in the sky. A clap of thunder, however, broke the silence of the city. An enormous lightning bolt came from the sky, striking the tower.

A feeling overcame the woman. Not fear, but a feeling as though she should investigate. She ran into the tower. She looked up, the staircase spiraling for what seemed like miles. With a sigh, she began to climb.

***​

A woman stood atop the tower. The Galata Tower, she knew. She held a long, thin sword in the air. Lightning crackled around it as she chanted. Her Priestess robes violently waved in the wind. Her chants became louder as the clouds grew darker, the thunder louder.

Her dark skin seemed darker as the sun hid behind the sinister-looking clouds. Her eyes looked at the book she held in her free hand, its texts written in a language that time had long forgotten and left behind.
As the crackle of thunder blotted out the words she spoke, a bolt of lightning came and struck her sword. For a split second, a cold sweat broke out on the woman; she feared that she was to die. She lowered her sword directly in front of her, and heaved a sigh of relief. The lightning redirected to the wall in front of her. Before her was a black vortex.

At first, nothing happened. Then, four figures emerged from the vortex. She glanced over each entity, her eyes growing wide. “You are not gods, you are-“

“Be silent!” an entity hissed between his teeth. He pounced on her, his fangs bared.

***​

The curious woman poked her head up as she reached the final step. She let out a gasp as she saw the scene. Her sister lay there, bloodied, and weakened. She ran to her, caressing her cheek. “Sister,” she breathed, the tears beginning to form around the corners of her eyes.

“Adiba,” she rasped. “You must leave. Now. Don’t look back.”

“I can’t leave you,” Adiba sobbed. Her sister let out small gasps of breath, searching for as much oxygen as her pierced lungs would allow. “Tell me who did this, sister.”

Adiba never received a reply. Her sister turned her head to the side, her eyes glazed. The sword in her hand fell with a loud clatter. Adiba held it in her hand, violently sobbing. The tears fell on her sister’s corpse, dampening her bloody clothes.

“Drop the sword,” a voice commanded. Adiba turned to face the voice, her hand gripping the sword. Before her was a large, demonic figure. Fur bristled and teeth bared, his red eyes stared at Adiba, disdain evident. His claws held onto the tower, the demon a quarter the size of the structure. His snout was inches from Adiba, his ears pricked, listening to every noise. His canine features also boasted feral ones.

Adiba turned and sprinted back down the tower, the wolf-like demon’s paw just barely missing the Arab girl. She descended the stairs as fast as she could, skipping steps as frequently as she could. With every window came opportunity for the demon to strike. His paw would stick into the tower, claws sheathed. Many times she would duck under the paw, but other times she would slash at it, drawing blood.

She finally reached the bottom of the tower and headed for the exit. There, however, was the head of the great beast itself. The opening was large enough for his entire head to fit through, and open its enormous mouth. He let out a loud roar, revealing rows of sharp teeth. Adiba backed away for a moment, unsure of what course of action to take. She couldn’t escape. She could only fight back.

She slowly made her way to the side of his snout, testing to see if he could move in either direction. Tried as he might, he couldn’t move his head to either side. She held the sword high in the air, and plunged it deep into the beast’s snout.

A cacophonous roar pierced the air as the sword split through his flesh. Adiba twisted the blade, resulting in further vociferations. She took the blade out just as the beast withdrew from the tower. She made her way stealthily out of the tower, careful to make as little noise as possible.

She scanned the area, hoping not to see the oversized canine waiting for her. Satisfied with his absence, she leaned against the tower and examined the sword. It shone a bright blue, even as it was covered in scarlet blood.

She felt something hit the top of her head. It felt like a liquid of sorts; a warmer liquid. It dripped down her cheek, and she put her finger to the liquid. When she examined the liquid, it was the same shade of red as was on the blade. With a great sense of dread, she looked up.

There looking down at her was the wolf. His claws were embedded into the tower, and he was snarling. He leaped down at her with great speed. Adiba thought she had never run so fast when she had descended down the stairs, but she felt a second wind come over her as she scrambled away from the beast’s descent.

The wolf hit the ground head-first, Adiba untouched. With a whimper, his neck snapped, but he still lived. His head awkwardly on its side, he snarled at Adiba, the contempt in his stare. His stomach was entirely exposed, unable to move. Adiba sprinted at the demon, climbing on to the beast. She sent her sword through the demonic entity, dragging it down as she jumped off of the beast’s body and onto the ground.

The caterwaul of the beast was loud, leaving Adiba’s ears ringing long after he stopped. He still clung to life desperately, however. Knowing his death was near; Adiba began to question the powerful canine. “Why did you kill my sister?”

“She had something I wanted,” he replied, staring at Adiba’s sword. “But it is now in your possession. My brethren will see to it that you die just as your sister did.” He smiled – something that astonished Adiba. “You don’t understand the power that the sword contains.”

“Then teach me of its power while you still breathe,” she pressed on.


“There is not enough time for such things. It is not meant for human hands. It will be,” he looked onward. Adiba turned in the direction, but could not see what he was staring at. It was as though the beast was looking far beyond what Adiba could hope to see. “Corrupted,” he finally finished once he snapped out of his trance.

“You hold little regard for humans,” Adiba observed.

“Why should I? We came to your world, and showed you our abilities as superior beings. You worshipped us as gods. You and your sister still do,” he sneered. “Humans are weak, ignorant, and gullible. Technology is magic to your kind. Perhaps in a few centuries you won’t be such a pitiful race.”

“What are you talking about?” Adiba continued, but it was too late. The wolf-like demon had already died. His face was perpetually curled into a smile.

 

[Sydney]

I love this a lot, but you already knew that. :bleh:

 

[Ganondork]

Since I'm writing all of it tonight, I'll be posting each chapter as it's written.

***

Chapter 2​

Rumors around the city alerted Adiba to the presence of a strange figure in the Hippodrome. It had been a few weeks since her encounter with the monstrosity that was the lupine demon. She quickly travelled to the Hippodrome, curious to find the nature of the figure in the area. She had followed many rumors already, turning up nothing but dead ends. She expected little for this one as well.

She arrived quickly, and made her way through the various boxes, expecting to find a crowded expanse. To her surprise, not a single soul was to be found. She walked to the open area of the outermost box and looked down at the circle. Two men mounted on chariots rode around, clearly racing one another. She could see that blood was forming around the corners of the horse’s mouths with the effort that they were running.

“I see you have found me,” a deep voice said behind Adiba. She didn’t bother to turn around, only continue to watch the race between the two men. “Ah, a fan of sport, are you?” the man continued.

“Why are they racing?” Adiba asked.

“It’s a simple competition. Whoever proves to be the better at chariot racing will survive. The loser, well, it’s best to not go into full detail,” he replied with a nonchalant tone.

“What are they to your malevolent cause that makes you desire to do such a thing?” Adiba asked, returning the insouciant tone of voice. She was keeping back the bile that was rising to her throat in disgust at such a flagitious way to kill.

“They are the few men who are able to reseal myself and my kin,” his tone became agitated, “And now I have you, the murderer of Fenrir.”

“I was searching for you; you did not trick me,” Adiba replied, tensing.

“Oh?” the demon mused. “You humans are full of surprises since the last time we visited your lands.” He paused. “I grow tired of conversation with someone of such inferior intellect.” Adiba heard the sound of a weapon being unsheathed. It didn’t sound like steel, but like leather.

Adiba turned to face her enemy. Like her enemy before – Fenrir – he was not the least bit humanoid. He was a meter or two taller, and a red glow emanated from his flesh. When she heard the crackle of fire, she knew he was the god of fire; Loki.

His appearance flashed for a moment from a terrible beast to a gentle young man. The transformation, however, was only for a moment before he was the terrible beast again. He watched her, his beady eyes were slits. His skin tone was orange, and his mouth revealed rows of sharp teeth.

In his hand was a whip, electrified by the power of the demon. He charged at Adiba, and the two engaged in combat. He cracked his whip, catching Adiba’s hip. It seared her skin. She let out a yelp before she hit Loki in between the eyes with the butt of her sword. He stumbled back for a moment, cracking his whip again. The electricity remained in the air for a moment.

His whip came within inches of Adiba’s face, forcing her to flinch. He sent a left hook her way, which she ducked under. She grabbed him by the stomach – searing her skin once more – and threw him over her shoulder. He flew over her shoulder and out of the box entirely. He hit the ground where the two men rode their chariots with a loud thud.

Adiba jumped down, using the edges of other boxes to break her fall as she moved. She landed in the Hippodrome’s circle gracefully. Loki got back on his feet, the hatred reflecting in his eyes. Blood dripped from his mouth, which he quickly wiped away. They pounced at the same time, once again engaged in the struggle for dominance over the other.

The sound of hoof steps rang through Adiba’s ears, who quickly scrambled away from the oncoming chariot. Loki, however, was too caught up in the battle to notice, and was hit. The horses let out a loud neigh before veering off course, crashing the chariot into the wall. Loki fell over, blood dripping out of his side.

Adiba watched the man stumble out of the chariot, wounded. She ran to him, comforting him for a moment before climbing into the chariot. She took the reins and silently begged for the horses to still be able to run.

After a considerable amount of effort, the horses finally stirred and began to gallop. Loki was yet to have stirred as she made her way down the pathway of the Hippodrome’s circle. She continued to urge the horses to continue faster, even though she knew they were weak from the race.

Loki finally came into view again, and she lashed the reins with all of her might. Foam began to mix with blood at the corners of the horse’s mouths as they galloped at a speed they had never reached before. Loki began to stir as the horses were upon him. Their hooves ran over his back, cracking it easily. The chariot ran over him with too much speed, and Adiba flew from it, hitting the wall with a loud thud.

She hit the ground where she lay there for a long while. She looked over her shoulder at Loki, who was still on the ground, face down. She ached all over, but forced herself up. She stumbled over, and turned Loki over onto his back. His face was caked with blood, but he still breathed.

“Your sick ways to decide who lives and dies are over,” Adiba said, her sword at his throat.

“But your selfish ways have just begun,” Loki murmured. “You wish to keep the sword all for yourself. You already gained revenge for your sister. Fenrir is dead.”

“I must make sure that no one else suffers from your wrath like my sister did,” Adiba protested.

“Your lies are obvious. If you cared so much, why did you stop the race? You have condemned those two men. The sword has already corrupted you in ways you cannot understand.” Loki smiled, “We’re not different, you and I. You only want what’s best for yourself.”

“That’s a lie!” Adiba shouted.

“If it was, then why argue?” Loki sneered. “I’ll be dead within minutes. Are you trying to convince yourself more than you’re trying to convince me? We are vain, you and I. We found the power of that sword, became drunk from it. Now we want more. We want to feel powerful.”

“I’m trying to save my people from a great evil,” Adiba replied, “I could easily get rid of this sword.”

“Then drop it now. Let me die with it in my hands.” Loki said. “Unless you can’t do it, that is.”

“I can easily do it,” she replied. “But I won’t put it in your hands. No one else will feel its hilt until all of your brethren are dead.”

“How convenient,” Loki rasped, his voice growing weak as his body began to fail him. “You will only relinquish it when all witnesses are dead. You are not lying to me, only to yourself.” His eyes closed, and his body went limp.

Adiba turned away, looking for the two men. She found the two men on the floor, their bodies charred. It was no doubt an act of sorcery by Loki in his final moments. Adiba began to feel hopeless, weak, and alone.

 

[A Link In Time]

Very interesting read. I enjoyed your withholding of a clear description of the beast until the story progressed. It contributed to greater fluidity in your narrative. Wolf Sage would be heartbroken though. My English teachers have always contended, "show, don't tell" and you executed this concept with great proficiency. Your vocabulary is as rich as usual with words like "cacophonous" and "vociferation" especially standing out.

Underneath the article of clothing laid wiry muscles.

If memory serves correct, descriptors are in the present tense. "...lay wiry muscles" also sounds better in this connotation.

The second chapter features an interesting morality debate. Loki-whose throwback name to The Avengers I'm very fond of-claims Adiba is using the sword for her own selfish desires whereas she maintains her stewardship of the blade prevents it from falling into the wrong hands.

My only gripe is the abrupt two odd line transition to the Hippodrome. It took me awhile to assemble my bearings and understand what was occurring.

I look forward to reading more.

 

[Ganondork]

Seeing as though I'm almost done with the final chapter, I felt it was fit to post the third one already. After the next comment, chapter 4 should be up.

***

Chapter 3​

Adiba made her way into the church. She looked around at it. It seemed as though Muslim influence was yet to have reached it. A statue of Jesus of Nazareth on the cross was at the altar. She recognized the church as the Hagia Sophia; an Eastern Orthodox Church. However, she knew that the church still had confessional.

She stepped into the small chamber and sat down. She looked at the wall in front of her, but knew there was a priest there. It went against everything she believed in, but she knew she needed help in defeating the demons; perhaps an exorcism could work. “Forgive me Father, for I have sinned.”

“How have you sinned?” the priest asked, using the standard script.

“Heresy,” Adiba replied honestly.

The priest was quiet for a moment, perhaps deep in thought. “That is a very serious crime.”

“I know it is. How can I be saved?” Adiba asked, her words carrying no real meaning. She felt her feet touch something, and she quickly withdrew them. She put them on the chair, and she looked down.

“You cannot be saved,” the priest said, his voice changing. It sounded inhuman, but most of all, it sounded angry. Water was in the confessional, and it was rising. It was quickly up to her feet were underwater in moments. She reached for the door, but it was locked. “No need to leave so soon.”

“What are you doing?” Adiba questioned; there was fear in her voice. She had never learned to swim, and she knew she didn’t have time now to learn.

“Do not worry,” the priest soothed, “God is here for you. He will forgive you for your sins. Unfortunately, you were not completely open with God. You did not speak of the murders you committed.”

Adiba was unsure if she should be more scared of the rising water – it was up to her chest by then – or the priest’s knowledge. “Who are you?”

“Ægir,” he replied simply. He was aware that Adiba knew of his existence; he knew she had worshipped him from an early age. “Unlike my brethren, you will not have the chance to kill me. Now, give me the sword.”
Adiba was struggling to keep her head above the water, which was threatening to bring her entirely underwater. She unsheathed her sword and began hacking at the confessional’s exit. She was entirely submerged, and her lungs began to scream for oxygen. Black spots began to dance across her line of sight and each swing became slower than the last. With a final gasp, water entered her mouth and went down her throat, filling her lungs.

She screamed under water, her lungs filling quickly. Her sword floated out of her hands, and she began to float in and out of consciousness, her eyes sliding in and out of focus. The pressure of the water became too great for the beaten door to handle. The wood cracked, and water began to spill through it. The crack grew and grew until the door finally split in half.

The water poured out, and Adiba came out along with it. Her sword landed next to her, dry and seemingly untouched. She picked it up, still weak from the ordeal. Ægir stepped out of the confessional as well, unscathed. He towered over her, a lance in his hand. He brought it down upon her, but she rolled out of the way.

She gasped for breath, slowed by the water in her lungs. She was dizzy, and her hand that was holding the sword felt numb. She knew she had to finish this fight quickly or she would be dead. He advanced towards her slowly, as though he had already won.

She swung at her, hoping to keep him at bay. Her sword went through his body, but slid easily, as though it was water. Ægir began to laugh, attempting to impale Adiba with the lance again. She rolled out of the way, but he tried again. She kept moving, swinging her sword when the opportunity arose. Each time had the same result; it wouldn’t hurt the water-based demon.

The next stab from the lance wasn’t aimed at her chest, but at her hand. She was caught unaware and the lance knocked the sword out of her hand. It clattered across the church floor, knocking over a vat of holy water. It toppled over, the holy water drenching the sword.

Adiba turned and sprinted for the sword, the water swishing in her lungs, slowing her run considerably. She picked it up and reluctantly met her adversary in combat once again. Ægir’s attacks became arrogant and poorly placed; each one easier to deflect than the last.

She swung her sword, catching Ægir in the arm. Unlike before, the sword made contact. Ægir let out a screech of agony and surprise, grabbing his arm, which was now bubbling and fizzing. Adiba, taking advantage of the situation, sent her sword through his chest. He fell to the floor, his entire body bubbling.
“Tell me what you know about this sword,” Adiba demanded.

“You’re asking the wrong man,” Ægir jeered. “Perhaps Loki would know?”

“You are in no position to make jokes,” Adiba said, the blade at his chest. “Tell me what you know, and I will spare you.”

“Are you so blind that you don’t see I will die regardless of your next action? Perhaps if you had any sense, you’d notice your sister didn’t have claw marks, but rather a stab wound.” Ægir said with a grin.
Adiba was silent for a long time, disbelief gripping her. “Then my mission for revenge is far from over.”

“You wield your blade like a warrior, but your mouth like a child,” Ægir said, “It is over now.” Adiba felt a sharp pain in her side, and her eyes slid in and out of focus. She looked down, and saw Ægir’s lance in her stomach. Blood spilled out of her and she quickly lost consciousness.

 

[A Link In Time]

I once more find your transitions too abrupt. Add some descriptors before proceeding to a change of setting.

It was about time Adiba found herself face to face with a loss and a Christian temple was an unexpected albeit appropriate setting for the macabre bout which ensued. Truth be told, it's not often that a writer crafts an antagonist in priest disguise. I found this very refreshing. I'm unsure whether I'll be able to read more of your work tonight but I'll return to comment tomorrow if that's the case.

 

[Ganondork]

Here's the final chapter. Thank you for everyone who decided to read all of this, and thank you for all of the critique. I really appreciate it.

***

Chapter 4​

When Adiba finally came to, she was in a room she did not recognize. It was clearly an inn, because she was in a warm bed. The room wasn’t decorated at all, the bed being the only piece of furniture in the room.
She felt a pressure at the foot of her bed. Glancing over, she noticed a man who appeared to be gentle – something she was yet to have seen for weeks. He looked over her with blue eyes and blonde hair, a rarity in this part of Europe. He wore simple clothes made of felt, but still revealed much of his chest.
“You are awake,” he commented, smiling.

She was surprised at his presence, but still comforted. “Who brought me here?”

“I did. I found you in the Hagia Sophia and brought you here,” he said, putting his hand on her leg. She withdrew, but returned his smile. “There’s another thing I must tell you.”

She looked around the room for her sword, but smiled when she saw it next to her bed. She looked back at the kindred spirit. “Yes?”

His smile soon turned cold, forming into a sinister sneer. “Your sister begged for mercy when I strangled her with my bare hands.”

Adiba was silent for a long time, but she reached for her sword. He stood up, his hands raised to his shoulders to show he came unarmed. “Who are you?”

“Meet me at the city’s gates. You will receive your answers there.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned around and walked out of the inn, smiling at the other guests, and waving at the innkeeper.

***​

Adiba made her way to the city gates as her sister’s murderer had told her to do. She felt great apprehension with each step she took. Her mind had never gone so fast in her life. She was full of questions, but she knew this mysterious man had the answers to all of them. But would he answer all of them? She wasn’t sure.

He leaned up against the inner wall of the city. He watched her closely, studying her every movement. He glared at the sword she held in her hand. When she was within meters of each other, he took a step towards her. “You came.”

“I had no other choice,” she replied bluntly.

“I assume you came to receive answers?” he asked tentatively.

“You forgot the part about taking your life as well,” Adiba snarled.

He ignored her comment. “I am Odin,” he began, enjoying her looks of disbelief. He knew she worshipped him for her entire life. “That sword you carry is mine, and I would like it back.”

“I took it from the scene of my sister’s murder,” she said plainly.

“There is a reason why she died with it in her possession. It isn’t made for humans; it was forged for, and by, the men and women of my race. It was bestowed upon me when I became their ruler,” he paused. “We also do not like to be referred as ‘demons;’ ‘gods’ is a much more preferable term. Perhaps it is more suitable, as well.”

“I wouldn’t agree,” Adiba snarled.

“You don’t have to,” with a snap of his fingers, his attire changed. His clothes were replaced by thick armor made of steel that Adiba had never seen before. His head was covered by a headdress that looked like the head of a dragon, its snout and sharp teeth hiding all but Odin’s eyes. He unsheathed a sword so long and thick that he held it with two hands. “You will, however, bow before I take your head as my prize.”

Adiba did not hesitate to sprint towards Odin, the sword and her now acted as a single vessel. She ducked under his blow and swung her sword. He blocked it. Steel clashed with steel, sparks flying. They struggled to gain power over the other, pushing their blades into the others. It wasn’t long until both had drawn blood on their palms.

Having made no result, they both withdrew, only to meet one another in another clash of blades. Their blades moved with such speed and ferocity that they were a blur to the naked eye, but time was slow to the two contenders. Time was rarely spent in which the swords did not meet.

They tried to gain higher ground over the other, climbing scaffolding and buildings when possible. It wasn’t long until they were on the city’s walls, battling. Finally, Odin brought his sword upon Adiba. She sidestepped, and the two-handed sword embedded itself deep into the ground. He struggled to pry it out, but Adiba saw it as an opportunity. She grabbed the hilt of her sword with both hands and sent it through Odin’s chest.

It was over. Odin fell to the floor, his sword out of reach. His eyes stared into Adiba’s, s great hatred burning within his slitted pupils. “I hope you are happy,” he rasped, the wound in his chest spilling out blood
.
“Indeed I am,” she replied. “Your dream of reclaiming the sword dies with you.”

“A new one is born with you, however,” he spat. “Once you are dead, what then? There is no guardian to the sword then, no being capable of ensuring its proper use. Humans will use it to murder. They will seek dominion over others, the sword then stained with the blood of the innocent.”

Adiba was silent for a long time. Her thoughts were conflicted, mistrusting of her sister’s murderer. Yet his words still made sense to her. Perhaps that was all that had mattered in the end – that the sword be used properly, and by the proper wielder.

“You fool” he continued, “You will find yourself one day, wishing you hadn’t done this. When father fights son, brother murders brother, you will know I was right all along.”

“You lie!” she exclaimed. “Your words only weave a tale to justify your evil deeds.”

“Open your eyes, child. With the sword, I planned to enslave your kind. Your people, however, do not offer such luxuries to the defeated. Are you so blinded by your pitiful sense of justice that you don’t see this?” he sneered.

She paused. The seed of doubt had been planted within her. Perhaps she had been wrong. “I did what I felt was right.”

“No, you did what you felt would avenge your sister,” he put his hand over his wound. “And you have done it. But what now?”

She turned, her sword still marked with the blood of the ancient entity. She strode forward, her eyes looking towards the city. She did not look back, or even acknowledge Odin’s presence.

“I still breathe,” he rasped, his voice growing weak.

“I’m aware,” she paused, choosing her words with great care. “Perhaps your words ring true. I will never find out.”

“How do you propose that?” he questioned a smiling creeping upon his face. Adiba did not hear him, though. She was too deep within her own thoughts to worry about a former threat.

“They will never see me coming,” she murmured to herself. He never heard her, though. In his final moments, he laughed; his plan was finally set in action.

 

[Ronin]

Another fantastic tale; interesting to see gods from Norse Mythology situated within a story as the main antagonists, sort of like a number of Percy Jackson moments. This is supposed to be fashioned after Homer's Odyssey, though, so I imagine there would be some similarity there.

Getting straight into the critique since this likely has to be done by the time your school starts back up. I can tell that this story as a whole was pretty rushed; it's not that the description was bad--far from that--but quite a few paragraphs were bunched together, and even some sentence structures need to be corrected. You'll be able to tell once you read them over yourself.

And yeah, the transitions were perhaps a bit choppy, but it won't take too much doing. If you need some assistance, I'll be more than willing to help you out tomorrow sometime.

Overall, this was a great story, but like any narrative it could use some work. The final product will be amazing, I'm sure. :yes:

 

[A Link In Time]

I enjoyed the final chapter, Keith, and perhaps I'm a bit slow with comprehension but only at the very end when Odin's name was mentioned did I realize this female derivative of The Odyssey was inspired by Norse Mythology. Props for the change in pace from Homer's original.

As someone who enjoys action and cliffhangers, your piece delivered both in spades. I can only wonder what Adiba will do next...

As I previously informed you through VM, my primary gripe is the lack of perspective change present in Homer's original. Odysseus suffered through many hardships but it wasn't solely his story. It was also a tale of the demise of his men and Penelope's troubles back at home.

Overall nice, concise writing with rich diction. Another job well done.