- Joined
- Nov 15, 2012
- Messages
- 13
This is an intro to a story I'm writing to accompany a map based on hiring mercs and using troops well. Point is, this is how I write, any criticisms on my grammar and spelling would be dearly appreciated. If you have anything to add on tense or narrative, that would also be appreciated.
Vale slammed down upon the desk, letting loose another barrage of paper.
“You mean to tell me that they want a war? Over a bloody piece of stone... I should let them have it.” She fell into thought again after her outburst, and her council was obviously unnerved, no one willing to speak up about the importance of the ‘Stone’.
“But my l-lady, this s-stone is not only the l-legacy of your forefathers, but the base of our religion...” The stammering response came out in bursts, and only served to further fan the heat of Vale’s burning temper. She rose and turned to him.
“You realise that this bloody ‘Religion’ has caused more wars than any amount of faith or good it can provide in the world. So tell me. What good does this religion do us. And for all things holy, above and below, why do they want it so badly?” There was a fire behind her eyes, and the aide was willing to challenge her rage no longer.
Ser Karsin stood up, and vale sighed inwardly. “You know quite well that if the riots alone did not have you expelled from this land, the righteous fury the Keshites would bring down upon us would crush what meager force we have now.” He stood there, a rock in the tides of her anger. She knew that there was no way that she could win this argument.
Her reply came smoothly, and had the weight of lead “You may lead out the strike, but hear me out! You shall not strike first. Attempt to come to a peaceful conclusion to this, and then smash them down like Jeeves Atkinshire and the Kyagoro!” The elder knight nodded, and sat back down. “That is all I can take for today. Dismissed!” she continued. As her councillors filed out, she looked out at the sunrise, admiring its beauty, and allowing the pipe smoke to air out. She looked upon the crimson sphere, and was surprised to see that it was so. Night would be soon. She skipped out on her evening meal, and proceeded to her chambers, the days events still a hurricane in her head.
Silently, a man crept onto the terrace, and quietly let his magical sphere engulf the guards head, without air or sound emerging, the man panicked, but was held in place by the spell. The man waited 3 minutes, and flung himself onto the terrace. The silently panicking guard held a look of utter terror in his eyes as he gazed upon the man, and then his eyes rolled back, and he silently descended to the floor. The man spared not a second glance for the man, and set to work upon the locked door.
As he entered the hallway, he saw only two guards at the end of the hall, both bleary eyed and unalert. Silently as he could, he projected the two darts towards the guards, and both fell into the veins of the guards. Though their armor was fine steel, and weapons of polished silver, that did not protect them from Anu’barak venom. As the two men slumped, he silently entered the chancellor's room. He laid out the casting stones for his portal, and let the drops of blood from his thumb cascade into the circle, and the portal began to rupture through the air. The Chancellor stirred, and the man turned. As he turned, a single extra drop of blood hit the circle of stones, and their colour changed.
As the chancellor stirred, the man flung a dart, and it caught her in the jugular. She spasmed, then collapsed. In spite of her being silenced, her cry still flung through the halls. The man heard the ominous thunder of boots, and quickly grabbed the chancellor, anything he could see of value, and proceeded towards the portal.
He stopped right in front of the portal, and looked upon the ominous colour. He paused, and prepared to drop more blood. Suddenly, the door came crashing down, and four pikemen stood there, pikes down.
One soldier stopped, and looked at the Chancellor; slung over the mysterious assassins back. “Protect the chancellor! At any cost!” he screamed. The four soldiers charged and without another moment of hesitation, the man leapt through the marbled purple portal. With a sound like greased cheese, the portal closed after him, and the soldiers were left with nothing but four drops of blood, and a ring of foul smelling carved stones.
Vale stirred, and looked up. Her first instinct was that she was still sleeping, and in an odd dream with a mixture of wine stirring her belly. However, as her sense returned she realized that she was very much awake. Her head stirred, and her instincts kicked in. She did not move again, feigning that the venom still had hold over her. Pleased that her captor still believed her very lethargic, she began to test what control she had over her limbs. As her arms responded gently, she attempted to move her legs. No matter how hard she tried, her legs would not respond to her stimulus. Panic began to set in, and she nearly spasmed in her efforts. Regaining her composure, she ensured that her captor had not noticed, and she then set about taking in what she could. Little more than a sickening red and the frayed ochre edges of the captors cloak.
Vale was suddenly aware of a shift in her captors movement. He pulled up, and his neck movement indicated he was surveying something. He made a displeased grunt, and then stepped backwards. Suddenly, he leapt forward, and vale felt like she would wretch. With a sound of greased rubber, she and her captor were tossed like cards into awaiting sands. As her spine contacted the sand, the jerk of pain returned control of her legs to her. Vales captor stood up, and staggered, obviously dazed. As vale looked up, she saw her chance. At her captors hip dance a jewelled hilt, a gem dancing on its end. Not knowing where she was, but knowing that she must escaped, she lept up to her dazed captor, drawing his blade from its thick leather scabbard. As the blade slide out, her captor realized what was happening far too late. As the blade silkenly slipped across his throat, he let out a stuttered cry, to echo across the sands for weeks to come.
Vale slammed down upon the desk, letting loose another barrage of paper.
“You mean to tell me that they want a war? Over a bloody piece of stone... I should let them have it.” She fell into thought again after her outburst, and her council was obviously unnerved, no one willing to speak up about the importance of the ‘Stone’.
“But my l-lady, this s-stone is not only the l-legacy of your forefathers, but the base of our religion...” The stammering response came out in bursts, and only served to further fan the heat of Vale’s burning temper. She rose and turned to him.
“You realise that this bloody ‘Religion’ has caused more wars than any amount of faith or good it can provide in the world. So tell me. What good does this religion do us. And for all things holy, above and below, why do they want it so badly?” There was a fire behind her eyes, and the aide was willing to challenge her rage no longer.
Ser Karsin stood up, and vale sighed inwardly. “You know quite well that if the riots alone did not have you expelled from this land, the righteous fury the Keshites would bring down upon us would crush what meager force we have now.” He stood there, a rock in the tides of her anger. She knew that there was no way that she could win this argument.
Her reply came smoothly, and had the weight of lead “You may lead out the strike, but hear me out! You shall not strike first. Attempt to come to a peaceful conclusion to this, and then smash them down like Jeeves Atkinshire and the Kyagoro!” The elder knight nodded, and sat back down. “That is all I can take for today. Dismissed!” she continued. As her councillors filed out, she looked out at the sunrise, admiring its beauty, and allowing the pipe smoke to air out. She looked upon the crimson sphere, and was surprised to see that it was so. Night would be soon. She skipped out on her evening meal, and proceeded to her chambers, the days events still a hurricane in her head.
Silently, a man crept onto the terrace, and quietly let his magical sphere engulf the guards head, without air or sound emerging, the man panicked, but was held in place by the spell. The man waited 3 minutes, and flung himself onto the terrace. The silently panicking guard held a look of utter terror in his eyes as he gazed upon the man, and then his eyes rolled back, and he silently descended to the floor. The man spared not a second glance for the man, and set to work upon the locked door.
As he entered the hallway, he saw only two guards at the end of the hall, both bleary eyed and unalert. Silently as he could, he projected the two darts towards the guards, and both fell into the veins of the guards. Though their armor was fine steel, and weapons of polished silver, that did not protect them from Anu’barak venom. As the two men slumped, he silently entered the chancellor's room. He laid out the casting stones for his portal, and let the drops of blood from his thumb cascade into the circle, and the portal began to rupture through the air. The Chancellor stirred, and the man turned. As he turned, a single extra drop of blood hit the circle of stones, and their colour changed.
As the chancellor stirred, the man flung a dart, and it caught her in the jugular. She spasmed, then collapsed. In spite of her being silenced, her cry still flung through the halls. The man heard the ominous thunder of boots, and quickly grabbed the chancellor, anything he could see of value, and proceeded towards the portal.
He stopped right in front of the portal, and looked upon the ominous colour. He paused, and prepared to drop more blood. Suddenly, the door came crashing down, and four pikemen stood there, pikes down.
One soldier stopped, and looked at the Chancellor; slung over the mysterious assassins back. “Protect the chancellor! At any cost!” he screamed. The four soldiers charged and without another moment of hesitation, the man leapt through the marbled purple portal. With a sound like greased cheese, the portal closed after him, and the soldiers were left with nothing but four drops of blood, and a ring of foul smelling carved stones.
Vale stirred, and looked up. Her first instinct was that she was still sleeping, and in an odd dream with a mixture of wine stirring her belly. However, as her sense returned she realized that she was very much awake. Her head stirred, and her instincts kicked in. She did not move again, feigning that the venom still had hold over her. Pleased that her captor still believed her very lethargic, she began to test what control she had over her limbs. As her arms responded gently, she attempted to move her legs. No matter how hard she tried, her legs would not respond to her stimulus. Panic began to set in, and she nearly spasmed in her efforts. Regaining her composure, she ensured that her captor had not noticed, and she then set about taking in what she could. Little more than a sickening red and the frayed ochre edges of the captors cloak.
Vale was suddenly aware of a shift in her captors movement. He pulled up, and his neck movement indicated he was surveying something. He made a displeased grunt, and then stepped backwards. Suddenly, he leapt forward, and vale felt like she would wretch. With a sound of greased rubber, she and her captor were tossed like cards into awaiting sands. As her spine contacted the sand, the jerk of pain returned control of her legs to her. Vales captor stood up, and staggered, obviously dazed. As vale looked up, she saw her chance. At her captors hip dance a jewelled hilt, a gem dancing on its end. Not knowing where she was, but knowing that she must escaped, she lept up to her dazed captor, drawing his blade from its thick leather scabbard. As the blade slide out, her captor realized what was happening far too late. As the blade silkenly slipped across his throat, he let out a stuttered cry, to echo across the sands for weeks to come.
