June 22, 2018 at 9:17 pm #347047
.: Any feedback and suggestions are welcome; as harsh or as kind as you wish :.
Chapter 1: Demetria’s Fate
“I killed them. I killed them all.”
Kneeling in blood, Tartas’ fingers bit the rocky surface. Blood ran through the cracks, his hands stained red in their blood. Head hung in despair, ash fell from the dark storm above bellowing with violence. Littering the charred mountains scarred by lightning, seventy-thousand corpses lay amongst patches of fire that fed on the remains.
He had sacrificed them all for his war. Had it been worth it?
He considered the thought for just a brief moment. It had. The cost had been great, too great. He would forever be responsible for all their deaths. That haunting thought would never leave him. Yet, he would do it again if he must. No matter the cost, unity was a price worth paying for.
Reaching for his great sword, he took it firmly by the hilt and dragged it across the harsh rock smeared in crimson towards him. Breathing hoarsely, he stabbed the surface with his sword and pulled himself up wearily. Armor cracked and dented, blood dripped from the wounds he had endured. The storm rumbled loudly once more, its anger directed upon him for what he had done. It hungered for revenge.
Turning his eyes up to survey the battlefield, a thick blanket of smoke billowed out to choke his vision, sweeping over the rocky battlefield to conceal what he had done. Only the towering mountains of Niri broke through the dark smoke in its crooked unforgiving form, staring down at him, judging him, as the storm growled with rage once more.
He had no idea who was still out there, if anyone, or how many of those bastard Ancients still remained. Had he succeeded? Had they all been destroyed? He needed to know.
Using his sword as a crutch he kept himself upright and limped forward slowly. He took a couple more steps then stopped suddenly. A cold shiver ran up his spine and around his shoulders. A bead of sweat rolled down the side of his face. Beyond the smoke he felt it. It was one of them. It was coming this way. No. It was coming for him.
Gritting his teeth, he lowered his body slowly into a defensive stance, his sword held high above his head ready to strike. He swallowed hard, and waited.
The thick dense smoke before his eyes parted. A dark figure materialized from the black abyss and approached him. Wearing dark robes and a hood that draped over his head to shroud his face in shadow, those eyes of his, those eyes of an Ancient, were unmistakable; white and burning bright, they were possessed with energy.
The Ancient glided over the mountainous terrain like a ghost, his movements graceful, calm, and cold like the mountains. The Ancient came to a stop a couple of meters before him.
“So you are the one,” the Ancient spoke in an apathetic tone, measuring the god before him, “the one they call Tartas, the Ancient Slayer. You are the cause for all that has transpired. You have betrayed your own.”
“I have freed them from your tyranny,” Tartas rebutted with a snarl. His massive sword quivered in his hands from fatigue and pain. In his wounded state he was no match for this adversary, though he would give his last breath and try. “I have brought unity to the lands where there was once chaos.”
“Unity?” the Ancient questioned with consideration. “What you have forged in blood is fragile and temporal. The lands you seek to sew together as one will only bleed in time. You seek not unity but power for yourself.”
“Through power I can bring peace to the lands,” Tartas claimed.
“And the cost?” the Ancient retorted. “You have brought war and death.”
“Any cost if necessary,” Tartas replied coldly without a shred of doubt.
“Indeed,” the Ancient confirmed, staring at the dry blood splattered across Tartas’ face and hands. “A fool’s folly, however. And a fool too dangerous with the power you wield in your hands to continue living.”
Raising his right arm he extended it beyond his chest. His hand bloomed open like a flower. A white ball of energy fizzing with death and destruction manifested itself there. He aimed it directly at Tartas at point blank range.
Tartas flinched to the sight. There was little he could do in his current state, but growl out his bitter hatred for this Ancient, and all the rest he had slain during this long war.
The skies above suddenly cracked with scores of lightning bolts that dashed across the skies burning it with their white touch. The roar of thunder followed instantly, a massive chorus that shook the ground beneath their feet and penetrated their bodies to rattle their hearts within.
Tartas staggered back. His great sword flailed behind him. His eyes darted between the broken skies above and the Ancient below.
“You need not fear me,” the Ancient spoke again. “It will not be I who will vanquish you this day. The planet has spoken. Its judgement already cast upon us.”
Tartas gazed up at the dark storm clouds crackling and crushing together. Savage roars of thunder and flashes of forked lightning spread out to tear the dark skies apart. The mountains shook as howling winds shrilled a deathly wail from above.
“As we are created by nature so are we destroyed by it,” the Ancient continued unfazed. “Our fates are now bound together in death for the mistakes we have made.” Closing his hand around the white ball of fizzing energy it faded from existence. He stood stoically accepting his fate.
Tartas’ gaze held fixed on the storm above. He could sense it, something terrible coming. The air tingled with electricity, whispers of death in his ears. The storm clouds descended as the mountains rose to crush them. From the center of this black storm a dark funnel cloud fell. It crashed into the surface ripping it to pieces and spraying rock in all directions. Its violent twisting intensified quickly, manifesting itself into a monstrous tornado.
Tartas stumbled back a few more steps, then several more. Wild winds besieged him sweeping away the blanket of smoke to reveal a dozen of his deus far away. They were paralyzed with fear, staring up at the monstrous tornado bearing down upon them.
“Retreat!” he cried to them, but the sound of his voice was stolen by the ferocious winds whipping around him. “Retreat!” he cried out desperately, but again to no avail.
The massive tornado bolstered outwards in size and ferocity. It came towards him. He had to escape. Death had come to claim them all.
He turned and ran.
“You cannot escape the fate you have sown, Ancient Slayer!” the Ancient called out over the thrashing winds, “Running away is meaningless. Your time, as is this planet’s, is at its end! Embrace your death! Do not fear it!”
Tartas ran on despite those words burning deep into his memory. The mountains around him rumbled. Giant chasms opened up to swallow the stunned deus in the near vicinity who plummeted into the dark abysses below. Surging out across the torn surface the tornado snatched up the remaining deus from the ground and tossed them up screaming into the skies above as a sacrificial feast.
Tartas glanced back to see the tornado’s wild winds sweep the last Ancient from his feet and devour him within its dark belly. He was next he knew. He could feel the massive tornado was drawn to him. He stumbled over the fractured ground then lost his footing and collapsed to the hard surface. He turned back towards the looming tornado and its wild winds reaching out for him. Fear etched into his eyes, he scrambled back up onto his feet when a deafening crack of lightning split the skies in two and silenced it all.
Time froze. There was only silence.
Then at the storm’s center a colossal blast of teal light exploded out in all directions returning sound and motion once more. Its devastating force shattered the pearly white mountains of Niri to then spread out across the horizon and beyond smearing the skies with its burning teal touch.
Tartas never looked back as the mountains collapsed around him. The rocky terrain he limped across shook violently then cracked in every direction. Bursts of teal light escaped from the crevices to further paint the skies above. Beneath his feet he could feel that same teal-colored energy ripple out and spread across the mountains. Suddenly an eruption of energy burst through the surface next to him. Its sheer power and thunderous noise hurled him from his feet as it rocketed up towards the sky. He crashed heavily into the rocky terrain. His ears rang, his mind disorientated and in a daze. The taste of gravel and ash filled his mouth. He spat it out then clawed his way back onto his feet with a growl. His right leg had been severely scorched by the blast. His right greave had melted and fused with his scorched skin.
Lumbering forward he wore his pain and battled on as large rocks rained down upon him and pummelled the ground mercilessly. He had to keep moving. He couldn’t stop. To his horror, the ground beneath him shook then cracked with teal light. He gasped, eyes widening in terror. An explosion of powerful energy burst up through the rock from under him and blasted him high into the sky. Hurtled into an uncontrollably spin the rush of turbulent air screamed past him. Before he could take another breath he descended rapidly and slammed into the harsh unforgiving ground and skimmed across its sharp rocks. He crashed into the side of a large boulder where his body lay limp. Helpless and unconscious the mountains of Niri continued to be torn apart and ravaged by the chaotic winds and lightning of the Ancients’ storm.
June 23, 2018 at 12:12 am #656172
> .: Any feedback and suggestions are welcome; as harsh or as kind as you
> wish :.
> Chapter 1: Demetria’s Fate
> “I killed them. I killed them all.”
> Kneeling in blood, Tartas’ fingers bit the rocky surface. Blood ran
> through the cracks, his hands stained red in their blood….
Comments and suggestions, not a critique follow below:
For myself, I would prefer that the adversaries and the reasons be identified and made clearer sooner.
Also I would prefer you start with something like the text below to keep the POV consistent and to ID the MC in sentence one:
Tartas had killed them. All of the seventy thousand innocents had been sacrificed for the cause of unity.
Kneeling in the large pool of blood, his fingers touched the rocky surface underneath. Blood oozed through
the cracks between his fingers, staining his hands red with their blood.
Flames were fueled by the bodies that were everywhere because (Something about storm mountain fire lightning ash etc that is a lot clearer)
He had sacrificed them all for his war. Had it been worth it?
[need to know more about the war and why]
September 19, 2018 at 9:39 pm #657808
In the second paragraph, most of the sentences have the same structure. This can unconsciously feel repetitive for readers.
September 19, 2018 at 9:42 pm #657809
Might want to watch other instances of back-to-back structures:
Reaching for his great sword, he took it firmly by the hilt and dragged it across the harsh rock smeared in crimson towards him. Breathing hoarsely, he stabbed the surface with his sword and pulled himself up wearily.
September 21, 2018 at 12:49 am #657846
I agree with the above comments but would like to add that I like the strength of your passionate descriptions. The vivid imagery will draw a reader into the realm you are portraying.
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