While cleaning my room, I recently found a story I had written several years ago. I revised it, but I'd appreciate any C&C. This is the first part of it. In particular, the original version had basically no description of the various characters. Reading it now, are you getting a sense for the various characters? Can you see them? Should I add more description? Less? Also, is this an interesting start? Would you want to read more of this story? Yes, no, why?
Thanks.![[Image: smile.gif]](http://www.ezboard.com/intl/aenglish/images/emoticons/smile.gif)
Again, any C&C is greatly appreciated.
--
Disclaimer: All the characters, with the sole exception of Taryn and her company, is of 3DO, the makers of Heroes of Might and Magic III.
The fly glided into a perfect landing. Its antennas quivered as it contemplated the great mysteries of the universe namely, whether or not the blood would gush forth, hot and full of vitality. Folding its wings back, it settled itself, adjusted its position, and extended its utensil, as a diner would prepare for a meal. A moment later, the fly died an ignoble death.
Tkeshins arse! Whose idiot idea was this? Taryn grimaced as she shook the fly guts off her hand then glanced backward to assess her companys status. Seeing the all clear signal from her lieutenants, she turned back. At six feet tall, she towered over many a man (to their dismay) and her broad shoulders enabled her to carry the heavy armor of a cavalier when she wore it anyway. Ring mail was hot and heavy especially when there was not a cloud in sight, and Taryn had compromised by wearing a leather jerkin. Her dirty blond hair spiked out beneath a battered helm and dark green eyes slid sideways. As she took in her companions calm composure, she muttered and irritably swiped at the sweat beading on her forehead.
The person in question stared ahead, head covered by a heavy, brown hood and form almost swallowed in the cloak attached to it, but sharply defined cheekbones, fairly dark complexion, and dark brown eyes made up the profile. Adela was somewhat infamous in Erathia for her past record as a battle cleric who contributed her skills only prior to a battle, preferring to conduct diplomacy instead. With the start of the war to liberate Erathia and establish its borders though, every potential commander was needed, and shed been placed in command of the Whitestone garrison for some time before being sent to help establish the border against aggressive neighbors.
Taryn, as a mercenary captain, had even been on the opposite side a number of times but the one side shed never been on was the side of the Deyjan necromancers. Leo and Co.s ill-fated venture with Deyja was a warning to all mercenaries. Necromancers gained troops by raising the dead; if you were the sole living company amongst that ilk well, Leo had never been known for his intelligence.
You are paid for this, Adela pointed out. Unlike
Us heroes. A sneer was palpable in the voice. The Eminent and Most Noble, Most Stalwart, and Most Loyal Lord Haart, lately nicknamed Lord Bastard in Taryns thoughts, thrust his horse between the two riders with Sir Christian at his heels. Lord Haart had wavy red-brown hair cascading around his face to his shoulders. His face, the object of girls sighs all over Erathia and more recently, a lovelorn poets verse, was patrician and his eyebrows loomed over his black eyes. A silver circlet and a large topaz adorned his brow.
Likewise, Sir Christian also wore a circle, although of bronze, with a diamond-shaped area to mark the middle of his brow. His overall appearance, though, was rugged with shaggy red hair, a thin mustache, and a beard, reminiscent of the time he spent as a frontiersman. Sir Christian was actually the better general, his battlefield tactics being feared throughout the world, but Lord Haart was nobility, a distant relative to Queen Catherine, and his service to the crown of Erathia, despite recent rumors of ties to a necromantic cult, has been exemplary. To not put Lord Haart in command would have been an insult not only to Lord Haart but potentially to Her Majesty, Queen Catherine.
Farking politics.
We do this for the glory of Erathia and her majesty, Queen Catherine. A mercenary scum like you has no sense of tactics or strategy, much less any concept of honor or loyalty.
Taryn stiffened but made no comment.
Lord Haart. Sir Christian. Adela bowed slightly in her saddle. An awkward silence followed. When it was clear that Taryn refused to greet him, Lord Haarts eyes narrowed.
His voice cold, he said, Im surprised your company has survived with your lack of manners, Captain. I suggest you brush up on them if you wish your hiring opportunities to continue in Erathia. The words hung in the air. After a moment, Lord Haart nodded curtly and continued forward to the head of the column with Sir Christian.
Adela let loose a sigh and eyed Taryn.
Ill be more polite tonight.
The march continued.
***
Thanks.
Again, any C&C is greatly appreciated.--
Disclaimer: All the characters, with the sole exception of Taryn and her company, is of 3DO, the makers of Heroes of Might and Magic III.
The fly glided into a perfect landing. Its antennas quivered as it contemplated the great mysteries of the universe namely, whether or not the blood would gush forth, hot and full of vitality. Folding its wings back, it settled itself, adjusted its position, and extended its utensil, as a diner would prepare for a meal. A moment later, the fly died an ignoble death.
Tkeshins arse! Whose idiot idea was this? Taryn grimaced as she shook the fly guts off her hand then glanced backward to assess her companys status. Seeing the all clear signal from her lieutenants, she turned back. At six feet tall, she towered over many a man (to their dismay) and her broad shoulders enabled her to carry the heavy armor of a cavalier when she wore it anyway. Ring mail was hot and heavy especially when there was not a cloud in sight, and Taryn had compromised by wearing a leather jerkin. Her dirty blond hair spiked out beneath a battered helm and dark green eyes slid sideways. As she took in her companions calm composure, she muttered and irritably swiped at the sweat beading on her forehead.
The person in question stared ahead, head covered by a heavy, brown hood and form almost swallowed in the cloak attached to it, but sharply defined cheekbones, fairly dark complexion, and dark brown eyes made up the profile. Adela was somewhat infamous in Erathia for her past record as a battle cleric who contributed her skills only prior to a battle, preferring to conduct diplomacy instead. With the start of the war to liberate Erathia and establish its borders though, every potential commander was needed, and shed been placed in command of the Whitestone garrison for some time before being sent to help establish the border against aggressive neighbors.
Taryn, as a mercenary captain, had even been on the opposite side a number of times but the one side shed never been on was the side of the Deyjan necromancers. Leo and Co.s ill-fated venture with Deyja was a warning to all mercenaries. Necromancers gained troops by raising the dead; if you were the sole living company amongst that ilk well, Leo had never been known for his intelligence.
You are paid for this, Adela pointed out. Unlike
Us heroes. A sneer was palpable in the voice. The Eminent and Most Noble, Most Stalwart, and Most Loyal Lord Haart, lately nicknamed Lord Bastard in Taryns thoughts, thrust his horse between the two riders with Sir Christian at his heels. Lord Haart had wavy red-brown hair cascading around his face to his shoulders. His face, the object of girls sighs all over Erathia and more recently, a lovelorn poets verse, was patrician and his eyebrows loomed over his black eyes. A silver circlet and a large topaz adorned his brow.
Likewise, Sir Christian also wore a circle, although of bronze, with a diamond-shaped area to mark the middle of his brow. His overall appearance, though, was rugged with shaggy red hair, a thin mustache, and a beard, reminiscent of the time he spent as a frontiersman. Sir Christian was actually the better general, his battlefield tactics being feared throughout the world, but Lord Haart was nobility, a distant relative to Queen Catherine, and his service to the crown of Erathia, despite recent rumors of ties to a necromantic cult, has been exemplary. To not put Lord Haart in command would have been an insult not only to Lord Haart but potentially to Her Majesty, Queen Catherine.
Farking politics.
We do this for the glory of Erathia and her majesty, Queen Catherine. A mercenary scum like you has no sense of tactics or strategy, much less any concept of honor or loyalty.
Taryn stiffened but made no comment.
Lord Haart. Sir Christian. Adela bowed slightly in her saddle. An awkward silence followed. When it was clear that Taryn refused to greet him, Lord Haarts eyes narrowed.
His voice cold, he said, Im surprised your company has survived with your lack of manners, Captain. I suggest you brush up on them if you wish your hiring opportunities to continue in Erathia. The words hung in the air. After a moment, Lord Haart nodded curtly and continued forward to the head of the column with Sir Christian.
Adela let loose a sigh and eyed Taryn.
Ill be more polite tonight.
The march continued.
***