Elanidor short story maybe?

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dusk1983
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Elanidor short story maybe?

Post by dusk1983 »

So I've started writing a story. tell me what you think please. (although with new fluff coming out soon it's prbably pointless)

Pain.

Heat.

A heavy oppressive weight all around him. Then he remembered.

The flash of moonlight upon plundered steel, the bloodthirsty braying Centigor raiders, exulting in the joy of murder and mayhem, the sounds of weapons clashing and the few, far too few, whispering sussurus of arrows flying through the night to pierce all the way down to Beastman bone.

Adrenaline and panic surged through Elanidor and he surged to full consciousness, instinctively pushing upwards to remove whatever was weighing down on him. Sunlight from directly overhead blasted into his face and his delicate elven senses were overwhelmed by the stench of death, blood and matted fur.

Bewildered and in unfamiliar terrain he gazed frantically over the remnants of a bloody but mostly one sided battle. Corpses of his friends, his family, were strewed across the soil, elven faces gaping at the sky, the horror of their final moments and violent death throes written across their features.

Detached, disbelieving the evidence of his eyes, he sat up, noting the black blood matted into his tunic. The previous vessel of the viscous liquid, an Ungor axeman, was still slumped over Elanidor’s legs, despite the Elf’s previous heave to free himself from the corpse weighing down on him. Starting to become reorientated meant that a few loose kicks freed him completely from the entangling cadaver but it also meant that the grim reality of the situation was beginning to take hold, the dreamlike fugue of shock no longer able to shield his psyche from the horrors before him.

Tears began running freely down his face and he desperately scrambled to his feet to begin scrabbling amongst the corpses desperately hunting for any other survivors. Clearer memories of how he arrived in this war scorched section of forest rose to the fore and he realised he was not in unfamiliar terrain at all. He stood in the centre of what had once been the settlement of Tu’atha Glade, home of the Sinead Kinband.
For a moment he stopped searching, and his silent tears turned into a keening sob, but he bit it back, knowing that screaming his grief at the world could alert any other enemies that could be lurking around the battlefield. At the thought his hand instinctively reached to the long knife hung at his waist.

The scabbard was empty.

Suddenly feeling vulnerable, Elanidor crouched low, the tears gone from his eyes as he furtively glanced around and his militia training took over, assessing the situation. The sun was directly overhead which meant that he had been unconscious for at least 12 hours. The likelihood of there still being any enemies nearby was low, but just to be sure he crept quietly, slowly back to the corpse of the Ungor, there he found his knife imbedded deep in the creatures gut. Yanking it out, he cleaned the blade on his dead foe’s fur and sheathed it in one smooth motion. Having a familiar weapon in hand made him feel a little safer.

Feeling a little bit more in control of the situation, he stood back up one hand resting loosely on his knife, and took full stock of the situation. He was back in control of his emotions, but he could still feel a storm of grief and rage building within him; He quashed it, for now. It was time to assess the damage.

Tu’atha Glade was destroyed. A completely unexpected midnight raid had torn through the Asrai Kinband like a Maelstrom of blood and death. Picking through the corpses, Elanidor was dismayed to note only one dead Beastman creature for every four Asrai that had laid down their lives. And it soon became apparent that there were no other survivors, Although he hadn’t the heart to search for his daughter, Tilea the apprentice Spellsinger. Enough of Sinead Salenin’s Kinband was accounted for to assume they were all lost, right down to Sinead herself, dead amidst a pile of Minotaur corpses laid out around her like mushrooms in a fairy ring.

Minotaurs. Centigors. Ungors. This was no random beastman raid. This was a preliminary invasion.

He had to warn the other settlements!

He scooped up and slung on a bow and quiver from a corpse, giving silent thanks to the dead, whilst mentally apologising for leaving their corpses on a battlefield to rot, and swiftly started deeper into the forest, a mission in mind but was stopped dead in his tracks.

Crucified to a birch, there was Tilea, her body scorched not by fire or blade but by the arcane flames of magic. Elanidor forgot his mission then. He forgot his caution. He threw his head back and screamed, his grief no longer able to be repressed. The scream seemed to go on for eternity. It drained him.

When his emotions were spent, he took his daughter’s body down from the tree and performed what he could remember of the rites of Isha over her corpse. His mission forgotten, he glanced once more over his shoulder towards the ruined and scarred glade wracked with the corpses of a hundred elves, feeling nothing but a numb emptiness and longing for death. He wandered into the shadows of Athel Loren aimlessly knowing that if he let it, the forest would take him and end it all.
...So if you're addressing me direct, just call me Lance or Dusk, no 1983 please.
Chaos dwarf tactica: http://www.asrai.org/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=23535
Chaos dwarf plog: http://www.asrai.org/viewtopic.php?f=2&t=23159
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Re: Elanidor short story maybe?

Post by Malkrit »

I'm by no means an expert but I'll give you my thoughts.

Firstly, I would like to say that you wrote a pretty good piece of fanfiction here and I would love to read the continuation. If I were to criticise something, it would be that some sentences are poorly constructed and should be slightly rewritten for more pleasant reading. I'll give you the changes I would make below. I tried to change as little as possible.
dusk1983 wrote:
A heavy oppressive weight all around him. Then he remembered.


He felt a heavy, oppresive weight all around him. Then suddenly, he remembered:
dusk1983 wrote:
The flash of moonlight upon plundered steel, the bloodthirsty braying Centigor raiders, exulting in the joy of murder and mayhem, the sounds of weapons clashing and the few, far too few, whispering sussurus of arrows flying through the night to pierce all the way down to Beastman bone.
Good as is.
dusk1983 wrote:
Adrenaline and panic surged through Elanidor and he surged to full consciousness, instinctively pushing upwards to remove whatever was weighing down on him. Sunlight from directly overhead blasted into his face and his delicate elven senses were overwhelmed by the stench of death, blood and matted fur.
Adrenaline and panic surged through Elanidor as he regained full consciousness, instinctively pushing upwards to remove whatever was weighing down on him. Bright sunlight blasted into his face and his delicate elven senses were overwhelmed by the stench of death, blood and matted fur.
dusk1983 wrote: Bewildered and in unfamiliar terrain he gazed frantically over the remnants of a bloody but mostly one sided battle. Corpses of his friends, his family, were strewed across the soil, elven faces gaping at the sky, the horror of their final moments and violent death throes written across their features.
Bewildered and in unfamiliar terrain he gazed frantically over the remnants of a bloody but mostly one sided battle. Corpses of his family and friends were strewed across the soil, elven faces gaping at the sky, the horror of their final moments and violent death throes written across their features.
dusk1983 wrote: Detached, disbelieving the evidence of his eyes, he sat up, noting the black blood matted into his tunic. The previous vessel of the viscous liquid, an Ungor axeman, was still slumped over Elanidor’s legs, despite the Elf’s previous heave to free himself from the corpse weighing down on him. Starting to become reorientated meant that a few loose kicks freed him completely from the entangling cadaver but it also meant that the grim reality of the situation was beginning to take hold, the dreamlike fugue of shock no longer able to shield his psyche from the horrors before him.
I absolutely loved this part, very well written!
dusk1983 wrote: Tears began running freely down his face and he desperately scrambled to his feet to begin scrabbling amongst the corpses desperately hunting for any other survivors. Clearer memories of how he arrived in this war scorched section of forest rose to the fore and he realised he was not in unfamiliar terrain at all. He stood in the centre of what had once been the settlement of Tu’atha Glade, home of the Sinead Kinband.
For a moment he stopped searching, and his silent tears turned into a keening sob, but he bit it back, knowing that screaming his grief at the world could alert any other enemies that could be lurking around the battlefield. At the thought his hand instinctively reached to the long knife hung at his waist.
Tears began running freely down his face as he struggled to his feet to begin scrabbling amongst the corpses, desperately searching for any other survivors. Clearer memories of how he arrived in this war scorched section of forest rose to the fore and he realised he was not in unfamiliar terrain at all. He stood in the centre of what had once been the settlement of Tu’atha Glade, home of the Sinead Kinband.
For a moment he stopped moving, and his silent tears turned into a keening sob, but he bit it back, knowing that screaming his grief at the world could alert any other enemies still lurking around the battlefield. At the thought his hand instinctively reached to the long knife hung at his waist.
dusk1983 wrote: The scabbard was empty.

Suddenly feeling vulnerable, Elanidor crouched low, the tears gone from his eyes as he furtively glanced around and his militia training took over, assessing the situation. The sun was directly overhead which meant that he had been unconscious for at least 12 hours. The likelihood of there still being any enemies nearby was low, but just to be sure he crept quietly, slowly back to the corpse of the Ungor, there he found his knife imbedded deep in the creatures gut. Yanking it out, he cleaned the blade on his dead foe’s fur and sheathed it in one smooth motion. Having a familiar weapon in hand made him feel a little safer.
Suddenly feeling vulnerable, Elanidor crouched low, the tears gone from his eyes as he furtively glanced around and his militia training took over, assessing the situation. The sun was directly overhead which meant that he had been unconscious for at least 12 hours. The likelihood of there still being any enemies nearby was low, but just to be sure he crept back to the Ungor's corpse, slowly but quietly. He found his knife imbedded deep in the creatures gut. Yanking it out, he cleaned the blade on his dead foe’s fur and sheathed it in one smooth motion. Having a familiar weapon in hand made him feel a little safer.

dusk1983 wrote: Feeling a little bit more in control of the situation, he stood back up one hand resting loosely on his knife, and took full stock of the situation. He was back in control of his emotions, but he could still feel a storm of grief and rage building within him; He quashed it, for now. It was time to assess the damage.

Tu’atha Glade was destroyed. A completely unexpected midnight raid had torn through the Asrai Kinband like a Maelstrom of blood and death. Picking through the corpses, Elanidor was dismayed to note only one dead Beastman creature for every four Asrai that had laid down their lives. And it soon became apparent that there were no other survivors, Although he hadn’t the heart to search for his daughter, Tilea the apprentice Spellsinger. Enough of Sinead Salenin’s Kinband was accounted for to assume they were all lost, right down to Sinead herself, dead amidst a pile of Minotaur corpses laid out around her like mushrooms in a fairy ring.
Feeling a little bit more in control of the situation, he stood back up,one hand resting loosely on his knife, and took full stock of the situation. He was back in control of his emotions, but he could still feel a storm of grief and rage building within him; He quashed it, for now. It was time to assess the damage.

Tu’atha Glade had been destroyed. A completely unexpected midnight raid had torn through the Asrai Kinband like a Maelstrom of blood and death. Picking through the corpses, Elanidor was dismayed to note only one dead Beastman creature for every four Asrai that had laid down their lives. And it soon became apparent that there were no other survivors, although he hadn’t the heart to search for his daughter, Tilea the apprentice Spellsinger. Enough of Sinead Salenin’s Kinband was accounted for to assume they were all lost, right down to Sinead herself, dead amidst a pile of Minotaur corpses laid out around her like mushrooms in a fairy ring.

(nearly no change)
dusk1983 wrote:
Minotaurs. Centigors. Ungors. This was no random beastman raid. This was a preliminary invasion.

He had to warn the other settlements!

He scooped up and slung on a bow and quiver from a corpse, giving silent thanks to the dead, whilst mentally apologising for leaving their corpses on a battlefield to rot, and swiftly started deeper into the forest, a mission in mind but was stopped dead in his tracks.

Crucified to a birch, there was Tilea, her body scorched not by fire or blade but by the arcane flames of magic. Elanidor forgot his mission then. He forgot his caution. He threw his head back and screamed, his grief no longer able to be repressed. The scream seemed to go on for eternity. It drained him.

When his emotions were spent, he took his daughter’s body down from the tree and performed what he could remember of the rites of Isha over her corpse. His mission forgotten, he glanced once more over his shoulder towards the ruined and scarred glade wracked with the corpses of a hundred elves, feeling nothing but a numb emptiness and longing for death. He wandered into the shadows of Athel Loren aimlessly knowing that if he let it, the forest would take him and end it all.
It's a little late and I'll get to the rest tomorrow.
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dusk1983
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Re: Elanidor short story maybe?

Post by dusk1983 »

Thanks for spending so much time and detail on this. It is appreciated. :nod:

Although before I can write any more I've got to get back into the fluff of this new edition. Some things that I had in mind have been futzed with and I'm not sure I can tell the story I wanted to tell. :smoke:
...So if you're addressing me direct, just call me Lance or Dusk, no 1983 please.
Chaos dwarf tactica: http://www.asrai.org/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=23535
Chaos dwarf plog: http://www.asrai.org/viewtopic.php?f=2&t=23159
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Re: Elanidor short story maybe?

Post by Malkrit »

Fresh thoughts on a piece of text are always incredibly helpful for even the most battle-hardened of writers because after re-reading your own story for a couple of times, you tend to get a tunnel vision and that makes it hard to improve. When writing (hopefully) good quality fan-fic we, as a community, need to be constructive and I'm happy to provide!


I wouldn't worry too much about the new army book fluff, most people will still be familliar with our last army
book's depiction of the Wood Elves. Unless there's some fine details you really want to be correct.
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Re: Elanidor short story maybe?

Post by frogboy »

Awesome a slayer Elf ! :D :thumbsup:
Its been too long since we burned a heretic, witch hunt anyone !??
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Re: Elanidor short story maybe?

Post by Kojibear »

Hey Dusk :) It looks to be an exciting and compelling story. I always love reading your tales in the Grove! :)

It is hard to give criticism to someone about their writing because everyone's style is so different and individual. You never want someone to feel like they have to write this way or that, and lose their uniqueness. Nevertheless, bouncing ideas and brainstorming, and perhaps gaining more direction and clarity with fellow prose lovers is always a good thing.

Malkrit has already given some great advice about sentence construction. :nod:

I'd like to offer direction in the area of description and motivation. When I was reading the story two things in particular made me stop and think, well ask actually.
Tu’atha Glade was destroyed.
What does he see that leads his mind to this conclusion?

Perhaps we could answer like this?

As his eyes took in the enormity of what had assailed them in the night a blood fly settled itself upon his face. Elanidor shook his head and brushed it away. When his eyes opened once more it was as if the colours of the forest had changed. What had been green and bright mere hours ago was now crimson and black. The glade reeked of blood and death. Nothing moved but the flies, and in that alarming stillness another cruel fact assailed him. He was alone.
He hadn’t the heart to search for his daughter.
This is his daughter, what would make a father not run around desperately, uncontrollably searching for his little girl.

How about this explanation?

Elanidor sprinted towards the body of the closest elf, but the rage and contempt written on the ashen face was enough to rock him back on his heels. It was Sinead herself and what her dead eyes seemed to be saying filled Elanidor with shame and self-reproach. You should have done more, the eyes accused him, should have fought harder. You let your daughter die. He dropped to his knees. Would Tilea’s eyes look upon him with the same disgust? Before he could stop himself, his dagger was in his hand and he drove the blade deep into the skull of a Minotaur that had fallen beside Sinead. He dared to look again into her eyes hoping to see forgiveness. There was none. Getting to his feet, Elandor knew he would not have the heart, nor the courage, to search for his daughter.

I agree with Malkrit regarding this part of your prose:
Detached, disbelieving the evidence of his eyes, he sat up, noting the black blood matted into his tunic. The previous vessel of the viscous liquid, an Ungor axeman, was still slumped over Elanidor’s legs, despite the Elf’s previous heave to free himself from the corpse weighing down on him. Starting to become reorientated meant that a few loose kicks freed him completely from the entangling cadaver but it also meant that the grim reality of the situation was beginning to take hold, the dreamlike fugue of shock no longer able to shield his psyche from the horrors before him.
Here you have answered the questions, such as:

Whose blood is it? The Ungor Axeman he must have killed.

How did the grim reality of the situation begin to take hold? Elandor waking with a corpse a top of him and needing to touch it to free himself.

This is not only very well and elegantly shown to us, but also answers all the questions. Nicely done sire! :)


The more we can show and reveal, rather than tell the reader, the more compelling the narrative becomes. I find it really useful to go back over what have written, or better yet ask someone else to read it, and look for any questions about description or motivation that maybe needs to be answered. I hope this is helpful :)

I look forward to reading more of Elanidor's tale as do many more of the Grove of Tale readers! :nod:
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Re: Elanidor short story maybe?

Post by dusk1983 »

Awesome input guys. I am inspred to do a second draft of part 1 and consider the direction in which i might take part 2!
...So if you're addressing me direct, just call me Lance or Dusk, no 1983 please.
Chaos dwarf tactica: http://www.asrai.org/viewtopic.php?f=8&t=23535
Chaos dwarf plog: http://www.asrai.org/viewtopic.php?f=2&t=23159
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