An'Thar, The Death Weaver

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The old, dry stone left resonating sounds as we walked hastily through the winding, seemingly endless maze of a cave. I wondered how long we’d been down here, or how the others felt of this situation. Just trying to exit the cave. My wonders were soon told to me, as Roirk called for a break.

We sat down on the cold, nearly damp stone. The torchlight illuminated everyone’s face, giving a sense of seriousness that was called for, but not there. Roirk gave a hard, cold look at the wall, deep in thought. I soon turned my gaze to Ad’Zul, who was sitting there, waiting for a sound. For someone to break the silence. Without any end to it in sight, he asked, in an odd, timid voice which did not seem to be able to come from him.

“Where are we?” Were the words spoken. The words in everyone’s mind right now. The truth being, nobody knew where we were. It began near the surface of the cave, but that place felt so far away from this vast darkness. This cave… seemed nothing like the entrance fortold. We expected easy ore, in a shallow, yet resource-given cave. But, we have traveled far underground, with little mining done. Down to a few torches, the darkness encroaches on this one, posing a threat to it, as inanimate as it is.

Roirk turned around, “Nobody knows where we are, Ad’Zul. We are going to leave when we find an exit.” He looked amazingly serious as he said it, while the torch flickered light across his face like paint onto a canvas. Roirk, always the leader, always the one that knew best, what to do, where to go.
“Let us be going, we cannot let a torch be burned out on idle conversation.” That was all I had to say, before we each slowly stood. Ad’Zul stayed in the back of the party, following me, while I followed Roirk. The torch began lighting things within range of my sight, each step a mystery as to what twists, turns, and bends would come up next.

I watched the sword adorning Roirk’s back as it glistened in the torches range. Forged of hatred, as he told us. Given to him for the pure reason of eradicating the minions of An’Thar himself, it truly was forged in such a way. The sword glistened, a polished black meteorite chunk. The sword had a shine to it, even if it came from a flaming space rock. As you moved up the blade, you saw the runes intricately carved into it, these were for show. Roirk knew not how to work the runes. As I moved past the runes, I moved towards the polished bronze handle that finished the piece, the sword, a meteorite, a metal, and a piece of magic all combined.

I watched this creation swing out of his hand at a seconds notice many times, to watch it hit it’s very mark, and to see it slay many a foe. I suppose just the same, he has seen many of my arrows pierce the skull of many a foe. And just the same have I watched some of Ad’Zul’s magic slay such a fiend.

As we walked through the cave, in the distance, was a small light. The light barely visible, yet within our grasp. However, small distractions distract petty people I suppose, and we are petty people. Before we moved any further, we rustled through Roirk’s bag for our iron pick, as we just found a small deposit of a rare gem used in rune-making. An’Thar’s Tear, I believe it was called, as it was once used against the evil man, to take away his power… momentarily.

We found the pick without problem, dull, and well-worn as it was, we could not get a new one on any of the stops through our journey so far. I took the worn, wrapped up wooden handle in both hands. We took turns striking at the deposit of ore, each time nudging it closer to coming out. Every swing left shards of it flying, but we needed the piece intact, with enough of it for a good amount of coins after we sell it.

Finally, as Ad’Zul took a final swing to it, it nudged from the surrounding rock. A somewhat large, yet not too large chunk fell from the side of the cavern, leaving a rather large hole in the wall. We all let out a silent, relieved sigh that we could move on towards the light nearing us. Ad’Zul laid the pick down, and wiped his face. His hair seemed longer than it normally was, and it was long already, falling into miscellaneous spikes without a natural curve. He had pale skin, as we moved further through the cave. Roirks skin also turned an odd shade of whitish pale in the midst of this odd light. As we neared, it was obvious that it was no exit, and I suppose we all had the silent wonder of what it was.

We came to the light, nearing it with every step. We arrived later, wondering why this was here. A lantern. And, since lanterns do not last more than a few hours, it was new. We soon looked up, to find that the assumption that it was new was correct, there was a trail of them, leading either deeper in, or closer to the outside of the cave. Nobody was sure at this point. We all agreed without hesitation to follow the lantern trail. As we walked, shadows flew around the cave, and our torch began it’s last smolder, as it slowly went out in the lantern path.

We threw the smoldering piece of charred stick to the side of the cavern as we walked along aimlessly. We neared another lantern, and another, and another. A seemingly endless path of twists and turns, ups and downs, and lit up chunks of metal. However, they were more than a chunk of metal I suppose. They were a possible way out, a path, and more likely, our source of hope for now.

We had been here awhile now. Hadn’t we? Was the time getting to us? Nobody was sure… That’s all I say, ‘Nobody’s sure’. As we made a final turn, we saw something that we longed for, a glint of sun coming through a crack in the roof of the cave. We could exit the civilized way, through the caves exit. But we had been here days too long, and swung the pick maniacally at the ceiling, breaking chunks of rock as we attacked it.

Then, something wonderful happened. The ceiling opened up for us. We each struggled out of the ceiling, arriving near the exit where we entered. We knew this because of the landmark we left, a post of wood with two unlit torches on the sides.
“Now that were out, let’s go to our next stop,” Roirk said, breaking the journeys silence.
“It’s not another cave, at least,” I replied. A cave was the last place we needed to be right now. The next stop… I looked at the beaten up map to see what it was exactly. It was a Rus’gen village, a while to the north. We would need to take an airship there, or near there. The journey was too long by horse, and an airship tower was within ten miles of here.
“Let us move on.” Ad’Zul said, speaking for once. Which was a bit odd, he was so quiet lately, and spoke without his usual voice for the last few days. I forgot the deepness, as well as seriousness in it. It nearly scared me, as he spoke with such a submissive voice the last few days… Now assuming a leaders voice, even though he did not normally lead, and rather followed us.

The grass, air, and wind hit us all, as we openly welcome it’s accompaniment in our journey. We began walking once more, as the sun was just rising, the moon leaving remains of mist until it’s next unveiling on our world.
Society teats each of us like an always burning candlestick. We reject immediate deformities, and throw ourselves away when we've lost our flame. Then we clean away any evidence of the wax...




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Hai!

I’m going to be harsh, because that’s how one improves, and the whole point of being on here is to get comments that will help you improve, ja?


My wonders were soon told to me, as Roirk called for a break.

Without any end to it in sight, he asked, in an odd, timid voice which did not seem to be able to come from him.

“Where are we?” Were the words spoken.

A somewhat large, yet not too large chunk fell from the side of the cavern, leaving a rather large hole in the wall.

Your writing comes across as quite laboured sometimes. In these examples, I’ve bolded the bits that don’t feel right. Really, the whole point of telling a story is to tell a story, not tangle your readers in words that you don’t need, and you really don’t need a lot of the words you use.

“My wonders were soon told to me”—if you read this out loud, you should be able to tell that this sounds really clunky. It doesn’t sound like the kind of thing you’d think to yourself.

“Which did not seem to be able to come from him”—you could make this so much simpler. “In an odd timid voice quite unlike his usual tone” flows a bit better.

“Were the words spoken”—this is just unnecessary. You don’t need it. You said in the previous sentence that he was going to speak, then you have his dialogue, so you don’t need to say again that he was speaking.

“A somewhat large, yet not too large”, “a rather large hole”—is this necessary? The story doesn’t revolve around the size of a random rock that they dig out, nor around the size of the hole it left behind. Details are good, but going overboard on details just bogs your writing down with unnecessary baggage. Just say “a large chunk”, “a big hole”. Anymore and it’s just overkill.


Roirk, always the leader, always the one that knew best, what to do, where to go.

I’ve highlighted this section, because it’s an example of where you’re telling instead of showing. Here are some very good articles on showing and telling: Not Getting Carried Away With Descriptions (this one is also relevant regarding my previous point), Show and Tell and Summary vs Scene


I watched the sword adorning Roirk’s back as it glistened in the torches range. Forged of hatred, as he told us. Given to him for the pure reason of eradicating the minions of An’Thar himself, it truly was forged in such a way. The sword glistened, a polished black meteorite chunk. The sword had a shine to it, even if it came from a flaming space rock. As you moved up the blade, you saw the runes intricately carved into it, these were for show.

And this is where I stopped taking your story seriously. I’m sorry, I know that sounds mean, but it’s true. I was already kind of cynical when I saw your title and your use of names with apostrophes just for the sake of having names with apostrophes, but talking about magical swords forged of hatred adorning the hero’s back is clichéd, boring and purple. By purple, I mean it’s OTT, melodramatic and too fancy. Special or significant objects (especially pretty swords) have been done in so many stories: Lord of the Rings, pretty much all of the Shannara books, Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon, Eragon, Doctor Who.


I watched this creation swing out of his hand at a seconds notice many times, to watch it hit it’s very mark, and to see it slay many a foe.

You do this a few times. This is the wrong word. “It’s” like this is short for “it is”. You need “its” without an apostrophe.


“Now that were out, let’s go to our next stop,” Roirk said, breaking the journeys silence.

“Were” should be “we’re”, short for “we are”. “Were” is... a verb, I think?

---

Hai!

I’m sorry if any of that sounded mean. It’s not meant to crush you and leave you bleeding and lifeless; it’s genuinely meant to help, and if you have any questions, do please PM or Wall me and I’ll try to explain a bit better. :)

Whatever you do, though, don’t stop writing. The only way you can get better is to carry on, and while a lot of what you write may start off bad, it can only get better. When I started writing, I was sure I was writing the next best-seller; I would give Harry Potter a run for his money; I would be the next franchise to beat Lord of the Rings. Now I can hardly bear to look at those stories because they’re so badly written, clichéd and full of teen angst. >_<

Eeeh. Anyway. Keep writing, and hope to see you around! :D

-twit
"TV makes sense. It has logic, structure, rules, and likeable leading men. In life, we have this. We have you." -Abed Nadir




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I assure you, I don't seem to notice any blood on my body and am surely full of life as I write this. Thanks for the criticism, I know it's the only way for me to improve. I joined the site for that purpose. But, the overly detailed portions are a problem of mine, I'm either not detailed enough, or go overboard with it.
Society teats each of us like an always burning candlestick. We reject immediate deformities, and throw ourselves away when we've lost our flame. Then we clean away any evidence of the wax...




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Good job! I LOVE it so far! The title was very eye catching!
When he bares his teeth, winter meets its death
And when he shakes his mane, we shall have spring again'

'Look there she goes that girl is so peculiar. I wonder if she's feeling well.
With a dreamy far off look.
And her nose stuck in a book' Something my best friend, Drew, said about me



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