Chapters Written: Prologue
Edits Made: 3
So this update is late, but I wrote what counts as the prologue of the story. It's not terribly long, but it works and I don't want to bog it down with unnecessary details. I went back several times to edit it and make sure it read well, and so far it's good enough for the first day of writing.
Let me know what you guys think of this:
The sky was black above the fields and hilltops of the landscape that never
seemed to end. But, on occasion, a flash of white would dive from very high up,
swoop along the bloodied meadow stretching miles and miles around, and disappear
within the carnage that was the battlefield of the Demos Oneiron. Bodies
littered the once clean, live space between two lines of hills, home now only to
death and decomposition. The war was brutal and seemed as unending as the ground
from which deadened weeds and trees, once living to bear fruits such as
pomegranates, now disintegrated from the fires started by the warriors to flush
out their enemies.
From above, a creature with white wings sprouting from a pale human form
descended upon his enemy, a black-winged man with similar features and
blood-drenched chestnut hair. The two brawled violently, aiming claws and swords
and teeth at appendages and limbs and arteries. The white-winged creature tried
his hardest, but his opponent's hunger for blood drove him to victory. The
black-winged man sliced off his enemy's head with one vicious swing, sending the
skull arcing across the field and to the feet of Dorian Banning.
Dorian, dressed in a pair of grey pinstripe pants and a damask vest, smiled as
he rolled up the billowy white sleeves of his shirt and bent down to retrieve
the head at his feet. The smile on his face never left, even as he assessed the
bleeding head sullying his once clean black shoes, black globs of blood plopping
onto the leather and laces. He made a noise in his throat at the head, amused by
the twisted expression on the face, and then looked at it with a sudden
disinterest. With a shrug, he dropped the head and swiftly kicked it back in the
direction of the bloodied meadow.
He reached his hand up and removed his fedora, bringing it to his chest while
bowing to the black-winged man in the sky several yards away. It was a mocking
gesture that brought a snarl to the man's lips, but Dorian merely chuckled and
faded away as a sword came rocketing toward him and burrowed itself into the
dirt where he once stood.
seemed to end. But, on occasion, a flash of white would dive from very high up,
swoop along the bloodied meadow stretching miles and miles around, and disappear
within the carnage that was the battlefield of the Demos Oneiron. Bodies
littered the once clean, live space between two lines of hills, home now only to
death and decomposition. The war was brutal and seemed as unending as the ground
from which deadened weeds and trees, once living to bear fruits such as
pomegranates, now disintegrated from the fires started by the warriors to flush
out their enemies.
From above, a creature with white wings sprouting from a pale human form
descended upon his enemy, a black-winged man with similar features and
blood-drenched chestnut hair. The two brawled violently, aiming claws and swords
and teeth at appendages and limbs and arteries. The white-winged creature tried
his hardest, but his opponent's hunger for blood drove him to victory. The
black-winged man sliced off his enemy's head with one vicious swing, sending the
skull arcing across the field and to the feet of Dorian Banning.
Dorian, dressed in a pair of grey pinstripe pants and a damask vest, smiled as
he rolled up the billowy white sleeves of his shirt and bent down to retrieve
the head at his feet. The smile on his face never left, even as he assessed the
bleeding head sullying his once clean black shoes, black globs of blood plopping
onto the leather and laces. He made a noise in his throat at the head, amused by
the twisted expression on the face, and then looked at it with a sudden
disinterest. With a shrug, he dropped the head and swiftly kicked it back in the
direction of the bloodied meadow.
He reached his hand up and removed his fedora, bringing it to his chest while
bowing to the black-winged man in the sky several yards away. It was a mocking
gesture that brought a snarl to the man's lips, but Dorian merely chuckled and
faded away as a sword came rocketing toward him and burrowed itself into the
dirt where he once stood.
No comments:
Post a Comment