# The Prince of Carno Dair - Chapter One



## MichaelSTMears (Jul 15, 2012)

Please leave feedback. I hope you enjoy. Mike.


The Prince of Carno Dair





Chapter One.  
Death Lights.


Faolan Tane pulled on his boots and checked (for the third time) the sword that was strapped around his waist. In the cold evening shadows of his room, he had lit an oil lamp on the table that butted up against one wall. Orange light flickered behind the glass dome. 


Faolan was the youngest soldier amongst the Vorian – soldiers handpicked by Lothlan himself - at only nineteen winters old. That was how a man's age was measured in this cold, harsh part of Draenor. He had dirty blonde hair that hung in waves down to his shoulders and round, curious blue-green eyes. More importantly, he was the son of the Military General of Carno Dair, Raidel Tane, something all too clear just by his appearance. 


Tonight was the opening night of the Winterpass, the age old festival to celebrate the ending of one year and the beginning of the next. By all rights he should have been preparing to parade through the streets of Carno Dair with the rest of the Vorian. 



He quickly finished buttoning his dark blue surcoat and re-read the letter that he had left unfolded on his bed. The slanted words had been hastily scrawled across the yellow parchment. 


_Faolan, please come to the citadel right away. Lothlan has summoned us. I can't say too much now, hurry and come armed. _


_Nivalis._


Faolan crumpled the letter up and stuffed it into his pocket, then dousing the lamp he hurried downstairs, feeling his way in the darkness with a trembling arm. 


A gentle breeze carrying the coldest chills that year whistled through the streets tugging at his clothes and hair. 
Feint glows of orange issued behind the curtained lattice windows of the dark, high sided street. Sweat was beading his forehead and his palms were slick with the stuff. He whispered a curse as he fumbled for the key and locked the door behind him. 


It was bad enough he had to parade through the streets with the rest of the Vorian but now he was hurrying through the winding streets to answer a summons without a clue what was going on.
Faolan was so lost in thought that it took him a moment to realise someone had spoken.
"Faolan?" the voice asked again. 
Footsteps came hurrying up behind him. Faolan span around, his hand falling to his sword. 
"Evening Qoro," he said, relaxing as the other soldier ran to catch him up. 
"You were miles away," said Qoro as they set off together. "You were sent for as well then?"
"Yeah, _you_ got any idea what's going on?" asked Faolan. Nearby, wooden windchimes clunked against each other.
"None." said Qoro. Qoro Gellise was a few years older than Faolan, athletic, with short dark hair and light mahogany skin inherited from his mother. His ear glistened with gold rings of various shapes and sizes and the chain of a pendant hung around his neck. 
"But if we're being called away from the opening of Winterpass it can't be good." he echoed Faolan's thoughts. 
Thin grey clouds like veils of silk slid across the black sky above them. The roads glistened with a fresh layer of frost. 
Brightly coloured streamers and banners hung across every street fluttering in the breeze, with people even hanging decorations from their windows and on their doors, neighbours clearly trying to outdo each other's efforts. 



The dark stone fortress city of Carno Dair was aglow with orange lights amidst it's winding, sloping streets and towering roofs. Shadows crept out from overhanging archways and balconies. Along her three outer walls, soldiers patrolled with torches in their hands, gliding through the air like fireflies, light glinting off their polished armour. 
Night birds swooped over high above, dancing between the spires and turrets. 
To everyone else in the city, nothing was wrong. They would all be in their houses preparing to go out and celebrate the start of Winterpass. 


"Evening," said Qoro as they joggged up the wide flagon steps to the citadel. The tall, jagged stonework twisted up high above them jutting out in all directions. The guard stationed on either side of the studded double doors lowered their spears and with a shuffle of armour swung them open, grunting sleepily as they passed. Faolan couldn't help but feel a pang of guilt as he passed; that should have been his job, an ordinary soldier. Instead, being Raidel's son elevated him to a position within the Vorian. 

The entrance hall of the citadel was a high ceilinged room with elabourately carved walls depicting the history of Draenor. All around them lights flickered in tiny alcoves and from two iron chandeliers that dangled overhead, suspended on thick chains. 
A glass cabinet with a polished Rosewood frame was mounted on one side of the room, inside which was a map of Draenor and all the known lands beyond. The parchment had paled over the years and many of the black ink markings had faded to grey, while others that had been added or altered more recently still looked black. 


It soon became clear from the huddle of Vorian soldiers all wearing the same blue black uniform that Qoro and Faolan weren't the only ones who had been summoned. 
"Faolan, Qoro," Lothlan's head popped up suddenly, bringing a quick silence over the mumbling voices.
There were a few hushed greetings as the newcomers crossed the room.
Lothlan Drask was a big man, tall and muscular with a face that never seemed to age. The sort of man who normally inspired people just by walking into a room; tonight his shaggy hair was even more scruffy than usual and long stubble lined the edges of his weary face.
Raidel didn't look in much better shape, Faolan noticed as his father smiled at him. He had last seen his father only two nights ago; since then Raidel's eyes looked to have sunken and his skin had greyed erratically. Deep bags creased under his eyes when he blinked. 



"I'm sorry for calling you all here, I'm sure you'd rather be at the festival," said Lothlan. 
He was half right. On the opening night of the festival Faolan should have been parading through the streets with the other Vorian, which was in his mind, another humiliating experience for somebody with no right to wear the uniform. 
"It would appear that trouble is stirring in the Outlands," Lothlan continued
That could only mean one thing. Magic, _Witchcraft _to be more precise. But there was always trouble in the Outlands, always talk. There had been since the Great Revolt; that was why soldiers regularly patrolled the roads. A show of force, a reassurance for the people of Draenor. _No tolerance._
"Strange ships have been seen following the coast, sails appearing in the dead of night and drifting landwards bearing symbols and crests we've not seen the likes of before. 
And now lights have been appearing above Ardale."
"Lights above Ardale?" said Brundir skeptically. "What would witches want with a village that small?" 
He had a point; Ardale was a small village out in the wilds, a home to woodsmen and tailors, farmers and country folk that kept themselves much to themselves. _What would anyone want with Ardale? _


"_Unnatural_ lights," said Lothlan. "Death lights."
In a heartbeat the room fell silent. That explained why Lothlan and Raidel looked so Gaunt. 
Faolan had heard the Vorian talk about Death Lights. Bright lights that lit up the whole sky for miles around. Powerful spells. Dark magic. Things that even the hardest soldiers shuddered to think of. The reason that the Vorian, and not ordinary soldiers had been summoned. 
"If this is true," said Nivalis Pespi breaking the silence, "Are we to assume that the covens are planning an uprising?"

There were two unusual things about Nivalis, the first of these being the Vorian Captain was a woman, the second being her long, dark blue hair; a stark contrast to her pale, freckled skin.



"Right now we don't have time for speculation." said Raidel, stepping forward as though pushed by an invisible force. "If Ardale has been attacked our priority needs to be getting a force over there to investigate and making sure whoever is left is protected. There's a good chance that any survivors will have fled into the woods, so I want you to circle round from the South. _If," _he said distastefully, "The covents _are_ co-ordinating in any way we need to keep on top of it. This cannot get out. If it does the covents will use the panic to their advantage."
Nivalis nodded slowly.
"I don't like sending any of you up against a single witch." he said. "Your lives come first out there and that's the end of the matter. I want to see you all back here, if that means running then you run."
"We'll be fine," said Nivalis with a cold authority, bowing her head slightly. 
"Make sure that you are," said Lothlan. "Guides of Hraenar be with you." 


Nivalis turned on her heel and marched out the way they had come. Without the need for words every other soldier fell into perfect step behind her. The citadel doors swung open again and cold night air washed over them. 
Just as Faolan turned to follow Nivalis however, a hand gripped his shoulder. Raidel turned him around and pulled him into a tight embrace, unseen by the others who were already outside. 
He took his son's head between his palms and met his gaze. 
"Take care out there," he said, his eyes narrowing. "I know you want to prove yourself, but don't make me regret sending you."
The words echoed around inside his head as he hurried to catch up with the others.


It was only a short walk to the stables, which at this time of night were deserted. The small house that belonged to Grase the stablemaster was shuttered up tight. Nivalis pulled a key from her pocket, undid the lock and as quietly as she could she swung the stable door open. 

Horses stirred as they entered, padding the damp straw inside their stalls. The air smelt of manure and wet fur. Faolan made his way over to one of the stalls at the far end of the barn, recoiling as a muzzle appeared from the darkness in front of him. 

"Easy," he said as much to himself as the wide-eyed horse. He opened the door to the stall slightly and slid through sideways. The big grey horse snorted loudly as Faolan slid the halter up it's nose and began tackling it up. 


"Stay close to me and Niv," said a whisper. Faolan looked up suddenly, still holding the strap he had been adjusting on the saddle. Elphas was standing outside the stall attending his own mount. He was the oldest member of the Vorian, with salt and pepper hair that was more white than grey and a long hooked nose that had been broken at least twice.
Faolan nodded silently; his mouth was suddenly too dry to talk. 
"Nervous?" asked Elphas quite calmly. Even in the darkness Faolan could make out the scar that ran up the soldier's neck and across his cheek, the deep wound never having vanished completely. 
"A bit," Faolan admitted reluctantly. He cursed as a buckle slid through his sweaty grip.
"Nerves are good. Nerves keep you on edge, being on edge keeps you alive," said Elphas, fussing his horse. 
"I'll try and remember that," said Faolan, stepping back, his eyes scanning the dark figure of the horse as he made sure everything was right. 


"Does this sit well with you Niv?" a voice asked as Faolan and Elphas took their reins and led the horses outside. 
"Not one bit," she said leading her own horse away. "So keep your eyes sharp and the chatter down, _that goes for everyone._"
Every moment that night seemed to last an eternity. It seemed like hours that the riders spent outside the stables with the horses shifting impatiently beneath them while Nivalis relocked the door.


The clatter of hooves on the paved roads beneath them echoed through the narrow streets, the sound bouncing off the buildings on either side which seemed to lean over them. Misty snorts rose from the muzzles as the three horse wide column wound it's way through the city, keeping the movement slow in a vain attempt to hide the noise.
Eyes peered out through ajar doors and curtains moved as they passed, whispers filling the emptiness behind them. 
"Remember what Raidel said," Nivalis called over her shoulder as they passed beneath the third gatehouse, leaving the dark stone city of Carno Dair behind them. She spurred her horse into a trot. "If we need to run, we run. I need people I can rely on, not dead heroes." 


Beyond the confines of the city walls, exposed to the wild land of Draenor the wind hurled itself at them mercilessly. Cloaks and hair billowed out behind the riders and now and again the horses would duck their heads into the wind, snorting as they brought them up again. 


Huge marquees stood proud on the heathland outside Carno Dair, decorated elabourately for the Winterpass with all manner of colours. 
Men and women with white (often stained) aprons hurried back and forth setting the tables inside and outside of the marquees with cutlery and goblets. Huge wooden kegs of liquor were stacked up behind the kitchen tent, from which all manner of smells drifted out; meats being slow cooked, ale and wine, _fresh bread, _fish!


Foods, drinks and other delicacies that, like the cooks, had been sourced from all over Draenor, some of these even having come from across the ocean. No expense was spared to celebrate the Winterpass – the tradition stretched back long before the Great Revolt, back into the Shadow Ages even. Indeed, some people still believed if they did not celebrate the Winterpass that the seasons would not begin anew, and a cold like nobody had felt before would descend across all of Draenor, slowly killing off everything. 
The road turned to soil and tracked path in the grassy highland, winding amongst the huge tents. The wind slapped ferociously against the taught canvas and guy ropes. 


For a fleeting moment, Faolan forgot the danger they were heading into. 


The road wound on into the distance, vanishing behind one rise of the land and reappearing smaller and off to one side beyond another. The landscape all around them was a blur of indistinct silhouettes merging into a single mass and then seperating as their perspective changed. Behind the veil of inky blue night Faolan could hear the trickling of streams and rivers, the slosh of water over rocks. The moon would occasionally appear beneath a cloud bank and nestle on the peak of a slope or mountain in the distance, turning the land silver and stars would wink down at them like small silver flakes caught in torchlight.
Thick patches of woodland rose from nowhere and vanished just as quickly, their tips swaying in the wind, their dry leaves rustling melodically. 
Birds sang and owls hooted in the darkness. Foxes called as they hunted and an ensemble of other noises came to their ears, indistinguishable sounds that made up the fabric of a Draenorian Winter night. 


Faolan's heart was pounding inside his chest.


After they had been riding for several hours, their backsides numb with the rhythm, Nivalis pulled them to a stop beside the edge of the woods that bordered the South side of Ardale, setting the long teeth of the mountain to their backs. 
"Tie the horses up," she said sliding out of her saddle, dropping to the ground with a thump.
The riders quickly secured the reins around whatever they could find. 
"Draw steel," whispered Nivalis, dropping into a crouch. "Spread out and keep your eyes wide." 
She slunk forwards into the treeline, practically vanishing amidst the thick boughs and undergrowth. 
A gentle hiss of steel ran amongst them and one by one the soldiers drew their swords and armed their shields.
"Remember," said Elphas, guiding Faolan into the woods. "Stay close to me and Niv." 
"Or me," said Qoro slapping Faolan's shoulder enthusiastically before vanishing. His friend's eyes glinted mischievously.
The walk through the woods was slow and tedious, every footstep carefully placed. The foliage rustled all around him as hunched figures crept forwards in a wide line, their swords held ready. Twigs and dry bracken crunched beneath their feet and thorns snagged their clothes. 


Faolan could just make out the dark silhouettes sliding through the undergrowth, dodging between the trees.
They were a short way into the forest when Nivalis jerked her arm twice in a sharp, definite motion. Everyone stopped dead, silent and still as the trunks of the trees around them. Slowly, she waved them over towards her. 
"What is it?" whispered Elphas as he and Faolan came up beside Nivalis. Then Faolan saw what had stopped her. A figure was lying, quite still, at her feet, face down in the earth. The clothing on it's back had been ripped. 
As the other guardsmen drew in around them with the grace of a young doe, Nivalis nodded at Elphas who stepped forwards, his sword raised above the body, ready to strike. Then Nivalis rolled the body over with her foot, stepping back in case of attack. 
But no attack came. 
Glaring up at them was the ghostly face of a young boy, covered in blood, mud and filth where he had evidently tripped. His eyes were still wide with fear, his mouth was open and twisted, as if he were screaming even now. He must have been less than half Faolan's age.
"Bastards," said a faceless voice to nobody in particular. 
"Quiet," Nivalis shot, turning her head ever so slightly. Then like a cat she sprung off silently, her whole body bent low as she darted onwards. 
The group of figures blurred in around her again. Another body, then another and another. They counted eighteen in all, men women and children alike. 
Faolan's heart was hammering faster than ever. He was about to stare death in the face.


The woods began to thin and without the thick foliage and dark bushy branches to hide the night sky, they could see thick plumes of smoke rising from Ardale, the outskirts of which was only a short distance away. 
The wood houses with their pitched straw roofs looked as though they had been carelessly strewn across an open patch of land when they were built and then a dirt road tracked out between them all, winding and snaking in tight circles. 


"Close in," said Nivalis. "Keep cover and watch your backs," she ordered, then with a wave of her arm she tore across the rocky earth between the woods and the first house. 
Mud chucked up beneath their boots as they ran. The wind pelted their faces, singing off their uniforms and steel.


Nivalis stopped at the first house, ducking round the side of it. One of the low stone walls adorning many of the gardens had been scattered across the street as though a boulder had smashed into it. 
More bodies lay in the streets where they had fallen, slaughtered like cattle as they ran. 
And the air smelt, like the sweet scent of a smoking pipe. 
"Witchcraft," Brundir answered Faolan's short sniff. 
"So much for survivors," whispered Qoro, peering around the back corner of the building. 
A bird squawked down the street, probably hungry. 
Fearful sweat was pouring out of Faolan's skin. A weathervein screeched on it's perch as it turned, a fire (almost certainly the source of the rising smoke) was crackling. 
"What's the plan Niv?" asked Vehgermosa Daqon. Vehger was a muscled man with a deep gravelly voice and dark skin. A gold hoop hung from one nostril of the nose that looked like it had been squashed onto his face; his round eyes were wide and alert. The sword looked like a toy in his large hand.
Nivalis took a moment to answer as she peered round the back of the house. "It's clear this way, head for the smoke, stay hidden and spread out," she said. "If you see anything and it sees you, shout and run for the horses."


They waited for her signal and when it came they broke from their cover, tearing from the side of the house like ghosts, dark whisps of figures charging from cover to cover, spreading out amongst the scattered buildings and outhouses. 
Faolan stayed close on Nivalis' heels, moving when she did, stopping when she did. Elphas was on his right; the old soldier never straying far from him. 


They came skidding to a halt against a low stone wall, (four of five of them crouched behind it) and saw the source of the smoke. Orange red tongues were licking up at the sky from a building a short way ahead, opposite a pair of cottages that backed onto their cover. 


"Slow," whispered Niv so quietly her voice was almost lost above the raging fire. 
She leverd herself over the low wall they were crouching behind and slipped into the dark alleyway between the two cottages. She crept along the narrow space, sword and shield raised and ready for a fight, a line of figures spaced out behind her peering for a view as orange flashes lit up the dark path.


A thick support beam broke in half under the strain and a large section of the upper level of the house came crashing down, kicking the flames even higher and spewing out a thick dark cloud of ash and dust. Nivalis ducked back until the cloud settled.


There was a street between them and the house on fire, more bodies strewn out upon it. 
A wide crater had been blown into the road scattering mud and pebbles all around. 
"What the hell is going on here Niv?" hissed Vehger somewhere behind them. 
"How would I bloody know?" she shot back, peering over the wall, scanning the scene.


Flames and embers crackled and spat as they ate up the house, thick plumes of smoke still gushing towards the sky. The buildings around that one had also suffered damage; chunks of wall were missing creating crude doorways and openings, garden fences had been smashed to bits, throwing long stakes of wood everywhere and flowerbeds had been flattened and mashed. 


Faolan was hardly breathing as he followed Niv towards the opening of the alleyway. The cottage walls on either side flickered with light from the fire, a stark contrast to the blackness behind them. 
She peered out around the corner with the slowest of movements, then ducked her head back quickly. 

Nivalis stood quite still for a long moment, her weapon still poised to strike, her face lit up by the crackling flames. 
"Niv?" whispered Faolan taking a step towards her. 
She held up a finger for quiet. "Back," she whispered as if she had reached a very sudden conclusion. 
She started to backstep down the alleyway, looking forwards as if expecting something to appear in the empty space. 
"Niv STOP!" came a sharp hiss. 


The captain of the Vorian froze on the spot, her right foot half down on the floor. Like an owl she twisted her head around without moving the rest of her body. Faolan followed her gaze. The soldier at the back - little more than a silhouette to them - was waving his arm down by his side, frantically ordering them forwards, his back pressed into the stone alley wall. 
Niv crept back towards the end of the alleyway again, the soldiers sliding after her with their breaths stuck in their chests, their line of faces were unafraid even if they were. 
Faolan's heart was racing harder and faster than ever; a sharp shudder ran down his spine and legs.
He pushed the grim thought of them all being slaughtered where they stood out of his mind. 
"Niv they're coming, forwards, you've got to go-" The guard that had pushed Niv forwards cut his sentence off in an instant. For almost an entire second silence fell, then-
"RENARENGA!"


A large chunk of cottage wall vanished with an almighty roar, spewing dust and fist sized lumps of stone in all directions. The world vanished from beneath Faolan's feet. The breath was sucked out of his lungs in an instant and he was thrown through the air, bouncing off the other house like a child's doll and ricocheting into the street.
His head smashed down into the dirt as he landed with a bonecracking thud and his left wrist crunched painfully under his shield. Something sharp was digging into his side. Three more people were scattered around him in the mud, already staggering to their feet, covered in rubble dust and masonry debris. The heat from the blazing house stung his eyes, watering them like he was crying.
Faolan tried to scrabble round to see what had happened; the sound of the wall exploding was still ringing in his ear, everything else around him was muffled to an unintelligable garble of sounds. A figure was standing in what had seconds ago been the alleyway, his pale face visible for only the briefest second. A big hole had been blasted in one of the cottage walls, covering the alley floor in rubble. In one hand the figure held a strange shining object which he was moving in patterns. His cold lips were forming soundless shapes, his tongue flicking out like a serpent's.
His clothes were showered in dark blood and one of the Vorian lay dead at his feet, covered in grey dust and scree.


Faolan tried to stand, but had only got to his knees when both of his arms were grabbed from behind him and he was being dragged backwards, legs flailing in front of him as a jet of light arced over the street and crashed into the ground where he had landed only second ago. Mud and scree flew high into the air then showered down like dried rain.
"Flan! F'one get up! GET UP! GET UP!" 
The ringing sound died away just enough for Faolan to hear the urgent cries. With the help of his carrier he stumbled to his feet. Unprepared for the dizziness that came over him like a wave, he would have keeled over if not for someone steadying him. 
"FAOLAN, MOVE!" 
Vehger was shouting at him. Faolan turned around and began to sprint like a drunkard in front of Vehger who refused to overtake him, catching one final glimpse of the witch as he calmly stepped out into the street, raising the shining object again. 
There was a whoosh of air like a furnace being lit, only a hundred times louder. Faolan's back suddenly felt like it was on fire, then he was being dragged sideways by Vehgers solid grip; pushed on again and steered left between two more houses. Out of the corner of his eye he saw something blue and oddly firelike shoot up the street where they had been running.
"Do't stp running!" Vehger shouted above the ringing, his voice almost drowned out.
Faolan charged forwards, trying desperately to focus his senses as he staggered onwards into a large open field, feet sinking in the freshly ploughed soil.
There was a thud behind him and even before he turned he knew Vehger was down.
Faolan span around, terror clear on his wide eyed face, every part of his body shaking. 
Vehger was scrabbling to his feet in the wet mud, waving Faolan away, screaming at him to run, but Faolan ignored him. 


The witch had caught them up and was just emerging between the two houses. His arm was outstretched with the object glowing brighter than ever in his palm. 
"Arasynth!" it screamed. 
A jet of blue fire the size of a child's head roared from nowhere and straight at Faolan. 
He ran forwards, ducking his head under the rushing flames. Intense heat burned the hairs on the back of his neck, scolding the flesh like a cattle branding.
He forced back a scream of pain and charged forwards, dodging around Vehger who had just got to his feet. 
The dark skinned man tried to tackle Faolan down but missed. Faolan brought his sword up ready to strike, barely eight paces away from the witch. 
"Arasynth!" the cold, manic voice screamed again. 
More blue fire hurtled towards him. This close Faolan didn't have time to dodge; his shield was already up and in the path of the spell. 


The blue jet of fire and Faolan collided with only a piece of metal between them. 
Faolan staggered backwards and would have been thrown off his feet had he not braced himself, ducking into the attack just before it hit. It was like having a gale pound against him, only hundreds of times stronger and so hot his whole body stung from the blue fire.
His feet which were risen up onto their balls in the soft earth skidded back a pace, soft mud piling up around them. The fire took to Faolan's shield-arm in a heartbeat, the blue fire swelling and covering his entire limb, consuming it, his glove and clothes like the blazing house. 


Faolan shot forwards, fighting back the pain with a scream that died in his throat, his left arm dangling beside him, painfully aware it was covered in blue fire which was quickly spreading across his back. 
_Vehger's life. _The single thought of his friend pushed him on despite the pain. 
"Arasy-" the voice didn't get to finish it's spell this time. The object began to glow but Faolan brought his blade down with all the strength he could muster, dragging it through the soft fabric then flesh. 
The witches eyes rolled wide, he struggled backwards as blood pooled from the wound, but Faolan charged again, driving the blade right into the heart, twisting it and sliding it out sideways. 


The witch crumpled with the final strike, the life left his eyes in an instant. 


"NIVALIS, ANYONE, HELP!" The scream was Vehger's as he tackled Faolan to the ground, rolling on top of him, flapping his own clothing and arms and anything he could grab against Faolan's burning flesh. 
The blue fire that had consumed half of Faolan's torso by this point flickered and died away leaving smoking cloth and flesh exposed to the night air. But still Vehger rolled him until he was sure the fire was out, still screaming. 
Faolan had never heard anyone scream like that before, especially not the big brutish figure of Vehgermosa Daqon. The sound would haunt him for the rest of his life. 


Then Faolan realised he too was screaming; the pain had intesnified. His blood felt like it was on fire, coursing through his veins. His flesh was agonisingly painful. He was still screaming, but it sounded far off and distant, like it wasn't his own voice. 
"ANYONE, HELP!" Vehger roared again. "HELP!"


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## misusscarlet (Jul 15, 2012)

Let me just say that I enjoy the detail and descriptions you used in this chapter. You did not over use many words either. Which I find refreshing.  A few things though.
This sentence about his age isn't complete. What were you trying to convey when you said, "In winters." That single sentence confused me.



> nineteen winters old. That was how a man's age was measured in this cold, harsh part of Draenor. In winters.



The chapter is very good and you explain some of the mechanics of your world and the plot in a quick way that wants a reader to learn more. I would suggest going over the beginning though, refining a few paragraphs. Also could you leave out a few characters or find a different way of introducing them? You introduced quite a few characters as soldiers, had to reread a few parts to understand who is who.

I like your use of character names and characteristics. I don't know if you intended Nivalis' last name to be pespi and have dark blue hair but I could not help but laugh at how you made me think of a dark blue can of pepsi soda.


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## Gravehound (Jul 15, 2012)

A very entertaining read so far,
I am very interested to read the following chapters.

You a very specific with details, giving us enough to paint a clear picture of the surroundings without giving us an information-overload.
The characters you have created are easy to like and the conversations aren't at all forced

Just a few things that bother me:

- 'an ordinary soldier. Instead, being Raidel's son elevated him to a position within the Vorian, a position he had no right to hold, in his eyes at least.'
the last part of this sentence bothers me, 'in his eyes at least'. You are implying that others think of him as deserving of the rank Vorian, a fact that he himself can't possibly know.

- 'His dad's words echoed round inside his head as he hurried to catch up with the others, falling in at the back of the column beside Alavar. "All right lad?" he said, his mind clearly elsewhere.'
This part is poorly phrased: Does Alavar says 'all right lad?' or does Raidel does?
And who's mind is clearly elsewhere? Faolan or Alavar?

- It strikes me as odd that people from the same race can look so different : 
dark blue hair, salt and pepper hair, short black hair, ...
light mahogany skin, pale and freckeled skin, ...

Can't wait for more
Cheers GHound


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## Segrotlo (Jul 17, 2012)

Well, I thought I was just going to sample it but I couldn't stop.  You did something right.

I enjoyed it.  I feel I should offer some critique, though.

This line:
"His eyes were wide with the fear he had felt before dying still etched in them."  I just stumbled over it.  It just seemed rough compared to the rest of the chapter, which was smooth.

This line:
"He had seen death before; now he was about to stare it in the face."  This seems wrong logically - It almost sounds like saying "he had seen death; now he is about to see death."  Maybe you could say, "He had *never* seen death before; now he was about to stare it in the face."  

There was much I liked about it but I loved this line:
"Do't stp running!" Vehger shouted above the ringing, his voice almost drowned out." 

Keep going.


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## MichaelSTMears (Jul 18, 2012)

So glad of the positive feedback, thank you all. I am so glad you enjoyed reading my work and found yourselves hooked  Your suggestions made me realise a few things I had become almost blind to, I shall bear all of these in mind when I edit my chapter and write/edit my future chapters and work. 

Thank you very much for taking the time to look at this as it means a lot to me and I am extremely grateful. 

Mike


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## MichaelSTMears (Jul 18, 2012)

Amendments now made, thank you all again, chapter two coming in the next few hours/days 

Mike


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## Artanyis (Jul 20, 2012)

I quite enjoyed that.  you did a beautiful job of describing the world with just enough detail to allow my mind to flush it out, very well done.  It took me about half way through to be full hooked, but that's less then some books I've read.
The only thing I really have to say is that the open feels like a formulaic YA book.  I almost stopped just a couple paragraphs in because of this.  Right at the begging when he has the letter, it is addressed to him specifically, I realize these are the elite troops but wouldn't it make more sense if he was summoned by Nivalis, not the Lord himself?  By having him, the youngest ever to join, be personally summoned by the lord at night in a clandestine meeting...  you have to admit that there are at least a few choose your own adventure novels that begin that way.  With how well the rest is written I'm certain that you could rework those first few paragraphs to make it seem less YA and still keep the mystery and suspense in it.


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## Euripides (Jul 20, 2012)

The sentence that caught my eye was "More importantly, he was the only child to the Military General of Carno Dair, Raidel Tane, something all too clear just by his appearance." why is it all to clear just by is appearance that  he's the only son? 

Enjoyable read. I liked the names fantasy-ish without being 'weird', the level of detail - enough to give a sense of feel and place without going overboard (as a reader I like getting an idea, but being able to fill in my own detail), and after Faolan met with the other soldier, I just got pulled along into reading...the first couple of lines are rough compared to the rest.

looking forward to more!


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## MichaelSTMears (Jul 22, 2012)

Thanks for the advice folks  have made some wee adjustments but nothing too serious for now. I'm gonna bear it in mind and have a think about my phrasing before I change anything 

My second chapter is also on the fourms for critique and third is coming very soon. 

Mike


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## Jeko (Jul 22, 2012)

Hi MichaelSTMears,

I'll do my usual thing of looking at the first few lines.

_Faolan Tane pulled on his boots and checked (for the third time) the sword that was strapped around his waist. 

_We begin with then name, and it's a good name. It rolls off my brain without being too cliche, inviting the fantasy premise. You don't know how easy it is to lose your reader by starting with a name that had twenty consnants and two vowels...



> _(for the third time) _



I love the use of brackets. It feels natural, but it's really an interrupt. It shows multiple layers of thought in both the character and the narrator, which goes on to breed intelligence and trust from the reader.



> checked... _the sword that was strapped around his waist._



the idea here is that your character is either paranoid, entrenched in danger, or just cautious. Any of those are great perspectives for the reader to have for your character, especially from the first sentence.

_In the cold evening shadows of his room, he had lit an oil lamp on the table that butted up against one wall and orange light flickered behind the glass dome. 

_I like these 'cold evening shadows'. You tell the time, set the lighting and create atmosphere in no more than three simple words. Bravo.



> _he had lit an oil lamp on the table _



This helps the events of your character feel less linear, that the story comes together as one. An early reference to a simple part of the past makes the progression much more natural.



> _that butted up against one wall and orange light flickered behind the glass dome._



This is my one niggle - I feel like these should be separated. It might just be me, but I stumbled. If you think of it as how I was running so fast, because the story was feeling so good, and then I tripped here... well, I might have a broken arm or something. I would definitely do something to this sentence, to make it more natural like what it follows.

Overall, your opening has a lot of promise. I hope that this story goes really well for you.


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## MichaelSTMears (Jul 25, 2012)

Thank you very much, as always your advice is tremendously inspiring, driving and of course extremely helpful.

Mike


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