Slugbaby
New Member
If been working on a few personal exercises in writing style. This is the result of one such exercise and I was wondering what people thought? Sorry had to post in parts.
TALES FROM MARKESH: ONE; OLD NED
Lying on his back and looking skyward Flynn absorbed the warmth of the new sun. In the forested canopy above birds danced carelessly from tree to tree. Such peace was a rarity and allowed a freedom the boy had never before experienced. Gone were the curfews and the fear. Now free to wander he explored the forest in the way only a boy of twelve knew how. A great warrior, a powerful mage and a brave explorer, like those who had arrived from the west a year earlier; Flynn had been all of these things these past weeks.
A sudden crack of a dead branch alerted Flynn to the presence of another, bolting upright he was hit full in the face by a soggy turf. Shocked and spluttering he gained his footing to the sound of giggling from his flank. Wiping his face he caught a glimpse of his assailant, it was Cameron, a boy from the next settlement.
‘Blast you Cameron, I’ll get you for that,’ blurted Flynn taking after the fleeting lad.
Scooping a handful of mud en route Flynn’s slight build and long limbs saw him quickly gaining on the shorter and rather squat Cameron. A well positioned foot easily downed the lad seeing him tumble awkwardly along the forest floor. Grazes quickly opened, courtesy of the friction of the sudden halt. His bare arms and knees stung from the impact, and a face full of fallen pine needles was soon joined by a dollop of the mud. Flynn made a victorious cheer, happy with his revenge.
‘I win!’ He cried, ‘third time this week, you really should pick on someone your own size Cam, maybe you’d get away then?’ said a jeering Flynn, who was two years Cameron’s senior.
‘Err!’ squealed Cameron in disgust, ‘what av ya covered me in, its orrid.’
Flynn lifted his muddy hand to his nose and with a sniff spluttered, ‘yuk! Your right, it stinks, sorry!’
‘Least mine was dry,’ argued Cameron, ‘this stuff’s rotten.’ Flynn offering his hand to the fallen boy added,
‘I said I’m sorry, now come on lets wash this mess off in the river.’ Side by side the two friends made their way towards the bough of the old oak. Its exposed meandering roots formed a small sheltered pool free of the frenzied torrents of the river.
Washing off the fresh grime Flynn questioned Cameron, ‘thought you were going away today, couldn’t resist the thought of a sly ambush or what?
‘Haven’t you heard?’ replied Cameron, ‘the call to arms was made, my dads gone, left last night.’ Flynn looked surprised, he had heard nothing, perhaps because his own father had died following the last calling.
‘I’m sorry Cam, I didn’t know.’
‘Why ya sorry, he’ll be back, he’s my dad,’ replied Cameron he knew Flynn’s father was dead but his father was very much alive and well, those sorts of things happened to other people, didn’t they?
‘Another calling, I thought the green men were beaten at the Seat of the Ten Tribes, my father gave his life there so we could be safe.’ Flynn’s words indicated the pain he still felt from his father’s absence; he did not wish Cameron to experience the same.
‘Oh! It’s not the green men, they’re off over the mountains this time,’ said Cameron, oblivious to Flynn’s concerns.
‘The dwarf lands?’ Asked Flynn not allowing time for an answer. ‘I didn’t know the dwarves were our enemy? I’d always thought they were friendly?’ Flynn was little confused by what he was hearing, and though twelve and quite mature, did not truly understand the ways of the world.
‘I don’t think they’re gonna fight em!’ replied Cameron, ‘I think they’re off to help em. Fight with them, against those owl-men I shouldn’t wonder?’
‘The Ajya-na-ku, nah! No one’s brave enough to pick a fight with them. You most probably heard wrong.’ Said Flynn convinced his young friend was definitely wrong.
‘No, I didn’t!’ snapped Cameron, taking instant offence to Flynn’s doubting of him.
‘They are so gonna fight em! An my dad’s gonna show em what for, you’ll see!’ Blurted out Cameron has he splashed Flynn with water.
‘Eh! Stop that!’ Said Flynn directing his own handful of icy water back in Cameron’s direction. Not knowing when to give in Cameron leaped off the root he had been perched and landed with full force in the small pool. A huge splash of water drenched the two boys and Flynn unthinking stepped backward. The tangled roots now caused him to lose balance.
Cameron watched in horror as his friend toppled over the edge of the small pool with a panicked yell. Arms flaying he disappeared into the rapids of the great river. The intense cold took his breath and though he called out no words were formed. Struggling to escape the watery flow he could just make out his friend rushing along the river bank in an attempt to follow him. Before long his friend disappeared from view.
Flynn had been taught to swim by his father and though competent needed all his skill just to keep his head above water. Over and over he spun, washed along by the mighty force of the violent river. Rocks battered and bruised the passing lad adding to his ordeal. On and on he went in a matter of moments that to him felt like an age. A sharp crack of his skull and he was gone. Overtaken by darkness his journey had ended.
The tantalising odour of a stewing broth caused senses to spring to life. Opening his eyes, Flynn’s confusion was bolstered by an intense throbbing within his skull. Glowing embers drew the eye away from the nightly mantle and offered a strange sense of security. A feeling he had not felt since his father’s departure. Wrapped in wolf-skins, Flynn suddenly remembered the river and noticed his clothes were missing. He sat up scanning the area of the fire for signs of his saviour when a calm voice broke the silence.
‘Awake are ye? You’re a lucky one. If I hadn’ta been crossing when I had the River Snappers would’ve had ya. Horrid little water dragons so they are.’ The drawing glow of a pipe instantly brought the man’s location to the fore.
‘Old Neds, what they calls me and you’ll be in my debt now my young son!’
A little confused and suddenly aware of the number of tender points about his body Flynn said, ‘I thank you Sir, the water had taken the best of me, I thought I was done for.’ He paused for breath noting a pain in his chest, then asked, ‘where am I?’
‘We’re just short of the Cruel Sea, another mile or so and you’d surely have been lost good and proper. The fates must be looking out for ya.’ Said Old Ned before taking another puff of his pipe.
‘Oh! No!’ exclaimed Flynn, ‘that’s miles from my home, mother’ll be going mad.’
‘Don’t fret lad, least yer alive, she’ll be thankful of that when she finds yer again. Now come here and grab a bowl a broth, it’ll see ya right. Yer clothes should be dry now, they’re on the right there near the fire.’ Ned spoke has he leant forward to ladle dollops of warm broth into a large wooden bowl.
Flynn found his trousers and pulling them on joined the old man at the fire.
‘Here,’ offered Ned has he handed the youth the bowl. ‘Watch it, it’s a little hot, but fulla goodness.’
Flynn took the bowl and immediately tucked into the broth. Its taste was most welcome and warmed the boy, further adding to the growing trust he felt for this elderly stranger.
The hoot of an owl suddenly saw Old Ned spring to his feet. ‘Quiet lad, now there’s a good boy, we’ve got company.’ A blinding flash and the stench of brimstone was quickly replaced by a cloud of thick smoke that plunged the wood-line into impenetrable darkness. An unseen commotion saw Flynn running for cover. Uncertain of what was happening he found refuge beneath a nearby tree. Straining his eyes the boy tried desperately to see just what was happening.
A sharp cry was quickly followed by a flash which momentarily lit up the immediate area. Flynn noted Old Ned orchestrating his arms in large sweeping motions has two dark figures flew about his body. Once again in darkness Flynn felt a sudden rush of air has the two flighty figures shot past his position. Crashing through the dense canopy of the trees the birds disappeared just as quickly as they had arrived.
TALES FROM MARKESH: ONE; OLD NED
Lying on his back and looking skyward Flynn absorbed the warmth of the new sun. In the forested canopy above birds danced carelessly from tree to tree. Such peace was a rarity and allowed a freedom the boy had never before experienced. Gone were the curfews and the fear. Now free to wander he explored the forest in the way only a boy of twelve knew how. A great warrior, a powerful mage and a brave explorer, like those who had arrived from the west a year earlier; Flynn had been all of these things these past weeks.
A sudden crack of a dead branch alerted Flynn to the presence of another, bolting upright he was hit full in the face by a soggy turf. Shocked and spluttering he gained his footing to the sound of giggling from his flank. Wiping his face he caught a glimpse of his assailant, it was Cameron, a boy from the next settlement.
‘Blast you Cameron, I’ll get you for that,’ blurted Flynn taking after the fleeting lad.
Scooping a handful of mud en route Flynn’s slight build and long limbs saw him quickly gaining on the shorter and rather squat Cameron. A well positioned foot easily downed the lad seeing him tumble awkwardly along the forest floor. Grazes quickly opened, courtesy of the friction of the sudden halt. His bare arms and knees stung from the impact, and a face full of fallen pine needles was soon joined by a dollop of the mud. Flynn made a victorious cheer, happy with his revenge.
‘I win!’ He cried, ‘third time this week, you really should pick on someone your own size Cam, maybe you’d get away then?’ said a jeering Flynn, who was two years Cameron’s senior.
‘Err!’ squealed Cameron in disgust, ‘what av ya covered me in, its orrid.’
Flynn lifted his muddy hand to his nose and with a sniff spluttered, ‘yuk! Your right, it stinks, sorry!’
‘Least mine was dry,’ argued Cameron, ‘this stuff’s rotten.’ Flynn offering his hand to the fallen boy added,
‘I said I’m sorry, now come on lets wash this mess off in the river.’ Side by side the two friends made their way towards the bough of the old oak. Its exposed meandering roots formed a small sheltered pool free of the frenzied torrents of the river.
Washing off the fresh grime Flynn questioned Cameron, ‘thought you were going away today, couldn’t resist the thought of a sly ambush or what?
‘Haven’t you heard?’ replied Cameron, ‘the call to arms was made, my dads gone, left last night.’ Flynn looked surprised, he had heard nothing, perhaps because his own father had died following the last calling.
‘I’m sorry Cam, I didn’t know.’
‘Why ya sorry, he’ll be back, he’s my dad,’ replied Cameron he knew Flynn’s father was dead but his father was very much alive and well, those sorts of things happened to other people, didn’t they?
‘Another calling, I thought the green men were beaten at the Seat of the Ten Tribes, my father gave his life there so we could be safe.’ Flynn’s words indicated the pain he still felt from his father’s absence; he did not wish Cameron to experience the same.
‘Oh! It’s not the green men, they’re off over the mountains this time,’ said Cameron, oblivious to Flynn’s concerns.
‘The dwarf lands?’ Asked Flynn not allowing time for an answer. ‘I didn’t know the dwarves were our enemy? I’d always thought they were friendly?’ Flynn was little confused by what he was hearing, and though twelve and quite mature, did not truly understand the ways of the world.
‘I don’t think they’re gonna fight em!’ replied Cameron, ‘I think they’re off to help em. Fight with them, against those owl-men I shouldn’t wonder?’
‘The Ajya-na-ku, nah! No one’s brave enough to pick a fight with them. You most probably heard wrong.’ Said Flynn convinced his young friend was definitely wrong.
‘No, I didn’t!’ snapped Cameron, taking instant offence to Flynn’s doubting of him.
‘They are so gonna fight em! An my dad’s gonna show em what for, you’ll see!’ Blurted out Cameron has he splashed Flynn with water.
‘Eh! Stop that!’ Said Flynn directing his own handful of icy water back in Cameron’s direction. Not knowing when to give in Cameron leaped off the root he had been perched and landed with full force in the small pool. A huge splash of water drenched the two boys and Flynn unthinking stepped backward. The tangled roots now caused him to lose balance.
Cameron watched in horror as his friend toppled over the edge of the small pool with a panicked yell. Arms flaying he disappeared into the rapids of the great river. The intense cold took his breath and though he called out no words were formed. Struggling to escape the watery flow he could just make out his friend rushing along the river bank in an attempt to follow him. Before long his friend disappeared from view.
Flynn had been taught to swim by his father and though competent needed all his skill just to keep his head above water. Over and over he spun, washed along by the mighty force of the violent river. Rocks battered and bruised the passing lad adding to his ordeal. On and on he went in a matter of moments that to him felt like an age. A sharp crack of his skull and he was gone. Overtaken by darkness his journey had ended.
The tantalising odour of a stewing broth caused senses to spring to life. Opening his eyes, Flynn’s confusion was bolstered by an intense throbbing within his skull. Glowing embers drew the eye away from the nightly mantle and offered a strange sense of security. A feeling he had not felt since his father’s departure. Wrapped in wolf-skins, Flynn suddenly remembered the river and noticed his clothes were missing. He sat up scanning the area of the fire for signs of his saviour when a calm voice broke the silence.
‘Awake are ye? You’re a lucky one. If I hadn’ta been crossing when I had the River Snappers would’ve had ya. Horrid little water dragons so they are.’ The drawing glow of a pipe instantly brought the man’s location to the fore.
‘Old Neds, what they calls me and you’ll be in my debt now my young son!’
A little confused and suddenly aware of the number of tender points about his body Flynn said, ‘I thank you Sir, the water had taken the best of me, I thought I was done for.’ He paused for breath noting a pain in his chest, then asked, ‘where am I?’
‘We’re just short of the Cruel Sea, another mile or so and you’d surely have been lost good and proper. The fates must be looking out for ya.’ Said Old Ned before taking another puff of his pipe.
‘Oh! No!’ exclaimed Flynn, ‘that’s miles from my home, mother’ll be going mad.’
‘Don’t fret lad, least yer alive, she’ll be thankful of that when she finds yer again. Now come here and grab a bowl a broth, it’ll see ya right. Yer clothes should be dry now, they’re on the right there near the fire.’ Ned spoke has he leant forward to ladle dollops of warm broth into a large wooden bowl.
Flynn found his trousers and pulling them on joined the old man at the fire.
‘Here,’ offered Ned has he handed the youth the bowl. ‘Watch it, it’s a little hot, but fulla goodness.’
Flynn took the bowl and immediately tucked into the broth. Its taste was most welcome and warmed the boy, further adding to the growing trust he felt for this elderly stranger.
The hoot of an owl suddenly saw Old Ned spring to his feet. ‘Quiet lad, now there’s a good boy, we’ve got company.’ A blinding flash and the stench of brimstone was quickly replaced by a cloud of thick smoke that plunged the wood-line into impenetrable darkness. An unseen commotion saw Flynn running for cover. Uncertain of what was happening he found refuge beneath a nearby tree. Straining his eyes the boy tried desperately to see just what was happening.
A sharp cry was quickly followed by a flash which momentarily lit up the immediate area. Flynn noted Old Ned orchestrating his arms in large sweeping motions has two dark figures flew about his body. Once again in darkness Flynn felt a sudden rush of air has the two flighty figures shot past his position. Crashing through the dense canopy of the trees the birds disappeared just as quickly as they had arrived.
Cool story. You need a little work on your comma usage (more of them to clarify things up). Also, get some apostrophies in there where necessary, and maybe throw in a few sentence breakers ("."); some of your running sentences could easily be turned into multiple sentences to tighten things up.