Agniputr-chapter one, need a critique guys.

[BSCVadhan]

Hi,
Happy New Year to all of you fabulous fantasy fantabulors!

Need a quick critique on this chapter.


[FONT=&quot]Agniputr[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]Prologue[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]1940[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]It was a vast room, almost the size of an Olympic football stadium. Half the room was in complete darkness. On the farthest corner of the room were a number of three feet high [FONT=&quot]samadhis,[/FONT] pyramidal tombs. There were small indentions on all four sides of the structures were oil lamps were lit, throwing an ephemeral glow.
[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]A pair of huge wooden doors, hidden in the darkness on the other end of the room marked the exit-way. In the light of the lamps, a lone man cast a long quivering shadow. He was a thin cadaverous individual with a dirty [/FONT]lungi[FONT=&quot] wrapped around his lower torso and a rough cotton blanket flung over his shoulders. His flat thin mouth was dry and small seedy eyes were resting on a particular [/FONT]Samadhi[FONT=&quot], a recent addition, not more than two days old. The name plate, black letters on brass, read ‘Rajah Raghuram Surya’. [/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]All of a sudden, the [FONT=&quot]Samadhis[/FONT] began to tremble, making the man smile briefly. Cracks raced across their cement midriffs. The earth itself shuddered once, twice and then stopped. The man took this as a sign that his machinations were working as he unconsciously nodded his head. With sudden vengeance, enormous surges concussed the earth, brilliant white light shot through widening cracks in the earth, like strobes in a disco. The man had not expected something as violent. The first pangs of panic hit him. It was not meant to be as violent, at least the [/FONT]nallanool[FONT=&quot], the black scriptures did not say so.
[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]When his crude metal trident slipped from his trembling hands and fell to the ground, the man started to back away, eyes riveted to the [/FONT]Samadhi[FONT=&quot] as though he was expecting a ghoul to break its way through the tomb.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]Dust and rocks shot to the fifty foot ceiling of the room without warning, like bullets from a gun and completing a hurried arc, hurtled downwards. They crashed to the ground; some wedged themselves in to the cracked floor of the room while others rolled down widening crevices. With a terrorised shriek, the man flung himself to the ground and watched helplessly as stones and rocks rained down around him. The [/FONT]Samadhis[FONT=&quot] were simply swallowed by the widening crevices. The ethereal light died abruptly, as though someone had turned off a switch, throwing the vast room into near total darkness. As though choreographed to precision, the earth stopped heaving and surging.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]The man, clearly terrified by the spectacle playing itself out, rose stealthily. He tightened the dirty [/FONT]lungi[FONT=&quot] which was, by then, lying on the floor. He did not wear undergarments, his genitals were shrivelled, with marks from self inflicted burns all over them. He pushed-dragged his matted hair back as best he could and crawled around clumsily until he found his trident. He grasped the cool metallic implement as though it was the only familiar comfort in a chaotic world. Covered in soot and dust, the man pulled himself to his feet wearily and examined the vast room. [/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]The cracks and crevices he had seen earlier were now a yawning chasm. He walked stealthily towards the huge gap in the ground. When he had reached the precipice, he leaned on to the trident and peered into the black hole that the ground had become. It was only then that he realised that his armpits were wet with sweat and his legs quivered weakly.
[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]Whatever he expected to see, he was not ready for the globule. He stared at the green skinned orb pulsing and pumping like a gigantic heart. It must have been at least two hundred feet under the ground and yet clearly visible, it was that big. The man guessed it was not as solid as it was when he had made it, nor was it what he expected to see. Tendrils of wind caressed the man, he screamed like his body was on fire. The hooks might have been invisible, at least to the naked eye but they were not painless as they sunk into his flesh, like a fish on a hook, the man was being pulled downwards, into the chasm. [/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]The man struggled like a beast on a leash; he sunk his trident into a cleft between the earth and a piece of jutting rock and tried to push himself away from the chasm. He felt his skin tear as more of the invisible hooks latched themselves to him.
[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]He observed the many thousands of tadpole-like creatures inside the globule, trying hard to break through the taut greenish mottled skin, he feel his skin prickling as he realised what they were. The man struggled hard, chanting hymns and incantations that seemed to have little or no effect on the green globule. Gigantic strands of grey hair weaved hither and thither as though the globule was underwater. He knew that they were not really hair; he recognised them as the probes, antennae that sucked in living flesh into the power within. [/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]Yet, the man felt it in his bones that the globule, imbibed as it was with demonic life, was unable to wield its power to its full potential, not yet anyway. It was powerful, sure, but it was also unwieldy, it needed to fine tune its own prowess. That was the only edge the man had and he meant to use it. He heaved again, ignoring the pain as he usually did until the hooks came loose with chunks of his flesh and bone still stuck to them. The man fell back onto the uneven ground writhing in pain and so did not see the globule gobble up his flesh. He screamed for a long time. He was still screaming as he crawled away from the chasm. [/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]Throwing open the thick wooden doors of the room, he ran down a lengthy hall and down an open ground. The castle loomed large in the background. The entire village had been in mourning because Rajah Raghuram Surya was dead, poisoned by his own brother. At that moment grief was forgotten in favour of a more primal emotion, survival. An earthquake had just shaken the sleepy town of Gudem, houses were on fire, children were crying and men and women were screaming. [/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]The man knew he had very little time left; his punctured heart was pumping out blood through the holes in his body. He stumbled through the castle gates, unmindful of the two leopards chained to the immense fifty foot gates. Aroused by the scent of blood from his open wounds, the beasts pounced at him but he barely noticed them, he knew their chains would not allow them near him. The man launched himself on the sturdy, well used rope tied to the bell of appeals. He used the entire weight of his damaged body to heave the mighty gong up and down. [/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]The [/FONT]Zamindar[FONT=&quot] appeared at the [FONT=&quot]Ambari[/FONT], the protruding bay on the first floor of the castle, in response to the bell of appeals. His white mane of hair against his black knee length [/FONT]Kurta[FONT=&quot] did not escape the man, after all the [/FONT]Zamindar[FONT=&quot] was in mourning.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
“[FONT=&quot]Rajah Garu[/FONT],” the man screamed in telugu, “Please [FONT=&quot]Rajah Garu[/FONT], I need to speak to you. It is of grave urgency.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
The man’s voice carried to the [/FONT]Zamindar[FONT=&quot] over the din of the villagers and the castle staff who had all assembled on the castle grounds, as if he’d bellowed through a mega phone. Along with the [/FONT]Zamindar[FONT=&quot], the man got the attention of everyone else.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]Servants and guards in the castle had quickly gathered around the bleeding man now on the ground, cordoning him off from angry villagers. They saw his wounds, holes drilled through his body on his chest stomach and legs. They could not stop themselves from being horrified and yet, there was no sympathy, not even pity in their eyes; instead, they started whispering amongst themselves. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
“Isn’t that the necromancer, the [/FONT]mantric[FONT=&quot] who was always with Rajah Bharatram?” a squat woman-servant whispered from behind the folds of her saree’s [/FONT]palu[FONT=&quot], which she held close to her mouth.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
“Looks like the *******. What the hell happened? It’s like someone’s drilled holes in to him,” said her husband, a man only inches taller than her. He was a guard at the castle.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
“Whoever did that has my support.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
“What the hell does he want now?” the man growled under his breath.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“Don’t know, but I wouldn’t worry about the *******, he’s caused enough harm. Do you know he used to steal our chicken? I couldn’t say a thing because Bharatram might hear of it. I didn’t much care to get near Bharatram when he was angry,” the woman complained to her husband.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
“Chicken? What are you saying woman? There were children missing and some of those senile farts who sat around cremation grounds to chat up. I think the ******* eats human flesh.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
An older guard joined them, “He destroyed them all. Bharatram poisoned Rajah Raghuram [/FONT]garu[FONT=&quot] and I am sure this scum had a hand in it. Such a great man, he would have made a good [/FONT]Zamindar[FONT=&quot]. Then he drove Bharatram crazy, not that he had to try hard, that fool was half mad anyway.” [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
“I hope he rots in hell,” the squat woman spat out, her eyes blazed venomously. Other servants and guards nodded their agreement silently. The roaring flames from the huge fire torches on the porch of the castle threw flickering shadows of the staff on the wounded man lying in their midst.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]The necromancer did not care much for the whispered gossip. Most of them were true anyway.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
“[FONT=&quot]Rajah Garu[/FONT]” he screamed hoarsely, “I have caused you grave harm...grave harm, you see, I killed your son.” [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
A collective gasp ensued from the gathered crowd. The [/FONT]Zamindar[FONT=&quot] went very still on the [FONT=&quot]Ambari[/FONT]. Seconds later the villagers cleared a path to make way for their ruler as he rushed down.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
“What? What did you say [FONT=&quot]lanja kodaka?”[/FONT][/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
“Yes, I am a son of a whore, I thought I could use his death...to gain...powers!” [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
“Powers! You son of a vagabond!” The [/FONT]Zamindar[FONT=&quot] was livid with rage.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]“But it gets worse Oh king. Your memorial vault is now the haunting ground of a demonic god; the stratum of agony. You must seal it my King. Please...”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
The [/FONT]Zamindar[FONT=&quot] hardly heard what the man had said.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
“You killed my son, [FONT=&quot]Oray, Rathaya, thiskura ra naa thupaki”[/FONT]! screamed the angry [/FONT]Zamindar[FONT=&quot].[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
A servant rushed to his side with a Winchester .20 bore repeater shotgun. The [/FONT]Zamindar[FONT=&quot] grabbed the gun and the cartridges and loaded the chamber with the practiced ease of a hunter.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
“[FONT=&quot]Rajah Garu[/FONT], kill me if you want to. Please listen to me first.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
“[FONT=&quot]Dhonga lanja kodaka[/FONT]...” the Zamindar swore under his breath holding the gun to his shoulder. The guards around the hapless man cleared away.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
“Let’s listen to him first.” [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
The speaker was a boy, not more than eleven years old. He wore a long kurta and pyjamas and apparently he had just woken. The boy’s eyes were bright, glistening with a life of their own in the firelight.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
“[FONT=&quot]Adhi Kaadhu nana Surya Prasad[/FONT], this son of a worthless worm confessed to killing you father.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
“[FONT=&quot]Thatha garu andi,[/FONT] lets listen to him first,” said the boy again, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. He was tall for an eleven year old, close to five feet nine inches. His voice carried a ring of authority that could not be slighted, not even by his grandfather from whom he derived that trait. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
“[FONT=&quot]Cheppi Chavu bikshap Lanja kodaka,[/FONT]” The old Zamindar spat out, his gun still aimed at the bleeding man.[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
The necromancer gulped, wetting his parched lips, he knew he did not have much time. He spat the blood trickling out of his mouth and spoke. [/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
“There is only one way to stop the stratum. You must learn the one word that won speech, that’s the only way to use the Agniputr.”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
“Agniputr?” the boy shook his head, “wait...”[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]
“There is no other way to stop the Stratum,” and before the necromancer could say anything further he flopped to the ground, dead.[/FONT]

 

[chrispenycate]

Hi,
Happy New Year to all of you fabulous fantasy fantabulors!

Need a quick critique on this chapter.


[FONT=&quot]Agniputr[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]Prologue[/FONT]
[FONT=&quot]1940[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]It was a vast room, almost the size of an Olympic football stadium. Half the room was in complete darkness. On

"In" rather than "on"?

the farthest corner of the room were a number of three feet high [FONT=&quot]samadhis,[/FONT] pyramidal tombs.

Could we find an alternative to oneof the "room"s?

There were small indentions on all four sides of the structures were

where

oil lamps were lit, throwing an ephemeral glow.

[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]A pair of huge wooden doors, hidden in the darkness on the other end of the room

comma

marked the exit-way. In the light of the lamps, a lone man cast a long

comma

quivering shadow. He was a thin cadaverous individual with a dirty

[/FONT]lungi[FONT=&quot] wrapped around his lower torso and a rough cotton blanket flung over his shoulders. His flat

comma

thin mouth was dry and small seedy eyes were resting on a particular

[/FONT]Samadhi[FONT=&quot], a recent addition, not more than two days old. The name plate, black letters on brass, read ‘Rajah Raghuram Surya’. [/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]All of a sudden, the [FONT=&quot]Samadhis[/FONT] began to tremble, making the man smile briefly. Cracks raced across their cement midriffs. The earth itself shuddered once, twice and then stopped. The man took this as a sign that his machinations were working as he unconsciously nodded his head. With sudden vengeance, enormous surges concussed the earth, brilliant white light shot through widening cracks in the earth, like strobes in a disco. The man had not expected something as violent. The first pangs of panic hit him. It was not meant to be as violent,

semicolon

at least the

[/FONT]nallanool[FONT=&quot], the black scriptures

comma

did not say so.

[/FONT]



[FONT=&quot]When his crude metal trident slipped from his trembling hands and fell to the ground,

no comma

the man started to back away, eyes riveted to the

[/FONT]Samadhi[FONT=&quot] as though he was expecting a ghoul to break its way through the tomb.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]Dust and rocks shot to the fifty foot ceiling of the room without warning, like bullets from a gun and

comma

completing a hurried arc, hurtled downwards. They crashed to the ground; some wedged themselves in to the cracked floor of the room while others rolled down widening crevices. With a terrorised shriek, the man flung himself to the ground and watched helplessly as stones and rocks rained down around him. The

[/FONT]Samadhis[FONT=&quot] were simply swallowed by the widening crevices. The ethereal light died abruptly, as though someone had turned off a switch, throwing the vast room into near total darkness. As though choreographed to precision, the earth stopped heaving and surging.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]The man, clearly terrified by the spectacle playing itself out, rose stealthily. He tightened the dirty [/FONT]lungi[FONT=&quot] which was, by then, lying on the floor. He did not wear undergarments, his genitals were shrivelled, with marks from self inflicted burns all over them. He pushed-dragged his matted hair back as best he could and crawled around clumsily until he found his trident. He grasped the cool metallic implement as though it was the only familiar comfort in a chaotic world. Covered in soot and dust, the man pulled himself to his feet wearily and examined the vast room. [/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]The cracks and crevices he had seen earlier were now a yawning chasm. He walked stealthily towards the huge gap in the ground. When he had reached the precipice, he leaned on to the trident and peered into the black hole that the ground had become. It was only then that he realised that his armpits were wet with sweat and his legs quivered weakly. [/FONT]



[FONT=&quot]Whatever he expected to see, he was not ready for the globule. He stared at the green skinned orb pulsing and pumping like a gigantic heart. It must have been at least two hundred feet under the ground and yet clearly visible, it was that big. The man guessed it was not as solid as it was when he had made it, nor was it what he expected to see. Tendrils of wind caressed the man,

Semicolon -- and gramatically that "like" should be an "as if"

he screamed like his body was on fire. The hooks might have been invisible, at least to the naked eye but they were not painless as they sunk into his flesh,

Full stop

like a fish on a hook, the man was being pulled downwards, into the chasm.

[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]The man struggled like a beast on a leash; he sunk

sank

his trident into a cleft between the earth and a piece of jutting rock and tried to push himself away from the chasm. He felt his skin tear as more of the invisible hooks latched themselves to him.

[/FONT]



[FONT=&quot]He observed the many thousands of tadpole-like creatures inside the globule, trying hard to break through the taut greenish mottled skin,

perhaps a semicolon, perhaps an "and" instead of the "he", but anyway "felt" instead of "feel"

he feel his skin prickling as he realised what they were. The man struggled hard, chanting hymns and incantations that seemed to have little or no effect on the green globule. Gigantic strands of grey hair weaved

wove?

hither and thither as though the globule was underwater. He knew that they were not really hair; he recognised them as the probes, antennae that sucked in living flesh into the power within.

[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]Yet, the man felt it in his bones that the globule, imbibed as it was with demonic life, was unable to wield its power to its full potential, not yet anyway. It was powerful, sure, but it was also unwieldy

semicolon

, it needed to fine tune its own prowess. That was the only edge the man had and he meant to use it. He heaved again, ignoring the pain as he usually did

comma

until the hooks came loose with chunks of his flesh and bone still stuck to them. The man fell back onto the uneven ground

comma

writhing in pain

comma

and so did not see the globule gobble up his flesh. He screamed for a long time. He was still screaming as he crawled away from the chasm.

[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]Throwing open the thick wooden doors of the room, he ran down a lengthy hall and down an open ground. The castle loomed large in the background. The entire village had been in mourning because Rajah Raghuram Surya was dead, poisoned by his own brother. At that moment grief was forgotten in favour of a more primal emotion, survival. An earthquake had just shaken the sleepy town of Gudem,

semicolon

houses were on fire, children were crying and men and women were screaming.

[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]The man knew he had very little time left; his punctured heart was pumping out blood through the holes in his body. He stumbled through the castle gates, unmindful of the two leopards chained to the immense fifty foot gates. Aroused by the scent of blood from his open wounds, the beasts pounced at him but he barely noticed them,

semicolon

he knew their chains would not allow them near him. The man launched himself on the sturdy, well used rope tied to the bell of appeals. He used the entire weight of his damaged body to heave the mighty gong up and down.

gong or bell? (not interchangeable)

[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]The [/FONT]Zamindar[FONT=&quot] appeared at the [FONT=&quot]Ambari[/FONT], the protruding bay on the first floor of the castle, in response to the bell of appeals. His white mane of hair against his black knee length [/FONT]Kurta[FONT=&quot] did not escape the man,

semicolon

after all the

[/FONT]Zamindar[FONT=&quot] was in mourning.[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“[FONT=&quot]Rajah Garu[/FONT],” the man screamed in telugu, “Please [FONT=&quot]Rajah Garu[/FONT], I need to speak to you. It is of grave urgency.”[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]The man’s voice carried to the [/FONT]Zamindar[FONT=&quot] over the din of the villagers and the castle staff who had all assembled on the castle grounds, as if he’d bellowed through a mega phone

megaphone

. Along with the

[/FONT]Zamindar[FONT=&quot], the man got the attention of everyone else.

confused

[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]Servants and guards in the castle had quickly gathered around the bleeding man now on the ground, cordoning him off from angry villagers. They saw his wounds, holes drilled through his body on his chest

comma, and possibly "in his chest..."

stomach and legs. They could not stop themselves from being horrified and yet,

no comma

there was no sympathy, not even pity in their eyes; instead, they started whispering amongst themselves.

[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“Isn’t that the necromancer, the [/FONT]mantric[FONT=&quot] who was always with Rajah Bharatram?” a squat woman-servant whispered from behind the folds of her saree’s [/FONT]palu[FONT=&quot], which she held close to her mouth.[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“Looks like the *******. What the hell happened? It’s like someone’s drilled holes in to him,” said her husband, a man only inches taller than her. He was a guard at the castle.[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“Whoever did that has my support.”[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“What the hell does he want now?” the man growled under his breath.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]“Don’t know, but I wouldn’t worry about the *******,

semicolon

he’s caused enough harm. Do you know he used to steal our chicken? I couldn’t say a thing because Bharatram might hear of it. I didn’t much care to get near Bharatram when he was angry,” the woman complained to her husband.

[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“Chicken? What are you saying woman? There were children missing and some of those senile farts who sat around cremation grounds to chat up. I think the ******* eats human flesh.”[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]An older guard joined them, “He destroyed them all. Bharatram poisoned Rajah Raghuram [/FONT]garu[FONT=&quot] and I am sure this scum had a hand in it. Such a great man, he would have made a good [/FONT]Zamindar[FONT=&quot]. Then he drove Bharatram crazy, not that he had to try hard, that fool was half mad anyway.” [/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“I hope he rots in hell,” the squat woman spat out,

full stop or "blazing" instead of "blazed".

her eyes blazed venomously. Other servants and guards nodded their agreement silently. The roaring flames from the huge fire torches on the porch of the castle threw flickering shadows of the staff on the wounded man lying in their midst.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]The necromancer did not care much for

about?

the whispered gossip. Most of them were

most of it was?

true anyway.

[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“[FONT=&quot]Rajah Garu

comma

[/FONT]” he screamed hoarsely, “I have caused you grave harm...grave harm,

Full stop

you see, I killed your son.” [/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]A collective gasp ensued from the gathered crowd. The [/FONT]Zamindar[FONT=&quot] went very still on the [FONT=&quot]Ambari[/FONT]. Seconds later the villagers cleared a path to make way for their ruler as he rushed down.[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“What? What did you say

comma

[FONT=&quot]lanja kodaka?”[/FONT][/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]“Yes, I am a son of a whore, I thought I could use his death...to gain...powers!” [/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“Powers! You son of a vagabond!” The [/FONT]Zamindar[FONT=&quot] was livid with rage.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]“But it gets worse

comma

Oh king. Your memorial vault is now the haunting ground of a demonic god; the stratum of agony. You must seal it

comma

my King. Please...”

[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]The [/FONT]Zamindar[FONT=&quot] hardly heard what the man had said.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]“You killed my son, [FONT=&quot]Oray, Rathaya, thiskura ra naa thupaki”[/FONT]!

exclamation mark inside quotes.

screamed the angry [/FONT]

Zamindar[FONT=&quot].[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]A servant rushed to his side with a Winchester .

no decimal point in 20 bore.

20 bore repeater shotgun. The [/FONT]

Zamindar[FONT=&quot] grabbed the gun and the cartridges and loaded the chamber with the practiced ease of a hunter.[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“[FONT=&quot]Rajah Garu[/FONT], kill me if you want to. Please listen to me first.”[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“[FONT=&quot]Dhonga lanja kodaka[/FONT]...” the Zamindar swore under his breath

comma

holding the gun to his shoulder. The guards around the hapless man cleared away.[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]“Let’s listen to him first.” [/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]The speaker was a boy, not more than eleven years old. He wore a long kurta and pyjamas and apparently he had just woken. The boy’s eyes were bright, glistening with a life of their own in the firelight.[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“[FONT=&quot]Adhi Kaadhu nana Surya Prasad[/FONT], this son of a worthless worm confessed to killing you

your

father.”[/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]“[FONT=&quot]Thatha garu andi,[/FONT] lets

let's

listen to him first,” said the boy again, standing with his hands clasped behind his back. He was tall for an eleven year old, close to five feet nine inches. His voice carried a ring of authority that could not be slighted, not even by his grandfather from whom he derived that trait. [/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]“[FONT=&quot]Cheppi Chavu bikshap Lanja kodaka,[/FONT]” The old Zamindar spat out, his gun still aimed at the bleeding man.[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]The necromancer gulped, wetting his parched lips,

semicolon

he knew he did not have much time. He spat the blood trickling out of his mouth and spoke. [/FONT]

[FONT=&quot]“There is only one way to stop the stratum. You must learn the one word that won speech, that’s the only way to use the Agniputr.”[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“Agniputr?” the boy shook his head, “wait...”[/FONT]


[FONT=&quot]“There is no other way to stop the Stratum,” and

comma

before the necromancer could say anything further

comma

he flopped to the ground, dead.[/FONT]