Precise Calibre
Storywright
- Joined
- Nov 12, 2007
- Messages
- 447
I posted an excerpt from my book's prologue a long time ago. Having rewritten it almost completely, I am inclined to post a short segment of it here to test opinions of its over-all tone, flow and appeal. Any and all comments are welcome. Please note that the whole prologue is over fifteen pages long and I am currently in the process of pruning it to the right size. This is the tail-end of it.
[Previous Action Available Upon Request]
He awoke with a start and sat up sharply, thrashing wildly around him with the sword which had stayed miraculously in his grasp. The moment of disorientation passed and he glanced around furtively from his place on the ground. Smoke was hanging heavily in the air.
His left arm twinged as if he had dipped it in scalding water; he held it up to examine in the flickering firelight and found it ragged, singed and bloody. Isaac was sure that it simply appeared worse than it truly was. He turned around slowly when the fire's warmth on his back finally registered; he spied a squat behemoth of a tree across from him in the small clearing, steadily burning, keeping away the darkness of the deep woods. Oddly, the fire had not spread to the surrounding area.
Upon the trunk of the unfortunate giant, Isaac could see that someone had long ago carved symbols into the flesh of its smooth bark. They were slowly burning away into the night as the fire consumed the tree. He could sense something hanging in the air besides the smoke, something old and powerful.
He unsteadily regained his feet and tried to shake the cobwebs from of his head. Memory of the things which stalked him hurtled back to him at that very instant, causing his fist to tighten around the sword's handle. He spun around wildly, his eyes darting to every shadow in the woods beyond the clearing. They would be after him soon, he knew and this time they would not fail - he was out of tricks. He was wounded and disoriented. They had the numbers whereas he was alone. And those arms with their claws, like Waltzen had said, so fast...
By comparison, the blade in his hand seemed like a toy – he seriously doubted he'd get a swing in if they came for him, especially now. A tight knot had worked its way down his throat and seemed to be making itself at home in his chest – every shadow dancing outside of the firelight was now a possible enemy, every blot of black that swam across his vision, a potential threat. He was jumping at nothing, at everything.
The sound once again came forth from the depths of the forest to greet him, as if invited by his frayed nerves, his doubt. The tree behind him burned slowly, the lazy fire consuming it with a strange, almost sluggish nonchalance. He could hear them coming again, with deliberate, slow care as if they dared not approach too quickly this time. They were being cautious, were going to play it safe with him before coming in to devour him. He steeled himself for the last time against his failing courage, and held the sword in front of himself defensively. He glanced up at the sky where Vusahlia's globe was still hidden behind the clouds and uttered a prayer to the goddess of the same name, beseeching her for a way out, for salvation.
As he stood his ground, arm quivering, sword in hand, the fire behind him burned slowly to a dull glow, unable to devour the imbued tree completely. Shafts of amber light winkled down through the clouds as Vusahlia attempted to break through one last time. In the trees ahead, Isaac saw shapes moving towards him, long arms leading the way for squat forms, obscured by shadow.
The howl picked up pitch once again, that same triumphant song from before. As the first of the things broke the tree line with a casual pace, darkness washed over the clearing – The amber light of the moon was smothered by clouds which mercilessly covered her face – With his head reeling, Isaac gazed blindly into the deepest of the shadows and knew that, with the darkness, so too approached his end.
[Previous Action Available Upon Request]
He awoke with a start and sat up sharply, thrashing wildly around him with the sword which had stayed miraculously in his grasp. The moment of disorientation passed and he glanced around furtively from his place on the ground. Smoke was hanging heavily in the air.
His left arm twinged as if he had dipped it in scalding water; he held it up to examine in the flickering firelight and found it ragged, singed and bloody. Isaac was sure that it simply appeared worse than it truly was. He turned around slowly when the fire's warmth on his back finally registered; he spied a squat behemoth of a tree across from him in the small clearing, steadily burning, keeping away the darkness of the deep woods. Oddly, the fire had not spread to the surrounding area.
Upon the trunk of the unfortunate giant, Isaac could see that someone had long ago carved symbols into the flesh of its smooth bark. They were slowly burning away into the night as the fire consumed the tree. He could sense something hanging in the air besides the smoke, something old and powerful.
He unsteadily regained his feet and tried to shake the cobwebs from of his head. Memory of the things which stalked him hurtled back to him at that very instant, causing his fist to tighten around the sword's handle. He spun around wildly, his eyes darting to every shadow in the woods beyond the clearing. They would be after him soon, he knew and this time they would not fail - he was out of tricks. He was wounded and disoriented. They had the numbers whereas he was alone. And those arms with their claws, like Waltzen had said, so fast...
By comparison, the blade in his hand seemed like a toy – he seriously doubted he'd get a swing in if they came for him, especially now. A tight knot had worked its way down his throat and seemed to be making itself at home in his chest – every shadow dancing outside of the firelight was now a possible enemy, every blot of black that swam across his vision, a potential threat. He was jumping at nothing, at everything.
The sound once again came forth from the depths of the forest to greet him, as if invited by his frayed nerves, his doubt. The tree behind him burned slowly, the lazy fire consuming it with a strange, almost sluggish nonchalance. He could hear them coming again, with deliberate, slow care as if they dared not approach too quickly this time. They were being cautious, were going to play it safe with him before coming in to devour him. He steeled himself for the last time against his failing courage, and held the sword in front of himself defensively. He glanced up at the sky where Vusahlia's globe was still hidden behind the clouds and uttered a prayer to the goddess of the same name, beseeching her for a way out, for salvation.
As he stood his ground, arm quivering, sword in hand, the fire behind him burned slowly to a dull glow, unable to devour the imbued tree completely. Shafts of amber light winkled down through the clouds as Vusahlia attempted to break through one last time. In the trees ahead, Isaac saw shapes moving towards him, long arms leading the way for squat forms, obscured by shadow.
The howl picked up pitch once again, that same triumphant song from before. As the first of the things broke the tree line with a casual pace, darkness washed over the clearing – The amber light of the moon was smothered by clouds which mercilessly covered her face – With his head reeling, Isaac gazed blindly into the deepest of the shadows and knew that, with the darkness, so too approached his end.
