Thread: Prologue

So, it's been a long time since I've posted a story for critique. I'm open to anything given and I will repay the favor to any critique (as long as it's more than a one-liner type response of, "I liked it." or "I don't like it."). The premise of the prologue is an event that takes place two decades before the main storyline and pot and majorly is used as foreshadowing and build-up. I think this is the most updated version of the novel selection. If there is one that is more complete, I'll edit it.



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Genre: Epic Fantasy/Sword & Sorcery
Word Count: 1062


A ferocious sandstorm veiled the skies for leagues, stretching in all directions immeasurably throughout the province of Salrozo. Hidden within the fatal, scathing winds was a cloaked man, alone in the labyrinth of the desert. He strode purposefully through the gale with a long, silver blade, with a red-laced hilt and black circular wiring. The man carried the weapon with the tip to the ground, the point creating small swirls gracefully in the white sands while it trailed behind him. The cloak covered head to toe, tattered, brown, and plain with no insignia of region or alliance, and blew vigorously with the storm.

The sands gusted through the air in a cyclone, the sound deafening and silent at the same time. It pushed at the man, the penetrating sands sharp as glass and cutting away at the cloak, leaving tears that blew the slivers of fabric swinging in the winds, some still slightly attached to the source while others became lost to the gale. The body below the fabric began to receive the same cuts, at first very thin, but as it continued, began to rip and tear at the flesh. Small chunks of skin, muscle, and blood fled the body into the wind and circled the figure as he walked without interruption. The blade never lifted from its drawn state, never a twinge of agony as the winds tore flesh from bone. It simply followed the berated man that continued through the gale with purpose and reason. His mind consistently replayed variables and outcomes to his mission, some favorable and allowing him to finally rest in peace, while others reminding him of his eternal servitude.

Thick black vines tore from the skin, peeling away from the body and spiraling about with the brown fabric, growing longer from the body but never completely detached from the pummeling shards of glass-like wind. A hiss bellowed from the trailing plant, an ear-splitting resonance that crackled louder through the sounds of the sand blizzard. As the ebony fauna from his flesh shrieked in pain, his skin and muscles slowly started to regenerate, though the blood seeped and gushed from every artery and vein the sand could cut. The regeneration was gradual and savage, but it was necessary if the figure was to complete his task; a mission that had been handed down to him millennia before.

The sand finally had torn the last strand that hid the face of a magnificently handsome, young man with lightly tanned skin, strong cheekbones, but deceptively old eyes that burned with countless eons of knowledge, power, wisdom, and fury. His light brown hair shaven close to the scalp, as if it had never grown, and was barely noticeable. The sand tore at his skull with the same ferocity, and just as quickly, it repaired itself with the vines hissing and sewing the wounds shut. He didn’t squint, blink, or flinch as the sand bit and took slivers of his grey-blue eyes that shined brighter than the desert sun. The dryness and heat of the air assailed his body, the lack of water or substances overbearingly noticeable to even him, though not necessary. He reprimanded himself for the weakness of feeble mortals as he continued to drag the blade in the sand through the storm towards the Salrozian Dunes, the clever hiding place of a secret power. The mystical force was small and a manifestation of a magical energy, and it was the only item that could lead him directly to his goal.

The Deities of Nyx could not sheath the blade of vengeance, rage, and pain that figure carried. Those gods and goddesses had trapped him in this vortex of time to the Cackra, the very being of ultimate power. The Deities knew of his master’spower, and fled willingly from the planet. A power similar to the Cackra’s was poorly duplicated in others in a feeble attempt to thwart his master, but he knew the truth about the replicated power: only he, the man called by many the Sin of the All-One. He had lived long enough to laugh off all the other names: the demi-devil, the deathwalker, the Dedra’s Breath. He was merely Sinuos, the blade of his master, the steel of the Cackra.

Sinuos slowly climbed the first mountainous dune that was starting to rise as he thought of the many things he would face in his attempt to complete his undertaking. His trek up the continuous ridge of sand would lift him high above the desert floor, allowing a perfect position for him to see leagues afar. The wind gave way only long enough for it to masterfully change courses and berate him from the other side, causing the same amount of damage. Pieces of Sinuos’ cloak blew above his knee, allowing the shrapnel to attack skeletal bones that were healing much slower than his other wounds had. The bones reconfigured, sinew and marrow forming, bones crusting over, tendons attaching to the bones, muscle tissue and for the first time in ages, his skin completely reformed. The sand had no effect to the damage time and death had already caused until it had finally revived itself fully. His battered and worn leather boots sank into the ever-slightly rising dune he treaded. Towards the top of the scape, the gust brought up a wall of pure white, glass sharp sand that would push over and tumble any other man, but for Sinuos, it was air. Only the sword felt its might. The sand scratched at the battle-worn sword with the red-laced hilt and black circular wiring, sharpening the weapon.

At long last, he had reached the top of the dune, but steadied only long enough to take in the view of thousands of dunes spreading across a sea of sand as far as the eyes could see and further. The desert whirlwind continued for just as many leagues, shifting the dunes south inch by inch. Without an emotion, thought, or stall, he continued into the perdition in search. Sinuos may have been thwarted by circumstance before, but he wouldn’t fail his master this time. In times past, the odds were still always in his favor, and they hadn’t changed.

He would find and deliver the Aurora or it would die by his blade.

I enjoyed reading this a lot, and can't particularly find anything to critique. With as many posts as you have though, I guess I should expect nothing less. Good job sir

Well, um, wow

Superb. I'm not sure why so many writers shy away from a prologue such as this as I feel it is essential at times to really give readers a taste of the story they are going to immerse themselves in and leave them longing for more.

I had to read it a few times and the only thing I felt stumped at was this sentence here: 'A power similar to the Cackra’s was poorly duplicated in others in a feeble attempt to thwart his master, but he knew the truth: only he, the man called by many the Sin of the All-One.' I felt that this sentence ended abruptly, what was the truth he knew? I might just be not reading it right though

As I said, magnificently written and very intriguing, would definitely read on if I had picked this up in a store

Not normally a category I would find myself reading, but I thought I would make an exception, and are happy to have done so. You have opened up with such a beautifully vivid storyline, with descriptions so intense and poetic that I found myself mesmerized, not only by your intellectual usage of words, but also by your portrayal of proceedings.

Pretty cool. Nicely written, very well described and atmospheric. I'd watch for word repetitions such as where you use the word eons (which should be spelled aeons) at the end of the second paragraph and then again at the start of the third. Also, I'd take out the word typhoon in the last paragraph as that refers to a nautical storm, and this is set in the desert. You lose some of the dry sandy feeling you've created up to that point using this term.

I'd also work a bit on this paragraph here...

"Black vines tore from the fabric by the sand, the vines simply peeling from the skin and spiraling about with the brown fabric, growing longer from the body but never completely torn. A hiss bellowed from the vine, an ear-splitting resonance that crackled louder through the oxymoronic sounds of the sand blizzard. As the vines from his flesh shrieked, his flesh slowly started to regenerate, though the blood seeped and gushed from every artery and vein the sand could cut. The regeneration was gradual and savage, but it had been necessary if the figure was to complete his task at hand; a mission that had been handed down to him eons before."

Again, watch for word repetition with "vines" here. The part about the sounds made by the vines is sort of contradictory as it's described as a bellowing hiss, which I'm not sure works, and I'm not convinved by the line "oxymornoc sounds of the sand blizzard." Bit overwritten and wordy. At the end there, "had been" should be "was" I think.

Thank you all. I really appreciate the time you all took to take a look and read.

Baird and Watson, I took heed to your thoughts and amended portions of the chapter at your critiques. Very good catches and I appreciate it.

Hey,

So, I thought it was written quite well, though a few of the word choices made me pause for a second.

I'm interested in knowing why the names of the gods and what not are in italics, that seemed strange to me.

However, I must say that if this was the beginning of a novel, there's little doubt in my mind that I wouldn't get past this and actually buy the book. Nothing happens... you've got a guy walking through a sandstorm, drawing a line in the sand with his sword, which would get filled again instantly erasing the line, and his flesh is being mended as he walks by a plant. Oh, and he's on a mission from his god. Which is all well and good, but honestly, I find it boring.

This is, say, the first four pages of your potential book here... and it's a guy walking through a desert. To be honest, it's a prime example of why many people say "scrap the prologue".

Have you ever heard the term 'in medias res' before? It means 'in the middle of things', roughly, and basically is a term which describes a narrative which begins right in the middle of the action. So, the first line of the novel reads, "Kayla screamed. The sound sent shivers coursing through me..." etcetera. This technique is good because it means that the reader doesn't have to waste time to find an exciting scene to read.

You need your first paragraph to grab the reader's attention. Your first sentence needs to be loaded with potential, something which hooks the reader and forces them to read onwards. The first sentence of your piece is an awkward, descriptive sentence which kind of rambles. Instead of mentioning the sword first, which places emphasis on the blade without reason, you should start with the storm.

A ferocious sandstorm covered the sky for leagues, stretching in all directions to canvas the land. A lone figure, cloaked against the deadly, scathing wind, walked in the centre of the maelstrom. His path through the storm seemed random, but there was purpose in his stride. He carried his sword naked in his hand...

You can still use the same opening setting, character and situation, but I think reordering how exactly you begin your tale will make a huge difference in interest levels. I'd suggest adding some kind of conflict or problem he needs to deal with, perhaps by adding in inner monologue in which the reader can find out about his mission/quest. When your character is walking and nothing that's thrown against him is affecting him, it gets boring quickly. Add some kind of jeopardy. If the storm can't hurt him, make him thirsty but unable to stop; have someone pursuing him; have him scared to death that he won't reach his destination in time or his master will die... anything, something which makes this more than a guy wandering through a desert.

Anyway, this is of course only my opinion.
Keep writing,
Cefor

I appreciate the critique. I have heard that phrase before actually. It was what caused me to hugely rewrite the complete novel and try for more urgency and action. I agree, this chapter a lot slower than I hoped it would be. I intended more to introduce the antagonist of the story and create small shrouds of conflict using foreshadowing. It ends up being two pages, roughly. The first line of Chapter One is immediately touched down into conflict as the main character is being attacked on line one. (Though Sinuos from above isn't the attacker, the above takes place two decades before the main timeline.) I do appreciate the rewording though. I examined the word choice and order and reorganized and rewrote what I had. I agree that it could use some tuning. The last few months, I've been primarily working on getting the content written and editing later. Well, later is now so I appreciate the words and I value your opinion. Thanks.

Hey, Oasis.
Well, you already know that prologues are published every year and some are in a similar vein to this: foreshadowing, out of context events which make sense later... that kind of thing. I'm very glad to hear that your first line of chapter one has your MC being attacked, that's exactly the sort of thing I was talking about. As to the editing, by all means, leave it until you have the whole novel completed, I've still got the beginning of a novel from NaNoWriMo 2010 to complete/edit so I understand that completely. I find that if you keep stopping to edit, you'll never get past the current scene.
You're more than welcome, glad you found my advice helpful in some way
Cefor

I've been wanting to try NaNoWriMo for a long time, but I haven't dedicated myself to any other story. I joined WF back in '05, and started working on this story twelve years ago. I've rewritten and rewritten, edited and reedited. Now, I'm a much better writer than I used to be, so I'm dedicating my time to finishing this series of novels. I think next NaNoWriMo, I'll jump in and do some stuff with it. And yup, I appreciate all of your help.

This is pretty good, and most of the faults with it (which are tiny, honest) could be fixed by employing the best bit of advice anyone ever gave me, which is this. When you've finished writing something, print it out, put it in a drawer and leave it for about a week. Then read it over again. That should help you spot belters like the fact your spellchecker or something has put 'clocked man' where I would hope you mean 'cloaked man.'

Great catch, thanks. I didn't notice. Eyes must of fixed it when I read over the words. Appreciate the help.

This is brilliant. It's so dramatic. And what a great idea - one of the things that pulls me most to a story is the idea of it. One thing i did notice which i'm not sure if it's me or you but...

while it drug behind him

Do you mean it as in the past tense of drag? In which case drug isn't a word. It's dragged (however clumsy that word sounds). But i'm not sure if it's me reading it wrong or not!

Great catch! I switched 'er out for trailed instead. Shoulda known better. I'm glad you thought it was brilliant, I appreciate that.

It sounds like the opening of a movie/game I'd watch/play a couple of times.
I'm not really the type to take too much notice to tiny errors; wish I was. Besides I most likely won't be able to find anything more than what was already pointed out by everyone else.
I only look at the storytelling art. So I know it isn't much but this is a prettt good opening. Good character in-depth character intro, and it makes you ask enough questions to keep reading. Good stuff.