Kirol

Ok, my 1st post here, I've been working on a book for a while. Mainly just in my head, but I've been working on it nontheless.
I've only just begun to start writing it. This is my 2nd draft of *part* of the 1st chapter. Please, provide constructive critique and guide me on what I can improove and change. Even if it's just nit-picking, please tell me what you think's good and bad, and what can be changed. Here goes.

Another night came for the people of Ursovias, like every other night that had come and gone for millions of years, and from the rolling fields of Ethum to the east, to the ports of Malijar to the west the sun was setting, illuminating the land with an orange glow. The people of a small island called Astia in a bay to the north were getting ready for their daily ceremony. This was an important part of life for the inhabitants of this island, and had been for as long as they can remember.
Their temple was built of stone and was of an odd construct, the entrance was round and had a clay fireplace in the middle connected to a chimney up the top. Beyond this was a thick, large wooden door with rough iron bars across it. Each night the people waited by the round fireplace while the priests prepared the main chamber for a sermon. Surrounding the town in the centre of the island was a thick wood, which was teaming with life, and not just one kind of life... This too was important to the Astians, as this is where they would get their meat and grow their crops; it was their life source. It would also fend off invaders; the Astian woods were full of mystery and rumour. But not everyone was at rest that night; a lone figure on horseback had been riding through the night, accompanied only by his shadow, heading from Ursovias castle to the isle of Astia.

The great temple door flung open, a priest greeted the people as they entered with a bow. Inside, the temple was lavishly decorated. Its walls were made of finely crafted stone, covered with tapestry, a marble floor that shimmered in the sun’s dying light, and many large engraved wooden benches. The altar had a small golden statue of a wizard holding an egg, and an odd staff in the other. The egg was a red gemstone, and was finely crafted, and the staff had a prism on each end. People mumbled amongst themselves as they shuffled to their places and sat, waiting for the priests to begin.
The man on horseback slowly rode up to the Astian bay, and quickly dismounted his horse. He sprinted off to a nearby bush and crawled under, pulling out a wooden raft, big enough for two people. It was made out of barrels and planks of wood, and had no sail, although on the side of the raft there was a small wooden paddle. He patted the steed, and pulled a carrot out of a pouch attached to his belt and gave it to the horse.
He pushed the raft off and jumped onto it, and began frantically paddling towards the island.
The people were now quiet, and the priests had entered from a room in the back of the temple. Each one was wearing robes with different colours to represent a different status. The Astians were always a small people, just below average human waist height. They were always looked down upon for their odd green-tinted skin, and lack of hair, too. But they were excellent magic users, which was always their speciality.
The priests gathered around the table on which the statue was placed, and began to chant, joined by the people in the long wooden seats. Slowly they raised their arms, and the chanting got quicker as their shadows got longer. As the sun was dropped behind the horizon and stopped shining vaguely from between the trees, the altar burst into a vibrant flame, which quickly illuminated the room, forcing shadows to dance and flicker around. Everyone continued chanting as if nothing had happened, however. One priest stepped away, and walked into the back room. A few seconds later, the fire stopped flickering, as if frozen in time. The shadows stopped dancing, and another priest walked away. The fire shattered and pieces fell to the floor, only to melt into water.
The small craft had now reached its way to the sandy shores of the island, and the figure had made his way off the raft and onto the beach. He walked cautiously towards the edge of the wood, peering into the darkness. He once again reached into a pouch, and pulled out a small bottle, he looked at it for a second and then gulped down the contents before sprinting into the dark wood.
The ceremony was now over, after an amazing array of magic. The people quietly left for their homes, to prepare for tomorrow. A priest in golden robes walked outside and put out the fire with a simple flick of his hand then walked back inside, the doors closing on him. He walked towards the back room, where the other priests were waiting. He stepped into the candle-lit room, and sat down at a small wooden table with a map of the island engraved onto it, there was a red jewel where the temple was. They sat there silently for a few seconds before the golden-robed priest cleared his throat and began the meeting.
The cloaked man burst out from the woods, gasping for breath. The town was eerily silent, but beautiful in the moonlight which revealed him. He was dressed in a leather vest, a hooded cloak, and dark padded trousers. He walked over to the temple on his right and pushed the door open, still panting heavily. He walked slowly over the cold marble floor, his footsteps echoing around the hall. From the back room he could hear a melee of voices, but could only pick up odd words. He creped to the back room door, and slowly pushed it open. The voices stopped as the priests looked to the wooden door swinging back. Out of the opening the man peeked inside, watching some of the priests dive under the table with fear.
The golden robed priest examined him carefully, squinting.
“Manson, is that you?” He asked. His voice was old and withered.
The man took of his hood, revealing his face. He was a young man; he looked about twenty-four or so. He had brown and slightly curly hair that seemed to glow in the candlelight. His face was thin and he had quite defined features. Manson nodded.
“Yep. Uh, could I have a word with you, Atticus? And sorry if I startled any of you.”
He had a slight southern accent, but his voice was friendly and open.
He waved awkwardly, and then walked out into the main hall. Atticus stood up and began to follow him.
“So, Manson, what news do you bring?” Atticus asked.
Manson looked around the room, making sure nobody was watching.
“They’re coming in four days.” He looked away, paused, and noticed a pointed red hat with a white feather tucked into it on one of the long wooden benches. He looked back to Atticus. “They’re after the book.”
Atticus nodded. “I knew it would be only a matter of time. How many?”
“Half of the palace guard. Rumour is that they’re going to burn down the woods if they don’t get what they want.” Manson whispered.
Atticus looked down to the floor in thought.
“What’s the plan?” he added.
Atticus looked up.
“I’ve had this plan ready for a while now, just haven’t had a chance to use it.”
He smiled and reached into his robes, pulling out a small brown purse.
“You’ve done well, child. Here’s your payment.” He gestured a blessing towards Manson and handed him the purse, then walked back towards the back room.
Manson smiled and tosses the purse up and down. He looked back towards where the hat had been, but it was gone. He shrugged it off, walking out.
Atticus once again sat down, and cleared his throat.
“They’re coming.” He said. The priests burst out into chatter. Atticus waited for them to calm down.
“Farnad, fetch me some blank parchment. Arin, get the blacksmith. Kirol and Marnala, you two come with me.” He added.
Two Astians ran out of the room, another two stood up.
Atticus guided them out of the room, back into the main hall. “You two wait here.”
He walked back into the small room in the rear of the hall, and emerged seconds later with the jewel from the table, a roll of parchment, a woven bag, and a wooden staff.
“It gets dark down there, so cast light onto the staff. The map will tell you which way to go, and show this to the unborn.” He handed them everything except the bag.
“As for this bag, don’t open it until you reach the unborn.” Kirol and Marnala looked at each other, knowing what they had to do. Atticus dragged the altar from its spot, revealing a round stone cover underneath it, lined with runes. “Use the staff whenever you come to any fissures like this one.”
Kirol handed Marnala the staff. “This is more your thing.”
“I know, I know.” She said, having been there a thousand times.
“I do the light magic, you do the dark.” She laughed to herself.
She ran her hand over the staff, once in each direction. It began to shine a brilliant white light, illuminating the room as if it were a bright summer’s day.
She handed it back over to Kirol, who slammed it down into the crevice in the stone cover. Small patterns engraved on the surface of the stone began to change colour to red, and then green. The stone slab shattered revealing a set of stairs leading down into a crypt below.
Marnala held her hand out to Kirol. “Stay with me.” She said.
“I’ll never leave you, Marnala.” He told her, taking her hand in his own.
They walked down onto the first step, slowly making their way down into the stagnant darkness that lay below, the rod lighting their way forwards.

Lord Raiden

One thing that sticks out immediately is all the run-on sentances. Break them up a bit. For example, this sentance:

"Another night came for the people of Ursovias, like every other night that had come and gone for millions of years, and from the rolling fields of Ethum to the east, to the ports of Malijar to the west the sun was setting, illuminating the land with an orange glow. "

You could possibly break it up like this:

"Night came once again for the people of Ursovias, like every other night that had come and gone for millions of years before it. From the rolling fields of Ethum in the east, to the ports of Malijar in the west, shadows raced in quickly as the sun was setting, highlighting the land with a warm, orange glow."

That's just a suggestion on a way to rewrite it and beef it up a bit. Your first 300 words are always your story hook. IE the part that gets the reader hooked and immediately interested in reading the story. My creative writing teacher told me that if you can't hook them in the first 300 words, you did something wrong. Now I probubly went overboard on the comas on that example, but I think you get an idea of what I'm getting at with breaking it up and adding some more flare to it.

Here's another good example:

"Their temple was built of stone and was of an odd construct, the entrance was round and had a clay fireplace in the middle connected to a chimney up the top."

You can easily break that into two or more sentances and really expound on that. For example, you could break the sentance at the word "construct" then expound on that first sentance a bit more, then complement it with the newly made second sentance. Also, your wordflow is a bit clunky, but given that it's a rough draft that can be forgiven to a degree.

Also the flow changes views too much and it sounds like you're talking to someone rather than narating the story. My tech writing mentor called it being "chatty". Keep the focus on one view and keep it to a simple naration till your comfortable with more complex stuff further down the road.

Hope this wasn't too harsh a critique as I think you can do good, but it's going to take a lot of work. IF you haven't done it yet, I highly suggest a college level creative writing course. It'll change you a lot and you'll learn gobloads of good stuff you can turn towards your books.

Kirol

Hey, thanks. And I know, it is a problem I have. I use WAY too many commas and it just breaks up my sentences, giving random breaks everywhere.
And I also agree with the clunky thing...
I should make my writing flow more.

Lord Raiden

hehe. Honestly, I've been doing sci-fi writing for nearly 15 years and tech writing for the past 5 and I still have problems with that. I don't think it's anything you completely train yourself out of doing. I just think that over time your training tends to give you a better eye for those kind of problems and fix them early on while still working with the rough draft. I rough drafts are a lot better now than they were years ago when I first started. I picked up a small story I wrote just 10 years ago and the book is, well in my opinion, nearly unreadable. Yet I can take a rough draft from just two years ago and see lots and lots of improvements in it. So it's a slow and gradual learning process. Biggest thing to do is to make sure you stay patient and learn from your mistakes as you go.

Kirol

Well, I've only just turned 17, so I don't have years of experience.
And this is my 1st writing thing... except angsty poetry.

Lord Raiden

heh. Cool. Well, work hard at it. You've got a lot of potential. ^_^ And since you're only 17, put extra effort into your english classes, they'll help a lot too with your sentance structure and grammer.

Kirol

Wow, thanks.
Also, I don't have English classes anymore.
I did at GCSE, but now I'm doing A-levels in Vith form (kinda like collage)
I've chosen not to. I do Chemistry, biology, music, and photography now...
An even balance of practical and creative.

Lord Raiden

What country are you in? I'm guessing that you're still in some kind of high school setting given your age though which means you may or may not be allowed to take classes at the college depending on their rules. But if you can, I suggest a good entry level english class one semester, then follow it up and build on what you learned there with a creative writing course. The two compliment each other and you'll find that your skills will improve quickly. If literature isn't your eventual carreer goal, then these would be good for enhancing your writing skills for what I assume will simply become a hobby.

My specialty is actually networking and computer systems maintenance. My hobby is writing and now, thanks to some hard work, is a paid hobby. ^_^ So depending on where you plan to go with your creative writing will determine a lot on what methods you choose to improve your skills.

Kirol

I'm from merry old England.
I've completed what you now call 'high-school', and am already in secondary education, I've gone to VIth form which is like collage, but in a school. After that, I'll go on to university.