kidstaple

Alright, so this is meant to be the first chapter but will probably end up to be the beginning of a sequence later on in my story. As of now, the overall series is going to be called 'Of Ice and Blood', with the first 'book' called 'Sibling Magic'.

I need all the feedback that I can get from ya'll. Be harsh if you want, I don't care. I just want feedback. Thanks!

In the forest something moved.

It was a quick, fluid motion. So perfect that nothing stirred or moved in the animals wake; everything lay still. Except for the figure who sat high above the forest floor, in one of the forests famous and majestic Braidwood trees. The figure bathed in the shadows produced from the broad leaves of the Braidwood tree, using every bit of natural camouflage that it could. It had been following after the albino rabbit for the last four days, almost to the point of obsession.

In one fluid motion, almost as pure and perfect as the rabbits, the figure jumped from the high branch that it had been perched upon, soaring through the air. It landed perfectly on the next branch, seemingly without a sound. It followed the animal like this for several minutes, until the rabbit finally came to a halt on the edge of a moon-lit glade. It sat motionless, ears erect listening for anything that might try to harm it. Its nose twitched with quick rythmatic spasms, smelling the air for any threat that might pose a problem to it.

Content with his safety, the rabbit sighed and pulled a small pipe from within the sash around his waist. He pulled a match from within the folds of the sash as well, striking it against the closest tree. He lit the pipe and began to take long drags, blowing the smoke through his nostrils and into the glade. It gathered around his small body, illuminated by the gleam of the moon, filling the glade with dancing ghostly abominations.

The sash was more than just decoration. Two swords could be seen peeking through it, the moons reflection glinting off of what little of the blades could be seen through the fabric. They hugged the rabbit’s furry sides, waiting for the moment that they could reach out and strike whoever opposed their owner.

The rabbit found a comfortable looking root and rested his back against it, as he continued smoking his pipe. He lay there for several odd minutes, until finally he reached into his sash once again and pulled out a small obsidian stone and a splinter of orange tinted wood. The stones sharp edge winked at him as the moon’s rays bounced off of the wicked looking tool. He brought the crude looking implement to the orange colored wood and carefully began to carve away at it.

Time passed by slowly as the figure, who was still perched high above the rabbit, stared down at the creature, watching as the thing smoked his pipe and carved by the moon’s light. The figure thought it ironic that the last thing the rabbit would be doing was this, especially when he knew that he was being chased by a handful of Servants of the Shadow.

The figure stayed crouched upon the Braidwood’s branch, keeping a vigilant watch out for anything that didn’t look natural in the woods of the forest at the early hours of morning.

Time past by without a sound, and then it happened.

Four figures appeared just outside of the moon-lit glade, waiting patiently for their moment to strike. The Servants were stupid enough not to realize a good opportunity when they saw one. Instead of seizing the moment that the quietness that was offered to them, they waited patiently until well after their cover had been blown. And it was after that that the figure that had been waiting patiently jumped into the midst of the four Servants, drawing steel as it twirled around in perfect motions, acrobatic and fluid as a glass of water splashing back and forth within the confined glass.

The cloaked figure laid slaughter to three of the Servants, while the fourth slipped through the underbrush and into the clearing were the rabbit sat still, sprawled out against the root of the great Braidwood tree. Little did the Servant know that the rabbit was more than prepared for the attack. He had been, for the last ten minutes that they had been standing, watching and waiting.

Before the Servant had stepped three feet into the glade, the rabbit was on him, blades drawn, his pipe hanging limply from his thin pink, animalistic lips. The small animal twirled and spun in the air, as acrobatically as the figure who watched from the edge of the glade. The rabbit brought both swords through the shadow figure, forming an X as the two blades crossed right through its chest. All the while the Servant tried to grasp for the little animals furry body, but failed only managing to grab the rabbit once and only after the blows had been dealt. With a high pitched wail, the Shadow Servant shattered into thousands of little black ink colored shards that dissipated from existence the moment they hit the soft and loamy soil.

The rabbit slid his swords back into the sash and puffed at the pipe once more.
The swords that the rabbit wielded weren’t really swords, but averaged sized daggers that had been modified for their wielders strange shaped paws. The handles were lithe in shape, and the blades were thinner and shorter to allow for less weight and a better balance when using them.

The battle over and the victory his, the rabbit had returned to his comfortable spot: laying against the root. He left the orange splinter of wood and the obsidian sharp stone in his stash, enjoying his smoke. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the figure that had been watching him, strode into the clearing, shrugging off the hood that concealed its features. He knew who it was before the hood was removed, but decided to play along with the figure, gasping as if in shock when he saw who it was.

“R’Shiel! Welcome.” The rabbit said, in an unnatural high, cheery voice.

The figure walked closer to were the rabbit lay. The moon’s light seemed to form a perfect spot of pure light upon the Half-Elf, revealing a fair face, with beautiful emerald eyes, long white hair that seemed to lay perfectly in her hood and sharp pointed ears.

“Don’t welcome me, Ozerog! I just saved your life,” the Half-Elf exclaimed.

“Correction my fair lady, you didn’t save me; I let you save me. And besides, there were only four of them,” the rabbit stood, dumped the contents of his pipe onto the forest floor and tucked it away into his sash. “I could have gotten them, but I figured since you were following me, I would let you do some of the work. I needed a break after all.”

“A break!?” R’Shiel roared. “You only just left the Conclave four days ago!”

Ozerog looked down at his paws, then wiped them on a patch of grass in front of him. He eyed them over again, making sure that he hadn’t missed anything, before he continued. “Yes, but I had to have a puff of my weed. I’ve gone for nearly five days without any, and I was starting to feel the need. Just tell Calor and Shenraa that their message will be sent.”

“Don’t get smart with me you damn fur ball!” R’Shiel roared, picking Ozerog up by the loose skin at the back of his neck. “I will take this mission from you if I have to, do you understand? I can easily find a replacement for you as easily as I can kill you.”

Ozerog, who had never really been afraid of anything before in his life, crinched away from R’Shiel and the scowl of a mask that she seemed to be wearing.

“Do you understand?” The Half-Elf growled.

Ozerog nodded. “Let me go,” he squirmed under R’Shiel’s forceful grip, swaying back and forth as he dangled in the air. “I would love to send your message, but I can’t very well do that when I’m being hung four feet in the air, now can I?”

R’Shiel brought the rabbit closer, until the two were face to face and then whispered softly, “Don’t fail, or I’ll have you for supper. You might be the fastest messenger for the Covenant, but you are not the smartest. It would be a shame if you somehow were to be caught up in a hunter’s snare.”

She tossed him to the ground and smiled. “Now go! And I best not catch you again, even if it is to stop and smoke that demandable weed.”

Ozerog didn’t look back, but instead sped through the forest as fast as he could, in a single, quick, fluid motion.

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"The last character you should ever fight is the one who comes walking into your book and says, 'Write about me,' that's a gift sent from somebody, so roll with it." - Dennis LeHane

AlienatedAlien

Nice work kidstaple. It is well written and a good read.

Not much work needed, however I did notice a few redundancies. There are sentences that should be whittled down a bit, and you sometimes say the same thing twice (something I have the tendency to do) , so just keep your eyes alert for such instances.

e.g
It sat motionless, ears erect listening for anything that might try to harm it. Its nose twitched with quick rythmatic spasms, smelling the air for any threat that might pose a problem to it.

Print in bold is redundant, and the second sentence says the same as the first, just describes a different sense of the rabbit.

This is a quick (and bad) example, more condensed and less repetitious...but less is more...sometimes
It sat motionless, ears erect listening for danger; Its nose twitching, quick rythmatic spasms searching the damp forest air for any threat.

Keep on writing and good luck with the series!

Jade M

I nearly stopped when I read the 'Half Elf' but luckily by then I was too interested in your story to stop.

This is a good read, and cleverly written. The idea of talking animals usually makes me laugh but I took Ozerog seriously.

I would like to read more.

A few minor nits
Red I suggest you delete.

kidstaple

Alright, I feel secure enough with what I have written of the overall story to go ahead and post chapter two for some feedback. Please be harsh with it, I don't mind. I actually find it easier to learn from when someone completely trashes my story... most of the time. Thanks and enjoy!

Rain poured down from the heavens upon the great city of Trallentio. Impregnated thunderclouds larger than the great city itself threatened the foot traffic, spilling its guts upon the inhabitants and visitors.

The capitol of Osenra spread twenty miles in every direction. Humans and Changelings were the staple among the cornucopia of congested traffic that seemed to back the flood gates up for hundreds of yards. Dwarves and Ixhatulens could be seen speckling the crowds. Although they were not a common sight, they were just as important to the overall economy of Astryn as any Human or Changeling.

Because of the massive size of Trallentio, and because of the foot traffic and large variety of hobbies; interests and jobs, the city was broken up into seven districts. They all ranged in size. Some were just a sliver in size, a mile in length and an alley wide, while others devoured the majority of the twenty mile diameter.

Although all seven districts were magical and majestic in their own unique ways, the one that seemed to catch Hashton’s attention the most was the Scholarian District. The giant towers that seemed to stretch to the skies, dwarfing over every other building in Trallentio, except of course for the High Towers of Wiq’yin, which seemed to grab his attention instantly.

It was said that three of the four towers were massive Libraries that were set aside for the Scholars of Trallentio and Astryn alike, while the fourth and largest of them was locked and guarded by Minotaur. Supposedly the half man, half bull guardians were as fond, if not fonder of the ancient and maniacal secrets that they guarded. The Tower of Gungro, the only tower out of the group that actually had a name, was for the elites of the Scholars and used only for the High Council of Astryn. Their shelves and cubby holes filled to the brim with books and ancient scrolls that dated as far back as Sreng the Strong.

Hashton sighed, smiling as he thought of all of the books and scrolls. If he could somehow find a way into the Libraries, maybe then he would finally have all the answers to the hundreds, if not thousands of questions that he had burning deep inside his brain. And maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to reach the Council of the Covenant. Surely they knew that his father was long dead, and that he had the Bloodstone.

He had learned long ago to write down and keep track of every question he wanted an answer to inside the small Uxyetolas leather bound book that he kept in his goatskin, water resistant satchel. The last of which was his own touch, something that he had added to his satchel after reading and mixing a group of fats and chemicals in a small soylent cloth bag.



Hashton kept the soylent cloth bag inside the satchel in case he needed it. The mixture had hardened after time, turning it into a bar. Something, that, he hadn’t planned on. But after much testing he found it to be easier to apply to things and cleaner when he reached in for something.

The boy, no older than eighteen winters, stood in the middle of the large street, still staring at the monolithic buildings of the Scholarian. He was instantaneously pulled from his daydream by an oversized Ixhatulen. The massive beast rammed right into Hashton, throwing him to the dirty cobbled street.

Ixhatulens were most notably the strongest and largest race of the Covenant. Standing a quarter size taller than a normal, full grown Minotaur, Ixhatulens could be expected to stand at or around twelve to thirteen feet tall. The males were the largest, sporting long hair and beards that were almost always braided. That was usually how a non-Ixhatulen could tell whether or not that specific Ixhatulen was of higher birth.

The females however, were shorter, only standing two to three feet shorter than the males. Besides the notable female anatomy, there wasn’t much of a difference between the two sexes.

Most of the races of the Covenant detested the shaggy, giant beasts, thinking of them as only sword fodder for the front lines and slaves for the rich. The Ixhatulens had a long history of being indentured slaves.

Before Hashton could realise what happened, his nose connected with the brick street. Blood sprayed from his nose as soon as it hit the cobbled street, sending lines of warm, red blood all over the cobbled street and a few passersby. The inconsiderate Ixhatulen turned and looked down at Hashton. Realizing what he had done the giant turned and pulled the boy to his feet.

“I’m sorry, human boy. Are you alright?” It felt like an avalanche when the Ixhatulen spoke, which didn’t help Hashton’s wobbling legs. He felt like a nest bird trying to gather enough muscle to fly on it’s own for the first time, straight from the nest.

The shaggy Ixhatulen spun Hashton around, putting the two face-to-face for the first time. The first thing it noticed was all of the blood that seemed to coat the boy from his head to halfway down his front. Hashton’s eyes began to focus in and out, blurring everything that he tried to look at. He cursed under his breath as he tried to focus them, but alas, to no avail.

The large, fur covered hands left his shoulders, as the giant beast watched the boy waver back and forth upon his feet. Then, before Hashton could say anything to the Ixhatulen, everything went black. The beast tried to catch the boy’s slender body in his hands before he crumpled to the ground, but failed; a second too late.

The Ixhatulen cursed under his breath and scooped the boy up in his massive hand. He looked around the cobbled streets of the Scholarian District, unsure of what to do.

Then, he placed the boys limp body carefully around his neck, just like a shepherd would do with a baby lamb, and waded his gargantuan form through the sea of smaller races.

__________________
"The last character you should ever fight is the one who comes walking into your book and says, 'Write about me,' that's a gift sent from somebody, so roll with it." - Dennis LeHane

kidstaple

Any feedback? I would greatly appreciate something... I need as much help on this piece as I can get. Thanks.

__________________
"The last character you should ever fight is the one who comes walking into your book and says, 'Write about me,' that's a gift sent from somebody, so roll with it." - Dennis LeHane

MiloDaePesdan

Nitpicks.

Bathed is redundant, omit it. What is 'produced' supposed to mean here? Did he make something out of the leaves? Pick another word.

I think it's too soon to repeat the phrase 'fluid motion' here. Minor punctuation nit with rabbit's, and 'that' can be omitted.

Time passed by...

Kind of cliche.

Why should I care about his swords? The lacklustre description makes this paragraph pointless. Look up the weapon 'dirk.'

“Now go! And I best not catch you again, even if it is to stop and smoke that demandable weed.”
Demandable? Don't you mean damnable?

The conversations could use some work, I felt like I was reading something out of a generic RPG. And talking animals in a fantasy setting put me off now for some reason. Maybe because they've been overused. The rabbit doesn't really have any distinguishing features that separates him from other animal characters in other fiction.



Milo

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WriteStuff

There are some cliches like half-elf and talking rabbits, but it is well written. I won't go over the redundancies and awkward wordings, others have done that. There are some grammar mistakes, missing apostrophes and the like, but other than that it is pretty good. You caught my attention early and you have kept it by leaving unanswered questions about the races, the Covenant, the Conclave, etc. My last nitpick is the "Servants of Shadow". Please try to find a new name for them; "Servants of Shadow" is way cliched and overused.

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That's what I think: take it or leave it.

Read any good books? PM me.

Chainsaw_Monkey

No Offence Alien But I like the way he Desribed it and That Reply's is a stupid one

kidstaple

Hey all, I appreciate the feedback! Thanks so much for taking time out to do so. I have gone back through Chapter 1 and fixed the problems brought to my attention. One thing I do want to point out however, is that the information not given about Ozerog in the first chapter, is on purpose. It is explained in a later chapter about his abilities and uniqueness.

Anyways, check out Chapter 2 if you all would and leave some more feedback, thanks!

__________________
"The last character you should ever fight is the one who comes walking into your book and says, 'Write about me,' that's a gift sent from somebody, so roll with it." - Dennis LeHane