Erevin the Bladesinger

To give you some background, I DM a D&D campaign and I like to tie in the backstory my players make with the actual storyline that I have created. It makes it more immersive and enjoyable. This is an excerpt from part of a story I've created around one of my player's characters. Feedback would be appreciated. I alternate between our D&D sessions, and then I sent the character these "RP Emails" that are more personal/customized to his story to relay events happening simultaneously in the world elsewhere that are relevant. Anyway! If you want more information, message me, otherwise enjoy this short little piece:

"I need 5 more minutes to complete the ritual, you have to hold him off or we both are dead," she screamed shrilly, kneeling in front of her hastily drawn arcane circle on the ground. She places object at various intervals about the circle and closes her eyes, both palms placed flat on the stone floor on either side. Sweat gathers on her brow before sliding down to the tip of her nose. It's unclear whether the wet droplets hitting the ground beneath her are sweat or tears. She begins to mutter the ritual chant, barely aware of the sound of the barred door being kicked off it's hinges.

From among the wreckage of the door something resembling an Eladrin steps in. His face is gaunt, skin pulled back tight in a rictus grin. The skin a sickly pale color, like that of cave-dwelling fish, having never seen the light of day before. He wears what once appeared to be fine leather armor, the trappings of a noble...in the past. The armor is now worn, tattered in some areas, the cloak cascading down his back flaps like a banner in the wind as the door smashes into the ground, throwing up a gust of dirt and grime. His pants are tucked into mud covered leather boots. His entire outfit seems very travel-worn. The room goes cold as he gracefully steps upon the planks of the ruined door, clutched in his gloved hand a wicked looking broad sword, the blade pulsing a faint blue, nearly outshown by a brilliant tear-shaped aquamarine resting in the hilt of the sword. It almost seems to emit steam into the air, though that's surely not it, as it's nearly freezing in the room now. He flicks his gaze to the robed woman in the corner hovering over her arcane circle before he levels cool, almost unnaturally blue eyes upon the other man in the room.

"I will ask once, and once only," he grates in quiet, raspy voice. "Where is my son?"

Fear floods Kiris Alkirk as he charges forward, screaming in defiance, armed with a stout wooden staff he brings it over his head in both hands with incredible force, seeking to bash in the skull of this ghastly intruder. The swordsman, with unrivaled speed and grace pivots to the side, bringing the broadsword up under Alkirk's guard, decapitating the man with one pass of his blade. Where his blade touches the man's throat, and passes through, the blood seems to instantly congeal and coagulate so quickly that when the head hits the ground, and the body soon after, there's barely more than a mud-like oozing trickle pooling upon the ground beneath the corpse.

In the corner, Treona, intent upon the ritual, seems oblivious to the impending doom walking up behind her. Taking his sword in both hands, the blade pointing down and pommel to the ceiling, he raises it above the ritualist's neck before slamming it into the ground with such force it causes the stone floor to shrapnel out, stone flecks flying away from the point of the sword. Where it connects with the ground, crystals of ice form, jagged, violent pieces of frosts that grow upwards rapidly before piercing the front of the woman from below. The swordsman ignores the brief cry of pain from Treona and with emotionless eyes, staring aimlessly at the wall in front of him, gives the blade a sharp twist.

Withdrawing the sword from the body he kneels down, gathering up parts of her robe and wipes clean the blood. Standing he surveys the room before sheathing his sword and silently walking out of the stone tower, headed in the direction of Kiris Dahn, the goblin city.

Reviews

[Horcrux_Phoenix]

First of all, can I just say that is absolutely AWESOME that you DM for D&D?!
Okay, now to my review! I have never been the kind of reader to like TOO MUCH detail (The Scarlet Letter literally bored me to tears), however, I believe that you have given a good amount of detail for the reader to vividly picture the characters, what they look like, and what emotions they are experiencing at that time. The imagery that you've painted with your words is absolutely amazing. I could clearly picture the clothing of the Eladrin, and how cold it gets once he walks into the room.

Honestly you are a great writer, and I wouldn't mind taking a few tips from you when it comes to setting the scene in a story. Keep up the awesome work!

[MnemonicOne]

Thanks so much HP! I appreciate you taking the time to give me some feedback! I will be loading a few others here in the next few days, just really trying to put my stuff out there. I'm hyper critical of myself, and always terrified to share my writing with others, but with some encouragement from my friends, I figured, what the heck, let's try. Again, I do appreciate the comments. :)

[Horcrux_Phoenix]

I definitely understand where you are coming from. I have the biggest fear of putting my writing out there for everyone to read because I, like you, am very hypercritical of myself. That is why I joined this site not too long ago! Cannot wait to read the other things you publish!

[Surabhi Kaushik]

Very impressive writing. These lines arrested my attention completely "His face is gaunt, skin pulled back tight in a rictus grin. It's unclear whether the wet droplets hitting the ground beneath her are sweat or tears. Fear floods Kiris Alkirk"

Congratulations! Keep up the good work.