Rune. Prologue.

"His skin was stark white, calescent opaque. He was an Albino."

The Dark Elf tumbled down the Spearheads in ways that should have killed him. The young mountain range was sharp and unweathered, jutting from the earth in jagged peaks like spearheads. He slammed head-on into angled boulders that sent him angling him right into the air, flipping and flying like the rolling rock-slide he started. He bounced off a log sticking out from the mountainside with a hard thud, slid down a steep ravine through sharp brambles that marked him up like pixie claws, then dropped straight off the edge of a sheer cliff. He landed in an odd angle at the foot of the mountain, which kicked him while he was down. Snowcaps had a way of being cold like that.

 

Then the whole side of the mountain caved in, toppling like an avalanche hit by a falling star. Lumps of granite rained down on the dark elf, pelting him in the stomach and skull. Ugh. Oof. That would leave a mark. Then everything finally stopped and the night was quiet again. Dust settled.

 

Dizzy, disoriented, and discombobulated, the dark elf tried to sit up. Shooting pain. He lay back down. Pretty colors danced before his gold eyes, the stars glittered like ten thousand fireflies caught in an ocean sky. He groaned as he ran his fingers through his long silver hair. Warm blood dripped from his pointed ears, dribbling down his neck. His skin was stark white, calescent opaque, completely devoid of skin tone. He was an Albino.

 

Suddenly, angry voices shouted from the higher slopes. Shadows rushed down toward him. Shadows, dark-skinned Hunter Elves with no regard for life, not to mention restraint with dark magic. They skirted down the rocks brandishing spears and signaling each other to surround him. His gold eyes shot wide and he was up and running in a flash, pain-time over.

 

He dashed across the barren mountain baselands springing from rock to rock all the way down to the flats. He leapt over a deep ravine, tucking and rolling back to his feet. Shadows raced after him, chasing him like lionesses in formation, two on each flank and the rest no doubt on his tail.

 

He sprinted toward a dark thicket and dove into the tree line. Needle branches flicked his face as he flew by. A fallen tree leaned against tangled oaks. He darted up the trunk and leapt into the branches, interlocking like they were holding hands. He wouldn't leave a trail on the ground. He sailed to another branch, his weight snapped it like a twig and he fell landing crouched like a predator, then kept running.

 

He burst through the other side of the thicket into more barren rocks, then dared to turn around. Over the far horizon, the sky was turning pink. An orange glow flowed down the mountain spreading out over the land like liquid gold. Growls of Shadows in the trees reached his sharp ears. He turned and fled.

 

The gold blanket hit him like a firewave, heat so intense that his skin flared ruby. His scalp burned. Itchy blistering sensations poked all over his body as he ran. The heat stung like needles, knives, swords stabbing his every pore. Burning. He darted into the cleft of a large rock, the shade instantly relieved some of the pain. No doubt the Shadows had wisely stayed in the thicket. They'd wait for him, they'd catch him when the burning hours ended. He didn't know why he was running from them, but he knew they'd been chasing him with spears.

 

Desperate, he saw only one way to escape them. A dark forest stretched in front of him a mile away. How fast could he run a mile?

 

He went for it, running out into the blistering daylight and sprinting like mad across the dell. He pumped his arms and legs like a gyro wound too tightly. Ten seconds later, he was seeing blurry again. Straight lines edged the corners of his vision, sweltering heat swept over his skin like lava, burning him alive. He stumbled and did a face-plant on the ground. When he got up, he couldn't see a thing. With his forearm over his eyes, he stumbled in the direction he hoped the dark forest was in.

 

A half hour later, he walked straight into a tree. He staggered around it and fled blindly into the forest. His skin had turned hot amaranth, movement was painful. No time for pain. He kept walking, feeling his way along the trees.

 

Then a rush of air whisked by his head, an arrow shot into the trunk in front of his face. Another one wisped behind him. He ran for his life. Then, in the midst of running blindly in any which direction, he slammed head on into another tree and fell face down into ferns. Out cold.

 

Darkness. Rush of blood to the head. More pretty colors, and then voices. Soft murmurs at first that grew louder and coherent.

 

“What is it?” asked a melodic voice. He opened his eyes slightly to see tall shapes standing over him. They came into focus slowly, and he could see their long hair and olive skin. Yew bows were slung over their backs. Forest Elves.

 

“An elf,” said the melodic voice, and the elf it belonged to swooped down to look over him. Three of her hovered in front of his eyes and then materialized back to a single image as the dizziness faded. Her almond eyes studied him intrigued. Another taller elf, clearly male, gasped shocked.

 

“It's a Shadow. Kill it!” he drew his saber.

 

“Wait!” the female stopped him.

 

He lay there on the ground in a daze, fading into unconsciousness. The last thing he saw was the beautiful face of the female, and eyes that peered into his soul. Then darkness.

 

Author's Note

What was your favorite part?

Reviews

This is good, though I did notice some problems. My eyes won't catch everything, but here are some things I saw.

You wrote that the main character was a "dark elf" but later revealed that he was an albino. If "dark elf" is his type, than maybe you should start "dark" with a capital letter.

I had to look up "discombobulated", so you might not want to keep that word. Anyway, "disoriented" gets the point across without the help of such an uncommon word. It's best to keep writing reasonably simple.

I think "dark-skinned Hunter Elves with no contempt for life" should be "dark-skinned Hunter Elves with no respect for life". If someone has no contempt for something, it means that they don't hate it.

I don't get this bit: "hit the ground running". You wrote that he fell. If someone hits the ground running, they stay on their feet.

Despite the problems, I really did enjoy reading this. It has potential to become an excellent story. Keep going!

[SetApartGirl]

This is really good. I love your descriptions and so far you have some good character development. I like how the forest elves have olive skin and dark hair contrary to the traditional blonde-hair, fair skin and blue eyes. It is a really good start. You could maybe make this chapter a bit longer, if it is supposed to be a chapter, because it seems more of a prologue to me. You could also describe more. I got a little bit lost at the very beginning when he was falling down the side of the mountain. The beginning is also a little abrupt and it seems to need a little more of an intro to it.

But other than that it was good and I enjoyed it and I can't wait read more and find out what happens to the Dark Elf.
Keep Writing!
~Ken-san

[JohnL]

This subject is really not my cup of tea, but I had only to read it to determine the quality of the writing. True it needs some editing - which I note Ann Elise has done with admirable meticulousness for which she deserves thanks. I can only comment on the way the story carried me along and despite having no leaning towards the subject and characters, the flow and the care with which it had been put together retained my interest to the end of this chapter - in fact, I'll keep an eye out for follow-ups to see how it goes.
Kind regards
John