Narcuss' Fire

A fantasy story about Warlocks and Witches, and Gods and humans, of Elves and Dwarves, and all the magic and evil you can handle!

Prologue

 

 The fire burned.  It burned hotter and hotter, untill even the flames seemed too hot to be natural.  In fact, the fire actually was too red to be a true, real, natural blaze.  This was the work of a witch.  A very powerful witch at that.  It is no easy task to set an entire village on fire in the blink of an eye.

 Screams of anguish and cries of help could still be heard over the roaring blaze.  Cry's that would not, rather could not be answered.  No one would dare to go against any witch, let alone Narcuss.

 Narcuss was feared even by the Gods, or that is what legend says.  She is the last of the heroes of the olden times.  The time of honor, of respect, of truth, and of justice.  But, for some reason, Narcuss betrayed them all.  She slaughtered them one by one.  No one could move fast enough.  No one could hide well enough.  She butchered all of the heroes untill she was the last.

 But when she killed her own father, he sware a prophecy.  That her defeat would come to a new hero, a hero not even known to his own destiny.

 And so, every time Narcuss has ever heard of a person acting out of the ordinary, someone strong, smart, or skilled.  She instantly hunts them down and kills them.

 

Chapter #1

 

 The poorly dressed figure steps lightly through the underbrush, a single dagger in his hand.  Ever so cautiously making his way towards a sleeping man.

 'Yes,' he thinks, 'Finally a score!'  He stops mid-stride as he notices something rather strange of the sleeping robed man.  Although it was a full moon with little cloud cover, he could not see the man's face.  In his eagerness to find out exactly what this nagging suspicion was, the man slowly but niavely steps even closer to the sleeping body.

 With a quick, swift, and soundless, motion, the man flipped side ways and landed face down in the dirt a rough hand placed firmly to the back of the figure's neck, fingers deftly placed into the mans throat causing severe pain.

 A strong, bony knee pressed hard into the man's lower back.

 "Okay!"  The man manages to coarse through his blocked windpipe.  Spitting a mouthful of dirt, "Okay! Not so... (Cough)... Rough!"

 After dealing a blow to render the theif unconscous, quickly and without hesitation the dark war-worn figure grabs a small light weight pack kicks over the fire, dorns a long black toe length robe, sheaths his katana, and sets off into the night at a slow jog.

 

*****

 

 A large building in a small town is never missed.  Even one so old and broken as this.  What was once a large white marble archway with a silver gate was now grey and green archway with several missing bricks, some crumbled, some stollen.  The once magnificient silver elaborate gate dorning a lions head now lay covered by grass but ten yards away, as if a giant had tossed it like a child would an unwanted toy.  The once galliant green orchard and crystal water fall were all but dead, the occasional green leaf was all the beauty that remained.  The monstrous house was like a giant's tomb, so dark, aged, and overgrown.  A shadow moves through the great arch and briskly moves through the dead garden.  Without a noise the large wooden door opens just a crack, and the shadow slips through.

 However dark, worn, and unwanted the outside of the house may have seemed, once indoors, the elegant and charming decorations were as of another time completely.  Beautiful paintings littered the walls, in every room elegant furniture, large bookcases weighed with large volumes, and the occasional fireplace.  Everything in the house it seemed was personalized with a large lions head, even in the frames of the magnanimus paintings or in the stone of the wall.  As if the lions were watching as the shadow slipped further and deeper into the mansion.  An extravagent doorway with the intricate carving of a young man blocked the shadows path, but unlike the front door, this was not open.

 A small silver instrument clicks into the handle and the door is pushed slightly open, the shadow steps into the next room.  Slower than before, perhaps more cautious, perhaps more fearful.

 "You've returned."  A voice clear and confident states from deep inside the room.

 The shadow stops still, and then sighs before replying, "One of these days, I'll get you." A torch near the mysterious voice is lit, and the whole of the room is revealed. "So, how'd you know?"

 The body who's voice had startled the thief was now in plain sight.  Although not a very large man, his movements marked that of a skilled man.  "The light that came through the door when you came in is what gave you away,"  The man chuckled, "It's the small details that always seem to get you my old friend."  The man walked, or really, the man glided to the robed intruder and they embraced in a strong, warm hug.  "I've missed you Becar.  I'm glad you've come back."

 After they parted the intruder let's down it's hood and reveals a handsome young face, about 30 years of age, long black wavy hair, and a short untrimed beard.  "It has been a long time Kris."

 

*****

Author's Note

This is simply the prologue and the 1st chapter, however I plan on adding the rest of what I've written and then continueing this tale.

Reviews

[Atari]

At the beginning, immediately after the prologue, you switch from present tense to past tense, which is a taboo in English, and more than that; it's erroneous.
Unless you have a good reason, you should never change tenses, and you did it several times in your second paragraph.

Quote: He stops mid-stride as he notices something rather strange of the sleeping robed man. Although it was a full moon with little cloud cover, he could not see the man's face. Unquote

He 'stops' is present, although it 'was' a full moon is past, and you mashed them together.

Aside from the tense-switching, you wrote,

Quote: The poorly dressed figure steps lightly through the underbrush, a single dagger in his hand. Unquote

The word that irks me here, is 'the,' as in, 'the poorly dressed figure'.
'The' is known as the 'definite article,' and refers to something specific. Because we have never been introduced to this poorly dressed figure prior to this period in the story, it stands to reason, in my mind, that he should be called 'a' poorly dressed figure, rather than 'the'.
Once he is called 'a,' you can then proceed to call him 'the' since his presence has been established.


I don't want to be a proof-reader, or annoy you, so I'm only going to mention one instance:

Quote: Without a noise the large wooden door opens just a crack, and the shadow slips through. Unquote

There should be a comma after 'noise,' and the reason for this is because all sentence openers should be proceeded by a comma.
Sentence openers include, but are not limited to, the following: So, well, then again, perhaps, furthermore, moreover, in light of this, regardless, in truth, truth be told, as a matter of fact, et cetera.

"Without a noise" is not necessarily a sentence opener, but a pause is clearly needed thereafter.

In any case, ( ^_~ ) it wasn't too bad, but so many errors (that I have not mentioned) made it difficult for this story to keep my attention.


Give my story a review if you have time, and feel free to be just as critical as you like, as long as it's constructive.


- Atari