Prologue for critique

[December88]

Hello, i posted this up sometime ago but have since made alot of changes.

If you guys could take a look at this and tell me how effective it is as a prologue(does it hold your interest/hook you) and if the writing is okay, i would be very grateful.

Thanks!

PROLOGUE

There was something missing from the emptiness within Simariel, she was nervous. A slight shiver ran under her skin, she tried to conceal it but the boy standing barely a few feet in front of her noticed, he always did. Jorak was his name and he had grown up with her; the two of them had run the same fields, eaten the same food and learned from the same teacher, they had been companions for seventeen years and had never spoken a word to one another.

A voice drifted to them from inside a nearby tent. “Tell me general, are you ready to see one of my ultimate weapons? She is standing right outside.”

Simariel's shoulders tensed, but despite her now, obvious discomfort, no words of encouragement came her way and the unspoken rule of indefinite silence continued. Instead, Jorak continued to stand at rapt attention, back as straight as a board, chin tilted upward, silent and steady. He expected Simariel to do the same, it was what they had been taught to do.

“Simariel!” cried the same voice from within. “Enter.”

Simariel turned instantly on the spot and she was illuminated by pale moonlight. Her face was one of strained impassiveness, the softness it once possessed had long since been etched away by harsh winds of many winters, similar to the one that blew against her lean form tonight. Ten steps to the tent, brisk and exact, she was almost inside but stopped on the ninth as if waiting for something.

The truth was that Simariel had been waiting all her life, and now, on the threshold of no return, perhaps Jorak would relent. Perhaps he would put his learnings aside for just one moment, look at Simariel, and say something, anything to tell her that she wasn't alone.

“Simariel!” called the voice again, edged with impatience this time.

Nothing. Simariel could not delay any further. She closed her eyes, took a deep breathe and entered.

The inside of the tent was lit by three waning flames that flickered within inadequate braziers. Terinis, Simariel's master, crouched beside a man who lay on the floor, propped against the side of a large chest. Raising a long, ashen finger, Terinis beckoned Simariel forward. “Closer. I would like you to meet High General Karrad Ebonlocke, first in command of the armies of Lind Therwin.”

Karrad Ebbonlocke – the general – was in a bad shape, his chest heaved up and down in painfully sporadic jerks and his face was worn down. He shook his head mournfully upon catching sight of Simariel and swore.

“Pretty isn't she?” Terinis remarked. He seemed to be pleased with himself and got to his feet, starting to slowly pace around Simariel. “You see general, we got them young, mere toddlers. Then we trained them, forged them into what you see now. Oh you should have seen the training, it would have even the most hardened of your veterans on his knees, retching. Simariel and her peers, they're matchless general, instruments of martial perfection.”

“You stoop to the lowest standards of morality, no wonder you were cursed.” rasped Karrad Ebonlocke.

“Morality,” whispered Terinis. “You've dark hard and deep where others were too afraid to go, dedicated your whole life to scourging corruption and upholding good. And what has all that got you? A wife who died alone with no one by her side, and children who cannot stand the sight of you.”

Karrad's brow furrowed into distress prompting a sneer from Terinis. “I know all about you general, especially about your sons. The letter you stole from my king, I know it's with them, in fact i'm going to send Simariel to Boughshire shortly and she is going to retrieve that letter and kill your sons.”

“No, no!” Karrad Ebonlocke, fueled by desperate strength, struggled to get up but was held down by rope. He looked at Simariel, trying to catch her eye. “Not my boys.”

Simariel looked away, staring into a dark corner. Do not look at him! Do not look at him! A voice began to chant in her head.

“She won't look at you general.” chuckled Terinis, casually walking up to a cabinet and pulling open a draw. He spent a few seconds looking for something, then secured it and went back to Simariel. “You see,” he continued, putting the object in Simariel's hands. “She has been taught to never look into the eyes of someone she is about to kill.”

Do not look at him! Do not look at him! The dagger felt unusually heavy in Simariel's hands and she spoke to the black corner. “To look into the victim's eyes risks the onset of empathy, a weakness.”

“Very good Simariel, very good. However, tonight, I want you to break that rule.” Terinis once again crouched by Karrad Ebonlocke. “I want you to look into the general's eyes when you kill him.”

Nearly dropping the dagger, Simariel look at Terinis, shocked. “There is no need for this Terinis, you have trained me well enough I do not...”

“And what was all that training for Simariel?” asked Terinis, cutting her short. “I know you are nervous, that you are not strong enough. Jorak was the first to notice, he knows you better than anyone else.”

“That... that isn't true, I swear.” stammered Simariel, succumbing to hesitation in front of Terinis for the first time ever.

“I was about to have you done away with, but I didn't. Your martial talent, it is second to none and I realized that I couldn't waste you. But you are emotionally weak, you always have been and tonight, we are going to fix that. Look into the general's eyes!!”

And she looked, and the chant in her head shattered and ceased to exist. She saw the tears that came down his grizzled cheeks, meandering in melancholy, she saw his drawn out features, weathered face and his eyes, brimming with sorrow.

The warmth came, it was just like she had thought it would feel; quaint and tingling, gracing her heart with something it had been secretly been longing for her whole life – compassion. She closed her eyes and trembled as it smothered her and left her breathless.

“Fight it!” snarled Terinis. “Fight the folly of man, his pathetic weakness. All it will ever cause you is pain and misery a thousand fold for every scrap of false happiness it throws at you. The oaths you took, what were they all for? Fight it and be true to yourself and what you really are!”


And Simariel nodded, because she knew that everything Terinis had said was true and she couldn't trust her fickle heart, it pained too much. She wasn't meant to have a normal life, she wasn't meant to laugh or cry, or have a family or children. She had been a fool to think or even hope that Jorak shared her misguided feelings; he was right, she was wrong. There was no changing what had been ingrained to her since childbirth, she was meant to do one thing and one thing only, and that was to kill.

Even as Karrad Ebonlocke looked at her and whispered, “I forgive you for my life, but please, not my sons.”, even as the smallest part of her heart made her hate herself, Simariel stepped toward the general and knelt down.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I'll make it as quick as possible, painless.”

“Sorry?!” snapped Terinis. “You are not sorry! Do not give into the feeble weaknesses of your kin, do not think about it and there will be no guilt!.”

She clutched the dagger so hard that it hurt, be she didn't notice as she slowly lifted it above her head where it lingered, trying to delay the inevitable.

“Do not prolong! Finish him!”

“I will!” snapped Simariel, glaring murderously at Terinis who slunk back a little. “I will.” she said again, more softly this time. Blood pounded within her head, a nettling buzz filled her ears, Terinis' wicked face flashed through her mind and for the smallest fraction of a second, she contemplated the impossible, the unforgivable. “No!” she snarled and turned away with a sense of urgency.

“Please, not my boys!”

Simariel heard it, uttered in in despair and helplessness, nothing more than a nearly soundless whisper, a plea for mercy. It called to something deep and raced, screaming across the immense emptiness of her soul to strike as the single greatest force she had ever felt. She had the sudden urge to help the poor general, to comfort him and assure him that his children would be alright, that she would never harm them. But she knew she couldn't, she simply couldn't.

“No! Let it be done with!” rasped Simariel, closing her eyes and clasping the hilt of the dagger harder than ever. It wavered in her hand for a moment, as if unsure of her target, then plummeted downward with frightening speed.

Nearly a full minute later, Simariel opened her eyes. “You were right Terinis, I feel no guilt.”

[Damiynn]

I actually truly enjoyed reading this, it is a great piece of work, I would continue reading it in a book. I especially like the end, by not knowing who she stabbed, herself the general or her master? Hmm good story held me captivated keep it up

[TheEndIsNigh]

Originally Posted by December88

Hello, i posted this up sometime ago but have since made alot of changes.

If you guys could take a look at this and tell me how effective it is as a prologue(does it hold your interest/hook you) and if the writing is okay, i would be very grateful.

Thanks!

PROLOGUE

There was something missing from the emptiness within Simariel, she was nervous. A slight shiver ran under her skin, (through her body is more common) she tried to conceal it but the boy standing barely a few feet in front of her (odd perhaps loose the barely) noticed, he always did. Jorak was his name and he had grown up with her; the two of them had run the same fields, eaten the same food and learned from the same teacher, they had been companions for seventeen years and had never spoken a word to one another.

A voice drifted to them from inside a nearby tent. “Tell me general, are you ready to see one of my ultimate weapons? She is standing right outside.”

Simariel's shoulders tensed, but despite her now, obvious discomfort, no words of encouragement came her way and the unspoken rule of indefinite silence continued. Instead, Jorak continued to stand at rapt attention (rapt attention?), back as straight as a board, chin tilted upward, silent and steady. He expected Simariel to do the same, it was what they had been taught (trained)to do.

“Simariel!” cried the same voice from within. “Enter.”

Simariel turned instantly on the spot and she was illuminated by pale moonlight. Her face was one of strained impassiveness, the softness it once possessed had long since been etched away by harsh winds of many winters, similar to the one that blew against her lean form tonight. Ten steps to the tent, brisk and exact, she was almost inside but stopped on the ninth as if waiting for something.

The truth was that Simariel had been waiting all her life, and now, on the threshold of no return, perhaps Jorak would relent. Perhaps he would put his learnings aside for just one moment, look at Simariel, and say something, anything to tell her that she wasn't alone.

“Simariel!” called the voice again, edged with impatience this time.

Nothing. Simariel could not delay any further. She closed her eyes, took a deep breathe and entered.

The inside of the tent was lit by three waning flames that flickered within inadequate braziers. Terinis, Simariel's master, crouched beside a man who lay on the floor, propped against the side of a large chest. Raising a long, ashen finger, Terinis beckoned Simariel forward. “Closer. I would like you to meet High General Karrad Ebonlocke, first in command of the armies of Lind Therwin.”

Karrad Ebbonlocke – the general (we've just been told he's a general no need to stress it again The General or Ebbonlocke would suffice) – was in a bad shape, his chest heaved up and down in painfully sporadic jerks and his face was worn -(?) down. He shook his head mournfully upon catching sight of Simariel and swore.

“Pretty isn't she?” Terinis remarked. He seemed to be pleased with himself and got to his feet, starting to slowly pace around Simariel. “You see general, we got (get? this whole section seems to be in the wrong tense) them young, mere toddlers. Then we trained them, forged them into what you see now. Oh you should have seen the training, it would have even the most hardened of your veterans on his knees, retching. Simariel and her peers, they're matchless general, instruments of martial perfection.”

“You stoop to the lowest standards of morality, no wonder you were cursed.” rasped Karrad Ebonlocke (again no need for the formal first name).

“Morality,” whispered Terinis. “You've (typo? if not it's odd) dark hard and deep where others were too afraid to go, dedicated your whole life to scourging corruption and upholding good. And what has all that got you? A wife who died alone with no one by her side, and children who cannot stand the sight of you.”

Karrad's brow furrowed into distress prompting a sneer from Terinis. “I know all about you general, especially about your sons. The letter you stole from my king, I know it's with them, in fact i'm going to send Simariel to Boughshire shortly and she is going to retrieve that letter and kill your sons.” (kill your sons and retrieve that letter - as this will be the probable sequence of events)

“No, no!” Karrad Ebonlocke, fueled by desperate strength, struggled to get up but was held down by rope. He looked at Simariel, trying to catch her eye. “Not my boys.”

Simariel looked away, staring into a dark corner. Do not look at him! Do not look at him! A voice began to chant in her head.

“She won't look at you general.” chuckled Terinis, casually walking up to a cabinet and pulling open a draw. He spent a few seconds looking for something, then secured it and went back to Simariel. “You see,” he continued, putting the object in Simariel's hands. “She has been taught to never look into the eyes of someone she is about to kill.”

Do not look at him! Do not look at him! The dagger felt unusually heavy in Simariel's hands and she spoke to the black corner. “To look into the victim's eyes risks the onset of empathy, a weakness.”

(I have a problem with this theory - In general I would have thought that an assassin/murderer can't aford this luxury and in any case would be trained not to be affected by any such problem if it exists. If you never meet a victims eyes then you'll miss any tell tale dangers or clues that may save your life)

“Very good Simariel, very good. However, tonight, I want you to break that rule.” Terinis once again crouched by Karrad Ebonlocke. “I want you to look into the general's eyes when you kill him.”

Nearly dropping the dagger, Simariel look at Terinis, shocked (again shock is not affordable in this profession and would be one of the first reactions to be 'trained out' impassively would be more in character). “There is no need for this Terinis, you have trained me well enough I do not...”

“And what was all that training for Simariel?” asked Terinis, cutting her short. “I know you are nervous, that you are not strong enough. Jorak was the first to notice, he knows you better than anyone else.”

“That... that isn't true, I swear.” stammered Simariel, succumbing to hesitation in front of Terinis for the first time ever.

“I was about to have you done away with, but I didn't. Your martial talent, it is second to none and I realized that I couldn't waste you. But you are emotionally weak, you always have been and tonight, we are going to fix that. Look into the general's eyes!!”

And she looked, and the chant in her head shattered and ceased to exist. She saw the tears that came down his grizzled cheeks, meandering in melancholy, she saw his drawn out features, weathered face and his eyes, brimming with sorrow.

The warmth came, it was just like she had thought it would feel; quaint and tingling, gracing her heart with something it had been secretly been longing for her whole life – compassion. She closed her eyes and trembled as it smothered her and left her breathless.

“Fight it!” snarled Terinis. “Fight the folly of man, his pathetic weakness. All it will ever cause you is pain and misery a thousand fold for every scrap of false happiness it throws at you. The oaths you took, what were they all for? Fight it and be true to yourself and what you really are!”


And Simariel nodded, because she knew that everything Terinis had said was true and she couldn't trust her fickle heart, it pained too much. She wasn't meant to have a normal life, she wasn't meant to laugh or cry, or have a family or children. She had been a fool to think or even hope that Jorak shared her misguided feelings; he was right, she was wrong. There was no changing what had been ingrained to her since childbirth (no? she was trained from being a toddler and was not 'born to this life), she was meant to do one thing and one thing only, and that was to kill.

Even as Karrad Ebonlocke looked at her and whispered, “I forgive you for my life, but please, not my sons.”, even as the smallest part of her heart made her hate herself, Simariel stepped toward the general and knelt down. (He was tied down before, unable to rise)

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I'll make it as quick as possible, painless.” (sorry isn't in character - even if she is going to do a double cross later she has to appear to show no remorse and given her hardening earlier she is unlikely to say I'm sorry I know this spoils the paragraph below but you could reword this to be her thoughts - quick etc. is OK though)

“Sorry?!” snapped Terinis. “You are not sorry! Do not give into the feeble weaknesses of your kin, do not think about it and there will be no guilt!.”

She clutched the dagger so hard that it hurt, be she didn't notice as she slowly lifted it above her head where it lingered, trying to delay (doesn't work she's deliberately trying to delay so how could she not notice it) the inevitable.

“Do not prolong! Finish him!”

“I will!” snapped Simariel, glaring murderously at Terinis who slunk back (out of character - this guy's seen it all) a little. “I will.” she said again, more softly this time. Blood pounded within her head, a nettling buzz filled her ears, Terinis' wicked face flashed through her mind and for the smallest fraction of a second, she contemplated the impossible, the unforgivable. (If you are trying to suggest she thought of killng Terinis then I think you should say so especially if this is a turning point from which her disloyalty starts) “No!” she snarled and turned away with a sense of urgency.

“Please, not my boys!”

Simariel heard it, uttered in in despair and helplessness, nothing more than a nearly soundless whisper, a plea for mercy. It called to something deep and raced, screaming across the immense emptiness of her soul to strike as the single greatest force she had ever felt. She had the sudden urge to help the poor general, to comfort him and assure him that his children would be alright, that she would never harm them. But she knew she couldn't, she simply couldn't.

“No! Let it be done with!” rasped Simariel, closing her eyes and clasping the hilt of the dagger harder than ever. It wavered in her hand for a moment, as if unsure of her target, then plummeted downward with frightening speed.

Nearly a full minute later, Simariel opened her eyes. “You were right Terinis, I feel no guilt.”

OK, yes it's good though as you can see I found some parts contradicted.

I hope this critism isn't too severe - I can be a bit too picky sometimes

[hrn212]

I really liked it, but one thing kind of nagged at me...

It's sort of along the same lines as much of what TheEndIsNigh was saying, but more general. I kind of feel like Simariel's hesitancy at the beginning of the story and then her continued wish to not kill the general and his sons sort of came out of nowhere. If she's been trained since she was a child to kill without mercy, where does her humanity come from? Like, I could understand it popping up during her first kill, but I would assume her first kill wasn't that of a general and that it happened while she was still a child. Presumably they would have had her start actually killing people early on so that she (ideally) no longer had any sort of emotions once she was older and was given actual missions or whatever. For her to have grown up in world in which all compassion and humanity was squashed it seems sort of strange that she managed to hang onto it, unless there's some sort of catalyst for this kink in her armor/training.

Then again it's a prologue, so perhaps this would be explained in the rest of the story?

[December88]

Thanks for all the responses thus far.

Some really nice nit picking that would have otherwise gone un-noticed TheEndisNigh. Thanks for that (i probably would have got them as i started drafting but thanks anyhow )

I see what both of you mean regarding the contradictions.

I think one thing that definitely needs more ellaboration and explaining is that this is going to be Simariel's first kill. I know alot of the things i said may have thrown a reader off track and i need to tighten up many loose ends/ change a few lines.

Her training, while harsh and grueling, hasn't required her to kill as yet and hence she is supposed to be nervous this night. I was hoping to maybe exploit this 'nervousness' and have her wishing for comfort/re- assurance even though she has been taught not to seek those things.

Anyhow, thanks for the comments, i will definitely work on it. Glad you likd it Damiynn.


If any others would like to comment, they are more than welcome to

[chrispenycate]

Originally Posted by December88

Hello, i posted this up sometime ago but have since made alot of changes.

If you guys could take a look at this and tell me how effective it is as a prologue(does it hold your interest/hook you) and if the writing is okay, i would be very grateful.

Thanks!

PROLOGUE

There was something missing from the emptiness within Simariel, she was nervous.

two complete sentences; could replace comma with semicolon

A slight shiver ran under her skin, she tried to conceal it but the boy standing barely a few feet in front of her noticed, he always did.

Three sentences here; you don't want two semicolons

Jorak was his name and he had grown up with her; the two of them had run the same fields, eaten the same food and learned from the same teacher, they had been companions for seventeen years and had never spoken a word to one another.

two sentences

A voice drifted to them from inside a nearby tent. “Tell me

comma

general, are you ready to see one of my ultimate weapons? She is standing right outside.”

Simariel's shoulders tensed, but despite her now, obvious discomfort,

"but despite her, now obvious, discomfort,"probably?

no words of encouragement came her way and the unspoken rule of indefinite silence continued. Instead, Jorak continued to stand at rapt attention, back as straight as a board, chin tilted upward, silent and steady. He expected Simariel to do the same, it was what they had been taught to do.

“Simariel!” cried the same voice from within. “Enter.”

Simariel turned instantly on the spot and she was illuminated by pale moonlight. Her face was one of strained impassiveness, the softness it

had?

once possessed had long since been etched away by harsh winds of many winters, similar to the one that blew against her lean form tonight. Ten steps to the tent, brisk and exact, she was almost inside but stopped on the ninth as if waiting for something.

The truth was that Simariel had been waiting all her life, and now, on the threshold of no return, perhaps Jorak would relent. Perhaps he would put his learnings aside for just one moment, look at Simariel, and say something, anything to tell her that she wasn't alone.

“Simariel!” called the voice again, edged with impatience this time.

Nothing. Simariel could not delay any further. She closed her eyes, took a deep breathe and entered.

The inside of the tent was lit by three waning flames that flickered within inadequate braziers. Terinis, Simariel's master, crouched beside a man who lay on the floor, propped against the side of a large chest. Raising a long, ashen finger, Terinis beckoned Simariel forward. “Closer. I would like you to meet High General Karrad Ebonlocke, first in command of the armies of Lind Therwin.”

Karrad Ebbonlocke – the general – was in a bad shape, his chest heaved up and down in painfully sporadic jerks and his face was worn down. He shook his head mournfully upon catching sight of Simariel and swore.

“Pretty isn't she?” Terinis remarked. He seemed to be pleased with himself and got to his feet, starting to slowly pace around Simariel. “You see general, we got them young, mere toddlers. Then we trained them, forged them into what you see now. Oh

comma

you should have seen the training, it would have even the most hardened of your veterans on his knees, retching. Simariel and her peers, they're matchless general, instruments of martial perfection.”

“You stoop to the lowest standards of morality, no wonder you were cursed.” rasped Karrad Ebonlocke.

“Morality,” whispered Terinis. “You've dark hard and deep where others were too afraid to go, dedicated your whole life to scourging corruption and upholding good. And what has all that got you? A wife who died alone with no one by her side, and children who cannot stand the sight of you.”

Karrad's brow furrowed into distress

comma

prompting a sneer from Terinis. “I know all about you

comma

general, especially about your sons. The letter you stole from my king, I know it's with them, in fact i'm

I'm

going to send Simariel to Boughshire shortly and she is going to retrieve that letter and kill your sons.”

“No, no!” Karrad Ebonlocke, fueled by desperate strength, struggled to get up but was held down by rope. He looked at Simariel, trying to catch her eye. “Not my boys.”

Simariel looked away, staring into a dark corner. Do not look at him! Do not look at him! A voice began to chant in her head.

“She won't look at you general.” chuckled Terinis, casually walking up to a cabinet and pulling open a draw. He spent a few seconds looking for something, then secured it and went back to Simariel. “You see,” he continued, putting the object in Simariel's hands. “She has been taught to never look into the eyes of someone she is about to kill.”

Do not look at him! Do not look at him! The dagger felt unusually heavy in Simariel's hands and she spoke to the black corner. “To look into the victim's eyes risks the onset of empathy, a weakness.”

“Very good Simariel, very good. However, tonight, I want you to break that rule.” Terinis once again crouched by Karrad Ebonlocke. “I want you to look into the general's eyes when you kill him.”

Nearly dropping the dagger, Simariel look at Terinis, shocked. “There is no need for this Terinis, you have trained me well enough I do not...”

“And what was all that training for Simariel?” asked Terinis, cutting her short. “I know you are nervous, that you are not strong enough. Jorak was the first to notice, he knows you better than anyone else.”

“That... that isn't true, I swear.” stammered Simariel, succumbing to hesitation in front of Terinis for the first time ever.

“I was about to have you done away with, but I didn't. Your martial talent, it is second to none and I realized that I couldn't waste you. But you are emotionally weak, you always have been and tonight, we are going to fix that. Look into the general's eyes!!”

And she looked, and the chant in her head shattered and ceased to exist. She saw the tears that came down his grizzled cheeks, meandering in melancholy, she saw his drawn out features, weathered face and his eyes, brimming with sorrow.

The warmth came, it was just like she had thought it would feel; quaint and tingling, gracing her heart with something it had been secretly been longing for her whole life – compassion. She closed her eyes and trembled as it smothered her and left her breathless.

“Fight it!” snarled Terinis. “Fight the folly of man, his pathetic weakness. All it will ever cause you is pain and misery a thousand fold for every scrap of false happiness it throws at you. The oaths you took, what were they all for? Fight it and be true to yourself and what you really are!”


And Simariel nodded, because she knew that everything Terinis had said was true and she couldn't trust her fickle heart, it pained too much. She wasn't meant to have a normal life, she wasn't meant to laugh or cry, or have a family or children. She had been a fool to think or even hope that Jorak shared her misguided feelings; he was right, she was wrong. There was no changing what had been ingrained to her since childbirth, she was meant to do one thing and one thing only, and that was to kill.

two sentences

Even as Karrad Ebonlocke looked at her and whispered, “I forgive you for my life, but please, not my sons.”, even as the smallest part of her heart made her hate herself, Simariel stepped toward the general and knelt down.

“I'm sorry,” she whispered. “I'll make it as quick as possible, painless.”

“Sorry?!” snapped Terinis. “You are not sorry! Do not give into the feeble weaknesses of your kin, do not think about it and there will be no guilt!.”

She clutched the dagger so hard that it hurt, be she didn't notice as she slowly lifted it above her head where it lingered, trying to delay the inevitable.

“Do not prolong! Finish him!”

“I will!” snapped Simariel, glaring murderously at Terinis who slunk back a little. “I will.” she said again, more softly this time. Blood pounded within her head, a nettling buzz filled her ears, Terinis' wicked face flashed through her mind and for the smallest fraction of a second, she contemplated the impossible, the unforgivable. “No!” she snarled and turned away with a sense of urgency.

“Please, not my boys!”

Simariel heard it, uttered in in despair and helplessness, nothing more than a nearly soundless whisper, a plea for mercy. It called to something deep and raced, screaming across the immense emptiness of her soul to strike as the single greatest force she had ever felt. She had the sudden urge to help the poor general, to comfort him and assure him that his children would be alright, that she would never harm them. But she knew she couldn't, she simply couldn't.

“No! Let it be done with!” rasped Simariel, closing her eyes and clasping the hilt of the dagger harder than ever. It wavered in her hand for a moment, as if unsure of her target, then plummeted downward with frightening speed.

Nearly a full minute later, Simariel opened her eyes. “You were right Terinis, I feel no guilt.”

[December88]

Thanks for the grammar highlights chris, will make my drafting much much easier


More comments are always welcome.

[crystal haven]

I feel very comfortable with your writing. You bring the characters alive, which gives me a problem - I don't see things that might be wrong, I just read.

I'm not good at critique, but as a reader I found myself pulled up short by the 'don't look into his eyes'. It seemed strange, and not a sensible thing to do, which pulled me out of the story. I know this has been mentioned by someone else.

I have enjoyed this very much, but I don't think, the opening holds me as strongly as your other work did.

I hope that helps.

[December88]

Thanks Crystal.

So it seems like the whole 'Dont look into his eyes' doesn't seem right. I'll change that up.

The opening seems a bit tepid too from what people have said so i think will cut it out and start the scene inside the tent.

Thanks for the comments once again, and as always, more are welcome.