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@hybridlore @freedomwriter76 @euodia-vision @kyronthearcanin @jonas @mineralizedwritings @loopylin @whalekeeper @anyone-else-who-might-have-slight-interest
I’m not going to bother with italics this time, they always come out wring. Anyway, this is the fourth chapter, but I’m going to warn you that I may drastically change part of this chapter, so if you later see it again on here, that’s why. enjoy.
CHAPTER 4-MORMAKA
Nahim tried to shift his uncomfortable position but it was of no use; this motley crew of bounty hunters had secured him too well. This mix mash of aliens, now happy about the riches that awaited, made themselves comfy with a betting game. Nahim made a disgusted face at the strong reek of the drink they poured for themselves. They jeered at his reaction to the brew that, by Conduct, no Realn would drink. Only one did not join into their awful behavior. He looked normal enough, even the signs of his earlier injury did not show, but Nahim had seen this humanoid shapeshift into a tentacle creature. Whatever he was, he seemed like a Shyiad yet he had the healing abilities of a snapa.These are the thoughts of Nahim, but there are those who will not understand the ways of the snapa nor the lore of the Shyiad. Shyiads have become rare in the Wond Galaxy, many are said to still live on Wond. They have a unique ability to shapeshift into any organic thing, though their original forms are a snake or human. A snapa is not related to Wond; they dwell on a neon planet and have slim, sleek bodies that blend into their environment. They typically are loosely humanoid with two legs and arms, one head and a body, but their arms and legs are oddly long. Their head is the strangest feature of all, resembling that of an Earthling’s Rhino Snake, but the eyes are always slit. They fit the description of ‘as skinny as a rail’ closer than any man can. As implied, they have a unique ability to heal within minutes of an injury.
Now the Shapeshifter’s voice was quiet and his olive eyes focused on the strangeness of Nahim. Nahim fixed on the variety of creatures before him, one in particular reminded him strangely of a bug, a Sw .
“5,000.”
“I’m out.” A spiky alien threw down his cards. The tall blind crew member had already given up and now was lounging against the wall. A Turqin woman and a 6-armed troll were vicious in the game. The vampirish Sw, with its long arms and legs and weirdly squeaky voice, laughed the most about their feat of capturing a Realn. His high-pitched squeals made Nahim cringe.
“…Look at him, he can’t even stand a laugh!”
Nahim was enraged as the others either joined his squeals or ignored them completely.
“Realn have more power than you think, bug.” The Sw stopped his cackling as if he had been hit with a bullet. His eyes seemed to glow with anger, he quickly reached with long stretchy fingers to grab Nahim, his mouth open, showing his yellow fangs. Apparently, the thing had murderous thoughts toward anything that called it “bug” even if they were worth more alive. The others tried to hold him back, and the Turqin told him that this Sw did NOT like being called the…B-word. “Quak, go somewhere else and keep your knobby fingers off our bounty. Also, brush your fangs, they look gross.” Olive-eyes spoke with a sharp authority as he pointed to another part of the ship. It took a while before the thing was willing. Troll-guy and Turqin sat again at their cards, acting as if it was a normal day. It probably was.
“50,000.”
The price climbed but Nahim was off in his own world. His thoughts strayed among the streets of Laxan, as they often did, the many twists and turns memorized when he was a Young One. Only suddenly did he become aware of Troll-guy winning the ridiculously-priced game and the pink Turqin calling,
“Quak! Gaygarum called you the b-word!”
Gaygarum had done no such thing. Quak came like a ravenous wolf, his anger already arisen by their captive. In the end of the long, annoying struggle, Olive-eyes sent everyone to different areas of the not-to-vast spacecraft and began cleaning up the chaotic mess.
“Names Olvos. What’s yours?”
At first, Nahim didn’t pay attention to the question, but eventually, he answered.
“You now.”
“And why, I wondering, do you cost so much, Nahim Nayhelm.”
“You would be worth the same if you’d done what I’ve done.”
“I never break MY code.”
“I didn’t break mine ether.”
“And so what’s the thing you did?”
“Gave Vorgan a chance to pick out some new arms.” There was a pride in his voice. More than the usual Realn pride.
“I think you’re making that up.”
“Say what ya want.”
Silence reigned except the clank of mugs and Galaxos. Olvos shoved a barrel back into place. Even with his slim stature he showed incredible strength. An awful smell of strong drink and cleaning chemicals hung in the air. Looking up, Olvos finally said,
“Look, you seem like a good kid. Who shall I tell where I dropped you off?”
Nahim’s mind could not find a logical reason not to tell Olvos.
“Mandin Ward, son of Master Milcah and Mistress Lily Ward.”
“I know of him. He got a bounty of mine first. About 3 years ago. I’ll tell him.”
Nahim doubted Olvos really would, but whatever he wanted. At least Nahim would have a chance. Right now he had very little of that hanging in his mind. By the way he was secured, these bounty hunters knew how to deal with Realn, and a Master would know how to deal with a Young Warrior.
*****
Gaygarum shoved Nahim roughly down the fold-out steps of their rust bucket excuse for a spaceship. When he picked his face up out of the dry dirt, he glanced around at the bright light of a blue giant star hung in the sky. Only Gaygarum and Olvos came out to meet this traitor. Though the contact number was for Dolant, Nahim knew that none of the Danoo system had a blue giant nor such a dry, endless desert with as much scorching heat as this. The troll pulled him up with a jerk as Nahim caught sight of a man walking towards them, kicking up a turret of sand. Behind him stood the brood chested, thin stomached silhouette of a Realn droid.
“You have the package?” a deep voice spoke in trade tongue, perfect trade tongue. There was no accent, no mispronunciations. It was the perfection that Nahim only dreamed of. But as he thought of that voice he let his mouth go agape and cried out in Realn as he struggled against the strong arms of Gaygarum.
“Wenbor! Ance a ta yrge! Wenbor a na eotle!”
Nahim didn’t need to be told the identity of this man; he knew. Master Canin Grostoff had known Nahim in his childhood. He had seen his eyes light up with longing and joy when he spoke in his perfect Trade. But now the voice angered this once charming, laughing, joking boy. A ting of pity ate at Canin’s heart, but there was no body language to show it.
“Enough!” –– He glanced at Olvos, –– “Your money is with my droid.” He made a motion with his hand and the black and slate gray droid handed a bulky box to the alienm, who calmly formed tentacles to carry the heavy thing. Gaygarum, in turn, pushed Nahim into the droid’s arms with no concern that his head was unprotected. He grinned at the ‘wenbor’ and said with a clumsy bow,
“Pleasure doin’ business with ya’,” as he almost fell.
Nahim looked past the blue spotted mass at Olvos, who nodded to him. Maybe Olvos really had meant what he said. He uselessly struggled with the droid, who unconcernedly wrenched his arms behind his back with an unbreakable grip. Nahim was basically helpless. He knew his struggle was futile, but he was a Realn and a Nayhelm even more, his culture, his instinct was to fight against this. With little effort the droid turned Nahim and led him to the miniature Mith class Realn ship that Canin owned. The same one in which Nahim had years ago admired the making of with one of his older brothers. As he was taken down the thin, long hallway, he still had a hard time wrapping his mind around the reality that Canin was a traitor. He remembered Canin from way back in his youth, that day when that dark-haired, dark-eyed man first walked into the door with Lord Adorian. The day when he had handed Nahim a crystal sword and Nahim had shown his skill from a young age. Canin. The Canin he knew back then had changed. Nahim sighed. Just as the world he once knew had changed. It didn’t and yet it did make sense. Canin was at the right position to be a traitor and a good one but yet the memories…
“Who do you work for?”
Canin stopped the droid from behind. “You know who.”
Nahim gazed sorrowfully into those dark green, so dark, eyes he once wished were his own. “Why have you chosen the path of Codebreaker?” Life didn’t make sense.
Canin struck Nahim’s fair cheek. “I just found the bounty money of a lifetime. Is that wrong?” Canin knew Nahim wouldn’t believe that answer, it wasn’t the truth either. How could he tell his reasons to this Nayhelm? This Young Warrior would call him a weakling for giving out to the Nanians.
“Canin, you caused the death of my parents, your FRIENDS. That’s what’s wrong. The child you told had the gift of someone Chosen is the same one who you turned into a man watching his family become no more.” Canin studied the sad, masculine features of who once was his young comrade and trainee before ordering the droid to continue. Nahim tried to flex his hands but the Realn droid was hopelessly strong. Canin stepped in front of an open cell door and the droid cast Nahim into the large, for one man, room. As soon as he hit the ground he rose and turned on his heel. No longer restrained, he felt some of his Nayhelmic anger rise, and he was going to charge Canin, knowing if he could grab that crystal sword hung from his belt, he could gain his freedom. But Canin Grostoff was well versed in the ways of the Nayhelm and expected Nahim. The cell door slid shut. Nahim resigned to a corner until the Realn droid entered. He secured Nahim with restraints to the wall, but not after Nahim had, fighting, let the droid know his protest.
The door soon again slid open and in walked King Vorgan. The bright white light around them glistened in his six black eyes. The dark gray of his body was accented with stripes of red and dots of yellow. His armor was painted with hideous silhouettes of beasts and spiders. On his rounded head rested a crown, a deep red in color. Nahim spit to the side. Vorgan grinned. Four Nanian guards surrounded the spider-like king as Vorgan detonated a brown spherical little bomb so that its seams glowed a bright yellow. A Terror Bomb. Vorgan threw it at Nahim and watched as the yellow lightning fingers reached forward and spread to cover Nahim’s entire body.
Nahim knew what a Terror Bomb was and any Realn knows, and many other peoples know. It is a death sentence to any who do not wear the Mithaln of the Realn. And to a Realn it meant pain and helplessness. But to Nahim it meant something else.
For a reason he could not think of, this terror of Vorgan’s made him only dizzy. A dizziness that he could not shake off now plagued his brain. Before he knew it, Vorgan was commanding his guard to release what he thought to be a helpless enemy. At first, Nahim did begin to fall to the floor but then it came. When his brain would not function, the memories of training for ten years flashed without him even knowing. The muscle memory that began at age five began to tingle. The instincts of a Realn, a warrior people, who protected their own while helping the weak since ancient Wond, was coming. Before his knees touched the ground that instinct stiffened his muscles, now his body was covered in that familiar feeling. Nayhelm adrenaline was flowing. With movements quicker than a feline, Nahim jumped up and gave a landing blow with his gauntlet to Vorgan’s face. Now on his feet, he gave another blow as Vorgan landed one on Nahim’s left shoulder, where only the Secret Cloth protected him; Mithweve has a strength of its own. Nahim ducked one blow and took a whack at one of the four guards. Soon that Nayhelm adrenaline would be a running river through all of his being.
The Nayhelm were once an arrow ever being pushed deeper into the side of the enemy. They were headstrong, powerful, intelligent, and when that adrenaline that forever is there for the descendants of Nayhelm flows, there never be a flight, only a fight. Nahim carried the traits of a true son of Nayhelm. He was a full-blood Realn, a descendant of those who charged behind Emperor Aradin against the consuming dragons of the Realn Isles. Of the same blood as those who sailed the great sea about Wond. A child, by a thread, of those who made the Realn an entire nation of warriors. He had a thread of the blood of Thurston, first Emperor of the Realn. And he never showed more than a fraction of the great hero’s blood that flowed even a little bit in his veins.
He waited for the guards to rush him before quickly landing his metal-reinforced fists into the un-protected neck. But something was wrong. Vorgan did not even try to kill him as he expected, Vorgan only called more guards as one by one his four original fell to this berserker Realn. Even with the hopeless amount of Nanian Elite guards swarming him he managed to take his strikes at Vorgan and his guards. But still, yet again Nahim found his arms pinned. Vorgan landed his long-waiting blow on his bare cheek.
“Cowards blows!” Nahim yelled as he brought up his feet to kick Vorgan back to the gray wall. Vorgan gave a gruff command as he picked himself up. Some of the guards pulled Nahim’s feet out from under him. Because of that Realn pride, Nahim wished not to even look like he was kneeling to that awful monster. He fell to the floor, the tight bonds now binding his wrists and ankles. Roughly, they pulled him to his feet and slammed his back against the smooth, gray wall as Vorgan sauntered up.
“It took me a long time to figure out how I wanted you to die. An arena battle against bad odds would be too honorable. ‘Terror’ bombs don’t hurt you obviously. Killing you right now with my sword or with a blaster would be too quick and lacks the sport of you slowly realizing that you and your friends and your entire people will fall and die, failures!” Vorgan stopped with a twinkle in his eye as if he knew something Nahim didn’t, some overpowering doom that awaited for the right time to crush that long-standing, wholly warrior nation. “Instead I settled for something better. I will, unfortunately, not see you die, but I shall finally rest knowing you died a gruesome, slow, painful death. You now have a neck band; I see you learned from last time, but it will destroy your painless demise. I will feed you to a mormaka!” –– Nahim did not flinch. Vorgan’s proud, malicious voice entered his ears, but his mind wished to ignore it –– “It will be unable to just snap your neck with that neckband on. So it will tear you limb from limb. And, of course, by instinct you must fight, that will only make it worse. You see, Red Eye, I have chosen almost a perfect death for you. Half-alive it will play with you as a tat does to its doomed prey.” Vorgan put a special accent on the word “doomed.” Vorgan studied Nahim’s reaction. “Don’t pretend you don’t have fear. I know you Realn, you don’t like to show your weaknesses. Drag him along.” The strong guards held Nahim’s arms between them as they dragged him to another cell on another ship, the Imperial Nanian spacecraft. There was no further escape.
A tat, Vorgan had compared the mormaka to a tat. Those quiet creatures, cute, but hiding their secret. They stalk their prey, play with it until it can no longer fight back, and then there is no escape, no hope. A tat’s large ears are quick for the slightest noise, its small nose ready for the scent of doom. At first glance, those large eyes and small mouth makes you want to cuddle the furry creature, to wrap its prehensile tail around your finger. To play with those four small paws. But their secret will show if you try. The claws show through the fur, razor sharp points. Their mouth opens and reveals the ghastly tentacles they use to eat prey. Their screech they give is a far cry from the sweet little peeps they gift otherwise. Tats are dangerous. Nahim knew that that was what Vorgan wanted to eat at his mind; he knew mormakas weren’t cute and they didn’t have the tats same special features, but they had almost the same nature. They wait with a predators’ patience, they hide waiting for their prey, they strike when the time is best, and they rarely miss.
The trip was the same time as it had taken the bounty hunters to get to Canin: one tai. After that time, the guards came to drag him out onto a desert surface. A few dry grasses dotted the never-ending pale sand and its dips and dunes.
“Ah, Dolant, known for its mormaka holes!” Vorgan’s voice was tinged with a great pleasure. 10 paces ahead was a pit-like sand formation, a mormaka hole. The large guards walked him to the edge where they seemed ready to undo his bonds. As they loosened, before Nahim had a chance to act, Vorgan himself pushed him into the pit. At once the sand gave way before closing around the body of Vorgan’s enemy. The 6 foot humanoid spider turned away with a joyful glee. His troubled life seemed over. No longer would dreams of a red-sclera man haunt the night. No longer would those blades be his worst fears. As he mounted those stairs back to his spacecraft, for the first time for a long time he felt good.
*****
Nahim’s feet hit hard earth as he tumbled. Even though he wore armor, the special technology of the Realn made him able to feel the texture of the hard-packed fine dirt under him. The smooth texture of Realn steel-protected fingers rubbed thoughtfully against his forehead. He stretched. Being restrained for two weeks made him feel stiff. Semi-darkness surrounded him in this large cavern of about 30 cubits. The mormaka hole, as they do, closed up above. His nerves settled until his eyes adjusted to the semi-darkness and saw the one old tattered Realn helmet and a few crystal swords. Bones lay at one end along with the armor of some other culture. A drip echoed in the darkness, breaking the rule of silence. When he turned he realized that a tunnel or cavern could only be semi-dark if they had a light source, and that light source were two great yellow eyes. The saliva sizzled as it touched the ground. Acid. Nahim shook himself. This couldn’t be real, it didn’t seem real. He must be dreaming. But suddenly the glimmer of teeth showed as a cavernous mouth opened in the dark. A roar erupted from the open mouth. A roar like a hideous “Who dares?” almost deafened Nahim’s ears. It was a mormaka.
With lightning speed and no missed calculation, he rushed the Young Warrior of a Realn. With the swipe of a massive scaled, three-prong claw, it sent Nahim into the wall with a force that dazed him when his body slammed. His head ached and his vision blurred as the beast charged him again, its eyes lanterns that alone gave away its location. Nahim started out of his daze. He rolled away from the wall but felt a sharp pain go down the right side of his head. He gave a cry and made for the old helmet that lay about three cubits away. In a quick dash he had the helmet and hastily placed it on his head. Immediately it began to “connect” with its wearer and his armor. Nahim managed to turn on his own light to see another swipe coming at him. He ducked and barely escaped another injury. He had to get a weapon. Again he dashed for a piece of metal on the floor. Out of nowhere came a large tail with a horny ball on the end, it landed squarely on Nahim’s breastplate and sent him into the wall. It was better with a helmet but yet worse for he realized the mormaka had not used its full strength. Another time he dodged a swinging claw and then teeth before he reached his goal, a crystal sword. Within a fraction of a second the green blade formed from the molten crystal shot from its handle and was ready to swing. The mormaka detested the sword. Mormaka’s are known for hating extreme heat and extreme cold, this, it is said, is why they thrive best in the Danoo system where even “deserts” are not too hot and “cold places” never that cold. An as-sharp-as-a-blade contrast to Nahim’s favorite weather of the planet of Laxor. But Nahim knew little of the mormaka kind, their history is a long and mysterious one. Now Nahim thought he should have studied more than just their name and looks of this horny-headed creature. The little he knew was from the Viking family-clan. What Nahim had researched were dragons and Leavar. How could those help him now?
*****
A thick rope-like bit of gray string about 2/3 of a handbreadth thick came towards Nahim, catching and wrapping around the sword. It pulled and Nahim found himself without a weapon. And again that great tail came to knock him against the wall. The force was that of a bomb. The mormaka was now using his real strength. Nahim could not retaliate as the mormaka came forward and with one of his large claws, pierced his left shoulder. Suddenly Nahim became aware of what was happening and yelled at the feel of the claw piercing bone. Against this creature, Mithweve had lost its strength. With that yell the mormaka threw him into the dirt to catch the injured shoulder in its teeth. Again Nahim yelled. When the beast tossed him down, he groped for the handle of that same green-bladed sword. His fingertips barely pulled it into his grasp.
It was a long enduring fight, the entirety I could not write here and the entirety, Nahim would never tell. What I know is that the fight endured, Nahim thrown and tossed like a rag. Until finally he could fight no longer. It was then that the tat played with its doomed prey. Where Nahim before had skill and strategy, this creature had skill and strength. Nahim’s endurance had ended, or so he thought. Ever in reserve there seems to be a heroic quality that runs deep. An unselfish virtue. If Mandin had been there, if Mandin was in danger, Nahim would have found that vein of new strength. But there was nothing to protect but himself. That vein could not and would not be found this time.
It seemed like an eternity to Nahim before he realized his sword was still in his hand. At this point, it was worthless to use. As he slid it onto his belt he felt something else, a gift Mandin had given him a year ago. How could the bounty hunters have missed it? The little thin tablets of only the size of a fingernail were the height of tech that the Realn had as far as micro explosives. He grasped them in his right hand as one last time he was thrown into the air. He detonated the little Realn treasures and dropped them into the mormaka’s slightly open mouth. As Nahim hit the ground the bombs exploded. The large head fell down onto his lower body, pinning him. What could not be done via piercing armor was down via internal bomb.
But now what? Nahim couldn’t move his legs, pinned under the heavy mormaka. He couldn’t get out of here. Where was Mandin? He needed his friend. His weary and pained mind and body took comfort in the thought that Mandin had tracked where his captors had taken him and even now was coming. If he wasn’t then Nahim was faced with death, again. His last fleeting thought was of a triumphant Mandin
By the way, “Wenbor! Ance a ta yrge! Wenbor a na eotle!” is Realn for “Traitor! Friend of the foul creatures! Traitor to your people!”
"You need French Toast."
#AnduthForever (hopefully 💕)I’m pretty busy with school and stuff rn so I don’t have time to read this much writing, but if you ever post a small snippet or interaction you want me to see do tag me! 🙂
"And so I left this world just as I had entered it. Confused."
@hybridlore @euodia-vision @kyronthearcanin @jonas @anyone-else-who-might-have-slight-interest
@mineralizedwritings if you have time“A little child dashed in without a knock and practically shouted, ‘I heard you got a new sword with a dragon head on it!’ His eyes reminded me of a dragon and I found it amusing that this child did not seem to mind that he was talking to a lord who was in the middle of important business. But lord Adorian did not seemed disturbed at all and kindly said to the child ‘Nahim, I’m a little busy, would you please wait outside till I’m done.’ The look on your face Nahim! I have never seen a child look so disappointed at waiting only a few minutes! After you left the Lord turned to me and quickly explained that, ‘He is the third child of Master Anoran, my Steward. All his children are like my own to me. Nahim, he is the oddest, sometimes as sour as early laxorian fruits and sometimes as sweet as ripe ones. Sometimes as mature as his older brother by five years and sometimes more immature than he should be but mark my words Dare, that child is as enthusiastic about dragons as you are, and as good with swords as any boy can be.’ From that point on, Nahim Alfred Nayhelm was my little student.” Arkin smiled and Nahim’s face grew grave. It was good to see Dare again, but it brought up many memories he thought could have remained forgotten. “I should have gone to die by the side of Lord Adorian.” Nahim hung his head, and kicked a stone on the ground. “Nahim, you very well know Adorian would never have let you. The Nayhelm had to stay alive somehow, and he knew you were the key to life. Nahim, all your life you have been trained the way you have because you are the hope of our people. Laxor is the gate to the defeat, or the rise of the Realn, and if Grathmere ever had gotten hold of it, you could be sure that we would become no more.”
Not from Guardian Angels, but it’s from another book-in-planning.
"You need French Toast."
#AnduthForever (hopefully 💕)Wait is that from a prequel/sequel? Nice!
WE ARE REVIVING THE PROTECTION SQUAD! *steals Joseph, Julian, and Sabina from Ellette*
Sequel. It’s called The Two Emperors
So there’s Guardian Angels, then Sovereignty in the Galaxy: The Troublemakers, then Sovereignty in the Galaxy: The Two Emperors, then The Returns, then Alpha Slit, and that’s as far as I’ve got with sci-fi.
"You need French Toast."
#AnduthForever (hopefully 💕)Hello!
I’m sorry I didn’t see you tagging me for a while. I finally started reading your story and I’m enjoying it so far, but I’m only halfway through chapter two. I have a really hard time reading the italics and long paragraphs, but I’m not giving up! I’ll give you a longer response later when I finish it.
Thanks for tagging me. Sorry I’m so slow!
“Nothing says autumn like slurpin’ apples.” -my uncle
Also what kind of things do you most want criticism on? Grammar? Style? Story structure?
I can also just read it and tell you the things I like about it. : )
“Nothing says autumn like slurpin’ apples.” -my uncle
Sorry about the paragraphs, I have gone through and shortened them after people mentioned it. it should be easier to follow now.
Um…really whatever strikes you as needs changing. I often get comments from my friends like “It’s good.” “I really like it.” et cetera et cetera. Honestly, I get tired of hearing that, so if you got some constructive criticism you want to send from your brain to your fingers to the keys to me, DO IT!
I have someone who often tells me that he likes a certain part where I got the setting really clear and then says something like “however, I think you could have done so-and-so better, and it would be more life like if you did this-or-that to here” That’s the type I like the most, where I did good and then where I didn’t do good. My style is still undefined, so that type of criticism really helps.
"You need French Toast."
#AnduthForever (hopefully 💕)Um this post isn’t working so I’m going to send it in two parts to see if that helps.
Part 1:
I’m still only halfway through chapter two. Haven’t really found the time to read the whole thing though. But anyway here’s some thoughts:
This chapter is a lot easier to read for me since it’s no longer in italics and I hope you keep writing it that way. There’s obviously nothing wrong with using italics. It kinda looks cooler, actually. But if your readers have adhd like me, dyslexia, or just bad eyesight, they’re going to have a lot harder time reading it. Of course it’s totally up to you though, and there is nothing wrong with you still using the italics.
“Nothing says autumn like slurpin’ apples.” -my uncle
Ughhh the part 2 won’t post
“Nothing says autumn like slurpin’ apples.” -my uncle
Part 2:
Those eyes had looked straight into his own, those black pupils, red irises and… red sclerae. How could someone of man and elven lineage have such eyes?
This is a really cool reveal that I did not see coming. Now Nahim has suddenly become a lot more interesting and I’m excited to learn more about him.
“Nothing says autumn like slurpin’ apples.” -my uncle
Part 3:
However, I think the reveal would be a lot more powerful if you set us up for it earlier on in the chapter. I didn’t know before hand that he always had his helmet on. I kinda just imagined him as a normal dude with a normal human face. I think including a description of him, his outfit, and especially his helmet, and then mentioning that Mandin had never actually see his face earlier on in the chapter would make this section make a lot more sense, while still being intriguing and making the reader want to learn more. Also, you could maybe establish beforehand what people with elf blood do look like, so that the readers immediately know that the red eyes are unusual and we don’t need Mandin to explain it for us. (There is also a chance that you did have a description of those things and I just missed it. Sorry if that is the case.)
“Nothing says autumn like slurpin’ apples.” -my uncle
There! Finally! It posted!
“Nothing says autumn like slurpin’ apples.” -my uncle
@rae here is a critique from the tactical geek. 🫡
“one teen who didn’t know the skill of at least one weapon well”
“He had no weapons”
“and not able to do anything for lack of a weapon”
One of the important principles in fighting knowhow is that everything is a weapon. From the belt and shoes on your body, the phone of computer you are reading this on, or the dirt, sticks, and rocks on the ground (And rocks can be VERY effective weapons.)
Perhaps, there’s not a teen who isn’t deadly with a plasma blade, laser blaster, or EleXtroguantlet.
he was completely unarmed
he is not able to do anything for lack of a decent weapon.
There is almost always a weapon somewhere close by (Just, most people don’t pick up a coffee mug, and consider the possibility of hurling or cracking it over the head of an assailant.)
You will love what you spend time with.
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