~I blame Stosh. Why? .......Dunno either.
XLS Thunderstom--
Legendary Spec Ops
-- Godz of Tactical Combat
I am a Lone Wolf of Reach's Ruins. I am in a Team, and I will listen; although when I can, I go my own way, and lead my own way. When the situation calls, I will do as ordered.
Only when I must.
I am in the process of writing a story, and I would be quite happy to recieve some feedback on my writing style. I first tried the Flood, but that heeded no results. I am unsure as to why I expected any.
(It is not Halo related, I know! This is not a gallery story - it's a soon-to-be-most-likely excerpt from my story, which I am hoping to get feedback for on my writing style. It is edited slightly from the actual story version, as I needed to include the looks, background info, and setting for you people.)
The Mercenary walked along the road, his head facing down for many legs of the journey. He did not care what went on around him anymore; his father had died.
And he had been the killer.
Was it his fault? he asked himself. The mistress had ordered the death, but had only given a location, not a description. He wanted to believe that it was only coincidence. She did not know who it was! he kept telling himself, over and over again. This was the nature of his life - to kill for pay, and to serve his Queen.
But somehow, he knew it was more than coincidence. He was being tortured. But for what cause? Linden, ever the eccentric, flambouyent mercenary, knew not the reason.
The road changed from rough dirt to patterned stones, and he did not need to look up to realize he was heading towards the city of Ternstad. He continued on, head down.
"Hey, you!" yelled an unfamiliar voice. The sound was gruff and commanding, but it was not with the normal formality of a city guard. Linden lifted his head, watching as the figure came his direction, the strides long and cocky.
"Who are you?" asked the stranger. The Mercenary simply shrugged.
The stranger pressed on, interested in this man. Linden's long, robelike tunic was black and unremarkable on the outside, but he noticed that it was a bright red and purple inside. Chains from different pieces of jewlery could be seen tucked inside. He also noticed, though, the blades strapped to the mercenaries arms. Strange, he thought. "You have some nice pieces of jewlery on you. How about those blades, hrmm? Nice, they are," purred the hooded stranger.
Linden heard the words only distantly. He studied the mans features, anger slowly building. Did this man know him? He then noticed the sheaths concealed inside the tunic. A highwayman, he knew at once. He grinned.
"Wipe that grin off of your face, fool! Now, give me your gold, or di-"
The tinkered, slightly magical blades on Linden's arms stood upright, still completely on his arm, but with a two serrated edges in the highwaymans direction. The raged mercenary would enjoy this fight. He would not end it too quickly. To the highwaymans credit, his blade snapped out equally as quick, a sword in his right hand, and a still sheathed dirk waiting for his left.
The highwayman stuck first, his sword coming in a downward arc. Linden snapped an arm below to capture the blade, but the other mans sword suddenly pivoted right, and then changed left, meaning to slice into the mercenaries side. Linden, too quick for the robber, had his other arm up to counter.
Linden's hands moved in a flurry, his left arm snapping off the blade, and the right arm smacking into the sword as it was in the air, sending the highwaymans own sword back at him. He dodged it, though, and used the momentum to pivot back around. Linden spun around, and snapped his blades out further - the tinkered blades dissconected, half of each blade on the wrist, and the other half in position to be wielded as a normal sword. He was not surprised to see the highwayman wielding both the dirk and the sword now.
The highwayman was forced into the defensive, though, as the enraged mans blades drove forward in a speeding flurry. The thiefs blades, again to his credit, parried every strike, but he knew, somehow, that the mercenary was holding back.
Soon after, Linden decided to end the petty game. His strikes slowed, and the highwayman, expectedly, drove foward with both blades. The dirk fell on the still wrist-mounted blade on his right hand, and the sword met another sword. Linded spun his right hand blade around as the dirk impacted, and the blade, hitting the mans fingers, caused the dagger to drop bloodily to the ground. Another strike of his left hand sword brought the shocked highwaymans other blade down easily.
The man grasped his hand, growling in pain and anger at the skilled and eccentric mercenary. The last thing he saw was Linden walk forward toward Ternstad, thrusting both of his blades into the robber's stomach as he casually walked by.