I need some opinions

Ender-Zero

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i'm currently writing my first book based in a fantasy world which i created. it centers around a young elven male, whose true name is learned after the prologue.

So here's the Prologue, please tell me what you think and be perfectly honest, i'm only 15 but i would appriciate it if you would critisize it as if i was older, so i can improve more, thanks - Kyle

Prologue

A fierce, cold, driving wind slashed against the unprotected flesh of his face. As he walked on through the blizzard he pulled his cloak closer around himself. It was damned cold, and it was a long way to the nearest settlement. He began to curse himself softly for not bringing some warmer clothes, the shrieking, harsh winds of this barren, ice covered land were to much for him, and he was near exhaustion, the only thing that kept him going, kept him from dying was the craving, no, the need for revenge.
As he pushed forward through the harsh lands of the far north one thought kept reoccurring in his mind, you’re going to die in this damned land and there’s nothing you can do about it so why even try? Revenge, that was why. Those bastards had made him lose his sword and killed not only his master, but his wife, and now they had his son. He would hunt them down and kill them slowly, by the time he was done they would beg for their lives and everyone who ever opposed him would fear him, for he was Stormbringer, the Demonstorm, a man born of lies and darkness.
As he struggled forward, Stormbringer felt like his stomach was being twisted into dozens of knots, then being jabbed by thousands upon thousands of daggers. He reached for his food pouch, and as he shaking, gloved hand grasped itself around the pouch, he remembered he had finished his food yesterday, once more he cursed himself, if he had brought more food on this damned journey he would be able to live just a little bit longer, he would have been just one more step closer to his revenge, and as he thought of the revenge he would reek upon his foes, he forgot about the hunger and the cold, he began to feel warmer, colour returned to his features, once more he felt alive, it was a good feeling.
He smiled as he took another step forward, through the fierce, chill winds of the blizzard he could see a cave ahead of him, finally a place he where he could relax and regain some strength, but not sleep, he was to cold for that, if he went to sleep right now he would die.
Once the cave was a hundred paces ahead of him he tried to run for it, but he soon realised just how cold his body was, he couldn’t run, or move and faster, he had most likely, he thought, pulled both his calves in the failed attempt to run, not that he felt any pain due to the severe cold, which had numbed most of his body, but he had made an educated guess that was indeed correct.
The cave was only slightly warmer than the winds of the mountainside for one reason, they was no wind in here. Stormbringer slumped against the a corner in the far wall of the cave, he knew, due to the fact that he healed faster than any other Kinthorei he had met, excluding his brother and father, his pulled muscles would have been fully recovered by now, the healing was also the only reason he was still alive, but it was barely sustaining him.
He caught himself as he was about the doze of into a deep sleep, his head bobbed up and down as he struggled to stay awake. He had been in this blizzard for a week, he hadn’t slept in over nine days, and for the last week he had been rationing his food. His weapon had been broken in the fight a week ago; he suddenly shivered, not from the extreme cold, but from the terror that the memories brought up from deep within him.
“What am I?” he said softly, it seemed to him that as soon as the words left his mouth, the warm breathe that accompanied them froze instantly.
How he had survived so long he could not tell, how he was still conscious was another matter as well. Stormbringer stood up and began to stretch carefully and diligently, if he didn’t he would die from the cold and be immobilised in this torrent of cold, harsh, lonely death; it reminded him of his mortality. He could never die of old age, after all he was Kinthorei, or as the other races called them, elves. After he was finished stretching he sat back down in the corner.
Out of the corner of his right eye the isolated Kinthorei thought he saw movement in the blizzard, great now you’re going insane he thought to himself, but the slight form he saw bothered him. It seemed to him that it was a man, a warrior; this was obvious by his stride and posture. The figure seemed to have each hand on the hilt of a blade. Both blades were sheathed in curved scabbards; this indicated to Stormbringer that they were scimitars, the signature weapon of the Knights of Karunak. The fact that the figure had two blades, each with a brilliant emerald encased in its pommel, showed that he was a decorated soldier, one of the best. A gorgeous violet cape fluttered behind him, this was a symbol of the Blademasters of Iverance, during the wars against savage people, and both the Knights and Blademasters wore the cape of the other, a symbol of that they were fighting as one force, allied in all ways.
As the figure got closer, Stormbringer could tell he had golden hair, but it was encased in a beautiful silver helm embroidered with gold around the face. His eyes were a tawny brown; Stormbringer thought they looked like the soil that lay upon a new garden.
Once more Stormbringer could see new details of the warrior as he approached, his armour was polished silver steel plate, on the left shoulder protector was carved a half moon, and in its center was a rose, this was the symbol of the Knights of Karunak, the motif was encased in gold so it would stand out more. Stormbringer clenched his fists under his cloak, which was tightly wound around his body, he loosened it slightly so he could rise with more ease, and also, if necessary, strike out at the man who kept approaching. He closed his eyes slightly, he would surprise the man and steal one of his scimitars, that way he could at least defend himself if the man was here to kill him, many men had tried, and few had come close.
What would any man be doing out in this storm? Stormbringer wondered, especially in full armour and wearing a cape of the faction his own people were at war with?
* * *
Gredin Majin, the Gallant Ghost had been dead for over fifty years. He gave himself his
nickname. In life he had been the greatest human swordsmen of his time, a true warrior. He had accidentally overheard a plan to betray the Blademasters of Iverance during the War of Retribution. He had tried to warn the Blademasters, but he had been killed by the greatest warrior he had ever met, Semir Zevar, Silverheart, the man who had started the War of Retribution, united the nations of Karunak and Iverance, the man responsible for the plot to betray the Blademasters, who were his own people, and the only man to best Gredin in battle.
Gredin was now a spirit of the land, a living embodiment of revenge. In life he had never once sought vengeance for anything, nor had he ever been carried away with his anger, he had been calm and collected, but now he was dead, and he wanted to kill Silverheart, not because he had killed him, that he could forgive, but because he caused the deaths of hundreds of thousands of living beings, some of which, like himself, were trapped in this world, unable to physically touch or feel anything, for Gredin it was worse than the abyss could offer.
He wandered the land now, searching for ancient artefacts, in hopes that he could one day restore his long destroyed body, and his honour, fore the cover story of his death was that he was a tr****r who was plotting the demise of both the Blademasters and the Knights. He looked at he did before he was slain, he wore the exact same thing, the purple cape, full steel plate battle armour, with the Knights symbol of the half moon with the rose in the center on the left shoulder, his officers helm, and his two signature scimitars, Rosepetal and Moonbeam, the real swords had been destroyed along with his body upon his death.
He was in this barren ice covered land because he had heard of powerful relics that could be hidden among the mountains and storms that swept over them. He felt nothing, as he had no body, and did not age, so he could search forever.
He could see a cave up ahead, and he noticed a man inside it, instantly Gredin moved both his hands to the hilts of his scimitars, not that he could actually hurt the man, more that it was an old habit, and old habits die hard among warriors. As he approached he could see the mans features, he was very handsome, the hair on the side of his head only went halfway down his ears, unusual for a Kinthorei, as they usually had very short close-cropped hair, this mans hair was jet black and very messy, it curled up at the back and near the ears. He was wearing a black cloak, lined on the inside with black bear fur; this would help him to keep warm, but not enough in this weather. He had black leggings that hung loosely around his legs; Gredin could also see he had black heavy boots. He could not see the arms, or his torso, of the man because they were both hidden under his cloak, which was tightly wrapped around him. He wore no symbol indicating his allegiance, nor his faith.
Gredin looked once more at the head of the man; his ears were slightly longer and sharper than human’s ears, indicating him as a Kinthorei. Gredin glanced down at the mans cloak covered body, even while curled up he seemed amazingly tall, Gredin knew he had to be around seven and a half feet tall, and the mass of his body was great, either he was a very skinny man wearing armour, or he had a build just over medium, no more then that though. The Kinthorei’s eyes were closed, and than it struck him, this man was identical to Silverheart, the Kinthorei who had slain him. To see him cowering in a cave freezing to death brought great pleasure to Gredin.
As he stepped into eh cave mouth he burst into sudden laughter, the sound full of scorn. The Kinthorei still did not move, Gredin noticed this after he had quelled his sudden outburst, this was a true form of irony, here he was in front of the man who had killed him, watching that man die, and Gredin knew that if Semir were to die he would fade out of this world as well, for he was a spirit born of vengeance, vengeance aimed at this man, and once he died so would Gredin, Semir would kill him once more in a way.
Gredin took four more paces forward, he could see the brown leather scabbard of a great sword now, it was covered in frost, and it was also empty. His eyes followed the scabbard down, it was broken halfway down its length, and Gredin could make out wear it had been cut, it had been pierced by a short sword in a battle not eight days ago, the Kinthorei had had his own blade shattered most likely, and was using the scabbard as a last line of defence, a short sword had pierced the leather casing and most certainly cloven into the mans chest, causing significant blood loss, but the man appeared fine, the only reason he would carry the scabbard now would be as a reminder of his failure in battle, and as a gift once he sated his vengeance on whoever had defeated him. The broken scabbard was slung across the back of the warrior, on the outside of his cloak.
Gredin looked back up at the head of the man and froze; the Kinthorei was looking directly at him, eyes open. Those eyes, they were the eyes of a true warrior, born and bred. They seemed to be able to read his soul, read the story of his life just by peering into his own eyes. Then it struck him like a club to the head, the eyes were a piercing yellow colour that seemed to glow softly, Semir had silver eyes that shone like a full moon at midnight. This man, although he looked nearly identical to Semir, was now him, Gredin could tell by the eyes, not by the colour, but by the message they gave him, and by the fear they inspired deep inside him, he felt as if the man could kill him, even though he was already dead. Then Gredin took two steps back subconsciously, and when he realised he had down so he cursed himself under his breathe.
Stormbringer rose to face the man in front of him, he was well over two heads taller than the man. He spun suddenly, his cloak twirling, creating a cloud that blocked a clear view to him, than as he moved under the cover of his cloak he reached for the blade on the mans left side, but he could not grab the blade, and his momentum carried him into the man and, he passed right through him! The man laughed as Stormbringer turned and faced him, he had a medium build under his armour.
“I guess I was wrong you can’t kill me can you” Gredin said looking up at the tall Kinthorei.
“What the hell are you little man?” Stormbringer boomed.
“I am a ghost, a lost soul, a spirit reborn from the vengeance in men’s, and women’s hearts, there will of vengeance has become my own, I am Gredin the Gallant Ghost. And who would you be Kinthorei?”
“I am the Demonstorm, Stormbringer” replied the Kinthorei.
Stormbringer, it was a Kinthorei bondname, given to all the Kinthorei and humans of Iverance, each had a different one Gredin knew. Bondnames were said to bind the soul to the body so the being could never become a lost spirit, upon death they would be delivered to the either Elysium or the Abyss, Gredin had been in Elysium for only a day before he had been reborn out of vengeance. He knew he was the only one who could become what he had been, for all those who had been killed by Silverheart’s plan had all received bondnames as they were from Iverance, and since Silverheart had killed him only a day before their deaths he was the most eligible choice.
As Gredin recalled from fifty years ago there was a warrior among the Blademasters known as Stormbringer, he was a swordsmen who wielded a great sword cast from a mix of steel and iron, it was said to be the sharpest blade in the known world. Gredin also recalled two more things about the warrior, the first is that he had been known as the Demonstorm to his enemies and said to cause fear upon them with a blink of his eyes, now he knew why. The other was that he was the younger brother of the great elven warrior and strategist Semir Zevar, the Silverheart.
It all made sense now, this was that Stormbringer, Silverheart’s younger brother who had sworn a blood oath the kill his brother because of his betrayal, which had caused the death of Stormbringer, and Silverheart’s mother.
“You look lost in thought ghost, now could you please leave me to die” Stormbringer said as he stretched his arms, then he began to massage his legs to keep the feeling in them.
“If I left you to die here you wouldn’t be able to fulfil your blood oath now would you Stormbringer”
Stormbringer turned to the spirit of the once great warrior, “Who are you and how do you know of my oath? Speak quick before I find a way to kill you ghost”
“As I told you Stormbringer, I am Gredin, the same Gredin who was slain by your brother, Silverheart, when I tried to warn your people of his betrayal. After I was slain the story was that I was the tr****r, and your people were plotting to kill mine. Of course my people believed it and attacked yours without warning”
Stormbringer looked at Gredin hard, “Do you know a pass that will lead us to a settlement before the end of the day? I shall not survive the night in this storm, and I would like to fulfil two my blood oaths” the Kinthorei walked to Gredin and offered a hand, than quickly pulled it back as he recalled the man was a spirit.
“Very well Stormbringer, I shall take you to the nearest settlement, but you will be my blade in killing Silverheart, I will wield you as I would my own weapons, are we agreed?”
“Aye, we are agreed, now lets get out of here before I die” Stormbringer grinned and pulled his cloak tightly around himself, at least he had not been foolish enough to wear armour out here in this cold forbidding land, the land he would one day call home.
Gredin led Stormbringer through the storm of ice and sleet, cold furious winds and chilling gusts. They were both warriors with a common goal, vengeance.
 
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Ender-Zero

Ender-Zero

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Well Dack you never know what could happen with all the ideas that twirl around in my head. Also once i'm finished the 1st chapter i'll post it, this prologue is actually at the end of the book
 

Dragn9

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That is pretty good...well written imho...that Stormbringer is quite the character...keep up the good work.
 

I. R. Shogun

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yeah, if Stormbringer is the character I think he is he'll only get more interesting. And also, if I'm lucky, a little character of mine might make an appearance, that'd be cool
 
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Ender-Zero

Ender-Zero

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really, I was thinking of changing his name and a bit of his history and using him and then in the ackknowledgement thinks putting your name in their Clint, and Stormbringer is the character your thinking off, i'm half-way throuhg the first chapter, and that, and maybe chapter two will be all I post since this is for my book
 

I. R. Shogun

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that sounds good, after all, he was always a bit harder to change the backstory for to fit every world because of how the MK world had been set up. As long as he stays the same to his original character and you don't change his history to dramatically I'd love to see him appear in one of your stories. What's the book gonna be called anyway? I wanna be on the lookout for it.
 
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Ender-Zero

Ender-Zero

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It will be A Warrior of Circumstance, that's if I can get it published, and I think i'll be able to because I personally know a two time New York Times best selling author, and I think she can recommend me
 

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