Care to Critique?

[waypoint]

Ok then. I adore medieval fantasy based roleplays, especially when i get to play my darling Valkyth. He is everything i love about the three great men of my life:

Sparhawk (from books by David Eddings), Waylander (from books by David Gemmel) and, more importantly, my dearest boyfriend.

All three of them have shaped my concepts of heroism so sit back and enjoy. Valkyth is my prized litarary possession. I'm currently extending his life into a novel.

Please could any of you spare a few moments to read through and tell me what you think of this roleplay introduction. Remember, this is merely an open roleplay introduction.

[waypoint]

War tore through the once rich lands of Traise. Villages burned and towns stood eerily deserted on the outer borders, raided and left for dead. With the recent death of King Melenath and the lack of an heir, chaos had taken hold of the Kingdom. Earls fought for their right to become King of these lands and so had bullied, bribed and tricked themselves into seats of power. It was not uncommon to see armies marching their campaigns across farmlands and through villages and unfortunately sometimes not much was left standing afterwards. War was always an excuse to plunder the innocent and poorer families could simply not afford protection.

Through this madness, a dark rider rode swiftly on. The hooves of the large bay steed clattered noisily upon the streets as rough iron met cobbled stone. The beast snorted with irritance and the rider was forced to sooth the creature lest its patience wore thin. A stallion of war, the horse was strong and domineering, and though loyal to its rider, the beast was quick to anger.

“Easy Trident.”

The words were gently spoken but seemed to resonate with a commanding authority. The voice also confirmed the rider as being male though his features were shrouded by the hood of the heavy woolen traveling cloak he wore. It was dangerous to travel alone and so the cloak served two purposes. The first was to provide warmth whilst the second was to provide questionable safety. Much of the rider’s clothing was kept from view by the cloak as it reached from the neck to the rider’s knees. This also served the purpose of hiding whether the rider was currently armed or not. It was a desperate time when bandits fell upon mysterious strangers whose status of arms was unknown. A mans life is worth more to himself than a palm full of gold. This being said, the stout, dark leather boots that sat calmly in the stirrups hinted at a heritage that was somewhat less than noble.
At his command, the horse’s hot temper was restrained, though it remained obviously uncooled. It had been a long ride with scarce time given to feed and the effects of such always fray the will of a horse. The weight of the rider and the travel packs concealed beneath the folds of his cloak were also beginning to tell in the horse’s demeanor; the usual gay stride of confidence had given way to a rolling lope.
As usual, the town he had come across was in a terrible state of disrepair. Though midday, the streets were almost completely empty and devoid of the hustle and bustle of the towns he remembered from his youth. In a peculiar way, this particular Town touched at his heart. He remembered traveling through here when he was a mere boy, clinging to his father as they rode through. Back then the streets were full of merchants and he remembered the market in the town square vividly; tables and baskets everywhere, with street preachers and performers to dazzle the senses. He sighed softly as he rode by the well that lay to the Eastern edge of the town-square. As his father had completed his business, he had sat and listened to a wizened Bard here. Tales of magic, hope, love and heroism had warmed his heart and excited his soul. He'd gone away that day feeling a thousand feet tall, ready to take on evil and defend the meek innocents of the world. Both he and the world had changed over time.
His horse Trident, brought him back to the present abruptly by snorting once more and pawing the ground once with irritation. The rider's hand instinctively flew beneath the cloak, but stopped before revealing his concealed weapon. The danger was naught but a young peasant girl in a ragged grey dress. The left sleeve was missing from below the elbow and small rents in the fabric showed the filthy underskirt below. Her hair was bedraggled and hung limply around gaunt yet pretty features of a face appearing to be roughly 10 or 11 years of age. Had she not been so malnourished she would have been a pretty child, but the light had gone from her deep imploring eyes. She did not speak, but cupped her hands together and held them out to the rider. Another urchin lost to a life of begging.
The rider reached into the folds of his cloak and pulled out a leather pouch that seemed to be attached about his neck on a rawhide cord. From within this he drew two silver pieces. It was not much, but in times like these it would be enough to keep the waif fed for a week or so. He also drew down the hood of his cloak to reveal his face. The rider seemed worn; either by age or life-style. Though his dark brown hair showed no signs of aging, his face seemed to be one of a man in his early 40s. Crows feet lined the rider’s greyish green eyes and short dark stubble could be seen growing where he had not shaved recently. Old scars and fresh cuts could also be seen upon his face though none were disfiguring. Despite this, some rugged appeal shone through, the man was certainly not unattractive though he did not possess the charms of a worldly Prince. He did not immediately give the coins he held to the orphan girl, but held them out and met her gaze.
"I need a stable for my horse and an Inn. Do you know where I can find these?" he asked her gently. He kept his voice low and quiet so as not to scare her. He could not mask the gruffness of his voice though.
The child nodded once and pointed towards a wide street that led past a clearly deserted set of houses. The rider nodded his own thanks and leaned over in the saddle to drops the coins in her outstretched palms. With a quick tap to his horse’s flanks he set off down the road that had been pointed out. His senses were still on high alert though and he warily watched around him, prepared for any attackers. To live without care in this world leads to a short life.

[sapphiresmoke]

Spectacular. That needs to be the beginning of a novel. I would buy it in a heartbeat.

[waypoint]

*blush*

It will be Eventually. I'll be posting snippets on here for your entertainment.

Valkyth's story needs to be shared. His past is somewhat of an obsession of mine, so much so that i feel he deserves to be extended beyond the realms of mere roleplays.

The first paragraph needs extending though : / or perhaps i'll add further setting / background details later in the plot. I'm not sure which would work best... i'm rather fond of how succinct it is right now.

Any ideas?

[sapphiresmoke]

I like it the way it is... It doesn't tell us why there's war, but you can add that later... I think that adding too many facts there would ruin the overall feel.

Post more soon! I'm already hooked... There aren't many who can do that to me. You rock! Lol.

[azaioh]

Wow, a wonderful input to my mind, very intruging. Better than the book I am reading at home right now, great work. Keep it up and you will suceed.

[faelwen]

love it:D great work, can hardly wait till you add more:)
don't think it needs expanding:) it's grat the way it's now and I agree with sapphiresmoke:)