The beginning

Wanted to improve my english as my vocabulary has really gone downhill due to lack of use (and daoc ), so thought i'd try a bit of story writing.
My first effort so go easy

The pain is still there, the remnance of my enemies, the very life blood of their souls coursing through my veins. But still… the pain, a pulsing pressure upon my very being its relentless hunger, thirsting for more… always more. Drowning me within myself, suffocating the life out of me and replacing it with this hunger for..
I cannot feed it for it will be the end of me, what have I unlocked, I will not, I cannot, I shall not… the pain…
..maybe this last time, its only one more, then I will stop, she will be the last.

She swiftly weaved through the forest of Iarnwood, silently treading on the harder pieces of earth just as she was trained for within the dense undergrowth which expanded as far as what little of the horizon she could see in front of her. Perspiration causing her deep blue armour to cling to her body, a familiar feeling giving her comfort in what she knows, but even so the chill of death this forest covets for. Tightly tied at her waist her weapons of war glisten red in the crimson light of the setting sun. The sky blood red as if the chosen avenue of ancient battles, streaming over the sky around the leaves above her, filtering through the canopy above in rays of life, cleansing the foul stench of Midgard’s dead lands. Less than a moment to take in the unique beauty of the expanse before her, but the urgency of her task pushing her on, bounding over a fallen trunk she noticed the familiar carvings warning travellers of entering. Just as the gothi described the carving stretched across a band of trees as far as she could see in either direction, she was getting close. The sun was getting low giving way to the blue haze of the night sky, she cursed under her breath in her native tongue, time was slipping faster than she liked. This would be the last opportunity to rest, she had been on the trail since 2 dawns ago with little sleep and the signs of weariness were beginning to show. The familiar stiffness in her muscles as she urged them forward prompted her she needed to rest. She slowed and sunk into the shadows, a old habit from the frontier. She gained comfort in the familiarity of the cool darkness which enveloped her as she removed her pouch from her belt and took a bite out of the little bread she had left. The warm sustenance of the enchanted beverage revitalised her tired body as the spell weaved its way throughout her, aches slowly fading away. A small sip of wine, not too much, she needed her senses about her, Iarnwood was the last place to get complacent and tomorrow she would need to be alert. But for now she drifted off into a light sleep, her fingers instinctively moved over the hilt of her sword, caressing the intricate dragon moulded in the cold mithril blade, drifting off into the embrace of sleep.

bah work, will type some more when i get a chance
(anyone know how to get indents on posts?)

Not a bad start but, as I said to Svart, stick more paragraphs in, makes it a lot easier on the eyes to have a line break or two in large chunks of copy

Other than that, it's a pretty good intro to a character so that the reader wants to know more.

Inhaling deeply as the Norseman observed the colossal oaken door ahead of him, a carving of an ale glass hung over the entrance as he stood in front of the bandittenes inn, a fitting name he smirked to himself. His long cloak of silver glistened with the magic imbuned within the fine threads, making the cloak visible even in the night sky reflecting the moon in a faint blue haze. Waving in the slight breeze showing off the king’s banner emroided into it in gold thread with almost the same arrogance as the rank of its owner. Mournin was the official king’s messenger, giving him passage to all the corners of Midgard with full authority as if he was the king himself. All except this forsaken place for the rejects of the realm, the anger within him bubbling again to the surface “I, a messenger of the king have to ask permission before entering the domain of a criminal”, visibly shaking he took a deep breath to calm himself then began for the door.

As Mournin raised his hand to knock the huge door swung open causing him to veer to a side on instinct as a dark bundle was hurled through the air landing on the ground outside the inn. It took a moment to regain his senses to see a shadow blocking the entire doorway in width and height, behind him a warm fire was lit and the noise of banter went on undisturbed at the incident. Stepping out of the inn the figure materialized straightening up to reveal his true height. His arms were as big as the trees of myrkwood, his chest spanning the width of a horse, on its back a crudely fashioned hammer painted with the colours of war, taken a back at the sheer size of the beast before him Mournin took a step back.

Mournin opened his mouth to speak but was interrupted by a sound which could only be compared with the sound of a bear being castrated. “TROLL, lay ye hand on me again and I’ll crack yer f’’king head open and use yer to make me new stable, you oversized pebble”, behind him the dark bundle had transformed into a small man with his hands on his waist, no taller than his waist with a long dark beard flowing down over his chest tied at the bottom with a little black ribbon. His large nose giving way to his fuming nostrils were overshadowed by his eyes bloodshot with anger, Dwarves were known for their fiery tempers when under the influence of too much dwarven ale so Mourmin thought it best to move away and leave him to it before the troll squashed him with the palm of his hand. “Dorf cannot smish , I have dorf hammer”, the troll announced in a deep rough voice. The dwarf began screaming “AHHHHHRHHHAH”, before charging straight at the troll who’s expression turned into sheer confusion, “This not end well for dorf”, as the small figure jumped into the air slamming head first into the trolls kneecap. The force visibly shaking the dwarf as he bounced off the still static troll in the doorway, bouncing twice before finally sliding to a halt, no longer moving.

The troll stood motionless at the door not moving an inch in the whole episode, Mourmin walked over to the dwarf to see if he was dead. He bent over to check his heart beat, “has he fallen for it?” the dwarf whispered “what?”, “the troll has he left the doorway”, “no, he’s still standing there” Mournin replied. The dwarf rose to his feet again dusting himself off. Grabbing Mourmin’s sleeve the dwarf once again began walking towards the troll, when he was a few feet away he spun Mournin around causing Mournin to reach for his sword but stopped as the dwarf announced “See this rock head, ere’s a messenger of the king, yer ‘ave to let ‘im in. Tis the rules y’know”, the troll scoweled causing the ridges above his eyes to accent forwards, he then stood aside indicating for Mournin to proceed, the pair of them walked towards the door “Haha, me new best friend, leme buy ya a pint of finest”, the troll moved forward blocking half the doorway so only Mournin could enter causing the dwarf to take a few paces back. “Danord drink too much, Danord go home”, “now listen ‘ere..”, the dwarf’s voice faded away as Morning proceded inside, bad rumours travel fast, so speed was of the essence

Sorry been busy of late, heres the next bit

A twig snap, her deep green eyes shot open in momentary panic as her hand instinctively grasped for her dagger as the world around her spun into focus. Years of training calming her mind as she adjusted to the perpetual darkness of Iarnwood, the sprinkles of daylight trickling through the dense canopy.
In front of her 4 wolves eyes her, but remained motionless as if ghosts from the underworld, intent on remaining where they stood. She slowly rose, the rough bark of the tree she was leaning against scraping her back as she rose, glancing behind herself for a second brought about the grim realisation, she was surrounded.

Another 4 grey haired beasts stood motionless, why was she alive?, the wolves could
have ripped her limb from limb while she slept but the heavier thought clouding her mind. Why didn’t she hear them coming??. She scanned her morbid company, one of the wolves stood out as the leader of the pack, it was larger and its dark skin making it almost invisible in the darkness behind it. Flanked by its two snow white lieutenants, under its paw was a twig. The realisation of events preceding her awakening dawning on her, she wasn’t awoken by mistake, the wolf wanted her awake.

Gaze floating up to its face, its mouth was open just enough to create puffs of smoke in the cold morning air. Her eyes locked with the wolves, dark red with its dilated pupils focused entirely on her, looking straight through her. She felt a chill down her spine, this was no ordinary animal its eyes were soulless, dead of any emotion, void of any presence as if nothing but a shell of its former self.

After what seemed an eternity of waiting for the inevitable bloodshed, the wolf simply turned, followed by its fair skinned counterparts as they all took 3 paces forward then stopped. Behind her two wolves stood at her heels, Sera took a step back which was immediately answered with a snarling and growling from the wolves. Sera pulled forward and spun to face them, but was simply mirrored by all the wolves taking 2 paces forward in turn forming a perfect circle around her. She took another pace forward and was once again mirrored by these curious animals. She began following the lead hound as she was ushered forward by the wolves, they remained in perfect formation, the rear hounds preventing any escape, but where were they taking her? Sera followed in silence looking for a gap to escape, a gap she knew deep down would not come.

They stopped in a small opening, the sky was visible above them, small favours she thought as the pack now clearly visible in the moonlight. Stars were sparkling in the night sky, a welcome sight. The small pack had been moving all day, only stopping briefly at regular intervals, she knew these breaks were for her benefit rather than their own. Disproving her theory they were trying to tire her out before moving in for the kill.

Sera looked up again, my last view may as well be a good one and it struck her that the opening extended to the east, she looked west the trees gave away the same way creating a corridor which extended as far as the eye can see. She quickly scanned the trees in disbelief, the markings were present on the trees just as the gothi had said. But they were no ahead, they were behind her!

The true weight of her predicament came crashing down on her, finding it hard to breathe as the panic moved in, eyes wide with sheer terror she tried to run back but was greeted by the now snarling wolves. Their hairs standing on edge as they glistened silver in the moonlight. The sound they created made her heart skip a beat, the raspy noise from their gut sent chills throughout her body =, she tried to calm herself but found herself paralysed.

The wolves jaws clenched so tight they created a crunching sound, they all leaned forward as if to move but all stayed in their spots as if held back by a invisible leach. She looked for the lead hound, unlike its brethren it stood watching calmly examining her reactions, smelling the perspiration of fear emanating off her body. Its jaws slowly and deliberately extended into a evil smile, he knew as well as he that he soul could not be recovered from here once dead she would remain here condemned to wandering these forests like those who have fallen before her. The halls of Valhalla out of reach, stuck in this purgatory for eternity.

In a deep rough voice the wolf began to speak “we’ve been waiting”, “this is impossible”, Sera thought as she tried to regain her senses, but the fear clouded her mind and paralyzed her muscles. “we’ve been waiting, watching”, “why??”, she managed her voice drifting off into a squeal at the end of the word, “you no linger have any options, you are our masters property now… dead or alive”. Sera looked back at the path she had come from, 3 wolves blocked her exit, 2 on her sides removed running as a possibility as the lead hound stood ahead escorted by 2 more silver maned mammals, 8 vs. 1 , these odds aren’t good.

With death an inevitably she found herself on familiar ground as she regained a little composure willing her body to move she slowly felt light trickling into her limbs. “Who is your master”, trying to delay the beast long enough to regain her senses, “you know who he is, you came here seeking him. He will be here soon enough”, the menacing grin still wide across its face as it spoke. Previously dead eyes now full of life, “a hollow victory, you didn’t even make us chase you, no matter the result will be the same. The result is always the same”. Seta gripped her swords under the cover of her cloak and readied herself for one last battle, she wasn’t going to go quietly.

“Don’t make this any more difficult than it has to..”, a object came ripping through the air past her ear , a whining sound came from beside her. She turned to see an arrow impaled in one of the wolves necks, the wolf was visibly panicked as it choked on its own blood, its companions now in disarray. This was her chance, she began to move for the space when a excruciating pain gripped her and made its way up her leg, Sera looked down to see the lead hound had sank its fangs deep into her knee causing her to collapse to the ground in pain. “Formation”, it roared spitting blood as it shouted, promptly its companions came back into line. Another arrow appeared causing the wolf to twist its body out of the way of the projectile.

In the distance up a tree a dark figure prepared another volley, “There he is, Charge him!!”, the wolves turned and ran towards the figure in a scattered formation, leaving the dark haired beast guarding over Sera. Letting off 2 more arrows the figure jumped off the tree, the arrows hitting one of the wolves in the leg spurting blood in all directions as its leg collapsed under its own weight, twisting under its body as the second arrow hit it just above the eye, the carcass bounced to a halt of crimson and grey, it’s brethren still charging ahead un-daunted bounding over their fallen comrade.

The figure materialised onto a tall Norseman in dark grey armour, his cloak hood hiding his face in armour revealing only the outline of a small beard. He swung his bow over his back as he revealed a large spear from beneath his cloak, glistening in the moon revealing gits ornate patterns. Its pale metallic blue gave way to a faint cloud emanating from its tip, a cold legendary no doubt Sera pondered. But even with such an advantage, and the 2 dispatched wolves it left 5 vs 1, he stood no chance, his arrogance would cost him his life… and hers.

Out of the shadow another two figures materialised behind the wolves, wearing royal blue cloaks and wielding large claymore’s they hit home causing two more wolves to collapse, the force of the blow nearly cutting them in half as fountain of blood sprayed in the motion of the blade, simultaneously ripping through the length of the animals.

The two lead wolves all of a sudden froze short of the hunter, mesmerised in a blinding light originating from a nearby tree, the momentary lapse of concentration resulted in the grey cloaked figure to slash his spear deep into one of the wolves necks, severing it from its now lifeless body. It’s companion growling with determination breaking free of its trance only to be greeted with a hammer blow to the head knocking it unconscious as the blue cloaked figure had moved out from his spot in the tree line, a shout came from the duo “HEALER KILL!!”.

“Fools!, must I do everything myself”, the head hound bellowed with anger, he once again turned to Sera and roared causing her muscles to freeze rigid uncontrollably with fear, her heart pounding hard against her chest. “I think not Jaxall”, a voice came from behind her, unable to turn she heard the wolf “Thornea, this business is none of your concern”, “when you kidnap a kings emissary it becomes my business”. Their voices began to trail as the loss of blood began to take hold, the sounds of a deadly dance behind of her gave way to darkness as she lost consciousness.