Captain Who
July 5th, 2015, 08:37 AM
I was wondering if someone could read this and just let me know what needs to be improved. (Or if it is any good at all, haha. Bare in mind it is my first.)
It was a cold winters morn, the sun had only half risen above the horizon and filled the few clouds in the sky with ornate swirls of light blue and fiery oranges; Samlin Flandish had thought these would be perfect conditions to take a little stroll up through the High Hills, the tall cold grass he trudged through wrapped around his ankles like icy tendrils, although by now he may have regretted the decision. He had by now made it to the top of the highest of the High Hills after a few, long, thought filled hours. The air was thinner here but, nonetheless it was thick with bleakness.
Samlin lowered himself carefully on to his soft plaid blanket, which was passed down to him from his mother, he had laid it down so that he wouldn’t get a wet bottom – blankets are life savers, they can be used in many a situation, Samlin always made sure to leave his home with his blanket tucked safely in his pack.
The first snowflakes of the day had begun to fall, he noticed as one landed on the tip of his nose causing him to shudder, he wiped it away swiftly.
He gazed into the distance looking across the land that he had once gladly called home, he could see illuminated incandescence which stuck out like a sharp thorn upon the dull city beneath him. Once a thriving region, now burnt to rubble, the brown and white colours of the town buildings had amalgamated into clutter and chaos, the odd spark of yellow flame could be seen where fires still licked at the sides of buildings and the merry mens fishing boats, a steady stream of thick black smoke rose high above these fires – Samlin had thought that if the smoke rose any higher, it might have reached him up here. Right in the centre of this desolation stood the citadel; a lonely, magnificent structure made of the finest stones and held up by pure golden pillars, which would glow in the suns mighty gaze. This was Elaeria.
It was a cold winters morn, the sun had only half risen above the horizon and filled the few clouds in the sky with ornate swirls of light blue and fiery oranges; Samlin Flandish had thought these would be perfect conditions to take a little stroll up through the High Hills, the tall cold grass he trudged through wrapped around his ankles like icy tendrils, although by now he may have regretted the decision. He had by now made it to the top of the highest of the High Hills after a few, long, thought filled hours. The air was thinner here but, nonetheless it was thick with bleakness.
Samlin lowered himself carefully on to his soft plaid blanket, which was passed down to him from his mother, he had laid it down so that he wouldn’t get a wet bottom – blankets are life savers, they can be used in many a situation, Samlin always made sure to leave his home with his blanket tucked safely in his pack.
The first snowflakes of the day had begun to fall, he noticed as one landed on the tip of his nose causing him to shudder, he wiped it away swiftly.
He gazed into the distance looking across the land that he had once gladly called home, he could see illuminated incandescence which stuck out like a sharp thorn upon the dull city beneath him. Once a thriving region, now burnt to rubble, the brown and white colours of the town buildings had amalgamated into clutter and chaos, the odd spark of yellow flame could be seen where fires still licked at the sides of buildings and the merry mens fishing boats, a steady stream of thick black smoke rose high above these fires – Samlin had thought that if the smoke rose any higher, it might have reached him up here. Right in the centre of this desolation stood the citadel; a lonely, magnificent structure made of the finest stones and held up by pure golden pillars, which would glow in the suns mighty gaze. This was Elaeria.