For people who don't have the attention span of a bonobo on crack, i'd like to get feedbacks on this shit i started to write. The reason i'm asking here is because most people won't give a fuck about giving me negative input.

 

Shades of Dark

 

If only he knew... If only they knew.

Dreaden's birth was far from undistinguished, but not a single word was spoken from it. He tried to gather some knowledge about it, but his parents have gone missing since before he could remember. The archive books linked to him have long been reduced to ashes.

Priests and monks, renowned for their abysmal knowledge and unfathomable wisdom, were reluctant to even mention his name.

Out of despair, he tried to consult the Oracles, transcendental beings considered as Gods. He begged them everyday to grant him some insight of his past, without fruition. Still, his stubbornness was exceptional, and not a single day did he resign himself to accept that the Oracles had forsaken him.

Unfortunately, this trait of character expressed itself in numerous, inconvenient ways, and caused him quite a lot of trouble, to say the least.

His childhood was a succession of bickerings and physical squabbles, that eventually led him to deplorable choices in terms of lifestyle. He ended up being a recluse from society, living in the wild, and barely managed to survive the multitudinous dangers of nature.

However, he was not left unscathed, and the lack of education or intellectual stimulation could've only diminished his sagacity.

Around the age of twenty, he was beginning to feel bothered by the inconveniences of living in the open, and decided to try and find a city to live in.

 

And so he started walking, he would only stop once he has found signs of civilisation. it did not take long for Dreaden to spot a little town encrusted into the rocks.

Durmok. A city as unrefined as it's name; the dwellers there were often bold, aloof and rude. Their appearance was not any better either. Large, craggy skulls, massive noses, deformed ears, bestial jaws. As short as their temper, they were not to be trifled with, for they compensated their height with their robust strength. Their local dialect was inarticulated, guttural, and incomprehensible for Dreaden. Auspiciously for him, they could understand his mother language, the Albuma, one of the most widespread tongue.

He asked around for a room at the tavern, but he didn't have any money, or anything else to trade. He was brutally thrown out of the establishment, and had to endure the mocking of others.

Frustrated, he resigned himself to sleep outside again, while staying in the bounds of the city, to not worry about beasts.

Before he went to sleep, however, he had to do his ritualistic prayer to the Oracles. In his shelter made out of wooden planks, Dreaden begun his imploration.

 

Meanwhile, a dweller was stretching his legs outside, and overheard the mutterings of the newcomer. He drew near to the shelter to try and decipher the incantation.

"... mal'ktaa imnato dak'ree, Thyram... "

The town folk understood Thyram. With a slight expression of disgust, he walked towards Dreaden, gazed at him with murderous contempt, then finally broke the silence.

"Fool ! Trying to summon Dark Gods in our city are you ? We will never let that happen, you hear ? I'd gladly kill you for this blasphemy"

Dreaden looked up, he was more irritated than frightened. After carefully inspecting the furious fanatic in front of him from head to toe, he concluded that he wouldn't prove to be a challenge for him.

He stayed silent for a moment, thinking of the repercussions of a murder, were it to be found. After a few seconds, he revised himself, and tried to talk his way out of this bothersome situation.

-Dark Gods ? I'm praying the Oracles ! Since I was a child, I've been asking them for some information about my origins. I can assure you that I do not mean you or your city any harm.

-Don't take me for a fool, we all know who Thyram is.

 

A chilling breeze ran through Dreaden's spine.

It all made sense now. He vaguely recalled the enigmatic, hooded figure who vowed to help him, out of guile disguised in pity. Childish naivety fooled him into trusting the deceiver, blindly throwing his fate away from his own hands... The small glimmers of hope he once had are forever foiled.

It was all too much for him and he rejected the idea of being manipulated by a Dark God, Durmok inhabitants proved to be twisted, treacherous creatures.

He was lost in his own thoughts, the encounter raised a lot more questions than it answered. The dweller snapped him back into the present by spewing words of hatred.

"Useless swine ! Pack your things and leave, or I'll redecorate your face the Durmok way !"

That was the last indignation he would take from him. Dreaden had suffered enough torment, and wouldn't be forced into submission anymore.

He gathered all the strength he had left, quickly rose on his feet and took an empty bottle of beverage from his shelter as a weapon. Aiming for the head, he attempted to strike a blow at the crooked creature.

 

He missed. The creature dodged with unnatural swiftness, astonishing Dreaden who struggled to keep his balance. As he miserably attempted to hit him again, he found himself falling to his knees, losing grip with his pathetic weapon.

An agonizing pain affected him, blood was dripping from his side. He looked up and realized he was surrounded by Dumrok inhabitants, visions of nightmare distorted by his failing sight, laughing maniacally and cheering at the man who plunged his blade between Dreaden's ribs.

He closed his eyes, assuming a fetal position, waiting for the sweet embrace of Death. He felt pummeled by punches and kicks coming from all directions, prolonging his painful agony. After what seemed like days, a blade was thrusted into the back of his head. He felt a sharp pain, then finally died.

Or did he ?

 

He still retained his consciousness. Hasty prismatic flashes of light scampered through his confused brain and a harsh cacophony of voices almost made him become demented. After a few minutes of embroiling chaos, Dreaden dissipated himself to the empty void of nothingness.

 

...

 

Pain. Why could he still feel it ?

 

As he tried to open his eyes, a deep sense of motion got a hold of him. Worlds seemed to unravel before his befuddled self, elements of an ancient shattered universe forged by war.

His attention was drawn to a particular planet, standing out from the others by it's scatheless landscapes. Without warning, his body plunged towards it, passing through the atmosphere at blinding speed as an increasingly searing pain added to the torment of his already broken shell.

He tried to revert his course, only to realise he was just a spectator of his own actions, as if his body acted on it's own initiative. Panic was slowly taking over his reason as nothing he was experiencing made sense. Only when he was ready to welcome the embrace of madness, and while the ground was getting dangerously near, did he spot a familiar element amongst the tall grasses... a hooded figure.

Darkness submerged his senses once again as he hit the ground.

 

To be continued.

That was pretty good, it definitely has potential.

 

Also, you have good English for someone who speaks it as a second language.